The Chaos of Body Checking and How Peace With the Mirror Is Possible
By Jennifer Kreatsoulas, PhD, C-IAYT, Founder
Many years ago, in the first year or so after a relapse of the eating disorder in my 30s, I gathered the clothing I’d laid out on my dresser the night before and quietly made my way downstairs to the guest bedroom and bathroom, where I showered and got ready for work. The hardwood floor never failed to creak when I tiptoed past the girls’ rooms at the top of the stairs. I held my breath mid step, listening in the dimly lit hallway to ensure my babies were still sleeping soundly. This ritual was central to my morning routine, a sanctuary of bathing and dressing in quiet before the busy day ahead. While that certainly was my intention, the reality was that the ritual used to feel more tumultuous than peaceful.
After I showered and dressed, I pulled up the shades and watched sunlight spread across the bed and the toys that outlined the perimeter of the guest room: the Barbie Dream House; Elsa and Anna’s castle from Frozen; a play kitchen; overflowing baskets of small dolls and their accessories. At some point in the day, this orderly guest bedroom would inevitably transform into a playroom with Barbie shoes, My Little Pony toys, and stuffed animals strewn about. I smiled while thinking of my daughters, then turned to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the bedroom door.
As I stood in front of the mirror, my own image was accompanied by the reflection of the black-and-white poster over the bed of a woman doing yoga on a hillside. She stood tall and strong in Warrior II. This anonymous woman presented a depiction of who I might be if I managed to stay calm in the chaos of early recovery post-relapse and young motherhood. For many years, starting back in college and up until my daughters were toddlers, I stood in front of the mirror (all mirrors) in utter turmoil. Back then, I had not yet learned how to stand before the mirror and ask questions about my body that didn’t require cruel answers.
I would change my pants several times, frantically body checking in between each pair. By the time this body-checking ritual was complete, the bed would be covered in clothing I had put on and ripped off. Then time would run out, forcing me to leave the mirror, clean up my mess, put on a smile, hug my children good morning, and get them started with their day. The strain of inhabiting two conflicting ways of being—the frantic me in the mirror and the nurturing me who hugged my children with the very arms I so mercilessly judged—came to a head one morning when my oldest daughter, who was three or four at the time, knocked on the guest room door, crying from a bad dream.
“Mommy, Mommy, I need you,” she cried. Half-dressed and with clothes everywhere, I panicked. “Mommy, Mommy.” In the split second just before turning the doorknob, I felt a tug between the me who was berating herself and the me who wanted to be a loving mother; the me who subconsciously made her body a project to cope with the overwhelm of early motherhood, and the me who sang songs to and giggled with her daughters. I opened the door, knelt, wrapped my daughter in my arms, and whispered, “Mommy is here.” I wiped her face and kissed her cheeks, the chaos on the bed behind us. As I held my daughter, I realized the impossibility of sustaining both chaos and peace within myself. The divide between these ways of being was incongruent, too off the mark of who I wanted to be for my daughters—and for myself.
As I kissed my daughter’s forehead, a yearning arose inside. Can I finally learn how to begin the day in peace? That is the moment when I started to reconcile who I was in the mirror and who I already was for the people I love.
That morning in the doorway of the guest room with my daughter, I received a wake-up call. I realized that I was the one creating the whirling dervish of despair and torment every morning, not the mirror. The kinds of questions I chose to ask myself in front of the mirror were the real problem. I needed to change my relationship with the mirror, to find answers that celebrated instead of berated me, that raised me up instead of putting me down before the day even began. But what new questions should I ask?
It took time to figure it out. I had to work hard to ask myself new questions before the mirror again and again until the answers that came to mind were more neutral or positive in tone. In the beginning, my mind automatically turned to judgment because that’s all I’d known. Over time, I figured out that if I focused on how I wanted to feel rather than how I wanted to look, my answers changed. When I could do that, my mornings in the mirror began from a place of peace rather than turmoil.
One question I came back to over and over was: Who do you want to show up as today? This phrase allowed me to go inside instead of reacting to what I thought others perceived me to be. I challenged myself to consciously choose the qualities and characteristics I wished to cultivate. New answers replaced the old, negative body talk. These are the answers I hear today when standing before the mirror: Strong woman. Caring mother. Loving wife. Compassionate yoga therapist. Gracious human. Creative thinker. Admirer of nature. Lover of the ocean. Calm soul. Warrior. And, on the mornings when the answers are more quiet than usual, I listen for other responses that come up: I want to laugh with my kids. I want to greet others with a kind heart. I want to be a positive role model. I want to show up in my life as a compassionate listener.
The writer George Santayana said, “Repetition is the only form of permanence that nature can achieve.” Similarly, repetitively asking new questions provided an opportunity to tell myself a different story than the one I’d been playing on repeat. It took repeating a different narrative to rewire my brain to accept this change. It doesn’t happen overnight, but you too can begin believing a new truth and find pockets of peace as you start each day.
If you struggle with body image, I invite you to check out a few opportunities that may feel comforting and helpful.
Consider incorporating Yoga Therapy into your recovery journey, where we can work together to rewrite the narrative about your body and create yoga practices to build your connection with your body.
Join me on Wednesdays from 2pm to 2:30 pm EST for the free Connection Call on Zoom for more support and conversation with others who truly get it.
Remember, you don’t have to live in a constant pull between inner chaos and peace. Finding new questions to ask about yourself when standing in front of the mirror can help lead you to more moments of peace. 💗