Clarity has such an odd way of presenting itself. Rather bit by bit and puzzle piece followed by a piece from a different puzzle entirely. Fabulous really. The one consistent thing is change and the unexpected unpredictable nature of it all I suppose.
I came to notice recently how utterly god damn pissed off I was - at myself - for blatantly and repeatedly ignoring every plan that I devised to manage my eating. Day after day new plan... blow it... new plan... nope blunder... a twist to yet another new plan... BIG fumble, Cresent Gate (a run in with a package of cresent rolls, salami and pepper jack... Yum!).
The anger came later, upon weigh in time and reflection and with significant indigent frustrated pissed off-ness. Fuck you! Really! You have no respect!! What the fuck?! Why bother!? I am not nice to myself, true, but I also totally disrespect myself over and over. Jeez!
This reminds me... dejavu-ness... of trying to stop drinking and quit smoking. There were repeated eerie moments of virtual amnesia, yes, also familiar. No thought let alone argument or discussion. Day after day, plan after plan the same thing happened around the same time of day... the witching hour... 3pm. Once the plan was compromised all bets were off. How many times just in the last six months have I been oh so certain that I had finally figured it out? Apparent breakthrough after epiphany and still not working.
The Artist's way describes the situation as creative blocks. Week 10 - Dangers of the Trail. Shit! She describes my relationship to food exactly. But I never really thought of it as an expression of fear... avoidance... resistance, perhaps, sabotage for sure. I don't have the time or energy to go through the whole logical sequence right now. I'm not sure I care or that it matters really. It feels like just another pseudo milestone. I wont' know until I know for a couple of days strung together. Right now I have a new view... a new appreciation of faith in free falling. The anxiety and out of control-ness is fuel...
"As we become aware of our blocking devices... the blocks will no longer work effectively. Over time, we will try - perhaps slowly at first and erratically to RIDE OUT THE ANXIETY and see WHERE WE EMERGE. Anxiety is fuel...
"Anger is fuel. Anger is meant to be listened to. Anger points the way not just the finger..."
"The object of all this blocking is to alleviate FEAR. We turn to our drug of choice to block our creativity whenever we experience the anxiety of our inner emptiness. It is always FEAR - often disguised but ALWAYS there...
She doesn't say it but I know that I need to BREATHE along with my SURRENDER and PAUSE to fucking WONDER! Take a moment to consider my silent, sneaky, motives or fears or whatever the fuck is going on. AGAIN... STILL... Perhaps I will experience this scenario that she describes in the book:
Try: using the anxiety!
Feel: I just did it! I didn't block! I used the anxiety and moved ahead! OMG, I am excited!
That would be awesome... I'm creating using the anger and anxiety and mindlessness to move me forward. Good luck! Thanks! =)
I decided back in November 2015 to make my poetry available and journal online. I'm not exactly sure what "blogging" means but I am quite sure this is an online journal. Feel free to read on with an aire of open minded curiosity. At no time do I intend to offend, judge or pretend to know anything really, I'm just an observer and explorer, as we all are. Feel free to "boldly go" through my observations and perhaps it will spark or inspire. Comments are off because I don't want to be worried about political correctness when I'm writing. I'm not thinking about "you." I'm just writing because it feels "right". Feel free to enjoy or surf on.
Fibber McGee's closet!