each round of recovery for me seems to center around some sort of theme, a general idea that becomes the core of my work. my first time I needed the structure of a very regimented and planned out meal and exercise pattern. last summer, my mantra was looking at food as fuel for my body, so it could do the wonderful things I was asking of it, like race training and yoga and singing.
now…I’m learning to play. one of the instructors at the yoga studio always encourages us to be playful in our practice, to explore and have fun and be okay with falling.
I’m learning to be playful in my recovery. formerly forbidden or “scary” foods are suddenly harmless when I look at them as a mini-adventure. going to 7-11 with kim and making a massive slurpee concoction is no longer about sugar and calories; it’s about laughing until I snort while we layer a half-dozen flavors and then driving around singing along to the radio getting multi-colored tongues and then playing in the elementary school’s playground afterwards.
and suddenly it’s not so scary.
I have never looked at recovery as fun before. I mean, mostly because it sucks, a lot, and often. but then there are those moments, when I’m making ice cream sundaes with my girlfriend while we dance around the kitchen, and then curl up on the couch to eat them and talk, that I think…”this is pretty fucking awesome.” and it’s not about numbers, it’s not about the food, it’s not about how my jeans fit. it’s about the sheer unbridled joy and freedom of the moment. I like ice cream, I love my girlfriend…both of them at once?! bliss.
I like this new take on recovery. a lot.