Convergence

Events Conspire

Paths Converge

We may Choose to Ignore Them

But, What’s the Fun in That?

It all started with butt boils.

Take a part of the human body rich in adipose tissue, add pressure and heat (as in sitting for long periods of time), and that body part will revolt—or become revolting.  Enough on that matter.

diggingNext came a therapy session where we connected the dots between trauma and food as my drug of choice.  Since my diagnosis of Binge Eating Disorder, I’d set down my shame and guilt about being a Woman of Substance.  I’d become kinder, more accepting of my body.  But there we were, dredging up all that business, and I found myself disappearing.  My hands and feet went numb; a rushing sound filled my head; I seemed to leave my body and drift somewhere behind and above it.

Later, I learned what I’d always called this “shutting down” was technically dissociation—an altered state of consciousness that can include depersonalization, sensory and psychological numbing, disengagement, and amnesia.  Most people experience mild forms of detachment, like daydreaming while driving and losing a bit of time.  The more pathological end of the spectrum ends up Sybil-like with fragmentation of the personality.  It’s a coping mechanism—a way to keep the psyche safe when under attack, whether that attack is real or imagined.

Clearly, I had more work to do with this.  Or, as Megan reminded me, not.  I always have choices, and she is not the variety of therapist who requires excavation of Hurtful Things.

bed-rageSoon after, as I sorted my old blog posts into potential book categories, I marveled at how I once worked so very hard at controlling my eating, how I celebrated small victories and believed I made tiny changes in my behavior.  And then I always gave up, as my endgame of losing weight could never be reached.  I started to wonder if I could ever push gently against the binge eating, if I could find a way to work with it like I’d found ways to work with bipolar disorder—gently, with acceptance and kindness, while still holding the worst symptoms accountable.  I had no idea how that might look, but I opened to the possibility instead of shutting myself away from it.

On my way to Orly Avineri’s workshop in Taos, I started reading Foolsgold by Susan Wooldridge.  In her introduction she says:

I began writing these pages when I decided to make a small collage box each day for a year with what I found on my walks—often the most ordinary, seemingly worthless bits of nothing.  That’s when fool’s gold became foolsgold for me, a field around us, or state of being, where everything can be transformed by our seeing and creativity.  Merged into one word, “foolsgold” describes a paradox, the value in what may seem to be worthless.  Foolsgold reminds us to look beyond appearances, even in ourselves.  What seems to loom in us most darkly may finally be what brings the most light. Everything can be transmuted by attention, play, love.

walkabout-coverI used to walk a lot, then stopped as it wasn’t getting me to the destination I wanted.  If I had some different motivation to walk, like looking for art fodder along the way, I might be able to do it.  I let that idea sit in my hindbrain as I got my self to Taos.

One afternoon, Orly showed us a small art journal her nephew made.  An environmental crusader, all his art is made up of junk with space for sketches and ruminations.  Orly’s nephew had no concern for style, or balance, or making things look pretty.  His art was raw and powerful.  And very simple.

I can do that, I thought.  And as that realization settled in, my body demanded it.

It took a few weeks once I got home to jumpstart idea to action.  But now I have my WalkAbout journal, and every few days I set out with my big zip lock bag and find my material for the day.

hospice-walkChange, even good change, can be stressful.  My rapid cycling has been spinning like a hamster wheel.  Some days the amount of trash among the trees and berms disgusts and weakens me.  I tell myself I can’t go out among all that thoughtlessness again.  But the hamster wheel keeps spinning, and I tie on my purple trainers.  After a couple of weeks of this, I’m learning to wait for fodder to signal me—light on shiny foil, strange lumps, a flash of color in the dunny weeds.  It gets easier and easier.  As does the art that comes after.

tama-wingMy butt likes that I’m moving more.  I make my WalkAbout pages in the evening when my binge eating is most bothersome.

I’m still on an Adventure.

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16 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Michelle at The Green Study
    Feb 28, 2017 @ 09:45:19

    Sounds like you’ve discovered a fantastic new tool. May your travels bring you purpose and good garbage.

    Reply

  2. Elaine GREEN
    Feb 28, 2017 @ 12:26:06

    hi. am always in awe when I read your postings….. I want you to know that you have an open invitation to come up and spend time here in Prior Lake… I have 2 large bedrooms, private baths, and lots of open space looking right out on the Lake,,,, Biscuit and Frankie are my treasured companions,… though Frankie spends 99% her time under the bed!…so please don’t hesitate….. would love to have the company.

    Reply

  3. pegoleg
    Feb 28, 2017 @ 14:12:14

    What a fabulous idea and execution. I love the title and idea of “walkabout” – a temporary journey, a coming of age, whatever you wish. I also love to walk, but I’m typically not observing the stuff on the ground with your artist’s eye, I’m more inwardly directed. Or I’m listening to old disco and dancing along the path.

    Reply

  4. donnaanddiablo
    Feb 28, 2017 @ 15:06:59

    Hi Sandy, The beginning of this post instantly transported me to my childhood and thoughts of my dear sweet Grandad, whom I adored beyond life, a farmer who was often plagued with carbuncles as a result of riding on the tractor for hours and hours at a time. Long story short, I feel ya….

    On another note, I was thinking of you as I was listening to ‘Fresh Air’ on NPR earlier this afternoon. Terry Gross was doing a program on the links between bipolar disorder and creativity. Thought you might find this interesting, too. http://n.pr/2mHGDLO

    Keep on trekking, girl. Your posts never fail to engage…. 🙂

    Reply

    • Sandy Sue
      Feb 28, 2017 @ 21:45:24

      There’s been a lot of research about the link between bipolar disorder and creativity. In Stephen Fry’s documentary, “The Secret Life of the Manic Depressive,” he asked BP folk if they would push a button if it got rid of the illness. Most said no as they thought it would take away their creativity, too.

      Reply

  5. David Kanigan
    Feb 28, 2017 @ 17:54:03

    “My butt likes that I’m moving more” – go for you and your butt Sandy.

    Reply

  6. Secondhand Surfer
    Mar 01, 2017 @ 07:53:47

    Everything can be transmuted by attention, play, love. – I agree

    Reply

  7. Littlesundog
    Mar 01, 2017 @ 17:02:20

    This is an interesting post. I never thought much about dissociation in my life. I move my butt through the woodlands, gathering downed timber to clean up the orchard… and in that work, I find my peace of mind, and so many treasures. I photograph most of it, but I collect some of the oddities… last week I found my first owl pellet, some beautiful colored feathers, and the skull of a young buck with small antlers. I lose track of time on these ventures. These are often the times I came face to face with a wild critter. It is exhilarating and powerful.
    You know you are always welcome to come roam the woodlands with me. However I do not recommend it once the heat of summer hits… the insects and snakes are awful!!

    Reply

  8. lewisweir
    Mar 03, 2017 @ 15:03:14

    Thank you for being open enough to share

    Reply

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