I wanted to share part of THIS post by CJane. Reading this poem/essay really makes me think about being aware of my body and eating... and not numbing myself with food (or anything else for that matter).
That's when my body started talking to me.
You've got to trust me.
When I am hungry I will tell you.
You'll hear it in chambered echos, grumbles and moans.
DON'T FEED ME, until you hear my call.
When I am lonely I will tell you.
A lump will well up in your throat, like you've swallowed cotton and tears will form in your eyes.
DON'T FEED ME, try making a connection with the fine collection of friends you love.
When I am anxious I will tell you.
Your heart will beat fast, your breath will struggle to leave the lungs, and you might feel full of fire.
DON'T FEED ME, instead sit down and fight for those breaths, let the
oxygen pour into you--clearing the veins and vessels, close your eyes,
identify the fear that is squeezing you.
When I feel depressed I will tell you.
There will be a significant lack of energy, a slumpy reaction to
bed-leaving, my mind will slow down and thoughts will become like black
DON'T FEED ME, instead fill your head back up with new thoughts, ideas
from books and discussions. Replace the dirty fuel in your mind with
When I feel stressed I will tell you.
Like rubberbands squeezing around your cranium, your head throbbing, your stomach turning, your muscles tightening.
DON'T FEED ME, instead write it all out, everything you are feeling, look over the list and examine.
When I feel sick I will tell you.
Fevers, aches, pains and physical discomfort.
DON'T FEED ME, take care of me, bathe me, give me lots of water and put me to bed.
When I feel happy I will tell you.
Goosebumps infiltrate your skin, you will feel light and airy, propped up on energy, buzzing in your blood.
DON'T FEED ME, use the excess vivacity to spread your sentiments to someone else.
When I feel sensual I will tell you.
Your skin will turn pink and glow. Your mouth will involuntarily smile, your body will hum with awareness.
DON'T FEED ME, you know what to do.
When I need exercise I will tell you.
Your legs will ache to be walked, your back will beg to be stretched, your heart will ask to be throbbed.
DON'T FEED ME, walk me. And don't exercise me until I say so, please, or we will battle.
When I feel lazy, content, competitive, peaceful, overwhelmed, snippy,
snappy, hot, cold, tired, frustrated, thirsty, full, beaming and bright I
will tell you.
DON'T FEED ME, none of these sentiments require food. Excess surplus will have to be stored. I will have to make
more of us--human
shelves in rolls and lumps--to organize the overflow intake. Don't make
me do that, please. There are babies to feed, children to squeeze, a
husband to kiss. Right now, we don't have a lot of steam to become a
storage facility as well.
But when I feel hungry I will send you a message of emptiness of
stomach, dizziness of head, a sensation in your mouth extending into
your throat that reads, I NEED FOOD, PLEASE DON'T STARVE ME.
Then, feed me.