Friday, March 18, 2011

Cheesecake, Feelings, and Self Love

I had a client* recently tell me she ate a half bag of chips, a pack of girlscout cookies, and part of a still-frozen cheesecake without understanding why.

Then as our session progressed, she told me about taking her sister to the airport. My client had a back spasm from sitting at a computer for too long. Her sister called at 4pm, stating that she had forgotten to arrange a ride to the airport, and needed to be there by 6:30pm for an 8pm flight. My client dropped what she was doing, and drove to her sister's house. Her sister was not packed, and there was rush hour traffic. "I was more worried than she was," my client laughed.

"Can I slow you down?" I asked.
"I'm sorry," she apologized, "am I going too fast?"
"It's not that," I offered, "I'm just wondering if we can make space for your feelings?" She took a deep breath and sighed.
"That was a big sigh," I said.
"Yeah. I don't know what this is," she said, pointing to her throat.
"What are you noticing?" I asked.
"It's like a lump, like I swallowed something, and it's just sticking there."
"Stay with the lump. See if it can tell you what you swallowed." I encouraged.
"My pride," she said, tears starting to flow.

This was not the first time she had put her own needs aside for someone and ended up feeling used or lessened in some way. And this was not the first client to share a similar story - overeating without connecting the binge to an emotional upset.

Like so many of us, this client learned from a very early age that she was expected to be helpful, no matter the cost to herself. She had strong, painful memories of being called selfish by her mother and sister, if her needs conflicted with theirs. Her mother was unemotional. Her dad, while kind, was just not around all that much. When she needed care, support or understanding, she was usually criticized for being too needy.

The one place she felt soothed and safe was with food. Food filled up the empty space inside. It calmed her. It was her one haven, till she hit puberty and had a crush on a boy who called her fat. Then, her one safe form of self-care became completely unsafe. She still ate to soothe herself, but now, after a binge, she would yell at herself and criticize herself, even more harshly than her mother and sister did.

What I find hopeful and tender and heart-opening, is that this woman has never stopped trying to take care of herself in the best, and often only ways available to her. First with food, then with a great education she paid for on her own, and then with a high-paying job that allowed her to have therapy, as well as acupuncture and yoga for her back. As much as she was used to self-criticism and shame, there was always this thread of awareness (I need to feel better), that allowed her to keep reaching for more.


As this session progressed, we uncovered more feelings through her physical sensations:

"I feel a burning in my stomach, like heartburn, but lower." (her)
"What does the burning want to tell you?" (me)
"I'm angry. I'm really angry. My sister is so selfish." (her)

It's no mystery that these physical sensations often centered in her belly, her chest and her throat. All along our digestive tract are clusters of neurons that give us our "gut feelings." For emotional eaters, these feelings often get lumped into "hungry" or "empty" and food does a really good job of numbing us out. In therapy, we are just starting to sort out what is physical hunger and what is emotional pain, fear, anger, shame, hope, etc.

At the end of the session I asked her, "If you could have a do-over, what would you want to say or do?"

"I want to tell my sister that it's too bad she didn't make arrangements for herself, but I have to take care of my back, and I'm sure she'll find a way to get to the airport. She always gets what she wants."

"And as you say that out loud, what do you notice in your body or emotionally?" I ask.

"I feel lighter," she says, smiling. "I feel a fullness, a solidness." Her face is lit up. "I think I feel happy!" She says, laughing, surprised.

"And when you look in my eyes, what do you see?" I ask.

"You're happy too. You're happy for me."

"Yes. I'm really happy for you." We both tear up.

This progression from not knowing, to feeling something, to naming anger, and then finding her voice is nothing short of miraculous. Voicing feelings was a punishable offense in this client's family, and the punishment was either getting criticized (shamed) or ignored (devalued). It is going to be essential for this client to keep looking into my eyes and seeing my care for her, my continued presence, my desire to know all of her feelings, my joy in her joy, my compassion for her pain.

Spending time with her, and seeing again and again her commitment to her own happiness and well being tells me that we will convert her shame into compassion and that her urges to eat will become a beacon that tells her when she needs comfort and care. And I know she will show up for herself with kindness and love because those things are already in her.

*This client is an amalgam of many clients over time so that confidentiality is protected.