Diving Into the Ocean of Now

Memorial Day has come and gone. We are unofficially (yet officially) beginning a new season of our lives. For most of us the last week of May signifies the summer just sitting there waiting for us to lounge, swim, BBQ, and soak up the sun. Rock on. Love me some summer. Especially after a long ass winter of snow and frigid temps. However, this new season of my life is different this year. It’s not only about the hotter weather and later bedtimes.

Last week, the week before Memorial Day weekend, I spent with my family in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. We have done this for the past 6 years. Cape Hatteras, NC holds magic for my family. My girls look forward to this week of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and fun for the other 51 weeks of the year. Literally the only things we do there are bounce back and forth from the beach and the pool, eat, laugh, drink wine, laugh more and have some pretty awesome connected conversations that serve as heart fuel.

So why the hell did I spend the weeks prior to our departure in a panic?

The reason is both simple and quite boring. My body. See, I gained weight this year. I feel “different”. I say boring just because this is old shit here. Nothing new. Good God, I’ve been here before! So as much as I look forward to the blissful week of family in the sun, I was willing to forgo my happiness for self-pity and hiding. And as freaking CRAZY as this may sound for some of you, it made perfect sense to me. It's what I know.

I could rattle off past vacations, past summers, past situations/experiences/opportunities…past-past-past ….where I made the choice to run rather than play an active role in my life due to my self-loathing around my body.

Hiding/avoidance/running has looked different through out the different phases of my life. Here is what it has looked like for most of my adult life…

· Getting nervous about putting on a bathing suit. Picking apart my body. Feeling shame that I can STILL feel this way.

· Not talking about any of it. At all. Just pretending I am totally cool. Denying myself the space to feel.

· Becoming incredibly bitchy due to the amount of energy I am putting into pretending I’m “fine”.

· Wearing an uncomfortable amount of clothing to cover up this body that I am so busy hating.

· Avoiding life.

· Getting annoyed at anyone who questions my need to cover up or avoid.

· But again, not talking about it. Just pretending. Again.

· Getting bitchier.

· And sadder.

· Missing out on countless moments with my kids and my family because of it all.

· Knowing what I am missing out on, feeling ashamed that I can’t get past myself, and staying right there, staying put, in my own self degradation.

· Coming home feeling defeated and pathetic. Asking the same old question “How did I end up here again?!”

To my surprise, after all the work I have done around self acceptance and body, this year it all started right on cue. As I began getting ready to pack and take out the summer clothes, the old shit came up once again. I normally would go into a "Here I go again....." sort of poor me mind game with myself.

But this year was different. Why? Because I actually felt it. I gave myself the space to FEEL it. Simple yet profound. I didn’t go through the familiar game of telling myself I SHOULD be over this already. I SHOULD be more evolved. I SHOULD love myself right where I am. I called bullshit. And I cried. Like a baby. I cried for the moment I was in and I cried for the years of this shit. It was not the first time I cried over my relationship to my body and what that has caused in my life and it probably won’t be the last. Knowing this about myself and not only accepting it but allowing it to just be. Holy miracle. It is totally OK that I cried, felt what I needed to feel, AND I will most likely do it AGAIN at some point and that is even more OK. It means I am human and alive.

My relationship to my body is changing, for sure, but we have a LONG ass, messy, dramatic, DEEP and sometimes dark history. Healing takes time. Plus, this-my body- is my gateway. This is where I dive deep. This is where I find myself. This is my gift if I so choose to see it as such. This could take a lifetime and I need to stay present to that. I know that it is through my relationship with my body, I find out who I am so I can live with purpose.

So, after I cried, or while I cried at moments, I talked about it. First with God. I really talked to God. Like, a lot. Here's the thing, for some amazing reason, I finally believe that this big Dude, the power that created me, the power that created it all, the power that is all encompassing love...... actually cares about me. All of me, even my messed up relationship with my body and my eating disorder. He CARES and wants to love me anyway. This may be obvious to some, but I am just scratching the surface here. God cares how I feel about my body, how I relate to it, how I speak about it, how I inhabit it, how I move my body, even how I feed it….all of it. I'm just taking that in and allowing my heart to relax into it.

.........Then I talked with other human beings. I shared my fears, my worries, and my shame. I talked to my husband and I talked to friends. Not in an “I’m falling apart, save me” sort of way. More in a “This is where I am at and I know I will survive but, can you hold me for a little bit while I get my shit together” sort of way. Allowing them in.

I arrived for the vacation feeling. Seriously, feeling. Simple right? Not psyched but present. Not “fine” but ready.

On that first day I sat around the table with my sisters and my mom and I grabbed the chance to once again, out myself. Get myself present. Stake in the ground for being all of me, not pretending. I got right down to the nitty gritty that I was scared to put on the bathing suit. I shared how scared I get and how immensely uncomfortable it can be. How debilitating it can feel and how much this takes over when I let it.

Not surprisingly, but so so wonderfully, I was met with love and understanding. We are all a part of the same family. My worries, fear, shame….they are not so unique. We shared our shit, openly.

Then, my sister being so her, requested a ceremonious jump in the ocean. Brilliant. We were going to get the first time bathing suit unveiling/sighting over and done with right away. We would strip down and run into the ocean. Never mind how cold it was or that I that I am not a huge fan of swimming in the ocean. This was about diving into the presence of NOW. This was about claiming ourselves for the week ahead. This was a statement of our truth. This was about being alive and feeling all the glorious joy that comes with that.

We walked down to the water. I was not so sure. I hesitated. I am more of a dip my toe in first, very old lady like kinda girl in the water BUT this was about moving fast. We stripped down, ran in, screamed our heads off, and dove under. AHHHHHH!

It was fast but it was also a moment that stood beautifully still.

It was like that cold turbulent water sent life into our hearts and woke us up to what the universe has wanted for us all along. I am still feeling the vibrancy of the water on my skin.

· Just be all of you, not the covered up version.

· Go dammit! Go live. No matter how clumsy or ungraceful or jiggly. Just run, giggle and keep going.

· This is your life. Be LOUD. Take up space. LIVE LARGE.

· Dive baby! Go under. Get wet. Get messy and soak it up!!

Because then and only then do you get the refreshing charge of love force you hold within you.

So this new season, the week after Memorial Day, the unofficial (yet official) first week of summer, it has taken on a whole new meaning for me this year. This new season I am letting go of much more than snowy days and frigid temps and bulky clothes.

Here’s to diving into the ocean of now. Here's to a new season of this life.