My last blog addressed the topic of a self-hate attack--a sudden, intense mental episode of self-condemnation. Alternatively (or in addition) self-...
Day 1 was rough. Awkwardness oozed from my lips as I stared into my eyes -- eyes that showed sadness, fatigue, loneliness, and guilt -- and uttered, "I love you." I felt like a used car salesman trying to unload a clunker to the girl in the mirror.
I knew full well I wouldn't be able to reach my belly button. That, my friends, was the victory right there. Not being able to introduce my innie to my pinkie reinforced my successful departure from daily perfection quests and food fears.
Not very many people can say that they took their darkest moment and transformed it into a community with 1.5 million followers.
Confidence is aqueous and ever-changing. Just when you think you're grasping it in your hands, it can trickle through your fingers. I am reminded of this as I awkwardly haul a leg over the torso of my lover and sink into his chest as we sink deeper into the soft mattress in our room at the W.
Other people's opinion of my body or appearance is fading faster than my firm chin line. I'm comfortable in my own skin... even though it seems to be stretching in interesting spots. I've come to terms with my body, my age, my looks.
I was bulimic at 16. Pregnant at 19. Unhappy and at my highest weight at 24, and very hungry and still unhappy at one of my lowest weights at 27.
You pushed a human out of your body. It's not likely to look the same. And guess what? Mine doesn't either. Or my Ferrari neighbor's. Or your best friend's. Or your sister's. All the vulvas look different after babies and also they look different from each other. That not just OK, it's normal.
I don't mind this new body -- it birthed my child and I will forever be in its debt -- but I want to figure out how to be at home in the new structure.
As a female on this planet, I am more than aware of my body. My physical presence has brought me many outfit changes, unseemly anti-wrinkle creams, ...
While on the surface our mental health awareness work in Lebanon looks like an innovation, it's more like a reclamation -- since the first mental hospitals in the world appeared in the Middle East.
There are days now where my consciousness absorbs me. There are hours where the line is blurred between who I am and what I am doing or seeing or thinking. I find difficulty in distinguishing the point I finish and the place my understandings start.
Before I got pregnant, I spent more than a decade dieting, picking apart my every flaw and obsessing over my jean size. But now, as my daughter celebrates her first birthday, I'm happier than ever with my body. Yes, even the stretch marks.
With or without ADHD, in the moment most of us do not attend much to eating. We tear through a favorite food with little awareness at all. We make choices around food to eat or buy without much thought.
The remark that my husband made to our older daughter stung. I had truly hoped that I had a bit more time before she worried about her looks and appearance, but just like that, my baby girl is growing up.
Family time is precious. Serve healthy foods in healthy portion sizes, but don't make an issue out of who's eating what and how much.