The Power of Forgivness

When we begin to think about our bodies as something we're in relationship with, we also have to begin to acknowledge all the ways we may have ignored them or treated them badly. One client who had always judged and blamed her body for being overweight found herself needing to take a new kind of responsibility once she realized it was a two-way relationship. What was she doing to contribute to her body's feeling unhealthy and heavier than she wanted?

Often we think of our bodies as being to blame for what we don't like about them, but really when we start to check in, we may realize they were doing the best they could with what they were given. Based on our behavior, we may need to be forgiven too. Letting go of our own guilt and shame around how we have been with our bodies is essential to our healing moving forward.

This is especially apparent with clients who struggle with binge-eating, who frequently find themselves in a cycle of overeating, then feeling horrible and restricting, then feeling deprived and once again overeating. The cycle repeats again and again. When they can learn to partner with their bodies and forgive themselves for their behavior even as it's happening--staying connected to the body rather than shutting down with shame or guilt--the cycle often ends.

Darren, who would frequently eat an entire package of cookies after a bad day at work, used the tools of our work together to keep dialoguing with his body even through a binge: "I'm so sorry, I know I'm doing it again. Please forgive me." Something about choosing the connection to his body over his own cycle of shutting down eventually made the whole cycle lose its power. He found that instead of acting out with food, he could check in with his body and find ways to relieve stress together rather than at odds with each other: go for a walk, call a friend, take a hot shower.

Forgiveness is powerful. Our intention to forgive and be forgiven often changes negative behavior altogether. Forgiveness is an expression of love and a willingness to change and transform a situation, even if we don't exactly know how. When we do this with our bodies, we say that we're willing to look at a situation differently, and that we're primarily committing to being in our experience together rather than separating or shutting down.

Think about the ways that you may shut down in your body relationship when you blame or judge your body or when you feel guilt or ashamed yourself. What might happen if you chose togetherness and forgiveness instead? Try these three steps:

1) Let yourself feel and express your feelings as they arise. If you're in a binge, say how you feel even if you can't stop right away. If you're judging your body for how it looks, acknowledge that it's happening even if you'd like it to be different.

2) Ask for forgiveness and/or be willing to forgive. Instead of shutting down and feeling guilty or pointing the finger and blaming, see if you can simply say you're sorry and stay open to repair. Be willing to offer the same kindness toward your body and the misperceptions you may have toward it.

3) Notice what follows when you stay connected to your body instead of separating from it. Though it may take time for a negative behavior like bingeing or judging to change entirely, you'll probably notice a shift right way in terms of how you feel. It takes a lot of energy and emotion to blame, judge or carry shame. Choosing forgiveness and connection keeps you more open, relaxed and present--like choosing to tell the truth instead of covering something up.

As you move through the week ahead, continue to pay attention to opportunities to forgive and stay connected to your body. Also notice if you can accept forgiveness for your own negative behaviors and practice communicating and being honest. As in any of our relationships, we can't always change overnight. But we can express our feelings, our desire to work on things together, and ask for forgiveness along the way.

The Control Freak Revisited

If you've ever seen the movie When Harry Met Sally, you remember Sally's penchant for controlling and convoluted food-ordering: 'I'll have the salad, but the dressing on the side and no bacon unless you can cook it well-done and then I will have bacon but crumbled not strips...' Harry sits next to her and rolls his eyes.

But how many of us can secretly relate to Sally's attempts to control her world? They scream of an internal vulnerability, a need to know all the answers. Sally's not just showing us her relationship to food; she's showing us her relationship to her whole life.

When clients tell me they've started restricting or hyper-managing their food intake, one of the first question I want to ask is what's going on in the rest of their lives. Where do they feel a loss of control in another area of their life that's being filled (unsuccessfully perhaps) by the control they can feel when they keep their calories under a thousand or get to some perfect weight? Feeling our humanness, our vulnerability, means the relinquishing of control--even Sally gets there eventually: snot-nosed, human and despairing. It means realizing we aren't always going to know the answers or even understand the plan for our lives, let alone create it.

How we relate to food and to our bodies can tell us a lot about how we're relating to our lives. When I become more self-conscious, more restrictive and judgmental with my body, it's often a sign that something else in my life is making me feel vulnerable and I don't want to feel it. One client I worked with began starving himself and working out like a maniac when his job security suddenly became shaky. Another client notices that she has a tendency to diet whenever family is about to come into town; it gives her something else to focus on besides the growing feeling of anxiety and confrontation she's afraid will swallow her up when they arrive. If she can be thinner, maybe she'll be invulnerable to the drama that usually ensues.

Our bodies take a lot of this abuse, but I'm sure--just like we would--they'd rather be seen and connected to rather than objectified and controlled. Control puts us in a robot-like position, gets us out of feeling and into doing. As with a bad relationship, living with the dynamic of control can feel like walking a tight rope; inside, our bodies and our psyches live in fear of doing something wrong and no longer being valued, rather than knowing we're valued no matter what we do.

If control is coming up for you around food and your body, ask yourself what else might really be going on? Are there are other things playing out in your life that feel out of your control? Are there feelings you'd rather not be feeling?

The truth is that there are a lot of things in life we can't control: from relationships to jobs to even how people see us. In the end, Sally's vulnerability is what makes her loveable, not whether or not she has her whole life figured out. If we rely on control for our happiness, we're bound to be let down. Instead, we have to change what we try to control, focusing on our feelings and our attitudes rather than the perfect diet or body.

When we control too much we not only stop being in a real relationship with ourselves, we no longer let others in the way we could. Learning to be with the soft edges and hunger of our bodies takes courage and opens us up to the world much more than fearful restriction. How can you let yourself feel your vulnerability, the truth of what you're experiencing? If you let go of control, what might show up in your life instead?

Getting Past the Weight Set Point

So I'm at my doctor's office for my annual gynecology appointment--the one where I have to get on the scale (previously recounted in a blog entry in April of '09). This time, I'm sitting outside his office for the consultation part of my visit when I hear a woman checking in. She's terrified of getting on that scale. She says no matter what she does, her weight is always the same: "I do really well, I eat healthy for a few days and then I get on that scale and it says the same thing! It makes me feel like not even trying..."

As the conversation goes on, the nurse comes back to weigh her and the woman refuses. "I have to put something down," the nurse pleads. "Too much," is all the woman will offer up. She's become terrified of her own number: that indelible, unchanging weight.

It made me think about all those conversations about a 'weight set point' that seemed to be so popular a few years ago. The idea is that each of our bodies settle into a weight that seems normal to them and then that weight doesn't budge, no matter what we do. I've heard popular thinkers apply this concept to other set points too: those for happiness, prosperity, relationships. We get used to a certain standard and then--to preserve homeostasis--don't seem to stretch beyond it. We get stuck at our set points.

Listening to this woman and her battle with the scale, its unchanging number, I revisited the idea. It does seem to be true. Can you relate? You try and try, you think you're doing everything right: exercise, diet. And nothing changes. Your weight stays the same.

It's a self-fulfilling prophecy. Because when we accept the idea of a set point, we're not acknowledging our ability to influence or be a part of it. To her, it seems as though her body is being stubborn, unmoving. No matter what she does it stays the same. If she wanted her body to know that she'd prefer a different set point, how would she even begin? In her mind, she's already at odds with this thing (her body) that's not doing what she wants it to do, which is CHANGE.

Something begins to shift when we start seeing our bodies as something we can interact with: we allow that we might be able to start that dialogue, to have some influence on things like set-points and outcomes. This attitude certainly sets up a different way of relating to our body's behavior. Instead of believing our body boorishly wants to stay the way it is, we can start telling it what we'd prefer and see what happens. Allowed into the conversation, our bodies may have important feelings and information for us to take in as a result.

When I work with clients with this idea, it's sometimes surprising what happens. Being given the option of communicating with their bodies about what they'd prefer, rather than being at odds with them, they realize their bodies have something to say, and that together they might create positive change. One client who imagined what it would be like to feel lighter and more alive, shared that request with her body and found herself wanting to move and be more active. It was as if her body was saying, "Okay, yes...let's begin." Another client found herself drawn toward more energizing and alive foods. Both needed to make the request and then just listen.

More importantly, both clients began to feel themselves in partnership with their bodies by offering up their dreams to them, rather than seeing their bodies as stubborn objects resisting their desires. In partnership, many things become possible: even the changing of a set point. We have to believe that our bodies don't choose a set point out of defiance, they choose it for the same reason all of us choose the comfortable and familiar: it's easier. But that doesn't mean that given a request and a vision from someone we care about that we wouldn't be willing to step a little outside our comfort zone to try on something better for both of us.

I encourage you to be willing to give your body this chance. Try following this five-step process (also outlined more fully in my forthcoming book) to create positive change with your body:

1) Feel the way things are now--whatever it is that's difficult or challenging. Are you frustrated with your weight? How it feels to move? What your clothes feel like? Let yourself feel and acknowledge the feelings connected to the current situation.

2) Get a vision for how you'd like things to be instead. How would it feel if you could move the way you wanted to in your body? If you felt lighter or your clothing was looser? Let yourself fully experience what that would be like, as if it already existed. What do you see/feel? What are you doing? Surprisingly,when it comes down to it, your vision may not be as much about what you weigh as it is about actually feeling good and at ease with your body.

3) Imagine that you can communicate this to your body, showing it what you'd prefer instead. You might even say, 'This is what I'd like, what do you think?'

4) Next, be willing to see if you get a response. Is there some behavior or wish your body gives you back? Is your body on board with the new vision? Ask your body if there's anything you need to be doing to make it possible and see what kind of response you get. Sometimes clients get a vision of what they could be doing differently and can see themselves doing it. Sometimes it's literally a feeling in your body of restlessness, pent-up energy, a directive to move. How does your body tell you what it needs?

5) Make a commitment to keep checking in together and acting from a sense of the new vision. Get so clear on it that you can feel it in your skin and call it up at will. Use it as a place to come back to and touch base. Ask: does the behavior you're engaging in align with the vision you and your body now share of what you'd like? What would your body say?

When you really get that your communication with your body matters, you embrace both the positive and negative influence you're capable of having. What would you like your body to know about what you most want? How can you, by communicating that vision, go from stuck to transformed?

Try it. In the process, you just might find yourself changing the 'stuck' feelings about your body you didn't even know you had!

The Icing On the Cake

Remember that trip I wrote about in the last blog, to see friends in Denver? I'm back and still have a warm feeling in my heart for one girlfriend who's found a beautiful house in an adorable neighborhood, where she lives with her funny and insightful partner. When in Los Angeles, she struggled to find the right pace for her life, often feeling stressed out and overworked. In Denver, she's like another person: settled into her house, finding the time and space to cook meals at home almost every day, and creatively blossoming into her work and her life.

She explained it to me as feeling so content that the rest of her life--whatever happens from here on out with her career, with her income, with the decision to have or not have kids--is 'icing on the cake.' There's no pressure really. She's already arrived where she wanted to go. Whatever happens from here is just fine.

It occurred to me as I went for a hike today that the same can be true of the home we have in our bodies. I take for granted now the ability to be in my body without judgment, to enjoy its company, to feel content and at ease in my own skin. Years ago if you had asked me if this would be true, I would never have guessed I could get here. But I have. And after all that struggle, feeling peace with my body gives me a similar sense of 'arrival.' Everything else from here--the way I experience and move forward with my life--is 'icing on the cake.'

In fact, when a feeling of contentment and peace can permeate the way we feel in our bodies--as it did today with the buttery sun starting to go down and the green hills lit up and basking in its glow--all IS well. When there's no war going on with our bodies, our senses get to take in everything else that's there. We receive that extra bit of blessing. We're able to be open to life in a different and more present way.

I suppose you could say that icing, per the expression, is the extra stuff. A cake would still be a cake without it. But icing also fills the layers, adds sweetness, makes a cake complete. It's okay to want our lives to have it, and to create a solid enough foundation of peace and goodness that we can let the extra stuff, the sweet and luxurious stuff, show up.

If you're struggling with your body, I encourage you to get the help that ends that war and lets you feel the safety and home you can feel in your own skin. Join a support group. Read a book that helps you reconnect. Join my ongoing teleclass for support--a weekly group to help you find your best relationship with your body. (Go to http://www.bodymindguide.com or http://www.annastookey.com and click on 'Love Your Body Teleclass' to find out more.)

Life is too short to be mired in the struggle. I guess I would say that even though we think of what comes after the struggle as the 'icing on the cake' we also deserve to have that 'icing' be an essential part of our lives. It's amazing how peaceful and complete you can feel once you have an ally in your body instead of one more challenge. Walking that trail today I was just one step closer to feeling the sunlight penetrate my being. I can still feel the way my cells light up in the presence of that beauty and my own movement. I'd like you to feel that too.

The Spoken Secret of Weight

So I'm about to board a plane tomorrow for Denver to see a couple of college friends I haven't seen in awhile. One of them was at my wedding almost three years ago when I was at my skinniest by accident--wedding planning, excitement and constant activity had me practically forgetting to eat. The other knew me at a time in my life when I was eating pints of ice-cream just to prove I could, abandoning nutrition and any rules I'd ever made myself follow so that I could just stop being afraid of food all the time. I was puffy-faced and heavier, but working something important through.

As I think about my relationships with them--and how many phases of dieting and body size they've seen me through--I realize how much history I carry of different ways of seeing and being with my body. I have been afraid of it and in awe of it, disgusted by it and open to its soft rhythms. Sometimes I've weighed more and sometimes I've weighed less.

When we have friends over the years, family, loved ones, they see the fluctuations we wear. In fact, one thing about our bodies is that they broadcast to the world, whether we like it or not, a lot of what we're experiencing or going through on the inside. It can be humbling.

One friend I know almost decided not to go to a recent reunion of some of his army buddies because of his recent weight gain--he was afraid of what people would think, especially since they had known him as a free-wheeling, buff guy twenty years ago. He pushed himself to go anyway and had a great time. What would he have missed if he hadn't gone?

I wonder what we think our weight will say about us, and how we interpret it when we feel exposed to others in our lives. Does weight equal failure? Loss of control? Depression? Sometimes it also exposes our humanness, the crazy pace of our lives. For me, it often just means I'm going through a period where it's harder to listen and slow down. Eventually, a sense of heaviness and weight tells me I need to change what I'm doing and start attending to myself and my body more.

I guess if we're really in alignment with our bodies, that what they would say about how we are wouldn't be so different from the same truths we hold inside. What's so bad about that? The problem is when we split off, wish they said something different than they do, wish we could lie. Those who really care about us see what our bodies say, even if we'd rather pretend that everything is fine. But also, sometimes our bodies look 'fine' on the outside and don't reveal the part of us that is vulnerable, the part that is clutching desperately to a more controlled diet so that we don't have to feel feelings of fear or overwhelm.

What do you think your body says about you right now, and how do you feel about the world getting that message? Is your outside consistent with your insides, your feelings about your life? If not, why? Is there anything you're trying to hide that your body is saying for you instead?

Get curious about unpacking and deconstructing the stories that you, your body, and those around you might tell about you--are they consistent? If not, how might you make them more so, listening and catching up with your body's wisdom and feeling less shame about what it has to reveal? What are you hiding that your body and those close to you already know?

Reparenting Your Body

Oftentimes, we treat our bodies the way we ourselves were treated in our families. We might, for example, tell them to be quiet, criticize or disparage them,care about how they perform rather than how they feel, or put them last on our list after everything else gets done. In our body relationships, we are often reenacting old familiar patterns of how we were taken care of or not taken care of as children. In fact, it might give you some compassion for yourself to consider that you may not have been taught any other way to be with your body than the ways you yourself grew up with!

When you were sad did you get held and heard or did you feel like your feelings were inconvenient? When you did something really great, did you get rewarded or simply feel like that's what was expected? One client shared the insight with me that growing up in her family there were simply certain unspoken goals, a certain level of perfection she was expected to achieve. Before she knew what had happened, she had applied that same thinking to her own body, making her a stern and unloving parent to her body's needs and feelings, always expecting more from it without really listening to it moment to moment.

This is one reason why the work of reconnecting with and learning to listen to our bodies can feel so deeply healing and corrective. We are literally reparenting ourselves, learning to listen to our most basic needs and feelings in ways we may never have experienced before in any other relationship, probably from early on in our lives. As we learn to do that for ourselves, of course, our other relationships change as well. We begin to expect and elicit a certain amount of care, attention and compassion from those around us as we learn to give it to ourselves.

Think about the kinds of relationship patterns you may be reenacting with your body. Are you capable of really listening to it? Caring for it? What old patterns might you be breaking within your own family in order to do that? Does that feel scary? Possible?

When we choose a different way of being with ourselves, we drop the conditioning we grew up with. Often, the clients I work with grew up in households that valued how they looked or performed over how they felt or what they needed. The work of reconnecting to their bodies is being willing to give up just judging their bodies by how they look and also beginning to consider how they feel, what they need. Learning when and how your body actually communicates hunger can be a huge step if you're used to ignoring it. Noticing where feelings get felt in your body and finding ways to be loving toward them is also huge.

What can you do today to care for yourself and your body as a good and loving parent? Forgive your parents for doing the best they could and truly consider whether or not you can break the spell of old relationship habits and make new ones in the way you will treat and be with your body. Choose one different behavior to work toward every day with your body: is it being more verbally appreciative and loving? Listening more closely to what it wants or needs? Spending time with it in kinder and more connected ways?

What would the little child inside of you have loved to get from her parents that you can now bring to this relationship with your body, healing the old longing? As you find ways to fill those needs with your body, you may watch the world change around you as well, into a place of greater openness, wonder and joy: a place where anything is possible, where YOU are possible.

Finding Our Inner Sexiness

I read an interesting article the other day in an old Psychology Today (Elton, June 2010). The topic? How women's sex lives are affected by their relationship to their bodies. It was educational and sobering at the same time.

One of the points it made? That problems with low sexual desire or arousal in women often have to do with our not being in touch with our bodies. "We are socialized to not pay attention..." one expert in the article says (Meston, pg. 77). When we are out of touch with our bodies, it's hard for us to give attention to our own arousal, thereby allowing it to grow. Instead, we're numbed out and disconnected.

Another issue? Our poor body self-esteem. Although many women put the emphasis on how their partner perceives them, apparently it's just as important that we have a healthy perception of our own bodies. When we don't feel sexy and alive, it's hard for us to go there. "Women have this sexual relationship with themselves that's integral to their sexual relationships, period," argues one expert (Meana, pg. 76)

We may put the blame on a non-sexy partner or say we need to be loved in a certain way in order to be aroused--and these are both important factors. But it's also interesting to consider how the way we're relating to our own bodies might be getting in the way. Are we capable of finding them sexy, feeling the sensations they bring us, noticing what we are aroused by?

It's true that as women we've often been told to tame this aspect of ourselves. Stereotypically men are supposed to be more interested in sex than we are. But when you look at the stereotype through the lens of body disconnection it becomes more interesting. What if we become less interested in sex because the objectification of our own bodies has made us less interested and connected to our own sexual response?

Part of taking back our bodies as our own and developing a healthier relationship with them is also empowering ourselves to feel our sexiness and beauty, regardless of whether or not we match some outside version of reality. It's sad to think that we might depriving ourselves of a rich sex life because we don't think we measure up, or because we're too disconnected from our physical cues to even experience them.

What would it take for you to let the feeling of sexiness back into your life right now? One of the exercises I often do with clients is to let them imagine the qualities they'd like to feel in their body no matter what their current shape or size. Try this on--how would you walk if you truly allowed yourself to feel sexy? What would you wear? How would you feel inside?

If you stopped waiting for things to fit some perfect picture on the outside, how might you allow yourself your own inner sexiness, your own intimate and respectful relationship to your own body right now? What if the future of your sex life depends on it?