You can’t always have it your way.
Last night this phrase randomly popped into my head. I don’t know what I was thinking or doing (besides listening to my incessant inner monologue…Radio KFCD* and maybe washing my hands because I was in the bathroom.)
Suddenly I eye myself in the mirror and think “This ain’t Burger King, baby. You can’t have it your way.” Huh? Then it hit me.
It also made me smile. I always feel these moments are insights from God - and if this was God speaking,** he sounded like a large black woman who meant bid-ness, ya heard? Like Tracy Morgan doing a Madea impersonation.
(Or maybe God impersonating Tracey Morgan doing Madea.)
But all levity aside….it was a really heavy moment.
In recovery we were asked about our willingness to let go of “MY WAY.” Let go…and Trust God. Let Go..and Trust the Dietician. Let go of believing all the twisted thoughts, feelings and beliefs our eating disorder tells us are real.
At the time, I was all “Of course I am! MY WAY is what got me here in the first place!”
Which is still true. BUT…..the mind is a curious monkey.
The concept of “letting go” is difficult to grasp when you don’t really know what you’re still grasping; if you can’t recognize you are still Holding On – let alone what you are Holding On TO.
”It Ain’t Burger King, Baby! You Can’t Have It Your Way, Child”
Last night, I realized letting go of “IF-I-HAD-THINGS-MY-WAY” isn’t anything more than a reality check. I just can’t have it my way. That’s it.
Especially not when Anorexia is still a back-seat driver. She’s not exactly holding the map to the real world.
I won’t stand around trying to compromise the sky out of being blue!
Today I was thinking “…excess flesh on arms due to lack of swimming and more fat consumption…yarkety snarkety…” and was able to:
Stop. Sigh. And say “It Ain’t Burger King, Baby.”
Seriously. They’re arms. With Skin. They’re Fine. Move On.
* Thank You Anne Lamott
** I never hear an audible voice of God by the way, He sounds like my thoughts. When I think of words sometimes, the thoughts have sounds. It’s normal. I think. Like when you remember something your friend said– you can “hear” it? Or think of a celebrity catchphrase- You can’t think “whachooo talkin bout willis” without…you know. “Hearing” it.