Feeling Uncomfortable

In recent months and truthfully maybe for the last few years I have been uncomfortable with my body - I have struggled deeply with a place of comfort - not a let it all go comfort but a I can deal with what I see comfort.

Years ago, during of all things an Oprah episode an older lady said if you cannot get naked and look at yourself in a mirror on a regular basis you're going to struggle with how you look with clothes on, never mind activities sans clothes. I was okay with this idea until the last year. In the last year I have for whatever reason wanted to live in a life with no mirrors. I have wanted to find a way to ignore the awkwardness I have felt.

I am aware of the deep irony of this as I have finally found myself wrestled into a place of comfort-ish-ness about where I am with life. This is not about whether I feel pretty or the fact that those words were never used in my home and still really are not.  And it is not even about whether I want or need to hear those words. I know it is deeper than that. It is a question of worth. Some how I know I'm in the middle of deep and maybe even holy wrestling with my worth.

I am trying to claim me

to claim

a body broken

by the years and

now reclaimed but handle with hands fumbling and faltering.

I wish I knew how to without wandering down paths of disordered eating and obsessive exercise like I once did, because I know that was an never achievable path with a constantly moving goal.

I am trying to come to terms with the reality that what I thought was just a suitcase of dirty laundry to sort through and clean in therapy that maybe I'm dealing with something more like the houses on Hoarders - the piles are deep and I'm ready to mine them for the good that is in there somewhere.