On Freedom
I’ve had much to think about since the Red Mango incident chronicled below. Someone asked me if I am in the habit of celebrating good decisions, the little victories experienced in this drama of mine with food. I had told him about different ways my compulsions play out, and how huge the conflict feels in the moment. He wondered aloud if I ever stopped after a good choice and celebrated that achievement. “Of course not,” I thought to myself, “because the good choice is just what any normal person ought to do—its not some great feat or spectacular accomplishment. Hooray for me, I didn’t keep eating after reaching fullness!” Yet, I heard the kind invitation in his voice to recognize that though something like stopping when full might be a comparatively simple thing next to climbing Mount Everest or taking the Oscar for Best Actress or inventing a vaccine to cure AIDS, for me, at this stage in my life, stopping when full is a significant shift in practice.
So I am looking now to integrate celebration into the rhythm of my life, to find ways to remind myself that this journey is going somewhere, that change is happening, and that I can gain confidence as I watch myself make different choices. Perhaps adults aren’t as different from children as we think. Good parenting isn’t only about discipline; it is also about celebrating successes. I am parenting myself these days, integrating new disciplines and stopping to take joy in the moments when I choose well. There is something playful and alive about this new orientation. I’ve now been practicing yoga for about two months; I’m also blogging and learning to knit. What?! Sometimes I think, “Who is this woman, picking up these new interests, keeping herself in a space where growth and flourishing have the potential to be more a part of her life?” Oh, that’s me!
The same friend who encouraged me to celebrate good choices listened to me as I talked about the drama that plays out for me when I go to a restaurant on my own. At first it seems like a fun reward, to end a yoga session with an outing to the Mexican restaurant down the street. However, once I get there I find myself pouring over the menu looking for the right thing to order. This takes much time and energy. When the food arrives I can tell it is more than I need and then I start an intense inner dialogue about whether to plan to eat half of it or three-quarters, and if it’s three-quarters, won’t that feel like an odd amount to box up, but then it’s wasteful to just leave it and will half be enough… It may be that going to a restaurant on my own is almost like a test of myself. Will I make it through this time with just the right amount of food, or will I cave and push the limits of my body and give in to the drama? The stakes are so high, so I’m withdrawing for a time from the contest. I’m taking a manageable time frame (two weeks) and I am committing to myself to not eat out on my own on weeknights, and to do so only once on the weekend. I am a single woman, and going out to eat, or picking something up on a Tuesday night after work seems so much easier than heading home to cook alone, eat alone, and clean up alone. This is a significant pledge.
So, celebration time. I have finished my first week and I have not eaten out or ordered in any of the week nights. Hurrah! I really did it and it wasn’t very painful! Last weekend, it didn’t even feel important to have my one meal out and so instead of going to a restaurant I stopped by a Red Mango store – yes, Red Mango at last – and had a small serving with fresh fruit. It was delicious and I enjoyed it and it was just the right amount and at a point when my stomach needed a little something to tide it over. It was enough, and I was glad to discover that.
Yesterday I was driving home from brunch at a friend’s house and it occurred to me that it was Saturday and that meant that I now had license to have a meal outside my home. I could go anywhere I wanted and choose which meal of the weekend to make my excursion meal. An odd thing happened. No, I’m not going to say that it suddenly didn’t seem that important. What I realized was that something like panic started to flare up. What would I choose, out of so many choices? How would I navigate the field of food options? That’s when I realized how much anxiety I had spared myself by choosing to avoid eating out during the week. My energies had gone elsewhere, and to good effect. I had been more available to interactions with others, working out, reading, and enjoying time at home.
So I find myself kicking around some beginning thoughts on freedom. As I’ve stepped into facing this drama of mine with food, I’ve been so afraid of losing freedom. I’ve been rebelling against something all this time and any suggestion of taking serious measures to change behavior gets me twitching. I was able to take on this latest experiment with weeknight eating habits because I only had to commit to two weeks at a time, and the weekend is still available for a meal outside my home. It is so natural to think of freedom as the permission to have whatever one wants, to live without restraint. Yet given the fiercely circling anxieties in my life around food, right now restraint feels like freedom: freedom from self-contests, experiments with will power, the juggling of fantasy and reality. Freedom to breathe, pursue kinder activities, rest. The freedom to celebrate a better integration of my mind, my soul, and this beautiful, extraordinary body of mine.
Can discipline be freedom?
So I am looking now to integrate celebration into the rhythm of my life, to find ways to remind myself that this journey is going somewhere, that change is happening, and that I can gain confidence as I watch myself make different choices. Perhaps adults aren’t as different from children as we think. Good parenting isn’t only about discipline; it is also about celebrating successes. I am parenting myself these days, integrating new disciplines and stopping to take joy in the moments when I choose well. There is something playful and alive about this new orientation. I’ve now been practicing yoga for about two months; I’m also blogging and learning to knit. What?! Sometimes I think, “Who is this woman, picking up these new interests, keeping herself in a space where growth and flourishing have the potential to be more a part of her life?” Oh, that’s me!
The same friend who encouraged me to celebrate good choices listened to me as I talked about the drama that plays out for me when I go to a restaurant on my own. At first it seems like a fun reward, to end a yoga session with an outing to the Mexican restaurant down the street. However, once I get there I find myself pouring over the menu looking for the right thing to order. This takes much time and energy. When the food arrives I can tell it is more than I need and then I start an intense inner dialogue about whether to plan to eat half of it or three-quarters, and if it’s three-quarters, won’t that feel like an odd amount to box up, but then it’s wasteful to just leave it and will half be enough… It may be that going to a restaurant on my own is almost like a test of myself. Will I make it through this time with just the right amount of food, or will I cave and push the limits of my body and give in to the drama? The stakes are so high, so I’m withdrawing for a time from the contest. I’m taking a manageable time frame (two weeks) and I am committing to myself to not eat out on my own on weeknights, and to do so only once on the weekend. I am a single woman, and going out to eat, or picking something up on a Tuesday night after work seems so much easier than heading home to cook alone, eat alone, and clean up alone. This is a significant pledge.
So, celebration time. I have finished my first week and I have not eaten out or ordered in any of the week nights. Hurrah! I really did it and it wasn’t very painful! Last weekend, it didn’t even feel important to have my one meal out and so instead of going to a restaurant I stopped by a Red Mango store – yes, Red Mango at last – and had a small serving with fresh fruit. It was delicious and I enjoyed it and it was just the right amount and at a point when my stomach needed a little something to tide it over. It was enough, and I was glad to discover that.
Yesterday I was driving home from brunch at a friend’s house and it occurred to me that it was Saturday and that meant that I now had license to have a meal outside my home. I could go anywhere I wanted and choose which meal of the weekend to make my excursion meal. An odd thing happened. No, I’m not going to say that it suddenly didn’t seem that important. What I realized was that something like panic started to flare up. What would I choose, out of so many choices? How would I navigate the field of food options? That’s when I realized how much anxiety I had spared myself by choosing to avoid eating out during the week. My energies had gone elsewhere, and to good effect. I had been more available to interactions with others, working out, reading, and enjoying time at home.
So I find myself kicking around some beginning thoughts on freedom. As I’ve stepped into facing this drama of mine with food, I’ve been so afraid of losing freedom. I’ve been rebelling against something all this time and any suggestion of taking serious measures to change behavior gets me twitching. I was able to take on this latest experiment with weeknight eating habits because I only had to commit to two weeks at a time, and the weekend is still available for a meal outside my home. It is so natural to think of freedom as the permission to have whatever one wants, to live without restraint. Yet given the fiercely circling anxieties in my life around food, right now restraint feels like freedom: freedom from self-contests, experiments with will power, the juggling of fantasy and reality. Freedom to breathe, pursue kinder activities, rest. The freedom to celebrate a better integration of my mind, my soul, and this beautiful, extraordinary body of mine.
Can discipline be freedom?
Comments
Good thoughts I needed to hear this morning. The idea of discipline as freedom - or even vice versa - opens up all kinds of windows in my brain...and hopefully my heart, as well.
Thanks.