YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME (BUT I AM)

YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME 

is one of the top things that might be written on my tombstone.
Whenever someone tries to tell me what to do, a deep sound like a gong 

resonates in my soul.

It's a trigger that calls me to a fight.

It's one of my favorite aspects of my personality-
the sovereignty that I know is mine over this life and the energy
I have to ensure that my soul is safe.

It is also a visceral, ingrained response that I developed long long ago 
and when that gong rings,I feel an almost feral need to resist.
This is not a well thought out or reasoned argument to support my independence.
This is not adult responsibility and ownership aware of my boundaries
and exercising good judgement over my life.
This is a scrappy, do-or-die response that braces my backbone
and grounds my spirit.

How does this look on the outside?
It depends (I think).

If I'm not comfortable with the person or institution that believes 
the right to take charge of my life is mine,
 then my resistance will be like meeting a solid, 
quiet wall of Plexiglas where sound doesn't permeate.

Behind that wall, I will do what I think is best 
and block out the demands of the usurper.
Stubborn mule is too demonstrative a moniker-
I'm more like a stonewall.

If I'm comfortable enough to voice what is happening inside my spirit
then I will give sound to my knee jerk reaction
 in the form of direct verbal confrontation.
I will say how I feel, make sure my friends or family

 know where they overstepped, and
generally make sure my opinion is heard.
If the person is still standing there after I unload,
I'll THEN ask if that's what they meant to inspire by their action.
I fire first then aim.

Most often, controlling me is not the intention of anyone.

Usually they are just trying to do what people do when 
they are in a relationship with another-

care for me, love me or show me a different perspective.

I am truly grateful for this kind of love-
the kind that endures and bears things that 
should maybe be left in the past.
The kind that gives me grace when my most basic 
signature pattern is triggered or even better-
the kind that stands firm when I need to be redirected.
I have been working on this for years and I'm making progress.
I will never stop hearing the gong-I will only be able to stop
reacting to the gong and let it pass by.

I like to think of this trigger as a big booming sound-
like gunfire or a gong.
As I get further along my journey to integration though,
I've found that the big ones don't cause me to react too much anymore.
A male subordinate who wants to 'coach' me on how to handle a situation
will almost give me a chuckle now.
An estranged relative who starts telling me what they deserve from me
because we share DNA will at best get an eye roll.
It's the little ones that get me.
Sometimes, the trigger is so quiet it's virtually silent.
I'm realizing that I'm more sensitive to this trigger 
than I even knew by watching my behavior.
Like an over-trained show dog, I'm still reacting
to situations as my knee jerk persona
when the stakes seem less urgent.

Half way into the year I'm focused on thriving-

I've got a mixed bag of reviews for myself.

I'm having quite a bit of success in some areas of my life.

I'm keeping my workouts pretty faithfully and I've really improved my physical strength.

I'm stretching myself mentally through new activities-
leading classes, public speaking in a few new venues, 
and going on a mission trip with my kiddos.

I've navigated a school play, getting a driver's permit, 
graduating fifth grade, and curfew and dating rules 
with my parent card still intact.

I've supported my spouse in a new season of his leadership and
 I'm finding new ways daily that I am grateful for this partnership and him specifically.

My work life is very stressful right now but it is also 
challenging in ways that I can appreciate.

There is chaos and I get to work on resolving it every day-
which gives me a lot of satisfaction even when it's hard to see progress.

Change is never linear though.

There are steps forward and steps back, often in circular motion.

I have noticed myself struggling with anxiety and using food to numb that anxiety.

I've managed to get myself into a robust sleep deficit-
averaging less than 7 hours of sleep a night for months.

I've put on 10 pounds and I don't think it's all muscle.

It's embarrassing and frustrating and the same old same old.

I want to be different at the snap of my fingers 
but I will have to change the same way

every other human changes-slowly and with much consternation.

I noticed my resistance and wrote about it here-

thinking that bringing it to light might shake it out of me.

It didn't.

I have been more aware of my attitude towards food since writing about it though.

My inclination is to start yelling at myself or pouring judgement over my soul-

knowing instinctively that will change my trajectory for a while.

This has worked successfully my whole life-

notice I'm off track, change my behavior for a time,

get back on track, assume it is cured.

The thing is, I don't want to be a drill sergeant to myself anymore.
I want to be loving, to speak peace to myself.

I have been struggling to figure out what that looks like

because loving myself was not part of the program in my early years.
Particularly around food.

My brother Andy and me with Annie Ruth of Lemon Pie fame (our grandmother)

When I was about 8 or 9, I became a little chubby.

I really loved garlic bread and biscuits.

Everything was washed down with sweet tea

or deep fried for the extra flavor.

I was never obese but I was a cute little chipmunk cheeked girl

who preferred living inside books over running outside in the back yard.

My mother knew few insults stronger than fat.

I'm pretty sure my mother believed she could catch 'fat' like

you might get head-lice or the flu.

At the first sign of a little pudge, she started putting me on regimes.

Rice cakes for lunch and forced bike rides in the dark before breakfast.

Cauliflower and snide remarks about the value of a woman in relation to her dress size.
Near constant comparison of me to the other girls my age.
Buying my clothes a size too small so that she could 'inspire' me to get into them.

Never was anyone more relieved than she when I grew into

a lovely and THIN young woman when puberty arrived.

This is where the dissent started with me and food.

This is ground zero where my relationship with food

moved from eating for joy or to support my body and

became a battlefield where I would not be controlled by an oppressor.
This is where I decided that you're not the boss of me-
it all started with food.

We haven't seen each other in twenty years

but her voice starts pounding me when my jeans feel tight.
YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME.
And she's not.
But then who is?

I recently finished reading Boundaries  after a good friend recommended it.

The whole book is useful but there's a section about boundaries 

with yourself that resonated quite a bit with me.

Specifically (p.248): 
 "Look at the destructive fruit you may be exhibiting by 
not being able to say no to yourself." 
A light bulb went off.

I've been playing out a long ago scenario-
resisting my very first and highest ranking oppressor-

by harming myself just to prove that I'm not being controlled.
Sheesh.

I've spent so much time resisting any boundary or limit
on food that I thought the goal was to have no boundaries or limits.
Loving myself does not mean not having limits.
It means eating in alignment with what I know to be good and healthy
for this body so that it can thrive.
And that is MY job.
I AM THE BOSS OF ME.

I've been practicing this for a few days now.
When I'm tired or anxious, I feel a nudge to eat poorly.
Gluten free baked goods or too much caffeine are two favorite tempters.
When I decide to eat in a way that I know supports my body
I hear a little whisper.
You're not the boss of me it says.
Now I just smile and whisper back
Yes I am.
Settle down-I've got this.
I don't need an 8 year old version of myself making
choices for me now.
But she is not going to shut up unless she knows someone 
safe and good is in charge-
that is the gift she brings to my personality.

I don't want to sound too triumphant.
I do NOT in fact have this-
at least not in a perfect or continuous sense.
But I understand it differently and in a better way.
I have successfully heard the whisper and taken
back responsibility for myself and my health more than once.
I am even more convinced that the healing of my spirit
will ultimately provide health in my physical being if I let it.
That clues in my physical health also will point me to sore spots with my soul.
I highly recommend the book above if you're working on
similar issues. 
 It's very thorough and simple to understand.
(If you're a family member of mine, I'll even buy it for you ;) )

Eating at the Durham Hotel will not feel triggery!