WBB ESSAYS
Learning to Let Go
- By Willow
This recovery path, this change in me, is like I finally took off my emerald glasses and can see in full technicolour again... or maybe for the first time.
Sogyal Rinpoche, a Tibetan tulka points out: "Sometimes I think that the greatest achievement of modern culture is its brilliant selling of samsara (living in a state of illusion and its barren distractions). Modern society seems to me a celebration of all the things that lead away from the truth, make truth hard to live for, and discourage people from even believing that it exists. And to think that all this springs from a civilization that claims to adore life, but actually starves it of any real meaning; that endlessly speaks of making people ‘happy’, but in fact blocks their way to the source of real joy.”
There is still a part of me that buys into the whole "thin=successful and happy" illusion. Some part of me that misses the painful, scuttling, ache of emptiness. But there is no joy in being a carcass. There is no joy in self-denial. Fasting for spiritual purposes is very different to the daily restriction of anorexia. I know that now. There was a point I didn't. There was a point where asceticism became my life. I was afraid to eat in case I became even more impure. I believed 'God' would only love me if I emptied myself of everything.
The less I ate, the more I loathed myself, the more I loathed myself, the less I ate. It was a circle of hate. The most important thing I ever did in my life was start to eat. When I started to eat I started to question the notion of 'god' as a hate figure... as someone who would 'only' love me if I was a certain way [a bag of bones]. I knew this idea came from my upbringing but it took a long time to realize that in a way I am my own God. I choose my life and my destiny and eating does not make me an evil person, rather it makes me a more spiritual person because I am able to fulfil my role and do GOOD.
Is death enlightenment? I don't think so. That being the case, what good would it do me to starve myself there before I've learned all I need to know?
When you start really looking into death, in a sense you are really looking into life itself. In fact death is like a mirror in which the true meaning of life is reflected. By this process one defines one's life; one becomes less trivial; one sees one's priorities more clearly. One has long-term vision, has more understanding of the consequences of actions, as well as more compassion.
Compassion... hard concept. I've learned a lot from WBB about compasion. About allowing others to have their own journey, about allowing myself the authenticity of being myself. We're not the same, and our ways of moving forward will not be the same. But together we make a mandala of hope. A wheel that won't stop turning. And it's inspirational. It's moving. It's why I'm still fighting. It's why I'll never give up.
I want to be a success story. I want to be able to look back this time next year and say "I've come so far".
So often it is only when people suddenly feel they are losing their partner that they realize how much they love them. Then they cling on even tighter. But the more they grasp, the more the other person escapes them, and the more fragile the relationship becomes.
So often we want happiness, but the very way we pursue it is so clumsy and unskillful that it brings only more sorrow. Usually we assume we must grasp in order to have that something that will ensure our happiness. We ask ourselves: “How can we possibly enjoy anything if we cannot own it?” How often attachment is mistaken for love!
Even when the relationship is a good one, love can be spoiled by attachment with its insecurity, possessiveness, and pride; and then when love is gone, all you have left to show for it are the “souvenirs” of love, the scars of attachment.
It was that way for me with anorexia. The more I felt I was losing it, the tighter I gripped onto it, swearing my love for it. Promising to die with it, for it, no matter what. As I slowly learned to let go I saw happiness the same way, futilely grasping at it like a rope made of sand, trickling through my fingers no matter what I tried. Once I let go of that sucking need to have and be and live anorexia and walked away I felt a grief like I'd never felt before. Some days even now I awaken with that empty dead feeling and cannot stop the tears. It's like I lost myself. I grieve for her. I look at the "souvenirs" which remain--kidney, liver, stomach problems, scars upon scars from cutting, weak bones... and still I miss anorexia. Still I want her back. Like a fickle lover who one day beats me black and blue and the next buys me roses.
It's so confusing. But I'm learning to let go of my attachment to external validation. I'm learning to let go of the need to please you. Of the need to be a certain way, a certain person. I'm finally awakening to myself. It's been a painful journey... but maybe I'm just now beginning it.
- Willow
