Tuesday, August 13, 2019
Hey, You …
On July 23rd, my genius friend, Lisa, asked a simple question: Why am I the landfill?
A landfill site is a site for the disposal of waste materials by burial. Landfill is the oldest form of waste treatment, although the burial of the waste is modern; historically, refuse was simply left in piles or thrown into pits. – Wikipedia
We were talking about food and eating, and still eating when you’ve had “enough,” and what is “enough” anyway? And, why was I eating? And, why do I have to finish e-ver-y-thing? And why? And for what?
And, why am I the landfill?
Writing it, reading it on the page still lands like a punch in the stomach. A punch in the landfill.
Look at the definition, “… a site for the disposal of waste materials by burial.”
I’ve been doing some deep diving in to my own landfills … because I operate more than one.
Those parts of me I am burying.
Those parts of me where I’m burying waste.
Those parts of me where I’m treating waste, expending my beautiful energy on trying to recycle something not worth salvaging.
Those parts of me I label and handle as waste, with negative self-speak, and neglecting radical self-love.
… Landfill is the oldest form of waste treatment, although the burial of the waste is modern …
You see that, family? It says I’m doing the same thing. The same old thing … at a new, modern site.
Some of you have this t-shirt, too. In several different colors.
I’ve certainly had to unlearn my own patterns of falling in to the same thinking, generating the same feelings, and the same anxiety, self-pity, and retreat. All the while looking outside myself for the answers, the reasons why.
Why am I the landfill?
… historically, refuse was simply left in piles or thrown into pits.
I extended this landfill thing to the scope of my whole life (I think I just automatically process everything as a metaphor).
Do I hoard waste? #raiseshand
Do I pile up every thing, every one, every moment that ever hurt me so I can recover them, on demand, as excuses for my bad behavior against my self-care?
I’m eating because … I overspent because … I cursed them out because …
Because it’s easier to throw it in a pile or in a pit than to look at it, squarely, and deal with it.
It’s easier to discard than to change.
Easier to bury than to journal, pray, meditate, ask for help, demand space, reclaim your time, leave a toxic relationship, start a new relationship, be vulnerable … be a human being who has trash.
Why am I the landfill?
I am not a landfill.
And, neither are you.
I am dealing with my waste. Family, I hope you are, too.
The Body Is Not An Apology by Sonya Renee Taylor is a must-read, family. You can order the book from her website, thebodyisnotanapology.com, or Amazon.