Friday, April 15, 2011

George Washington

She doesn't feel like eating today.

I know this feeling.
I'm not healed. I'm healing.
In all truth, I don't think whole, complete healing ever comes in this life.
The globe spins too unpredictably for absolutes.

Last night's food left me nauseated, as most every meal does these days.
Too much? Too little? Was it gluten? Is it my recovering intestines?
This morning left her wanting to get through the day being fed intravenously.
That would make life so much easier.
Though then she'd probably find another way to seek comfort and control of this unpredictable life.

The treadmills at one of my gyms faces mirrors. Why? Couldn't tell ya. So she spent 3 miles this morning watching her thighs jiggle and remembering the exact moment she began to hate them. I was no more than 11 years-old and read in a magazine that to have legs like a model, I should be able to fit a quarter between my upper thighs (and not the skinny way), the way you can see George Washington looking out between your legs.

I know this isn't realistic and yet this is the bar (or coin) I've used to judge my body for so long, I'm not sure what else to use. This is based on the assumption that judging my body to "perfect" standards is actually necessary.

She picked me apart in the shower: "You're gross."
She critiqued my skin and my hair in the mirror: "What are you fourteen?"
She tore into my abilities, my character, my lack of this, and my fat that.
She attacked my will power, my strength, my courage, my ability to really see the soul inside.

Just yesterday, I talked to a friend about acceptance. About longing for contentment. Wholeness.

"A wish is a desire without energy." -Paramanhansa Yogananda
I'm not sure I've been putting forth the energy.

Last week, I observed at School B (as I have all semester) in a special education classroom. MacKenzie (my favorite student...sshhh) rolled into the classroom in her motorized wheelchair that she steers using her head. She saw me, rolled her head left and right, and smiled. She began spelling out her words to me pointing one-by-one to the letters on her table. I began interpreting.

She pointed to A and I said: "A?"
"R?"
"E?"
"A. R. E. Are!"
She continued forming the words, "U"
"R"
"E"
"W, oh wait no, A!"
"D"
"Y"
So far we had: "Are you ready..." and after several minutes she finished with "...for me to kick your butt?"

We've had an UNO competition running for a few weeks and she melts my heart every time she wins. Even if I let her.

I can guarantee you that MacKenzie's opinion of me is pretty simple: She's fun. I like her. Her standards are so reasonable, so loose. She just wants a friend. A hand. A smile. It doesn't make much to impress her. She only wants my love. Which I give freely because she deserves it.

I deserve it too. Maybe more time with MacKenzie will help me remember that.

1 comments:

Joe said...

You. MacKenzie's opinion. Like.