The End Before the Start…
What a journey it’s been…As I reflect on the past years since I met Human Design and Ayahuasca, it is feeling correct to read through some of my past musings.
This one touches on the journey I’ve had with recovery from bulimia, what I was seeing in the moment and all of the feelings that were coming up as I was selling my belongings and preparing to head out with no goals and a suitcase in June of 2021… it feels a bit edgy, but also correct to share.
Sitting alone in my half empty apartment reflecting on the times in my life I’ve done this before. I’ve never been one to just sit still-there’s always been a pull for adventure, for experience and for fantasy. My mind can sit and imagine all of the infinite possibilities that can occur in this life, but ultimately it’s my body that decides the one that will happen in each moment.
I’ve tried for a long time to mentally control what I’d do, to fixate on outcomes and draw up the way things “should be” “so that…” I should go to school so that I can have a job that turns into a career as I work my way up the corporate ladder. I should get a partner so that I can settle down and have a family and keep my lineage going. I should strive for the picture perfect life so that no one can see any scratches beneath the surface. I should accumulate personal wealth so that I can be happy, so that I can live an “abundant” life.
The two narratives that dominate our upbringings and society as we all strive to achieve the picture perfect life that is the American Dream. The American Dream that has left many out on the street unable to afford a roof over their head, digging through the garbage for any morsels of food they can find while others stand in the middle of the grocery store building anxiety trying to decide which of the 35 kinds of apples we should chose, knowing that the ones that are bruised or sit for too long will be thrown away and wasted while people starve.
Oh the hypocrisy of me talking about throwing food away as people starve. For 2 decades I spent hundreds of dollars each week buying food, chewing it, swallowing it only to send it shooting back down the drain. My life has been so abundant that I was able to make the choice to be able to both comfort myself with endless amounts of food while also starving myself to ensure my image was up to the standards of the high-society world I was living in.
My life was filled with binge and purge cycles. Not only with food, but also with my environment. Starting with horses, a quick rise to the top tier of show jumping only to find myself brimming with discomfort, making the choice to chuck it all away, flush the whole story down the toilet, run away and move to a place where no one knew me, I knew no one and there would be no mention of show jumping. It felt liberating to be rid of it, to be able to block certain people out and not have to face any of it.
The ability to go from being so uncomfortably full to completely empty in an instant was addictive. To land somewhere new, spacious and free with no known identity. I could be whoever I wanted to be, write a totally new narrative. But, alas, I could not outrun my problems. With every purge came the same binge cycle. Landing somewhere new, filling up on a job, a boyfriend, a place to live, friends and my number one guest: my eating disorder. The longest, most intimate relationship I ever had was with ED. I tried to outrun him, but he was always there, waiting for me.
After moving to 15 different cities in the span of 10 years trying to outrun my relationship, the thing I most closely identified with, I realized I would never outrun him. We needed to sit down and have some adult conversations, I needed to listen.
One of the most important messages I received through eating disorder recovery was to slow down. Easier said than done for a person who could literally do 6 things at once just to stay disembodied, but every day is a practice.
For the last 3 years, my focus has been on healing, on coming back into the body, on embracing my divine feminine, nurturing, loving nature, starting with Self. I’ve listened, I’ve gotten my ass kicked, I’ve felt emotions I never could’ve imagined, I’ve wrestled with my body image, I’ve sat with the stories I’ve told myself, I’ve fallen, gotten back up, expanded, contracted. I’ve visited the cosmos and I’ve laid in the Earth. I’ve talked too much, I’ve listened. I’ve asked questions, and I’ve received answers.
I received answers that it is important to honor death. That as a collective we are so focused on protecting and preserving life that we are forgetting to actually live. We are forgetting about the magic at the end of the cycle and how important it is to hold ceremony for the end of life transition, the ultimate right of passage.
We have the opportunity to practice this with every door closing, with every moment of releasing. If I could tell my just starting recovery self one thing it would be to lean in, to listen, to not rush the process. The slow death and ultimate alchemization of my ED was filled with more lessons than any other experience I’ve had.
It wasn’t about releasing it as quickly as possible or closing the door wishing it had never happened, it was about listening, leaning in and learning from all the parts of myself that felt they weren’t enough, that ran from discomfort, that needed a game to play and a system to learn, that wanted to manipulate and calculate, that wanted to please and be pleasing, that wanted to be desired, that wanted love, peace and acceptance and couldn’t find it within. The parts that were just doing the best they could with what they knew in those moments.
And now here I sit, alone in my half empty apartment about to embark on this next adventure. I remember thinking one day how much I tell myself I’ve been through, at one point thinking that the rest of life would be much simpler, much less complex and that the biggest hurdles had been crossed. Sometimes my own naivety is endearing to me.
This death cycle has felt very different than the others. There wasn’t an urgent binge this time, the filling up was much slower, much less uncomfortable. Choices were made, boundaries were set, grounding was important. There hasn’t been a violent purge, it’s been a responsible, mindful recycling. A ceremony.
