I’ve recently started seeing a nutritionist. Being a trauma victim, the idea of having agency over my own body and mind feels pretty uncomfortable, and I like to place responsibility elsewhere because I’m not used to it — it’s a disease! he told me not to! I’m not a reliable source! And I met this nutritionist who has worked for the same office since the 90s, and I came to her with all my insecurities and my own discriminatory views of her probably being outdated and rehashing the same information I’ve spend a lifetime researching.
And then she repeatedly surprised me with information I did not know, or could never trust before. Because, in the diet industry, there’s so many important voices spewing garbage so that no discernible quality knowledge is passed. EAT LESS! EAT MORE! EAT BACTERIA! EAT AND DON’T EAT! TAKE IT SLOW! GO COLD-TURKEY!
Can we all just take a minute to shut up?
On day’s I’m not busy, I tell myself that I’m going to sit in my pajamas in bed all day under the guise of “relaxation.”
I have this really awful view of myself as being lazy, unsuccessful, worthless, boring, unimaginative… any word that equates to being reactive rather than proactive. I think of myself of this awful fat slump of a person, not a singular couch potato, but a whole lumpy sack of them. I think right about now my inner therapist says that’s the trauma talking.
And yet, on those “lazy” days, I think most people would, literally, sit in front of the TV all day. I’m not immune to those binges. However, as soon as I snuggle up in bed with the entire comforter strangled between my thighs and arms (my poor blanket, the innards of my burrito grasp), I reach for my phone.
Google must have enough information to recreate me in digital form by my vast search history.
When I was in 6th grade and living in Tokyo, we were forced to learn about webpage creation in the early DIY HTML days. I remember creating different types of selectable objects and how to link images. How amazing an opportunity at an all-girl English-speaking Catholic school in Tokyo in the early 2000s just years after Google was created?
I was transfixed at the kind of power. I still am. The power to obtain knowledge, truthful and not, everywhere I go.
It’s all of this — the realization with the nutritionist, the googling, and the poor self-esteem — which has lead me to this point of self-acceptance.
I was having a conversation with my fiancee last night about how I’ve been beating myself up over not having enough fun and not relaxing, and we came to the conclusion that my type of “fun” is learning, not TV. I do have an “off” switch after all, it just doesn’t look like yours.
So, my poor cat, the victim of this tired metaphor. I will never be her, basking in the sun. I will retreat to books, to the digital wealth, to conversations with nutritionists and loves. I will be here, filling my library, a potato in my own way, which sounds delicious.