Repetitive comfort. It’s what I sought in order to survive. Some days it was about survival, but most often, I employed its technique to feel better by paving over a painful existence. My form of it boiled down to this: fill every corner of my mouth with a delightful-tasting substance, chew, swallow, repeat. And repeat, and repeat.
Repetitive comfort is a need from within that’s primal. It has been used to soothe tension and tears for millennia. Softly humming to oneself while working a task, the gentle click of needles that transform yarn to scarf, putting brush to canvas while painting a picture, or a mother rocking a baby gently in her arms (I don’t think anything tops that one), all pay homage to the allure of enjoyable repetition.
At one time labeled myself a food-addict and declared myself to be untrustworthy and out of control where food is concerned. I’ve since changed my mind about that position, especially since the label was the result of herd-coercion from one of the support groups I attended back in the early days of healing. What I’ve come to realize instead is, there were parts of me I’d gagged and bound, and they were desperate for attention. When I began tending to the wounded and dispirited parts of me, the need to dull my senses with food diminished. I’m the first to admit that food is here to both please and nurture us. That’s a fact and shouldn’t be dismissed with the worn-out ‘food as fuel’ rationales…that, as anyone who has attempted to live it, is only partially true.
I’ve been at this part-time job known as healing and wound-releasing for the better part of three decades and am divested from much of my wounding – enough to live a life of relative ease and clarity. Certain vagaries of life still drive me to seek comfort, and I balance it by sitting with unpleasant situations and feelings because running from them only compounds their troubling nature. But about that comfort-seeking….I’ve found some delightful ways to indulge in it, and yes, much of it involves repetitive acts. I’ll simply never tire of a soothing rhythm that goes on and on for as long as I need it. Which brings me to Ang So Hum, the song posted below. Roughly translated to “I Am That,” I discovered the beautiful melody during a recent yoga class at Aura Kundalini Yoga via Zoom. The instructor, a recovered addict, said the 22-minute song is one of his favorite ways to ground and soothe. You may already have a repertoire of music that feels like a long, safe, lingering hug. I ascribe to the Ray Charles rule of there being two kinds of music: good and bad, but when it comes to soothing my soul, I’m partial to chanting and kirtan. I heard it for the first time more than 20 years in the car while listening to a college radio station. I was on lunch break from a toxic job and in between drive-thru stops. The power of the song stopped me in my tracks and actually diverted me from the contents of my Wendy’s bag for a few moments. I knew at an instantaneous, soul level, I wanted more and more of it. I bought CD’s and listened regularly. This did not magically eradicate binge-eating, but it opened a door to allow some much-needed light. I followed at my own pace, and slowly discovered other forms of comfort and relief outside the realm of eating. A profound discovery if there ever was one.
It’s great, of course, to have a cache of healthy coping techinques at the ready. The trick I’ve learned, during these turbulent times, is not waiting to use them until I’m in frothing crisis mode from stress and aggravation. Soothing music, especially music that’s created with Intention, is also good prevention. So pardon me while I put my headphones on, turn off the TV, and dial down the cortisol.
