The metaphor of the walking mandala

Today was the first beautiful weather day in what feels like forever. I moved to Atlanta with the hopes of escaping weather that increases my Lyme related pain but my hopes have been dashed this particular winter. As I try to not squander an opportunity, I chose to take some time for myself and walk the mandala behind my health practitioner’s office. It occurs to me that the process of walking a labyrinth is a great metaphor for life:

We go out to go in and in to go out, backwards to go forwards.
 We follow a path, walking on blue slate chips which can be warm in the sun or cool in the shade. If we choose to walk on them barefoot, they can be smooth and pleasing or jagged and even painful.
 Alternatively, we can protect ourselves (via shoes). You go all the way in to (pause and then) turn around and go out the very same way, yet the scenery looks quite different on the way out. Things change depending on your perspective: you might not see the dragonfly on the blue globe close up but it was so easy to spot from a distance.
 

We can take time to smell the sweet flowers. We can choose to follow etiquette but shouln't be afraid to break it either.
 Mindfulness of the moment, yet clarity of past and future.
 Remember to have joy in the moment- never take yourself too seriously. Stop and observe the flora & fauna, but be careful to not disturb them. It's the relation between stillness and movement.
 

“Labyrinths are one of the oldest transformational tools known to mankind. They have been used for centuries for prayer, ritual, initiation, and personal and spiritual growth. Unlike a maze, a labyrinth is unicursal- only one way to the center and back out again. Once you set your foot on the path, you are gently guided to the center of the labyrinth and yourself. There are no obstacles, no dead ends, and no tricks. So- with the labyrinth walker it is a meditative process- the mind can be stilled and attention paid to the body. It is a time of being rather than doing. Labyrinths also help us access our intuition and creativity, integrate body and spirit, listen to our heart, connect to the greater universal flow of energy, and deepen our spirituality.” (HealthSpring Holistic Center)

We all feel unattractive at times

I am suffering from body dysmorphia lately. I knew it would happen. A year and a half ago, I was down to 103 pounds and was almost solid muscle due to complications from Lyme Disease- I was vomiting and convulsing in pain almost constantly, which, as it turns out, really builds up muscle. I had the “best body” I have ever had; I put best body in quotes because that is based on our unhealthy, media influenced American standards. Once I got healthier (vis a vis Lyme) recovered from the nausea and was able to eat again, I began to get back to a healthier body type. As I gained weight, I was very conscience to keep saying affirmations that I was beautiful, that growing out of a size 0 is healthy. I knew moving from a media driven “ideal type” to a healthy ideal would be hard on me psychologically but with my conscience effort, my self perception didn’t spin out of control.

I then contracted a respiratory infection and wasn’t able to work out for a few weeks. I also got in a relationship. Before I knew it, I was up to 132 pounds. I found myself growing from a size 2/4 to a 4/6 to a 6/8 and I now find myself no longer fitting in my size 8s and having to purchase size 10s. Per our Wii Fit, I still have a healthy BMI, although just barely. I am 5’2” with a thin frame, so I am definitely heavier than I should be; I most definitely shouldn’t gain any more weight. But here’s the thing that strikes me: I shouldn’t feel as hideous as I feel. I really noticed this when looking at photos from graduation this year and cringing at how much weight I had gained. I went back and looked at last year’s graduation pictures (the ones where I, ironically, thought I was fat) and I saw how I was too skinny then. I went back to the current pics and forced myself to see myself as normal and healthy. I looked at pictures of other women (who I consider beautiful) who are of a similar body type to me. I realized that I look no different from them; it is merely my own negative self-perception that is different.

 

I know that I am not the only woman who feels this way. I am here to say: you are not alone. I will continue to work to see myself as beautiful, no matter what my body looks like. I will also continue to work out and will try to eat healthier (much easier said than done for me). I want to be strong enough to conquer Lyme and everything beyond that is gravy. (And while I must force myself to say this) I am beautiful as I am, this day. I know that I will eventually learn to believe myself when I say it.

I am beautiful as I am.

How far we come in a year.

It was this week a year ago that I was in a self imposed hell—swept away in an abusive relationship that I refused to find the strength to leave… until it was almost too late. Everyone around me could see the abyss I was heading towards but I refused to listen to their sage advice; instead I allowed myself to be controlled as if he were Orpheus, playing the strings of my emotions. Mindlessly I followed him as he pushed and pulled me, this way and that, almost as if he was trying the limits of cruelty I would withstand.

When he tried to rape me, I was able to fight him off and he then broke up with me. I was crushed but somewhere from the bottom of the wreckage, I screamed, “No more! Never again.” He didn’t believe me and continued to try to draw me back into his abusive games, but with the strength loaned to me from my support system, I found the strength to resist.

I spent months healing, protecting myself, and fighting to prevent this from happening to anyone else. Then, when I least expected it, I found healthy love—possibly for the first time in my life. I went from the lowest point in human relations to where I am growing and becoming better at communication, giving/accepting support, and trust.

Would I choose to go through that again? No, but I receive solace knowing how I turned it around to make myself a better person and to help others.

My gratitude abounds!

My story from last year: Standing Tall as a Victim

It is all relative

Perhaps it is because my 20^th high school reunion is next week, but I am finding myself using hindsight in new ways.

In 8^th grade I started attending boarding school. My dorm parent and advisor, Miss Beers, seemed so old to me, so wise and so experienced. While waxing reminiscent, it occurred to me that she was probably just out of college; it turns out that she was a mere 22 years old at the time.

I wonder how I would have handled the challenges presented to my teachers if I had to face them at such a green age. At the time I resented their reaction to my acting out, but now with this new insight, my empathy grows. They were so young to address so many complicated situations and relationships. My young teachers were no older than my current classmates.

So here I am about to attend my 20^th reunion, rapidly approaching 40 and I am looking both forward and back. While discussing Buddy Guy with a young classmate last night, she insisted that someone so OLD couldn’t possibly still be living. For the record, he is only 73. And this leads me to the shocking realization that I am using “73” and “only” in the same sentence. 25 years ago I thought 22 was old, now I making an argument that 73 isn’t that old and I think that my 24 year old classmates seem so young to me.