Nourishing my body is a key component to my mental health maintenance. The inclusion of more and more physical activities that get my body moving and into nature has been a game changer. Sometimes it’s a long trail run, other times a brief dog walk may be all my motivation allows, but I have never once regretted getting out the door. I also find yoga grounding when I am in a decent headspace. When my nervous system is on high alert, holding still can often feel uncomfortable, but I find when I am at my most uneasy or upset taking a few minutes in child’s pose - forehead pressed to the floor - provides a literal grounding that allows me to find my breath again.
Reading and writing are two other ways I have learned to come back to myself. Tucking in with a good book connects me with the author over time and space. When my nervous system is on edge and I find myself reading the same passage over and over, popping in my earbuds and listening to the audio edition on a long walk or trail run usually does the trick. Or try listening while you fold laundry or do the dishes. Getting my own words on the page is another story. Creating a narrative with a beginning, middle, and end not only helps me organize my thoughts and feelings around a particular subject, it also helps me create meaning and provides a healthy distance and perspective for healing. Storytelling creates connection and reminds us we are not alone.
Nourishment, in the traditional sense of the word, is a loaded topic. As someone who has struggled with disordered eating for a large portion of my life, food has come to hold a very complicated but special place in my heart. I have come to believe that cooking is love made visible. Making a meal or baking a sweet treat is how I show love for my friends and family - literally providing sustenance. But for a very long time I was unable to equate eating food with loving myself. Starving, restricting, over exercising, and limiting any social interactions where food might be available, were all tools I employed to punish myself. I had a lot of overwhelming emotions and while I couldn’t yet get a handle on how they were tumbling out, I found I could control the food that was going in. The amount of life I have lost to thinking about what I was or was not going to put in my mouth is devastating. The parties I skipped because I was so fearful of an appetizer spread that I stayed home and sobbed in the shower instead. The delicious desserts I ate but then promptly spent three weeks grabbing at my thighs so harshly I left bruises behind. The miles I logged to counteract the calories that left me on crutches with shin splints. A whole lifetime of hating my body instead of recognizing it does every single thing I ask of it with strength and humility. Today I am able to enjoy food; the cooking and the eating. Each bite is a promise to myself; you are loved.
This will be a blog where I will post recipes and playlists and essays and quotes and book recommendations and art projects and podcasts and movies. This will be food for the soul. Dig in!