Today I am realizing once again that a crux of my disease is trying to "figure it out." I keep trying to find the meal plan, the nutritionist, the method, etc that will spell the difference between a "botched" body and a "beautiful" one. If I can locate and follow the "perfect plan" to the letter I am assured of supreme confidence and strength, the lean fit physique I yearn for; the plan which will help me to be "that woman" who is proud of her body and trusts her body, who partners with her body for optimal nourishment each day in all aspects: body, mind, spirit, soul. Yet this is an elusive quest. All those various modes of seeking guidance toward healing can be useful however the fallacy comes with equating my physique with the spirit of the woman I want to be. I believe I am called to turn over even this process of trying to figure out what surrender looks like for me. In writing I realize the crux is not so much my desire to "figure it out" but rather the attachment I hold to my physique and how I've equated it with my self-worth.
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