Magic Wands

I sit across from my nutritionist.  I have just finished eating whatever that day's torture happened to be... I don't remember what it was now.  Could have been a cookie, a smoothie, a Lara bar, maybe even an entire lunch - anyway, what it was doesn't really matter, because the guilt is always the same.  The voice in my head is screaming a battery of insults and degradations.  I feel like I want to run, or cry, or never eat again, or a combination of the three.  But then my nutritionist starts waving her hand around in the air.  At first I think she's a little crazy, but then she smiles and proclaims, "I have a magic wand!"  I smile too, then, and start to feel a little better.  She continues:  "I'm erasing your guilt.  You are worthy.  You are worthy.  You are worthy.  You are deserving.  You are deserving.  You are deserving."

"I'm erasing your guilt."  If only someone had the power to do that for me.  To take all of the irrational, self-loathing, illogical thoughts out of my brain and simply make them cease to exist.   Erase them.  Then where would I be?  I could eat because I was hungry or because I felt like it, rather than having food dictated solely by what it says on my meal plan.  I could stop counting exchanges (and calories).  I could stop berating myself with every bite.  I could believe that nourishing my body and my mind is natural and good and okay.

My nutritionist is away for a couple of weeks.  Of course, she gave me her magic wand to borrow while she's gone :)  It got me thinking.  Maybe I need a magic wand of my very own...

Remember at the end of "The Wizard of Oz", the moment when Dorothy realizes that she had the power to get home to Kansas all along?  What she needed wasn't actually to see the Wizard at all; the fact was, she had all she needed inside herself.  Sure, she had some help from the Scarecrow, Tin Man, Lion, and of course (the sparkly, pink) Glinda.  But as much as they loved her and wanted to help her find her way home, ultimately she needed to discover her own way.  Even Glinda and her magic wand couldn't fix it for her.

Maybe my nutritionist is my own personal Glinda.  She can guide me, show me another way, wave her magic wand... but in the end, I have to realize that all I really have to do is click my heels and say, "There's no place like home."  Or, in my case, suck it up and eat. 

For now, I'm going to borrow my nutritionist's magic wand and her hope and her belief in my recovery.  And soon enough, I'm sure, I will have a magic wand of my very own.  And you can bet that it will be very pink and sparkly.

love,
kara