Are you a lover or a fighter?

Tags

Amedeo Modigliani, AnthroYogini, Aum, Body image, EmBody Talk, Love, Meditation, Om, self-loathing, The BlissChick, Yoga

Reclining Nude by Amedeo Modigliani, c. 1919

I’m sure most of us would immediately say we are lovers! We prefer peace and harmony in our lives over fighting, right?

But what about the war you wage against yourself? Whether it’s physical, mental or emotional – or all three – we are hyper-critical of our Selves in so many ways, aren’t we?

This is however, the way it goes in a world where duality rules the roost. We always want what we don’t have, we always perceive ourselves as not quite what we want to be.

And that is war. Or if you prefer, self-loathing. Any time we are in that mode of thinking, then we are in conflict with ourselves.

Just the other day I found myself cursing my poor left shoulder, for no other crime than being injured and limiting my movement (it is getting better BTW, just slowly)!

Now, if a friend came up to you and told you they were injured would you curse them? Would you be rude and mean to them or ignore them? Probably not, right? You’d probably be sympathetic, perhaps send them love and healing vibes. Maybe you’d even help them work out the best course of action to get some healing going on. Yeah… that sounds about right!

This is especially true for our relationship with our own body. Women have complexes about their bodies in droves (an epidemic perhaps?) but I believe many men do, too. Personally, I’ve had a life-long struggle to accept how I look and some aspects of that struggle are ongoing.

Sometimes it seems like no matter how much yoga I do or how many times I chant Om or meditate, those thought patterns about my body remain. They run deep! Of course, the more yoga, meditation and chanting I do, the easier it is to see those thought patterns and marvel at their relentlessness.

My negative body image thoughts have become transparent to me now and I can separate my Self from them, but they never really let up… too tall, boobs too big, not pretty enough, too muscular, too heavy, not thin enough, not graceful, too different, thighs too big, nose too chunky, jawline not defined enough, lips too thin, too many freckles, wish I looked more like HER instead…

I know now those thoughts are not my true Self; they are part of the tricksy and distracting monkey mind that comes with this body and existence. The mind rules the world of duality and the more conflicts it creates, the harder it becomes to peel back the layers of delusion to an awakening of who we really are.

So this work of self-acceptance is vitally important.

Recently I was asked by The BlissChick (aka Christine) to participate in an interview series called EmBody Talk. It took a while to consider Christine’s questions properly and then attempt to condense a lifetime of body image issues into a (relatively) short response.

You can read the interview here: EmBody Talk: Svasti, Yogini & Survivor (cool title, thanks Christine!!)

I could’ve written so much more!

The wonderful thing about Christine’s interview series is that hopefully we’ll all learn more about what goes on beneath the skin of others. We will all be able to relate in some way to the stories being told and see how our negative self-image thought patterns are entirely detrimental. We are not alone in our self-denial!

Certainly, many of my own issues as documented here on my blog have stemmed from a deep dissatisfaction and self-hatred of my physical appearance, including (but not limited to) the reasons I found myself working in the sex trade industry all those years ago.

So I hope you enjoy the interview. On the same topic of body image issues, I also invite you read a couple of Anthroyogini’s recent posts (here and here).

Namaste!

~Svasti

Body Scars

Tags

Body image, Bras, Depression, Exercise, Jogging, Sex, Weight gain, Yoga

Today I went to buy some new bras – a necessity I’ve always hated.

From my early teenage years I had big boobs. I was always embarrassed to be wearing bras when my schoolmates had barely a hint of anything worth restraining.

As I grew older, I discovered there are hardly any bras made for young women with DD cups. I mean, you can buy DD bras alright, but they’re not suitable for chicks who don’t want to look like a grandma when they undress.

Then there’s the matter of support, which reduces the candidate pool even further. Sure, you can get some lacy & pretty DD bras these days but they aren’t bras you can wear with any regularity unless you want to end up with back and/or shoulder pain.

Anyway, I digress.

What I noticed today in those oh-so-helpful dressing rooms with mirrors that show you what you look like from every angle is this – my body is wearing the war wounds of my trauma.

Now, in my pre-assault life, I was never what you’d call a thin wispy thing. But I was fit. I jogged, I did yoga, I rode my bike, I went to the gym. I was curvaceous but toned. And now, my body looks like a wasteland of this time. The basic structure and musculature is still there, but it’s obscured by more body fat than I’ve ever had in my life. Not that I’m obese. Just possibly carrying around 15-20kg more than necessary.

I’ve had body issues most of my life. In my eyes I’ve always been too tall, too big boned compared to other females. I also had a brother that managed to tell me every day for a good ten years that I was ugly, fat, stupid, wasn’t going to amount to anything etc. And you know what they say – if you’re told something often enough, it sticks.

I managed to see through the taunts about my intelligence – it was blatantly clear I was much smarter than my brother. I was able to make a life for myself, study, and get good jobs that paid well enough. So that never really stuck. But the body image stuff really really did.

I need to say that when I’m fit and not carrying too much excess body weight, I’ve received many compliments. I never had a shortage of men in my life and I was able to be… if not happy with how I looked then – okay. I was okay with how I looked and I could accept I’d never be model thin or gorgeous. And I could also accept that men liked how I looked, even if I could never see it myself.

But today, taking a good look at myself in the mirror (for the first time in a while) – I was able to see the exhaustion, the pain and the need for refuge imprinted on and in my flesh.

I’ve always been sporty, always active and doing things. But like many people dealing with depression – I stopped. Well, it was stop-start for a while before my will for exercise sputtered into nothingness.

Something I seem to do is self-punish. If I’m feeling low or down, I’ll take things away from myself that could make me feel better. Sad but true. And throughout the last couple of years I’ve held myself responsible for what happened to me. For what someone else did. Yeah, yeah – logically I know it’s not true. I can’t count the number of times people trotted out that tired old line “what happened – it’s not your fault you know”. Yup. Try telling that to the Supreme Judge residing within who signed my guilty verdict before the bruises had healed. And it seems, I’ve made myself pay with my body.

There’s another theory, one I’ve been thinking for a while. And one with which my therapist agrees. It’s around being attractive to the opposite sex.

Until December last year, I hadn’t had sex with anyone since I was assaulted. Well, technically from a month or so before I was assaulted actually. Andre (not his real name) and I had been seeing each other for a few months before I called it off. At least a month before that night.

For a long time it wasn’t even a question, I had no sex drive. I had no interest in men. I was literally too terrified to get close to anyone. [Note: I’ll deal more with some of these topics (sex, dating etc) in separate posts.]

In any case, the theory is something like this – in order to not have to deal with men being attracted to me in any way, I let myself gain weight. I stopped doing the things I enjoyed that also helped me maintain my weight. It’s a great avoidance tactic when you think about it.

Then, once I noticed the weight I’d been gaining I did make an effort to lose it. For a while I even had a personal trainer I was seeing twice a week for 2-3 months. But whilst I got fitter, I didn’t lose any weight.

I do know now that this is a psychological reaction in an attempt to protect myself. The only problem with that is because I have prior issues with my body/weight/looks, my weight gain contributes to my depression. So I avoid mirrors and I don’t go shopping for new clothes a lot. Despite being aware of all these things, I find it incredibly difficult to re-build my exercise routines.

Lately I’ve been making slow but steady inroads towards regaining my fitness. I have a ‘once a week’ rule. If I can do something at least once a week, it’s a triumph. Right now, I’m either going to a yoga class or going for a light jog. Anything else is a bonus.

The first effort to adhere to this rule was going to my favourite yoga studio. In order to make this possible, I had to put a few structures in place. I made a vow out loud to a friend that I was going to go. I pre-packed my yoga bag the night before and made sure it was in the boot of my car. Then I drove my car to the train station next to the studio – not my usual station. Despite all of those things, I had to again verbalise to someone at work what I wanted to do, and took their encouragement on board. It was still touch and go as I was walking back to my car after work. Heading towards the studio, I felt as though I was wading in wet sand. It was unbelievably tough. But finally I got there and my inner cheerleader went berserk!

There were a few weeks between this first effort and the next. But now I seem to have it sorted, at least for my ‘once a week’ rule. And when, a couple of weeks ago I went for a walk/jog in a local park, the crowds went wild!

It’s still hard every day. As much as I love exercise, the battle to allow myself something that I enjoy is a tough game to win. But slowly the Supreme Judge within is losing gravitas.

Looking in the mirror(s) today I saw I’ve got a long way to go. I don’t want to look like this any more. I do want to be attractive to men once more.

I know that in order for my body scars to fade, I’ve gotta start taking care of myself. The early foundations are there. And right now I’m waiting for the impulse to arrive that will make the ‘once a week’ rule obsolete as my natural desire to be active returns. I live in hope, with a healthy dose of intent thrown in for good measure!

~Svasti