My sexuality continued to be defined in two limited ways - from the glimpses seen through my evolving contact with porn and in everyday life – albeit obscured by thick myopic lens of denial.
My sexual identity was quite safely experienced in porn as long as the genre was “straight.” The female presence in the porn I selected were very important because it maintained a link to the heterosexual world and thereby verified my rightful position within in – even though my situation was quite marginalized.
There were no sexual conquests had in my teens and early adulthood (21 through 24). My body did experience many changes in adolescence, but the changes – good and bad – all occurred in a vacuum. Although my mental frame dictated the behavioral course taken most especially with food, the body and mind were not wholly connected. There were periods when connections were stronger, but still weak in comparative terms.
The porn stimulated my body to feel excitement in the safety of fantasy and under the control of the stop, play, pause, fast-forward and rewind buttons. Under the guise of porn, I was able to have my body freely express and feel some sexual excitement that could not be processed in reality – where there were far too many danger spots.
As I started to take in the male body images that were depicted in the porn, I realized how poor my body was in comparison. It was one of my first “awakenings” (written in another entry) to just how much damage I did to my body and this was accompanied by the acknowledgement that I was to never have one that I could be very proud of. The realization did very little to rise my esteem and acceptance levels. The years of exercise, food restriction and indulgence, and my vigilance in body valuation have all been testaments to my inability to fully accept my body as it stands.
I had better fortune with my sexuality. I was slowly but progressively accepting my interest in men. I couldn’t yet fully state that I was “gay” but I wasn’t as overwhelmed and frightened when my thoughts centered on male-to-male sex and couplehood. I was allowing my mind greater room to ponder sexual thoughts and to even project visions of myself in “gay”-like environments. This major shift in thought was symbolically captured in my selection of porn. During this period of time, I boldly made my first purchase of a different kind of porn - bisexual.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
FOOD and DESTRUCTION
I have turned to sweets yet again. In the past two weeks, I've been buying on average two to three cakes, eating a part of them (usually a creamy filling) and throwing out the rest. I only eat very little of the cake. The part that I eat seems to momentarily fill the emptiness and sooth my anxiety about academics, work and my limited social existence. Once I have eaten the part that "soothes", I am so frightened to consume the rest that I end up destroying it. I usually cut it up with a knife or tear it apart - all in trying to annihilate it before it kills me with added calories and fat. How extremely wasteful!!! I have so much shame in admitting this behavior. It had been so long since I had performed this type of ritual. I was really proud of the longevity of the abstinence - especially since it is such a materially wasteful practice. Yet, here I am, once again doing it - the reason is obvious (as mentioned above). I just have to stop.
The path to recovery is filled with progressions and setbacks. The setbacks may even last a little longer than I am comfortable with, but I am well aware of why they linger. The feelings of anxiety, isolation, loneliness and fear also linger. I intake the sweets when these feelings truly strangle every inch of my breathing space. Granted, the sweets momentarily eclipse the intensity of these repeatedly processed emotions, but after a short respite, they once again start their ascent into each corner and fiber of my being. And unfortunately, in this go around, they are also accompanied by guilt and shame. These two feelings are the direct consequence of having participated in the chewing and spitting act, and in the destruction of food (no matter how bad or non-nutritious).
Yet, throughout experiencing this mental and behavioral mechanism, I am realizing more concretely that the old habit is no longer as powerful an arbiter of my emotions as it was in the past. I am able to hold more on my own. Perhaps that is why I am feeling so overwhelmed. Progress does come with a price.
Can anyone relate?
stay well, MBI
The path to recovery is filled with progressions and setbacks. The setbacks may even last a little longer than I am comfortable with, but I am well aware of why they linger. The feelings of anxiety, isolation, loneliness and fear also linger. I intake the sweets when these feelings truly strangle every inch of my breathing space. Granted, the sweets momentarily eclipse the intensity of these repeatedly processed emotions, but after a short respite, they once again start their ascent into each corner and fiber of my being. And unfortunately, in this go around, they are also accompanied by guilt and shame. These two feelings are the direct consequence of having participated in the chewing and spitting act, and in the destruction of food (no matter how bad or non-nutritious).
Yet, throughout experiencing this mental and behavioral mechanism, I am realizing more concretely that the old habit is no longer as powerful an arbiter of my emotions as it was in the past. I am able to hold more on my own. Perhaps that is why I am feeling so overwhelmed. Progress does come with a price.
Can anyone relate?
stay well, MBI
Saturday, August 23, 2008
AGING
I was at the gym this morning, and although I try quite hard not to look at the other men present since that will initiate a trail of comparative notes on physical features (face, body, muscularity, hair etc.), I could not help but look at one guy in particular. He was really handsome and had a very nice body. He unfortunately came over to use the weights in the area where I was working out. I term it as "unfortunate" because I knew being in such close proximity to his external attractiveness was going to instigate my internal judge to initiate assessments. Strangely, although I compared our faces, hair, muscularity and overall attractiveness, the thought that insistently lingered was his youth. He was younger than me, but I don’t know by how much. I am painfully aware of the passing of time and its made all the more obvious to me when I notice striking young men in the gym. They seem to be empowered not only with physical beauty but also with youth.
Yes, I had that youth at one time too - and no, I am don't consider myself old, but my youth was never quite fulfilled as it seems to be in the young men I notice at the gym. They seem to be more connected with their bodies - as if they are in control of its destiny. They are doing what they can to feel good, be healthy, and look in shape. I endeavor to do those things too, but my body has already been through so much.
I recall the period in my early late teen and early twenties when I started to finally realize that my body and I (the mind) were "one." My "awakening" was like returning to the home I had abandoned at the start of war, expecting it to be in the same state as I had left it, but instead finding a great deal of disrepair and scarring incurred by years of serious attacks. I could not believe the sorry state of my body. Yes, I was thin, but the years of no exercise, binging, crazy diets and depression had taken its toll. I was never ever to see my body as lean as I had seen it when I was seven years old. It was gone - never to return. Seeing that young man at the gym made me yearn for that lost part of myself. It made me recall the feelings of hope that were quite familiar way back then. I'm angry at the unfairness of life and the way I must content myself with what I currently have. I feel jilted and cheated out of my body's full potential. Yet, my current "demons" are keeping me from fully embracing the body I have now (in what ever state it is in - toned, untoned, muscular, non-muscular etc). I don't want to repass the same issues in another 10 years and live in further regret.
stay well,
MBI
Yes, I had that youth at one time too - and no, I am don't consider myself old, but my youth was never quite fulfilled as it seems to be in the young men I notice at the gym. They seem to be more connected with their bodies - as if they are in control of its destiny. They are doing what they can to feel good, be healthy, and look in shape. I endeavor to do those things too, but my body has already been through so much.
I recall the period in my early late teen and early twenties when I started to finally realize that my body and I (the mind) were "one." My "awakening" was like returning to the home I had abandoned at the start of war, expecting it to be in the same state as I had left it, but instead finding a great deal of disrepair and scarring incurred by years of serious attacks. I could not believe the sorry state of my body. Yes, I was thin, but the years of no exercise, binging, crazy diets and depression had taken its toll. I was never ever to see my body as lean as I had seen it when I was seven years old. It was gone - never to return. Seeing that young man at the gym made me yearn for that lost part of myself. It made me recall the feelings of hope that were quite familiar way back then. I'm angry at the unfairness of life and the way I must content myself with what I currently have. I feel jilted and cheated out of my body's full potential. Yet, my current "demons" are keeping me from fully embracing the body I have now (in what ever state it is in - toned, untoned, muscular, non-muscular etc). I don't want to repass the same issues in another 10 years and live in further regret.
stay well,
MBI
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
PORN & ME II
As I mentioned in my previous entry - porn was the tool I used to satisfy my sexual curiosity and to also keep me somewhat connected to my peers. As they were overtly exploring their sexuality by going out on dates and possibly having some sexual experiences, I maintained some semblance of "normal" adolescence by dappling in porn.
It is difficult to describe my body image during this period of time. I was between fourteen and sixteen years old. At fourteen - I was at my heaviest - almost 285 pounds. In school I was being called all sorts of gay related names in addition to be made fun of because of my weight. My body image must have been very poor but I was not aware of it at the time. I was so disconnected from my body. It seemed as if my mind and body were two separate entities. Therefore, I watched the porn during these early years with little connection with the body elements depicted in the films. Yes, I was looking at the actors' bodies but I could not internalize these images since my own body lay incomplete. Also, internalizing the male bodies would have also "implicated" me as to being gay. I could not face that. I could only bear acknowledging some interest in sexuality - I was unable to even absorb the fact that I was a sexual being. To do so would have brought on a multitude of thoughts that I could not handle exploring at the time.
At fifteen - there was some enlightenment as to what the massive amounts of food was doing to my body. I was scared of dying too young. I must have also allowed some elements of attraction for the same sex to be internalized if not even slightly acknowledged. I recall staring at guys a lot more but again not acknowledging their attractiveness. Instead, interpreting it as a sign of my growing competitiveness to be their physical equal (I didn't even think of being superior - if I did think it, I could not acknowledge it). The porn was still being watched but there was still no "body" connection to it. It was providing the stimulation – always under the protection of heterosexuality but nothing new.
My porn style remained the same until I was 24 years old. It was then that I finally developed enough courage to buy my first bisexual film. There were a lot of things going on in my life at that point. I was in therapy for 6 years and I had gained some insight into who I was. While I could not face the truth yet - I was taking steps toward that direction. I was allowing myself to contemplate male attractions. I could give myself the okay to have my eyes glance at male pin up posters. I was freeing myself to speak of sexuality more freely albeit still embedded within intellectual dicta. I was working and befriending people that were more accepting of me. I had lost a lot of weight and people usually had positive comments about my looks (and especially my beautiful hair). I was exercising but not at a compulsive level. I had finally started to internalize the male bodies depicted in the straight porn.
More to add in later entries.
Stay well, MBI
It is difficult to describe my body image during this period of time. I was between fourteen and sixteen years old. At fourteen - I was at my heaviest - almost 285 pounds. In school I was being called all sorts of gay related names in addition to be made fun of because of my weight. My body image must have been very poor but I was not aware of it at the time. I was so disconnected from my body. It seemed as if my mind and body were two separate entities. Therefore, I watched the porn during these early years with little connection with the body elements depicted in the films. Yes, I was looking at the actors' bodies but I could not internalize these images since my own body lay incomplete. Also, internalizing the male bodies would have also "implicated" me as to being gay. I could not face that. I could only bear acknowledging some interest in sexuality - I was unable to even absorb the fact that I was a sexual being. To do so would have brought on a multitude of thoughts that I could not handle exploring at the time.
At fifteen - there was some enlightenment as to what the massive amounts of food was doing to my body. I was scared of dying too young. I must have also allowed some elements of attraction for the same sex to be internalized if not even slightly acknowledged. I recall staring at guys a lot more but again not acknowledging their attractiveness. Instead, interpreting it as a sign of my growing competitiveness to be their physical equal (I didn't even think of being superior - if I did think it, I could not acknowledge it). The porn was still being watched but there was still no "body" connection to it. It was providing the stimulation – always under the protection of heterosexuality but nothing new.
My porn style remained the same until I was 24 years old. It was then that I finally developed enough courage to buy my first bisexual film. There were a lot of things going on in my life at that point. I was in therapy for 6 years and I had gained some insight into who I was. While I could not face the truth yet - I was taking steps toward that direction. I was allowing myself to contemplate male attractions. I could give myself the okay to have my eyes glance at male pin up posters. I was freeing myself to speak of sexuality more freely albeit still embedded within intellectual dicta. I was working and befriending people that were more accepting of me. I had lost a lot of weight and people usually had positive comments about my looks (and especially my beautiful hair). I was exercising but not at a compulsive level. I had finally started to internalize the male bodies depicted in the straight porn.
More to add in later entries.
Stay well, MBI
Sunday, August 17, 2008
PORN and ME
I have mixed feelings about pornography. There are sexual images, movies, and magazines that really turn me on. The provocative poses of the actors, along with their beautifully toned (or untoned), and muscular bodies are an alluring attraction. Pornography was my first introduction into the sexual act. Until that time, I had not ever seen a vagina, not to mention intercourse. Looking at a picture of a vagina in one of the porn magazines both fascinated and scared me at the same time. I believe my fascination lay more in the fact that it was so different than what was drawn in anatomy books. My first porn movie was of heterosexuals. I was so turned on by the figures of the men. I can only say this in hindsight. As a 15 year old, I told myself that it was the women that were turning me on, and that the men were merely being used as vehicles for my sexual feelings toward the women. The denial I imposed for any ounce of attraction for the men in the porn movies was quite intense and for that matter - necessary. Any admission to attraction would have sent me into an abyss of further self-destruction. I could not handle it at that time. I was already dealing with all of the verbal abuse both at school and home, and was eating an incredible amount of food to calm the pangs.
Porn was the small window I used to glimpse at my own budding (in retard) sexuality. It gave me the opportunity, albeit - very short, to know that there was some kind of sexualness inside me. Of course, at the time, I did not acknowledge the sexuality - I was barely able to purchase the porn without going into some dissociate state. Watching the movies excited me, but I could not acknowledge the excitement or relate to the sexuality. To do so would have placed my ego in peril and it would have put me in the same specie as my abusers. I wanted to separate myself from all that was masculine. It was men that tormented me in their bullying antics, and it was meant that I deeply desired. I could not reconcile the two opposing forces.
While watching the porn, I stepped out of my "self" and detached enough to be stimulated but not internalize the stimulation with any acknowledgment of my sexuality. The dissociation was one that made my mind temporarily leave my body and enter that of one of the actors. At the time, I had convinced myself that I was the man directing the moves but it wasn’t so. I was the "other" - an actor that was alone with the men or group of men and always safely cradled in the "heterosexual" dynamic. I could not internalize any idea that my attraction laid for the men in the movie. It was too frightening.
Porn was to be the tool I used to take steps into grappling with my sexuality. But that would take years.
Stay well,
MBI
Porn was the small window I used to glimpse at my own budding (in retard) sexuality. It gave me the opportunity, albeit - very short, to know that there was some kind of sexualness inside me. Of course, at the time, I did not acknowledge the sexuality - I was barely able to purchase the porn without going into some dissociate state. Watching the movies excited me, but I could not acknowledge the excitement or relate to the sexuality. To do so would have placed my ego in peril and it would have put me in the same specie as my abusers. I wanted to separate myself from all that was masculine. It was men that tormented me in their bullying antics, and it was meant that I deeply desired. I could not reconcile the two opposing forces.
While watching the porn, I stepped out of my "self" and detached enough to be stimulated but not internalize the stimulation with any acknowledgment of my sexuality. The dissociation was one that made my mind temporarily leave my body and enter that of one of the actors. At the time, I had convinced myself that I was the man directing the moves but it wasn’t so. I was the "other" - an actor that was alone with the men or group of men and always safely cradled in the "heterosexual" dynamic. I could not internalize any idea that my attraction laid for the men in the movie. It was too frightening.
Porn was to be the tool I used to take steps into grappling with my sexuality. But that would take years.
Stay well,
MBI
Thursday, August 14, 2008
ADDITIONAL EXERCISE
As much as I desire a toned and muscular body and do exercise a great deal, I also realize that I am not doing all I can to achieve certain physical/athletic milestones. I can work on my abdominals a lot more and also spend additional time with free weights. I spend too much time with cardio equipment because of my fear of gaining weight. The cardio really tires me out and so I have less energy to burn on the free weights. I am so damned disciplined and yet I am hitting a wall in doing more. I often feel that my body is just too tired to complete any more exercise even if I break it down into different times of day. I also question if it is just the low energy or if its the realization that doing more is not a good thing – that it will once again place me in the category of obsession that I am working hard to break away from. Mental and emotional progress will inevitably lead to being less obsessive about my workout schedule. That is a frightening thought. Although, as I’ve mentioned, there are other exercise routines I can do, there is a limit to what I will endeavor to undertake in one day. I have improved from the past when I would squeeze one exercise routine after another all in one stretch of time.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
MEDICATION - DEPRESSSION
I wrote the following entry last week – and I did not post it. Although, I’m feeling better and my outlook is not as grim, there is some realization that the feelings I described will eventually return. I have the number of a very good psycho-pharmacologist but am delaying calling him. Even though I realize that there is no harm in just consulting, I am still hesitating in making the appointment.
I am slowly falling into an abyss and I am desperately trying to cling to something - anything that will keep me elevated. The feeling of emptiness is really permeating different aspects of my life - professional, academic, familial and social. I don't have any interest in mingling with people on the weekend. I find it cumbersome and boring. I don't get excited about anything - even my research is heavy and mundane. I try desperately to find something joyful in what I do but find none. I even try to numb myself to the emptiness so that I might just "be", but that too does not work. I am always questioning my value, the value of my work and of my life. I feel useless and I sometimes don't believe in the merit of what I undertake with regard to male body image.
So encumbered was I with these thoughts and so generally ensnared in this emotional malaise that I barely took part in any activities. I had to force myself to go out to the park, simply to break the cycle of staying inside.
My cousin and I discussed medication again. And while it is froth with dangers (personal ones as indicated in prior entries) I believe it worth my attention. I was invited to two parties this weekend, and while the company and venue of each weren't the most tantalizing - I didn't go. The thought of facing people, having to engage in conversations (the annoying small talk), and having them look at me when I don't feel attractive made me cringe and so I postponed getting ready until it was actually too late. I started with every intention of going and then slowly I realized that I couldn’t do it. I don't want to isolate myself again and I don't want to constantly be the cause of exacerbating emotional drama. As much as medication is a frightening prospect I need to do explore it again. Perhaps I would be able to work on issues and my professional (and academic) stuff with greater clarity without constantly being sidetracked by these emotional peaks and valleys.
take care, MBI
I am slowly falling into an abyss and I am desperately trying to cling to something - anything that will keep me elevated. The feeling of emptiness is really permeating different aspects of my life - professional, academic, familial and social. I don't have any interest in mingling with people on the weekend. I find it cumbersome and boring. I don't get excited about anything - even my research is heavy and mundane. I try desperately to find something joyful in what I do but find none. I even try to numb myself to the emptiness so that I might just "be", but that too does not work. I am always questioning my value, the value of my work and of my life. I feel useless and I sometimes don't believe in the merit of what I undertake with regard to male body image.
So encumbered was I with these thoughts and so generally ensnared in this emotional malaise that I barely took part in any activities. I had to force myself to go out to the park, simply to break the cycle of staying inside.
My cousin and I discussed medication again. And while it is froth with dangers (personal ones as indicated in prior entries) I believe it worth my attention. I was invited to two parties this weekend, and while the company and venue of each weren't the most tantalizing - I didn't go. The thought of facing people, having to engage in conversations (the annoying small talk), and having them look at me when I don't feel attractive made me cringe and so I postponed getting ready until it was actually too late. I started with every intention of going and then slowly I realized that I couldn’t do it. I don't want to isolate myself again and I don't want to constantly be the cause of exacerbating emotional drama. As much as medication is a frightening prospect I need to do explore it again. Perhaps I would be able to work on issues and my professional (and academic) stuff with greater clarity without constantly being sidetracked by these emotional peaks and valleys.
take care, MBI
Saturday, August 9, 2008
AGING & BODY IMAGE
A friend showed me several old pictures yesterday. They were of various times we had spent together at restaurants, weddings, and at work events. The pictures spanned some eleven years. I find looking at old pictures of myself very uncomfortable and unnerving.Uncomfortable because I revisit images of a younger self that had noticeably more hair. And unnerving because the inevitability of passing time is made all the more clear no matter how hard one tries to deny it. I looked at the pictures quite a bit because I missed seeing the younger image of me with more hair. I paid no attention to my body because I knew that my body was in worse shape in the past than it is presently. It was just camouflaged in clothing that made my body appear thin and somewhat muscular. It was my face that I scrutinized above all things. I saw the face that appeared so very happily framed in so much hair. Although I always had little satisfaction with the state of my body (as I have written quite a bit in past entries), my face, with the exception of a scar that appears on my forehead – the result of a fall from the crib as a child, was an aspect that gave me some contentment. I used the hair to hide the scar and to also muster some esteem for the rest of my body. When my hair started to thin my head and certain parts of my face were thrown into the same "pitiable" hole that my body already occupied. I no longer had one feature - neither head nor body - that did not consume me with worry, disgust, grief or unhappiness at one time or another. The pictures bought back a time when I still had some consistent remanence of body satisfaction. In stating this I don't want to give the impression that my current body image is consistently poor. While it remains low, there are moments (although brief) where I am okay with my developing muscularity. However this body "satisfaction" is quite different the esteem I used to achieve with my face. While my developing muscularity gives me some pause - it is not always consistent. The muscularity is most visible after an upper body workout and can only be fully realized if I look at myself in the mirror. Otherwise, it is hidden from my view. If I don't workout the upper body it is not a noteworthy (at least to me) improvement. In addition, during the course of the day, when I catch reflections of myself in glass, or in a restroom mirror it isn't my camouflaged body that I initially see. Rather, it is my head and my exposed scalp that adds age and misery to my face.Those distinctions were not visible on my face in the pictures that my friend shared with me. No - it was entirely different. While most of my friends have said that my face has not changed (except for the hair), I take little solace. I feel that I could better deal with the encroachment of time (and wrinkles) if I had the hair to boost my esteem.
Aging scares me in so many ways. Not only because of the deep concerns with being single, lonely, sick and hopeless, but also because of the physical implications that usually follow the advancement of senior years. I can only imagine my body image at an older age if it is so poor in my thirties. I hope that continued therapeutic work will assist in building a better foundation of internal self-love so that I may base less value on my external appearance. My awareness about the aging process all the more exacerbates my frustration at not fully enjoying my body now. I have taken steps to be more comfortable with myself naked. I try to walk around my apartment with little clothes on so that I can develop a better relationship with my body. When I do this, I make every attempt to not to look in the mirror for a prolonged period of time (more than 30 seconds to a minute) because that would only increase the probability of my zooming in on a particular part and severely criticizing it. I have to proceed with caution.
Society in general has a lot of negative issues with aging. It does all it can to avoid, delay, hide and deny it. This manner of dealing is particularly acute in the gay male community. Attention is definitely given to aging but most of it is consumed in formulating ways that don’t allow one to face it with understanding, love and dignity. Aging needs to be confronted in a manner that would address all the issues that arise with it - socially, economically, physically, emotionally and psychologically.
Can anyone relate?
Stay well, MBI
Aging scares me in so many ways. Not only because of the deep concerns with being single, lonely, sick and hopeless, but also because of the physical implications that usually follow the advancement of senior years. I can only imagine my body image at an older age if it is so poor in my thirties. I hope that continued therapeutic work will assist in building a better foundation of internal self-love so that I may base less value on my external appearance. My awareness about the aging process all the more exacerbates my frustration at not fully enjoying my body now. I have taken steps to be more comfortable with myself naked. I try to walk around my apartment with little clothes on so that I can develop a better relationship with my body. When I do this, I make every attempt to not to look in the mirror for a prolonged period of time (more than 30 seconds to a minute) because that would only increase the probability of my zooming in on a particular part and severely criticizing it. I have to proceed with caution.
Society in general has a lot of negative issues with aging. It does all it can to avoid, delay, hide and deny it. This manner of dealing is particularly acute in the gay male community. Attention is definitely given to aging but most of it is consumed in formulating ways that don’t allow one to face it with understanding, love and dignity. Aging needs to be confronted in a manner that would address all the issues that arise with it - socially, economically, physically, emotionally and psychologically.
Can anyone relate?
Stay well, MBI
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
BULLYING
The sight of a group of children/teens (8 through 15 years of age) still has the power to instantaneously send me into a panic. Granted, it only lasts for a few moments, but I am struck with how quickly my body registers the situation and reacts even after so many years. Although the very last of the bullying incidences happened close to 20 years ago, I am still transported to my childhood each time I see a group of young people. For a moment it is as if I am still that scared child who was bullied and hit. My behavioral reflex is to look away, run or just ignore. I am quick to remind myself that I am an adult and not the frightened little boy any more. It works and I move calmly on, but it nonetheless leaves its traces. Indeed, it has left its track very deeply embedded. Being called fag and other such derogatory names has certainly affected my body esteem. I was told over and over I was not a real boy or a man. How could I possibly expect to love my body when there was so much shame attached to it? I could not accept my own penis because it pointed to my being a boy. In addition, most of my peers (and some adults) were telling me I was not like a “regular” boy. I remember the embarrassment and sense of terror I had in reaching puberty, especially when I started to notice the differences in my body. My parents did nothing to ease my mind or answer any questions I had about what was going on. I went to the library and did all the reading I could about puberty and the changes that I should expect. Nevertheless, I was still scared shitless to see my body changing and starting to look more like a man’s body. I did what I could to deny the process. Anything that remotely symbolized a masculine behavior or product – I did not participate in or use. . But, slowly and progressively my body was betraying me. Although I was teased for being gay, I put on a great deal of weight and that in some ways abated the “fag” abuse, although they started to then tease me about my obesity. Regardless of my size, puberty was pushing forward and the intensity of my denial increased.
It is fascinating to me that I did not acknowledge my body during the whole of my adolescence. Even when I went on a massive diet, my body was separate from me. I know I wrote about this before, but I believe it is so important especially when placed in the context of the bullying incidences. When I was teased, the pain was so great (inside me), that I disengaged from it (subconsciously). In essence, I withdrew from myself and detached. My head and body were two separate beings. I did this as a coping mechanism – a way that would make me move forward without being totally destroyed. The weight gain did that in some way from the gay bashing and the “head/body dissociation” helped with the rest of what was going on.
I wonder how much of that “head/body” dis-connection is still going on?
Stay well,
MBI
It is fascinating to me that I did not acknowledge my body during the whole of my adolescence. Even when I went on a massive diet, my body was separate from me. I know I wrote about this before, but I believe it is so important especially when placed in the context of the bullying incidences. When I was teased, the pain was so great (inside me), that I disengaged from it (subconsciously). In essence, I withdrew from myself and detached. My head and body were two separate beings. I did this as a coping mechanism – a way that would make me move forward without being totally destroyed. The weight gain did that in some way from the gay bashing and the “head/body dissociation” helped with the rest of what was going on.
I wonder how much of that “head/body” dis-connection is still going on?
Stay well,
MBI
Sunday, August 3, 2008
EATING & EXERCISE
I’ve noticed that I am once again vigilantly calculating the calories and fat content of each of the foods I eat. I have practiced some form of food calculation for many years, but there are periods when the accounting becomes pronounced. This seems to be one of those times. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I am feeling anxious about my professional and academic endeavors. I am caught in a tailspin of familiar issues. The sense of being confused only enhances my feeling of being out of control. To counter this – I am reigning in on the food details. By calculating the numbers and by compartmentalizing each quantity and quality of food being ingested, I feel a bit more sane and in power.
My meals so far have been:
Breakfast: A cup of oatmeal, banana, apple
Lunch: Salad (leafy greens, vegetables), chicken cutlet (baked with tomato sauce), piece of cheese, bread and some peanut butter
Snack: Apple, a few pretzels
Dinner: Salmon, carrots, string beans, hummus with dill.
You see – it isn’t a bad menu. I don’t eat poorly but I also don’t eat enough – especially given my exercise regiment and daily activities. The meals quite often leave me hungry and then I start craving in between meal snacks. I am really hooked on eating yogurt. My favorite is FAGE – 2% plain with honey. I can eat that every day and I do, just not today. I already finished 6 of the large sizes containers that I bought five days ago. I will not buy another amount for a couple of days. I worry that I’m doing some kind of damage with eating so much yogurt, but I really love it. And – most importantly – the ingredients and nutritional information seems to be quite good. However, I still consider it one of my vices.
Speaking of vices: Equal to the food, I am also exercising with greater vigor. I am addicted to one particular cardio machine and though it exhausts me to even complete 35 minutes, I am inclined to do 45. The workout leaves me completely soaked to the bone in sweat. I have to wipe down every bit of the machine and even the floor around me. There are moments, while exercising on it that I am totally oblivious to the environment around me. Then there are the times when I am so tired and haggard (but unwilling to stop the machine) that everything and everyone at the gym annoys the hell out of me. I feel powerful on the machine and am excited by the sweat pouring down my back, face, legs, arms etc. The immense profusion of the sweat all the more indicates how strongly I am working out and how much my body may be transforming into what I hope to attain. I feel a sense of control – yes, once again control is at point. My anger and frustration with all that is transpiring in my life – academic confusion, professional development/stagnation, emptiness, romance-less relationships etc all finding a voice through my exaggerated efforts on the cardio machine. I am able to exorcise the poison that the thought of them seems to cause in my body.
Since I am aware of this connection, I am also able to put on the brakes when I notice that my body is truly depleted of strength and energy. I did not got to the gym yesterday and totally enjoyed the rest without any sense of guilt. This would have been totally impossible feat a few years ago.
So you see – it remains quite complex. There are steps taken forward, backward and some steps not taken at all. Yet, I am cognizant of each movement and am more able to explore different scenarios, behaviors and actions than I ever had before.
Can anyone relate? I would really like to know.
Stay well, MBI
Friday, August 1, 2008
BODY COMPARING & THE GYM
It is very difficult to not compare myself to the many toned and muscular male bodies that I’m surrounded by at the gym. I realize that social comparison is a contributing factor to my body image issues. It isn’t enough for me to just compare, I then internalize all of the assessments and am left in a depressed mood by the outcome. In the past I have often tried to explain this mental process as a natural and healthy form of masculine competition. Research and understanding bought on by therapy have made me confront the fact that it is quite a bit more than just a competitive spirit. The drive and obsession is unforgiving and it often makes me feel rather confused, empty and alone. Before I actually had defined the body image problem as a “competitive” process, I held the comparison in great shame. I believed it was a “feminine” behavior to compare myself to others. Society indoctrinated me to believe that women were the only ones who were to really concern themselves with looking good. They naturally engaged in social comparisons to other women because it was part of their nature to do so. Therefore, my behaving in that way made me feel non-masculine. The fact that I was gay all the more epitomized this gender doubt and made me quite depressed and it further exacerbated the shame of gender and sexuality – skewing the two. I believe it was a saving factor to my ego to redefine social comparison as “healthy masculine competitiveness”.
Whatever I may call it or understand the comparison to be – I do realize that it does affect me. This morning I arrived at the gym at 6:30 am and was flanked on either side by two good-looking men - a bit unusual since the cardio room is often filled with more women. I’ve noticed that men are doing cardio with more intensity than in the past. They by no means reach the population levels of women, but I’ve nonetheless noticed the increase. The mirrors were of no help to me (when are they ever?) since they were reflecting other men across the room who also had nice bodies. I tried not to look at them. I set my gaze on myself as it was reflected in the mirror. But you know what that does – it only makes me focus on what is wrong with my body. I start chipping away – slowly. I go through the scared and stretched skin. I chip deeper and harder through the bit of muscular armory that I’ve worked so much to achieve. With tenacity, I eventually get to the raw core – and by then I am quite sullen but still pumping away on the cardio machine. Thank god I wear a head scarf at the gym. I couldn’t digest looking at my thinning hair while working out. It would only increase my feelings of inferiority. Although a saving accessory, the scarf also causes shame because it reminds me that I’m not fully revealing who I am. It is a symbol of my attempts to hide. It states that although there is progress being made, I am still carry body dissatisfaction and disgust. In addition, the scarf conjures up thoughts of people who have true disfigurements and yet valiantly carry through their day. On a realistic plain I know that that my issues are nothing in comparison to theirs but the psychological pangs are felt all the same.
Stay well, MBI
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