Last week, I was in Manhattan in the Chelsea section and had some time to kill before an appointment. I noticed a little quilt shop around the corner from my meeting place, It was called The City Quilter. The colorful display in the window drew me like a moth to the flame. I walked into the store and was unprepared for what I discovered. As soon as I took my first step into the store, I was seduced by the stunning and vibrant colors of lovely quilt fabrics lined up against the walls. I was blown away by the artful placement and juxtaposition of the gorgeous hues as they stood proudly next to each other on shelves lining the walls.
Remembering how my grandmother (who I referred to as “Nana”) and I used to spend time in fabric shops, making quilts and dressmaking, I began to tear up as I stood there positively enchanted by all the lovely fabrics. Then for the next 45 minutes, I was like a kid in a candy store, floating throughout the space, experiencing “the hand”(enjoying the sense of touching) of all the materials, exploring, reacquainting myself with all of my old sewing friends, thread, measuring tape, instruction books, gadgets and all other goodies connected with the art of sewing.
Back in 2002, when my Nana had passed away, I had put away a part of myself. Along with my tears, I tucked a part of myself away and forgot that passion of creation and joy lived inside of me. I disowned an important part of my life because I was so sad to lose her.
It didn’t help to know on a cognitive level that she was never far from me. I think about her all the time, my office is where her bedroom used to be, I have a wall lined with beautifully framed old sepia photos celebrating all different times in her life. She was my hero, my partner, my Nana and my best friend. I can still feel her presence and know that she is watching over me.
But somehow I couldn’t allow myself to give in and revel in some of the old joys that we used to share together. Sewing was a big part of my life for a long time. Since Nana and I ran a business out of her home, we would often choose to take a work day and just sew, hem a skirt, make a quilt or run off to the fabric store and purchase goodies for an upcoming project.
The point is when Nana passed away, I disconnected from a piece of my heart and soul. A few days ago, I was having a conversation with our resident expert on eating disorders, Doc Frost. I asked him, Okay, Doc what’s the next thing that I need to learn how to do to fully integrate Intuitive Eating into my life? He told me “live your life.”
Suddenly as I stood in that fabric store, I got it. I realized what he meant. Things happen in our lives that cause us to lose our bloom, our petals fall off and parts of us die. As a woman who has abused food for decades, I’ve always chosen to deal with those phases of my life by turning to food. Now I realize that type of thinking has been the source of the problem.
As you begin to become aware of your eating behaviors, and move slowly at your own pace beyond the diet mentality, what aspect of your life can you think of that has been closed down, shut out or held in abeyance? What would it look like for you to consider re-exploring it and finding a way to renew and revive that part of your life.
Consider all the possibilities, perhaps you’d like to return to an old hobby or visit with a long lost friend, or revive a stagnant and boring relationship with your mate or sweetheart. Realize that you are entitled to choose to be happy. Eating is only one way of receiving joy and satisfaction. It’s up to you to rediscover other pleasures in life that are equal to or greater than the satisfaction that eating brings to you. By doing that, you will not seek out food everytime you feel an emptiness.
Please share your thoughts and comments and stories showing ways that you can allow more love and joy to bloom in your life. I’ll be back another day with more. This morning, I’m going to do some sewing with my daughter, Cara. I’m teaching her how to sew in order that I can pass on a legacy of love and happy memories to my daughter.