Sometimes my stomach knows before I do.
This time, it was in mystifying knots for almost an entire week before I left for a part-work, part mini-vacation to the west coast.
As planned, the trip consisted of one day of actual work and two and a half days of relaxing in Malibu, California.
I can almost hear your thoughts. “Malibu, huh? I get the sun, sand, beach part – what I’m not getting is where the stress comes in.”
I was wondering the exact same thing.
Yet the knots remained. By the time the morning of my trip arrived, I had progressed to simply carrying my club soda and bitters cocktail around with me, along with a few digestive pills and some Pepto tablets just for good measure.
The plane ride out to California was totally anticlimactic – smooth sailing, nice seatmates, tasty lunch – I would have enjoyed myself thoroughly were it not for the rollercoaster that continued to operate in my midsection. Doing my best to ignore it, I climbed into my cute little rental car right on schedule and headed down Pacific Coast Highway, marveling as I drove at the endless expanse of deep blue ocean, rolling waves, high rock cliffs and brilliant bright sky.
And that was when I heard it.
The refrain that had been lightly pulsating in my head since I disembarked from the plane….it came from a popular dance tune and went a bit like this, “I’m only going to break break your, break break your heart. I’m only going to break break your, break break your heart.”
Over and over and over and over and over again.
I obviously had a bad case of invasive song species. I decided to turn on the radio, see if I could locate the song and sing it out of my head.
It played at least eight times on several different channels during my hour-long ride into Malibu. I yodeled away at the top of my lungs, with gusto, shooing it out with every inhale and exhale.
When I turned off the ignition and climbed out of the car, the refrain in my head just got louder.
After which I proceeded to have one of the most challenging weekends in recent (or distant) memory. The conference I was attending as a thought leader in my field instead revealed an entrenched and resistant reservoir of shame that I thought I had done a great deal of work around. Suddenly, inconveniently, it was clear there was much more work to be done.
I even remember thinking at one point, “Usually I am more perceptive than this about my own inner state. I can’t understand why I didn’t see this one coming.”
And that is when it hit me. I had seen it coming.
My stomach – a part of me that I had for years prior to my recovery from an eating disorder alternately attacked, denied, viciously criticized, and downright hated – was going out of its way after all that abuse to try to HELP me. It was trying to let me know – in a way so mysterious and wise and unconditionally loving that I will probably never understand it – to prepare for a rough spot ahead.
In fact, my ears knew it too – with the relentless soundtrack of “break break your, break break your heart” trying to radio ahead to remind me of how painful emerging shame always is and how important it is to be mindful, accepting, and patient with how the process works.
All during the weekend I felt very fragile and often lonely, and yet all along, I had two great friends right there like undercover, er, body-guards. There they had been the whole time - standing by my side in the guise of my own body and my own heart.
As we often say in MentorCONNECT, "relationships replace eating disorders".
What I learned this weekend is that sometimes those relationships are a lot closer to home than we realize.
xo
Shannon
Our bodies are so wise! Thanks for the beautiful example.
Posted by: Ashley Solomon | 06/17/2010 at 01:56 PM