Like Indecision to Call You

I am in a really weird place right now. Nothing is going right and I am sad and scared and feeling general malaise. I suppose the little thread I am hanging on is that I am actually feeling my emotions right now. It has been so long since I have cried so freely and felt ok with just being sad about something. It was scary at first to not try and just numb myself into oblivion, but I did it. I am letting myself experience life and not back away from my feelings. And that’s ok.

I’ve decided that I have to sit down and talk to my mom about the things that I can’t take on for her. I am not saying that I’m going to create some approved list of topics we discuss, but I have to let her know my limits. Mostly I can not listen to her blame my father for everything that’s wrong with them financially. I know for a fact that she’s had a hand in this as well, and it’s not fair of her to put her frustrations on me. That is what therapy is for.

It is a strange thing to realize what I have carried on my shoulders for too long. I remember watching this episode of Oprah when I was in college. There was a woman about my age (now) who lost something like 175 pounds in something like seven months. She said that the seven months was the last part of her therapy; she had spent years prior in recovery from disordered eating. It was not until she was able to let go of all of the extra baggage that did not belong to her, that she was able to lose her own physical baggage. I am not even to the point of thinking about weight loss, mostly out of the fear of slipping into old habits. I am however, working to get rid of this extra emotional baggage.

My father is a very simplistic in his craft. He likes clean lines, open spaces, and room to create. I used to watch him at his drafting table when he would draw-up plans for new houses. He always started with a lot of extras; crown molding, abbreviated lofts, bay windows, cabinetry, etc. His final drafts were always sophisticated without being overly intricate. I loved to imagine what it be like to live in his houses, with their airy high ceilings and long stretches of hardwood floors. I could fill the space up any way I liked, and I kind of imagine that I’m doing the same thing with my life. I’m clearing out of the extra stuff I don’t need so I can make space for who I truly want to be.

Because you can just give it back

It's my vacation from my vacation day and I can't help feeling this impending sense of doom for what the rest of this year will be like. Maybe it's a vacation postpartum, but I'm a little depressed and angsty.

Let's start at the beginning. I went to Michigan for a few days to see family and relax and generally connect with people I'm related to by chance. I love my family, in fact sometimes the love I feel for my family is so deep and so encompassing that I'm not sure what I would do if I didn't have them. Other times I just wish I could start over and be independent of their influence on me. About four years ago, my dad went into business for himself and unbeknownst to me, apparently his business is fledgling. My mom went into great detail about their finances while I was home. Apparently they've drained their retirement funds and are living on my mom's salary right now. They're mortgaged beyond their resources and now they're spending what should be their pre-retirement time working like dogs to have some income. Just income. Not retirement or spending money or entertainment change. Income. I'm so angry and sad and anxious and worried for them. I'm mad at my mom for blaming the situation on my dad. I'm mad at them for continually pissing their money and their lives away. I'm mad at them for passing along their insecurities and bad habits to their kids. But I'm mostly just sad because there isn't a damn thing I can do to help them. My parents are undoubtedly best friends, but in someways I think they just feed into one another's weaknesses. I want so badly to not take on their stuff; to just give it back and be ok with that. I don't know that I'll get there, but I know that I need to.

I went to my first group therapy today. I met amazing, wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, and completely charming women. I was the youngest of the group, but somehow my voice resonated within these women. I'm starting realize how much disordered eating affects women in general. It's not just the underweight and overweight. There is a therapist and a personal trainer in my group. There's a new mom and a lady with grandchildren in my group. There are women with more education than me and less education than me in my group. As heart wrenching as it was to hear their stories, to hear the years that they had been tortured by their own thoughts, to hear the passion in their voices when they talked about recovery, it was even more overwhelming to feel so connected so immediately with strangers. Every time someone spoke, every head in the room nodded in unison. They got me. They understood what it was like to turn to food to cope with life and not even realize you're doing it. They knew what it meant to just try to numb yourself enough to not have to think about how fat or skinny you are. But they also knew what it was like to want to feel free from all that. To just live and appreciate how blessed our lives are. To appreciate people and scenery and activity and love. To just be.

After my time in Michigan I headed to San Francisco with my dear friend. It was completely wonderful and I can still smell the salty air and feel the cool breeze against my face. My nose is peeling from a sunburn, my legs are sore from hauling up hills, and my heart is laying somewhere in Union Square. But it was beautiful and I guess that without the bitter, the sweet just ain't as sweet.

Take me back to the start

I've been trying to fall back to sleep for the last hour, but my mind is kind of racing right now. I'm feeling better, perhaps in part to the Prozac, but also because I'm just thinking clearly. I had a really great session with Dr. Gray this week, and I feel energized and inspired. It's easy for me to make that list of things I'm not doing - working out, eating 'healthy,' journaling, meditating, etc etc. But today it's about what I am doing. I'm eating, and not just for the purpose of purging. I'm not letting myself binge. I'm intervening with that voice that says I can't do it. I'm intervening even more with the voice that says I'm going to fail.

Last weekend I had a chance to spend some time with one of my oldest and dearest friends. She's a musician who recently experienced some sort of tendonitis. It's a problem she's had for almost two years, but it gets so bad sometimes that she can't even use her right arm. I won't get into the specifics of the story, but basically she realized she had put her life on hold while she coped with this issue she had. Something about that resonated with me so deeply. I have this ideal in my head that as soon as I'm thin, I'll be able to do whatever I want. I hold back in pretty much every aspect of my life because I think I don't deserve to participate with the rest of the human race. I'm finally starting to see that I've sold myself short for as long as I can remember. No longer my friends. No longer.