Three Questions.
What is your relationship with your body? What is your relationship with
food? What (if anything) do you
think about the connection between them?
I went to a few incredible gentlemen in my life for some
answers; men from all walks of life, love and work. My thinking was that it
would be valuable to get a strong male perspective on body/food relationships,
and was curious how it may differ from my own (more…womanly?) experience. I considered a pretty gimmicky version
of sharing this, ending with a dramatic reveal at the end that yes! These are
men! *Sheepish sigh* Things didn’t quite work out that way. Though I’m happy to say that many
points rang true, there were also some that seemed as foreign to me as… well…
having a penis. So full
disclosure—THIS IS BOY TALK.
(Oh, one more thing.
This entry started turning into a whopper, so I’m going to break up these
questions over the next little while… stay tuned. )
1) On body relations.
When it came to their bodies, part of me feels that these
bros were just happy someone was actually asking them to talk. In more than one
instance, younger years provided resentment and a severe dislike, but later on
(a sometimes grudging) respect.
Connection and disconnection were pretty big themes... and since
everyone feels strongly one way or the other, I’d like to talk about that a
little bit.
In
light of body disconnection, one
friend said, “except for obvious functions like hunger and bathroom stuff, I
have no idea what my body is doing or what it's trying to tell me. Things will
be going along fine and suddenly I'll suffer stiffness, soreness, bellyaches or
scratchy throats, and then they will go away of their own accord. Plus, my body
is tired when I wish it wasn't, and alert when I just want to sleep.” A good place to start… we
think and desire one thing and our bodies— seemingly out of spite— do the
opposite. Another goes on to
say “I'm fairly fanatical about taking care of
myself and of my body (weird to separate them, but not inaccurate).” Nope, not
inaccurate at all.
In both of these experiences the
disconnection seems to lie between the physical self, and mental
perception. We’re all just big ol’
brains floating atop vehicles. The
question “what is my body trying to tell me” should probably be asked a whole
lot more, rather than “how can I take this away?” (in regard to symptoms). I
recently went to a workshop called the ‘homeopathic approach to depression and
anxiety’ and something we spoke about was the tendency for those suffering from
depression, to often have digestion problems as well. But there’s a separation in treatment; and usually the
indigestion, acid reflux and dietary intolerances aren’t recognized as being
products of another emotional/physical state. Medication upon medication—to medicate the symptoms of the
other medication!— are prescribed.
The self and the body are being treated as separate counterparts. And since physical trauma can have an
emotional impact on our lives (like those who suffer emotional stress after going
though an accident) … can our mental well-being dictate our physical wellness,
also? Has my period disappeared
because I’m emotionally closed off and, as one book told me, “rejecting my
femininity?” Ok ok. Back to ‘em boys.
Connection is a whole
other interesting bag o’ tricks.
What I found really, really awesome was that body connection—at least in
this select group of experiences—seems intrinsically tied to creativity. Dear one #3 says “I am a very physical person
that likes to express myself physically - but find myself restraining this
impulse quit a bit. My physicality is a part of my music, my writing, sports,
friendship and everything I do. Mostly it’s a creative relationship. One that
involves a lot of imagination.
When I was a kid - and still to this day I picture what my body can and
can't do - and experiment with its limitations.” Boom! Imagination,
creativity, expression- a relationship??
One thing I love about this is that everyone can understand being a
child (having an active imagination), and having the physical freedoms that go
along with that. The go-to
statement about being an artist is that we’re all entertaining an inner child;
and allowing inhibitions to materialize through imagination and creation. So when ignoring what our body needs, or wants—are we quashing an
artistic or creative outlet because of that? And then what happens to those impulses… where do they
go? I can relate to this through a
series of running-and-biking epiphanies.
There’s been many times I’ve worked through a mental block, or had a
“eureka” moment while doing something physical (and yes. I wear a helmet. On my bike I mean… not jogging. That’d look just goofy.) Not to say
everyone needs to run a marathon in order to be creative, but it sure seems to
work for some folks. Take a recent
interview I heard with author Joëlle Anthony, and her creation of the treadmill desk. Extreme? Maybe. But I’m sure even those that
aren’t in an artistic field of work can relate to needing to exercise that lil’
inner brat every now and then.
Connection
can also manifest through control, by wanting to stay strong and able in order
to accomplish anything at a moment’s notice. Control is also ruled by self-perception… which as it turns
out isn’t gender biased at all. One
friend spoke about the physical activities he practices, and the distinction
that strength and muscle don’t necessarily mean the same thing: “So I know that power
does not come from muscle, and yet... I think that I see many people/characters
around me that are at a high level of physically ability and I aspire to achieve
the same, and yet I have a voice at the back of my head also saying "Oh
who cares." So I am stuck between failure and acceptance in my perception
of my own body. "Biggism" as a friend of mine had once said comes to
mind.” There’s a great
distinction made here between the acceptance of one’s body, and acceptance of
the (self-made) perception of it.
Further on this, whether you’re male or female, big, small or too-damn-perfect
in every way; this acceptance translates into understanding that your body is always
in flux, and always will be. But
what leapt out at me is the brilliant notion of “oh who cares”. Wait…
what?
You mean this is a thing? Maybe it's more a personal
revelation than it is one as a female—but it’s never occurred to me that choosing to not obsess, could be a viable option.
Another friend says “I have also been unhappy with my weight and
body shape since I was a teenager, but I think I'm one of the lucky ones
because I don't internalize it very much” and goes on to say “I don't feel as if I have any control over
it. It's like if you have a crappy car or something, you go, "I hate this
piece of shit car", but you drive it around because it's all you've got.
But I think maybe that's a man thing. I don't feel pressure to change my body
for someone else, and I'm content to be lazy about changing it for myself. I
go, "Well my body sucks, but what's on tv?"
Now I know women get a bad rap for having poor
body image and men alternatively are seen as being unaffected by this; and that’s not a parallel I’m trying to draw here because it’s just not true across
the board. However, an admission. Speaking from a personal standpoint,
the thought of having no control over my body translates into a perception of having no control
over my life… and I find it impossible to not internalize this lack of power in
a negative way. It actually
terrifies me, and I feel weak. But whether it's letting go of a little control, or throwing the top down to take 'er for a spin in the country just because it feels good... I think we could all benefit from a little more self lovin' every now and then. If I— and we—want to be the most inspired, creative, open and
connected versions of ourselves; maybe we should start with strengthening the
ol’ grey matter. Take the method approach and work inside
out, cultivating our thoughts and allowing the rest to follow.
That’s all I’ve got. So to conclude:
take it away Schoolhouse Rock, you said it best.
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