Omni

Omni means “of all things, in all ways, in all places. This is what God is – the All-Powerful, Always Present, Universal Absolute.

If this is so, as I believe and, dare I say, KNOW it to be, then there is not one single part of me that I will not endeavor to love.

I am choosing love, every day in every way.

…and remarkable, miraculous things are happening…

A Different Question

Ask not for healing but for right perception.

That seems quite logical. Ask not for change of a shitty situation but only right perception of it. The more I seem to look at my “problems”, I can’t seem to find an alternative situation that would make it “better.” Only different problems surface.

I think of my eating disordered mind that is still harboring old thought patterns. No change in food consumption, hair style, exercise regime, etc. will solve any of these things if my perception of myself continues to be skewed.

I’m not sure where right perception comes from though. Does it just dawn on me? I can’t go searching for it anymore because every perceived answer I come up with seems to be wrong.

Simply ask and wait?

It’s Not Your Job

If I believed myself as whole what need would I have to seek completion outside myself?

The infamous Jerry Maguire line, “You complete me.”, that had women melting with lust for Tom Cruise, is fraught with error and unavoidable failure.

Once you fail to complete me, and you will fail, your usefulness to me will be gone. I will be angry that you failed me and you will suffer the wrath of guilt.

You will have failed to fulfill a role that was never yours to complete.

That’s not Love.

I want nothing more than to recognize my wholeness and release you from your guilt.

I believed myself as incomplete and in so doing made you see that in yourself.

In my wholeness you simply cannot fail since you cannot make complete what was never incomplete.

Gratitude in Not-So-Glorious Places

I love my psychologist. She’s such a wise woman and can read me like a book.

I’ve started a new antidepressant medication and have recently upped the dose. When the dose increased I experienced a common side effect of the medication. Nausea.

I welcomed the nausea. It decreased my appetite. But, after a few days, the nausea went away.

In my psychologist’s office today she asked how the nausea was and I said it had gone. I smiled as I said this, giving her a sly look and snapping my fingers. “Shucks!”, I said.

She laughed and said, “How very eating-disordered of you.”

I laughed too. Of course it’s eating-disordered thinking. Why wouldn’t an eating-disordered person think that something that decreased the appetite was magnificent?

Despite lingering eating-disordered thoughts that roll around in my head and make themselves frequently present, the increased dose of my antidepressant medication has helped my mood tremendously. And historically, for me, when my mood is good I am much more able to stay on track with my food and not engage in the self-defeating, self-deflating acts of restricting and binging and purging.

We discuss my mood and have a great conversation about the brain and mental illness.

Then she says, “You know, the very thing, that dogged determination that keeps you in your eating disorder, is the same character that drives you to work so hard when your depression rears its ugly head.”

How’s that for a silver lining?

I laugh again. I know my mood is in a far better place than it has been in months because I can see the great wisdom in this.

“Well,” I say, “Thank God for my eating disorder then! Without it and this great relentless determination of mine, I just might not have the strength to fight the depression!”

Finding gratitude in the strangest of places.

Who knows, really? But I understand what she means. And perhaps she’s right. These attributes, the will and drive and doggedness and stubbornness that are characteristic of many eating-disordered people, could be the very traits that have allowed me to not be completely and utterly consumed and devastated by my major depression and all the other trials and tribulations that life is presenting to me right now.

It’s just like the Zen story of the farmer. Good luck or bad luck? Fortune or misfortune? Maybe or maybe not?

Good and bad can be found in all circumstances.

Perhaps.

A Simple Question

“May I make a suggestion?” my psychologist asks after reviewing my food records from the past week.

“Please,” I prompted.

“Just don’t purge,” she says.

For a split second I think she’s making a joke but I realize very quickly that this is no laughing matter. She’s dead serious. I just stare at her while I process the question. She’s okay with the silence and lets me stare, patiently waiting.

I’m thinking, “Oh sure, if it were that easy I wouldn’t be sitting here having this discussion with you.” But all of a sudden, in a flash, I’m realizing that it really is that easy. Well, maybe not that easy, but it’s surely that simple.

I’m still staring at her, incredulously now, but I start to understand exactly what she’s suggesting.

All of a sudden I feel like a tantrum-y three year old, only my tantrums are binge and purge episodes, my way of dealing when things don’t go the way I want them to.

My psychologist’s suggestion is not meant to belittle the struggles I am facing. I know this. But the simplicity of how to resolve the problem seems so blatantly obvious and I am filled with shame. I cry.

The ways in which I keep myself separated from Source are presenting themselves to me each and every day.

As my awareness expands so too does my understanding that my pain is not an excuse for self-punishment, rather it’s an opportunity to correct the errors of my thinking and bring myself back into alignment with who I truly am.

I am not an entity that needs to be overcome. I am already whole.

I am ready to let go of this “I” that needs to control. This “I” hasn’t done a very a good job at controlling anything anyway. This I know!

As Albert Einstein so wisely stated, “Problems cannot be solved by the same level of thinking that created them.”

Truly. Let go and let God. Have Your way with me.

 

 

 

The Faith of the Faulty Gatekeeper

The undercurrent is strong.

These thoughts, they trickle in quietly through the flood gates. Once enough waters have seeped by, the current rages forcefully. I’m drowning before I’ve realized what’s happened.

I’m learning though, albeit slowly, to be a better gatekeeper. I’m in training.

I couldn’t stop it last night but in the midst of being forced down by the floods, I shone light on the darkness and remained calm.

You may not think so, but it’s progress to be able to look at your reflection in the water of a toilet basin that is half-filled with your own vomit and tell yourself that you’re loved and worthy. With every heave, I reminded myself that I am filled with the holy spirit.

Indeed, the spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

I tell you, I’m not done asking. I am earnestly seeking. And the door will be opened.

I know not when, but I know it will.

 

 

 

Open for Business

It’s that time! The Guest House is open for business.

The unexpected visitor called URGE has arrived, though not so unexpected really. She keeps returning and often on a Sunday afternoon. I should have known she was coming.

I’m to welcome her and entertain her.

But how do I entertain a visitor who has no respect for me or my property? She always just comes and trashes the place, leaving in her wake a trail of destruction.

Still, I’m told to treat her honorably.

But how am I to be honorable to a guest who treats me with such dishonor? She always just comes and berates me and belittles me, leaving in her wake a trail of pain and shame.

It’s like she gets off on making me feel small and worthless. I allow it to happen, too. I guess it’s not such a surprise then that she keeps returning.

I suppose it’s like the stranger who always feeds the stray. Where there is food, there is reason to return.

Please then, please come my URGE. Take the seat of honor at the head of my table. I won’t dishonor you by ignoring your pain. For there must be pain that makes you do the things you do. Let me hug you and love you.

I invite you in. I won’t resist you and ignore you. For the refusal to look at you only makes you madder. You pound and thrash and eventually break in to take what you so desire.

Please come and stay.

I will sit with you in your rage. I won’t have the answers but I will honor your presence and existence and be a loving companion in your time of need.

You need not speak or think.

Together, you and I, the one I have refused, we will sit together until this wave subsides.

This too shall pass.