last night i met up for dinner with some old-ish friends who i went to grad school with. it's really nice to stay in touch with these women. we have a lot of great conversation filled with humour and critical thought. at the same time, though, it becomes very difficult to stay engaged when our differences in experience and viewpoint are remarkably loud and glaringly bright. i can handle a good difference of opinion - it's what keeps things interesting and makes for interesting conversations. what i can't handle is when that difference has real implications for my perceived worth and therefore, my well-being.
last night, two of us arrived at the same time, and as we were settling into our table, a third member of our group came to join us. as she approached, the person who arrived with me said "hey! you look so skinny! wow!" i actually didn't know how to respond. i mean, it's not MY body she was commenting on, it really didn't involve me at all. but i can't help but wonder. would she ever say "hey katie! you look so fat! wow!" in a similar, positive way? if my body changed (which it frequently does) and i became smaller, would she comment on it in a positive way? if i got fatter again, would she comment in a negative way? likely not. this body commentary tends to happen one way - when someone is perceived as skinnier/smaller than before.
and for the person who "looked so skinny" - what implications might this have had for her? maybe she's been ill. maybe she's felt pressure to be smaller for her upcoming wedding. maybe she is suffering from stress-induced weight loss. maybe she didn't even notice and couldn't care less. the point is that we don't know. i can't fathom commenting on the size of another person's body, and i particularly can't fathom making a non-neutral statement about another person's body size. in a situation like this, i tend not to respond. it's not my body that was commented on, i wasn't asked my opinion, i don't know how that felt for the person at whom the body commentary was directed. so i kept my mouth shut and swallowed my discomfort.
later in the conversation, i was talking a bit about my experiences at NOLOSE and my time in Portland. we got on the topic of bodies and fatness. i use the word fat to talk about fat bodies, which i know isn't a comfortable term for everyone (the other three women with me are not fat). throughout this conversation, though, the only word they used was "obese". from what i gathered, they were using "obese" to mean superfat most of the time (and therefore not including me in this category). i've been told i'm not fat before (by non-fat folks trying to make me feel better about myself or some shit), but this seems to have been a way for them to exclude me from their negative (healthist) comments while still allowing me to call myself fat. the level of fuckedupedness here is alarming. i made it clear that this word is so fucking medicalized and according to the BMI, i am "morbidly obese", so let's maybe re-think this word, but that didn't seem to make a difference.
i KNOW that this stuff is new and maybe uncomfortable for some folks. i KNOW that they probably mean well. i KNOW that they don't get to have these conversation often, so they don't "practice" this dialogue. but i just can't fucking handle it. i can't be the person to educate them. i can't (always) confront these things in a way that is articulate and also sensitive. i don't know if it's even worth my time to try because at the end of these conversations, i just feel like shit and nothing has changed. and maybe nothing needs to change. maybe i just need to choose my conversations, choose my battles. i have a hard time thinking about walking away from relationships that are unhealthy for me in a fatphobic way. being fat is just one part of who i am, and there are many other ways in which i connect with people. but i do have a fatphobia bullshit threshold that i am constantly trying to navigate in a way that is caring, but also meets my needs.
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
nolose 2013: messy reflections and re-entry
after tossing it around in my mind and going back and forth on it for months, i decided to go to NOLOSE again this year. i was really leaning towards not going, but decided to give it one more chance. last year, although powerful and enlightening and impactful, was also disappointing. socially speaking, i didn't feel connected with the community last year. i think there are many, many reasons for this - some of them in my control, some of them not - but suffice it to say i was left feeling disconnected and isolated from a community that i thought of as "my people" in many ways. and i left thinking: if i can't even connect with "my people" then who the fuck can i connect with?
long story short, i'm really glad i gave it another chance. socially speaking, this conference was miles better for me. i felt connected to individuals, i felt connected to the community, i had some amazing one-on-one and group conversations outside of the sessions (which didn't really happen at all for me last year), i made what i hope will be lasting connections, and i came home feeling like i had folks who Understood and who i could/can contact if i need support. this was really amazing and also really difficult, which i will explain further.
the positive:
feeling like part of something, feeling connected, feeling held and witnessed in a way that i have never felt and didn't even know was possible. i met lovely people, we connected socially, outside of the more formal conversation that happens inside sessions (which is a format that's much easier for me to engage with. the unstructured social time usually finds me slipping back to my room and not emerging until the next session). i also feel like i came home with a fat army of people who i could contact if i'm having a hard time and who would offer support and understanding in a way that folks in my real life just can't. and in large part, this has been the case - in the couple of weeks after the conference, i have been in contact with a few folks, mostly around the issue of re-entry and the fucked up shit that comes along with it. i can sort of already feel that connection slipping, which is scary, but i know that i also need to put in my end of the relationship in order to keep those conversations happening throughout the year. because, truly, i don't think i can survive and i certainly can't thrive without them.
which brings me to my next point, the negative:
feeling so connected to the community this year allowed me to let a part of my guard down. while i was at the conference, a part of my well-built and comfortable guard began to soften and release and that felt really good but also really scary. it became most scary when the conference came to a close. i actually wasn't even aware of this guard-softening until the day after the conference ended, when i went to leave the hotel for the first time since arriving. i felt so unsafe and unprotected. i wasn't expecting it and it was so intense i didn't know how to navigate it. because i was leaving the hotel to explore Portland with a fellow (awesome) noloser who i'd met that weekend, i was able to put that terrified feeling aside, protect myself, engage further with the nolose community, and have an amazing day. it seemed as though everywhere we went, we ran into folks from nolose and the conversations we'd started continued, new conversations emerged, hugs were given, lunch was consumed, everyone was happy, i felt good. then it ended. then i had to go back to the hotel, grab my stuff, and go to the airport. and i had a proper meltdown.
leaving that hotel for good, going to the airport, and facing the reality of leaving the bubble that i hadn't even realized i was in was and is so fucking hard. i've been home for 2 weeks and i still am struggling. i am having a hell of a time with re-entry, and though i've mostly got to the point where i can function - go to work, do my laundry, take care of myself, meet most deadlines - the off time is still so messy. i've been cocooning since a few days after i got home. i felt like i got hurt, jostled, badly wounded, in those first few days home and reacted by withdrawing, self-protecting, disappearing. i'm not sure how to come back or if i really want to, to be honest. i'm still in the middle of that and i'm not sure where the end of it is or what it might look like. i just have no idea.
in trying to process this for myself, i've put words to what happened sort of like this: i spend most of my time in my head. i think, i over-analyze, i monitor myself and my world, i am hyper-aware and hyper-process-oriented. i spend almost no time outside of that - let's call it my safety zone. at nolose, without realizing it, i started to move from my head to my heart. in those few days, i let myself leave my head and step tentatively into my heart and my gut. i experienced what that feels like and i may have even begun to put both feet inside my heart, rather than just a tentative toe. and then i left the bubble and without realizing it, i was in my heart and everything was raw and painful and confusing and i couldn't manage and needed to get back in my head. while this is happening, i'm recognizing that it isn't "healthy" to be in my head all the time, but it's a place that is usually pretty safe for me. so now i'm standing here, naked, raw, and lost, with one foot in my heart, one foot in my head, off balance and about to fall over and once i fall, i'm not sure that i'll ever stop falling and if i do stop, i'm not sure where i'll land. and what if i land in my heart? and what if i land in my head and can't ever get out again? and what if there's a third option and i land there and everything's not okay? and what if there is no fall? what if i'm just stuck here like this forever? what if i can't handle that? and, and, and?
so, fuck. there's some words.
long story short, i'm really glad i gave it another chance. socially speaking, this conference was miles better for me. i felt connected to individuals, i felt connected to the community, i had some amazing one-on-one and group conversations outside of the sessions (which didn't really happen at all for me last year), i made what i hope will be lasting connections, and i came home feeling like i had folks who Understood and who i could/can contact if i need support. this was really amazing and also really difficult, which i will explain further.
the positive:
feeling like part of something, feeling connected, feeling held and witnessed in a way that i have never felt and didn't even know was possible. i met lovely people, we connected socially, outside of the more formal conversation that happens inside sessions (which is a format that's much easier for me to engage with. the unstructured social time usually finds me slipping back to my room and not emerging until the next session). i also feel like i came home with a fat army of people who i could contact if i'm having a hard time and who would offer support and understanding in a way that folks in my real life just can't. and in large part, this has been the case - in the couple of weeks after the conference, i have been in contact with a few folks, mostly around the issue of re-entry and the fucked up shit that comes along with it. i can sort of already feel that connection slipping, which is scary, but i know that i also need to put in my end of the relationship in order to keep those conversations happening throughout the year. because, truly, i don't think i can survive and i certainly can't thrive without them.
which brings me to my next point, the negative:
feeling so connected to the community this year allowed me to let a part of my guard down. while i was at the conference, a part of my well-built and comfortable guard began to soften and release and that felt really good but also really scary. it became most scary when the conference came to a close. i actually wasn't even aware of this guard-softening until the day after the conference ended, when i went to leave the hotel for the first time since arriving. i felt so unsafe and unprotected. i wasn't expecting it and it was so intense i didn't know how to navigate it. because i was leaving the hotel to explore Portland with a fellow (awesome) noloser who i'd met that weekend, i was able to put that terrified feeling aside, protect myself, engage further with the nolose community, and have an amazing day. it seemed as though everywhere we went, we ran into folks from nolose and the conversations we'd started continued, new conversations emerged, hugs were given, lunch was consumed, everyone was happy, i felt good. then it ended. then i had to go back to the hotel, grab my stuff, and go to the airport. and i had a proper meltdown.
leaving that hotel for good, going to the airport, and facing the reality of leaving the bubble that i hadn't even realized i was in was and is so fucking hard. i've been home for 2 weeks and i still am struggling. i am having a hell of a time with re-entry, and though i've mostly got to the point where i can function - go to work, do my laundry, take care of myself, meet most deadlines - the off time is still so messy. i've been cocooning since a few days after i got home. i felt like i got hurt, jostled, badly wounded, in those first few days home and reacted by withdrawing, self-protecting, disappearing. i'm not sure how to come back or if i really want to, to be honest. i'm still in the middle of that and i'm not sure where the end of it is or what it might look like. i just have no idea.
in trying to process this for myself, i've put words to what happened sort of like this: i spend most of my time in my head. i think, i over-analyze, i monitor myself and my world, i am hyper-aware and hyper-process-oriented. i spend almost no time outside of that - let's call it my safety zone. at nolose, without realizing it, i started to move from my head to my heart. in those few days, i let myself leave my head and step tentatively into my heart and my gut. i experienced what that feels like and i may have even begun to put both feet inside my heart, rather than just a tentative toe. and then i left the bubble and without realizing it, i was in my heart and everything was raw and painful and confusing and i couldn't manage and needed to get back in my head. while this is happening, i'm recognizing that it isn't "healthy" to be in my head all the time, but it's a place that is usually pretty safe for me. so now i'm standing here, naked, raw, and lost, with one foot in my heart, one foot in my head, off balance and about to fall over and once i fall, i'm not sure that i'll ever stop falling and if i do stop, i'm not sure where i'll land. and what if i land in my heart? and what if i land in my head and can't ever get out again? and what if there's a third option and i land there and everything's not okay? and what if there is no fall? what if i'm just stuck here like this forever? what if i can't handle that? and, and, and?
so, fuck. there's some words.
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