Day 3 of my fast and momma wants a burger. Like a really greasy cheeseburger with onions and pickles and tomatoes and lettuce. And lots and lots of mayo. It is my favorite condiment.
I'm assuming this phase will pass and I'll move past what I can't have and onto what the purpose of this is...forcing my brain to create new connections. And learning to be still.
This stillness is something I've not encountered before. It forces my brain to consider things about my life and my decisions that used to be automatic actions. It opens up space for change. In the stillness, I found peace about things that typically invoked extreme anxiety. I'm able to rationally pick apart the problem with what my values are as a guide. Without this serenity, I was South though my compass should have been pointing North. I was sweating in the tropics being eaten by mosquitoes while my heart was bundled up in the snow.
Living life on auto pilot is a terrifying thing. I'm sad for all the things I must have missed. The opportunities I missed out on. The friendships I could have had. The peace I passed up. I was simply making important decisions out of fear of hurt. It's my brain's fault. It was trying to protect me.
And protection meant living safely. Decisions made simply out of fear of change and difficulty. I had trained my brain to react a specific way to stimuli. If someone was hurting me, I pursued them. Because somewhere in my youth this made sense to the Young Rebekah. As a result, I carried that same behavior into my adult life because my brain was used to making those decisions, and change meant fear...which translated to my brain as a failure to do its main job...protect.
How intensely unnerving that is. As adults, we are perhaps living life based on how we responded when we were young. Before our brains had even finished its growth. All because we fear change.
My therapist told me when I was close to the end of my time with her that she would know I was fully healed when I broke up with someone. She was there to challenge me every time I found myself in a relationship that made no sense. She pushed me to think about their character, how they lived their lives, their values...and whether they aligned with mine. Of course they didn't, but I stayed. Because I had taught my brain to pursue when rejected and broken hearted. I clung to the cactus because I feared a life without pain. (Insert eye roll at my young self.)
So now that this stage of life calls for me to actually think about who I spend my time with, I have weeded out the cacti. Texts now go unanswered. Social Media friendships are now severed. The cactus is no longer appealing. It no longer represents protection. It is the embodiment of pain. Rightfully so.
If going without that greasy hamburger means my brain is responding in accordance with who I am, then I'll leave it on the grill. In the hot, sweaty tropics. My heart resides elsewhere. In the opposite direction. And I have a garden of un-prickly flowers to plant.
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