Looking at my body I see a body that has been through every food experiment I could discover and trust through books, wellness programmes, dieticians and doctors.
Most of them were restricting some part of what was available for me to eat. Most of them had a purification period, a grace period and a collapse period.
They all worked for a while, some years at best.
But I never fell for any of them. I never fully endorsed or followed them.
Each time, at each attempt something in me was always resisting to conform. Not out of weakness or laziness, not based on a metabolic or health issue but simply because I did not want to do it.
Still, I have self-blamed myself for not trying enough, for not having the necessary discipline, for not loving myself, etc. And still none of this self-addressing techniques worked for me either.
As the malnutrition was on-going I felt the pain in my cells and my tissues; too many experiments, too much insulin, too many supplements, too less freedom.
The cells went crazy. I had periods of over indulging and periods of starvation. Each had its advantages and disadvantages. Each had a purpose and its right place.
Many nights the friends that I did not have and the lover I was longing was the pizza I was ordering. I have seen that pattern repeated over and over, and the only thing that changes is the crust in the pizza; from whole wheat to gluten free to cauliflower!
Other periods with early wake ups and a fresh detox mood my green smoothies were my angels to save me from months of insulin abuse and self-destructive junk food.
Other people had music, art, sex; I had my fasting preludes.
I enjoyed the purification of my mind. And every single time I was discovering the original sense of natural smell and taste. I was reborn, I was resurrected, I was back in the kingdom of living!
But the love affair was lasting only for some time; it was not meant to be forever, till death takes me apart from my body.
What drives me crazy is that essentially, I don’t care about food. I would be happy if someone gave me a solution to not eating, or cooking or the weekly logistics, buying, storing and cleaning up around food. With the exception of some occasions, I do not enjoy the process so much; I cook out of necessity or when I receive people at home. I really don’t want to invest my time to food process and eating consumption.
Naturally, I still question myself how was it then that I became an addict of comfort food, a sugar craving junkie? I know the latest news about all patisseries in my city as other people know about technology gadgets, songs or sports. And I have driven a lot of nights in the city with the single purpose of finding that new place with the new flavour and the new pieces of pastry.
My repeated imperfect habits over prolonged periods of time worked well enough to train my body to expect and to crave all of what I was not interested, leaving out those that I was.
As I look back in years and years of demanding nutrition out of the good faith of trying another thing, I do not see an obese or an over weighted person. What I discover is a person under the patriarchy regime of power; the need to have IT and the way I perceived that I could have IT.
I was craving for a big presence, not food. I felt that having a large displacement with my physical presence I was meant to be noticed; that was a way, not conscious to me but still a legitimate way, of announcing to the world that I have arrived; “look at me now, look at me and listen to me”.
I was driven by the fear of not being seen unless my body was making a statement. It had to look strong, and full and take some space in the room.
I was paying the cost of the image; to look strong, my cells and all the internal organs had to struggle to support so much fat and insulin residues. That does not leave much space for their healthy activities.
I was imposing myself to my internal biology; a complete tyranny over the body; worshiping the false patriarch king of power; power derived from an authoritarian basis of wanting to get noticed and heard more than wanting to be alive and healthy. And as I was imposing an extrinsic idea on my body, I was losing sight of parts of my feminine aspects.
There was no communication between my mind and my abdomen, my pelvis or my stomach. There was only obsessed desire for success according to given models of contemporaries. My eating patterns were birthed by the suppressing pressure for conformity in a work place and a love life that was a patriarchy principle of mind over matter; an imposed will that was not connected with the functions of the body as a collective expression of biological excellence.
Luckily, I met some wonderful people that personify the beauty of a healthy mind and spirit, radiant of vitality and ageless beauty. Their power is not invested in large physical displacements. Their wisdom is apparent in their body equally as in all the other aspects of their lives.
In this wisdom, I am making myself free. I am looking into the principles of holding a space for peaceful co-existence of my biological self with the Earth and nutrition. I can survive. I can also be beautiful. Nothing is threatening these great joys for me. Yet, I know that years of poor patterns need to be addressed and included in my inner conversation about ending the patriarchy tyranny of arrogant wanting and demanding.
As I recognize my emerging diet in peace, I am also seeing myself stepping in life as an equally peacefully driven and confident adult. I sense that this is the beginning of my freedom. I ask my body to hold on and my mind to serve the pulse of a life beat that is all about inclusion and reverence.