Whose body is it anyway?

Like most people, I have an issue with my body.  And like most people, telling me I should not feel that way is not going to change that.

So many people seem to miss the fact that body image isn't always about weight.

I am relatively thin.  Which somehow immediately takes all negative body image credibility from me. I am secretly banned from the self loathing water cooler conversations, since my issues shouldn't  be real issues.

When I dare to join the bash-your-body talks, I get raised eyebrows and a lot of "but you are so skinny" comments.

Sometimes I want to scream! "DON'T TELL ME HOW TO FEEL ABOUT MY BODY. WHOSE BODY IS IT ANYWAY?"

It is frustrating. But I get it.  We are so conditioned to think that fat is bad, skinny is good, and that those black and white lines define how we should see ourselves and each other. For me though, it's so much more. As with most areas of my life, I live in the grey.

My body issues are weight, shape and gender related. I could go on all day explaining how I got so delusional, what pharmacological and surgical steps I have resorted to to shut my head up, and the stresses extreme poor body image adds to a relationship. But I won't. It really doesn't matter, nor do most people care. They are too busy picking themselves apart and quietly telling me to shut up because, after all, I am so skinny.

The majority of the people I am in contact with all day have no idea that I suffer from gender identity issues, depersonalization and body dysmorphia.  No matter what mirror I look in, I will never see "me". No amount of drugs or surgery could ever make me look like I feel on the inside. And while I have grown to accept the majority of that, I still have a hard time thinking anyone else can.  I feel incomplete, wrong and judged because of it (yes, I know that is not true. It is a feeling, and I cannot help feelings).

Next month I turn 45.  My children are basically grown and my life is essentially slowing it's pace and rounding the corner to the next part of my journey.  When thinking of how to answer "what do you want for your birthday this year?" the only thought that came to mind, was "peace with myself, stillness in my head, the ability to believe your love is genuine, and the possibility of living the next years of my life free from self loathing".

Next week I have an appointment in NYC with an amazing woman who does phototherapy.  The sessions will consist of me and my partner in various stages of undress. The ultimate goal is to be able to see myself from a different perspective.  While typically this therapy is not done with two people, I wanted the intimate moments (one will be dressed while the other is not) to show us both how we see the other from our perspective as well.

This is going to be challenging for me, my partner and the photographer.  We are all wading in uncharted waters with this session. I am confident the photographer will find a way to show me someone in those photographs that is worthy. I am confident that my partner will see how much I adore her even when my defenses keep her at arms length. And I am 100% positive this is the best gift I will have ever received.

This IS my journey

It's been a long time since I have been here.  Not because I haven't had anything to say, but because I haven't known where I wanted those words to go.

For a long time I thought I wanted to write for a big publication one day. But after years of climbing the "ladder" with unfulfilled columns and being boxed in to specific categories and wording by my editors, I have found writing for someone else was truly just work.  And being paid minimally or not at all was not enough to make me want to do something that felt like work.  Like musicians being solicited to play for free for exposure I felt used and walking the wrong path.

So I took a hiatus. From writing. But not from thinking.

I have been thinking. A lot. About life, my sense of self, family, the crappy media, Trayvon Martin, the future, weird dreams, expectations, time, this country, my carb intake, my lame attempts at exercise, people less fortunate, my sick dog, solar energy, our new landscaping project, my lack of friends etc etc.  The list is long, as my mind never ever stops.

I didn't stop writing for lack of things to say. Anyone that knows me will tell you I ALWAYS have something to say. I stopped writing because I had no where to share the things that mattered to me most. No one wanted to read that. No one wanted to read the words "I" or "me".  They told me my opinions only mattered if they didn't look like my opinions.  Then I thought about this blog.  And how it paved the way to the place I am right now.  And I realized that this was the place for my thoughts, unsolicited advice, opinions and dreams. I left it to pursue what I thought was a naturally progressive journey. I was wrong.

This is how I write. This is what I need to be doing. This is what will take me where I need to go eventually. This feels right. It may not come with a paycheck, but it is lucrative in so many other ways. People can relate. It's about feeling and passion.  It's about community and knowing you are not alone.

I started my memoir a long time ago.  I was passionate about it.  It was easy to write. It is a story that I want to share and I know some people need to read.  I stopped writing that too.  In my efforts to please the editors and create pieces that showed well for the publications that brought me on board, I forgot how to sit down and let my feelings write for me. 

Today is the day I have decided to change that.