This morning I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror while I was about to walk outside.
“OMG – I AM SO FAT!” I thought. “Holy shit. What happened to me? Is that my profile? It’s enormous! Look at my fat face!!! OMG!!! HELP!!”
I tried to calm myself down but I couldn’t. “No wonder why I’m alone. No wonder my life looks like hell right now. I should be put out of my misery……” and on and on. My brain went crazy.
I was listening to a call at the same time. A woman was grieving the death of her mother last week. A light bulb went off and tears came to my eyes.
I am just sad. It’s easier to call myself fat than to deal with the reality of certain situations.
My mom has dementia. She is 91. And, sometimes I am sad that life looks this way. This week, her caregiver of 2 years quit with 1 day’s notice. It was a shock and my sister is scrambling to find someone new to take care of my mother.
Trying to tell myself to be grateful that we still have my mom, getting mad at the caregiver, and getting mad at myself for being fat just don’t create any freedom.
The only thing that works is to allow my sadness. To use my “fat hijack” as an indicator that something is going on. To tune into the sadness and just cry. It only lasts a few seconds when it is the pure emotion. It is followed by calmness and peace. And I can love myself again.
Who knew that feeling fat could be a new pathway to freedom? I certainly didn’t.
Thanks for listening.