The Journey of a Weighted Soul part III

The Journey of a Weighted Soul

Part III of III.

Brushing the mirror; I was making it happen! I just had lap-band surgery to “fix” my over eating problem once and for all. My ego was happy and my spirit-soul was keeping back as it often does during testing, quiet, observant.

I lost weight like gangbusters… dropping like a ton of brick but I was so very sick. At times it felt like I couldn’t even drink water without dry heaving and gagging. Something was wrong. At the clinic the doctor kept saying, “Try not to over eat because it will hurt you very badly”. But I wasn’t eating at all it seemed. I dropped 100 pounds in 8 months all the while thoroughly miserable and quite insane I must admit. I felt there was something up so I went back to have the band checked. I noticed the doctor looked shocked at my appearance and made an adjustment to the band that I did not ask for… he opened it all the way, rendering it useless to keep any weight off at all that way. Unfortunately I remained very ill for reasons unknown to me at the time.

During this time I met a man that I fell head over heels in love with, and if you’ve been on this earth very long you know that people attract the same sort of persons that they are predominately. So yes, he was unhappy and nuttier than squirrel poo! So I sat about “keeping company” with this man adding to an already volatile situation within my person. I became so attached to him that it was as unhealthy as my physical situation. Soon he grew disgusted with my clingy-ness and continued sickness and  moved to another state in pursuit of his own dreams. I was devastated at that time and what little bit remained of my pride and my mind left with him. 

Nothing after that satisfied me. Not caring anymore I discovered I could drink a great deal of calories with no problems (thank you Starbucks) and I went about medicating myself in the way I knew best. Eighty of my 100 lost pounds found me again. But for the first time in my adult life I truly didn’t give a crap if I was ever considered physically attractive by anyone pass the ice cream please.

Soon enough I found solid food stayed down better than before and after a brief call to the doctor I found out why. He admitted to opening the band as wide as it would go. A procedure I did not request. I no longer trusted him and haven’t spoken with him since.

A deeper depression than I have ever known took me. Death was something I thought about often. The love for my children, friends and family kept me earth side but only “just”. I thought about the desire of getting hit by a car, while out an about, more often than I cared to admit.

And now at Christmas 2008 after years of giving up on the notion of dying                              ~ I get my wish. ~

It had been a few years since being desperately emotionally ill enough to want to die so you can imagine my surprise when the last thing I remember in 2008 was wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and opening my eyes 3 weeks later after being in a coma. 

I had contracted bacterial spinal meningitis and my brain swelled within my skull to the point of shut down. I had an enlightening death experience… something I found interesting (in hindsight). But my family, my mother in particular, was not impressed with it, sorry mom. After waking and being put in my own room, I kept thinking “Oh I’ve been hit by a truck I just know it!” but was told (repeatedly) “no you’ve been ill”. Oh well hmmm whatever gets the job done I guess.

 I will write about my death experience in a separate install. Now here I am 6 years into recovery and it’s taken every bit of that time to work my way back into walking, talking and cognitive thinking (memory is still a bit of an issue). My mother moved me up here to the mountains to keep an eye on me and to give me less stress and time to come back to myself. But I’ve done more than that. I haven’t come back to myself… I’ve come back to someone totally different. A more spiritual person, so I’ve been told, the pieces of the puzzle slip into place now. The healing practices I use to just read about I practice on a more personal, intimate level to the point of being obnoxious. But I don’t care ha ha. I no longer wish to get hit by a car or go anywhere right now… how refreshing.

~ <3

The Journey of a Weighted Soul Part II

 The Journey of a Weighted Soul Part II. 

How far did I go out from source anyway?

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Most of my early teen and adult life felt panicky and confusing yet I didn’t fall for a lot of information presented to me by what one would call “mainstream media”. Going through experimentation with drugs didn’t take up a long period of my life. I discovered, very quickly, mood altering substances, while interesting and entertaining, were not a cure for loneliness and confusion. Smoking cigarettes and over eating were the only two addictions that stuck with me. So when it came to visiting the medical doctor about problems most of the time the prescription he wrote for me would wind up in the trash at home.

I wanted help but had not an ounce of trust left within me. I saw too many people suffering the same fate as I and their trust in modern treatments just made things worse for them.

I was fascinated with herbal studies since young childhood. My grandmother Evans could grow anything anywhere which fascinated me even more. I carried around a copy of “Back To Eden” by Jethro Kloss and read it until the book fell apart. Also, the works of Edgar Cayce I found extremely interesting (I thank my mother for this. She left these books lying around the house for me to find)… there was more to this life than pain and heart break and I knew it! A winning concept but how to apply the concept in the real physical flesh and in the messy world? The concepts of all the things I would study on spirituality would stay as just that: concepts. Pretty words in print that I continued to believe in but had not a clue how to apply to my daily physical life. Making simple things more complicated was the name of my game. So I didn’t even know what a proper spiritual practice looked like.

By the time I was in my early 20s these big holes within my emotional and spiritual body started becoming an issue as I put on a great deal of weight; trying to fill those holes the best way I knew how, with food. Go forward 20 years, one failed marriage and two children later saw me at the age of 40, at a height of 5’2 and weighing in at 240 pounds. My health was in danger. Years of chain smoking, depression, binge eating and fad dieting had finally taken its toll and I felt and looked much older than 40.

{One day around the age of 37-38, I highly suspect I suffered a heart attack. I was outside goofing off with a young cousin and was trying to “keep up” with her playing around. Suddenly there was a pain in my chest and arm I had never felt before. Nauseated and dizzy I went inside and sat in a chair for about an hour until the pain subsided. I got up, slowly put in a load of laundry to wash and started supper. I said nothing but stored the event in my mind. A little taste of death. It hurt like hell but didn't frighten me at all, just the opposite. I was intrigued a bit and thought of death often after that; not in a depressed suicidal way but it was a pivotal moment of something strange.}

All the herbal and alternative healing studies remained stubbornly out of practical application for reasons unknown at the time so I decided to “brush the mirror”.

*Brushing the mirror”: applying an outside, most of the time mechanical, solution to an internal problem.

So after much thought and online research (not enough thought and online research) and through great desperation, I decided to have lap-band surgery. A lap-band is a removable device surgically wrapped around the top of the stomach with a “port” that is used to open and close off the stomach making it hard to over eat. It worked too… for about a year. Then all hell broke loose.

~end part II of III.   

http://www.edgarcayce.org/

 http://www.amazon.com/Jethro-Kloss/e/B001KCIFMW

  

The Journey of a Weighted Soul

A three part personal story about emotional over eating. I'm hoping it helps.

                            I.

Wikipedia’s definition of eating disorder:

“Eating disorder

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Eating disorders are psychological illnesses defined by abnormal eating habits that may involve either insufficient or excessive food intake to the detriment of an individual's physical and mental health.”

           My definition of eating disorder:

Subconsciously programmed eating habits installed from the age of birth to around 5 years of age. These habits, (a need to self medicate due to spiritual emptiness) backed by emotional stimuli, are written in stone until consciously removed by the owner of said program and new habits, backed by emotional stimuli, are installed.

Thus my journey begins….

~ A History

We are born to 1. Observe 2. Learn and 3. Store. That is why speech is one of the last things to develop within our beginnings as humans. The rub of this fact is: we are doing all three with the mentality of new beings, with only our immediate family/care-givers as examples. As a baby born into a family from the south, where food means love, I was no different than a lot of little girls in my 1960s rural area.

This is the first in a three part “short story” of sorts so no super deep details about my family will be included with this writing at this time. But being the good human I am, after my birth I set myself to task with the beginning three... observe, learn and store: 1. Observing my fellow females in their interaction with the males of the household. 2. Learning from them how to react to certain stimuli (food is a great comfort when angry, unhappy, unloved, or just plain bored with the mundane day to day!) 3. I stored all this info away in that wonderful tool, ‘The Subconscious Mind’ allowing it to run in the background of my life… and so

~ I was turned loose on the world.

Actually I was turned loose within my community first. A community of people that was raised very closely to the way my brother and I were raised: turned loose to set in {{concrete}} my programming with such emotional stimuli as heartbreak and triumphs…. with fear and love amongst my peers. And now it’s how one interprets that “raise’n” that sets one apart.

Do not think for one minute that I blame my family for the events and the way things turned out in my life, I do not: pass the buck, cast blame or feel any bitterness toward anyone in my family or in my life circumstance past or present!

Somewhere inside of me I stored away my own personal interpretation of the statement: “You cannot be loved based on just being. You have to pay for love because it’s valuable and nothing of value is free!

Things that feel like love:

~Any type of food that tastes good, steak, ice cream, ham and cheese sandwiches, pies (all kinds), candy (most all kinds) I think I’ve covered all the food groups here…. Yeah I did.

~ Any type of substance that promotes “alternative awareness”, alcohol (most all kinds), shrooms, pot, cigarettes (two packs a day), crank (not crack I’m talking late 1980s here people), acid (didn’t care for it so that was a onetime thing) cocaine (cared for too much so that was a onetime thing…) ah and of course

~Any type of soda you could think of, coke, sprite, Dr. Pepper (personal favorite) etc etc…

~Any type of attention. Negative or positive for any reason what so ever.

~Any type of lying down reading, t.v. watching, sex (sex felt like love or sometimes I thought I could pay for love with sex). I didn’t know really. I was clueless or there was some sort of “learning disability” going on.

                                   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

But one owns the programs and the personal interpretations of those programs that are given and installed. This is true for all of us… it's the starting point or “0 point”. It’s the hero’s journey. To find your way to the light with as much love and humanity as you can muster is the task set before all of us.

So now you see I had the necessary items for a wonderful recipe of depression, misunderstanding and a lonely life…. a true departure from God. And now with a bit of fearful panic... the path back to the light must be set upon.

....To be continued.

Resisting Rest

     Inspiration comes in many forms … seems, so far, I only recognize that which smacks me upside the head like a rude bully on the playground. But hey that’s learning see? Pain is resistance to change and change is what it’s all about. There would be no pain if we (I) could learn to release and let go…. But no, permanent trenches can be seen dug into the earth, where at certain points in my past I was dragged kicking and screaming into the most innocent of lessons. And at the tender age of 49 one would think it would be understood already? Well, I have an awareness of the “letting go” concept and knowledge is power…. It looks good on paper doesn’t it?

     The business I had the good fortune at which to work for the past five and a half years closed its doors for good in mid October 2014. I’ve been and continue to be on what my friend has called a “sabbatical” until Jan. 2015 I will not punch a clock or work for anyone else but myself at this time. Needless to say the trenches that are being dug as I write this are getting pretty damn deep! Resisting rest is liken to its rowdy, drunken sister “resisting arrest” and it causes one to get pretty beat up by it all.  
     So now there is beauty found in a new and improved meditation practice.  There is new passion for research projects done properly and without hurry. And a peace found in small jobs around the house… satisfaction in a domestic task well done. While my resistance peels away layer by layer; the heels of my tired feet dig in less and less until all that is felt is gentle cool grass between my toes.
~ I could get use to this