...And Consequently So Am I

Yesterday’s group session was really tough. I’ve had a heavy heart ever since yesterday, but it’s mostly because I wish I could change life for the women in my group. A new girl has joined our ranks, and she is a snapshot of me four years ago. I want to just scoop her up and take her away to some place where none of this crap mattered. I wish I could do that for every one in my group, hell every woman who has carried this burden on their shoulders. I know this is coming off as whiny, and it is whiny, but it doesn’t change the what-ifs we all feel. I prayed last night for everything I couldn’t change and for everything I knew I had the strength to change.

I became ill yesterday afternoon during work and ended up going home. I’m not sure if it was something I ate, or just general stress, but I physically became ill. As I’m leaned over the toilet and my chest is pounding and my eyes are watering I think I slipped out of myself for a few minutes. I could not believe that this was something I used to force myself to do. It hit me really hard and really fast and all I could do was apologize to myself and to my body for using something so unnatural to cope.

I’ve made the decision that it’s time to get back into the swing of things exercise-wise. And by swing of things, I don’t mean that I’m going to start the obsessive exercise regime I was doing earlier this year. This is gentle, and in the greatest effort to take care of myself. So I’m starting with three days a week – two days of cardio and one day of yoga or Pilates. It feels good to be decisive about this and not just wing it until I’m out of control. I just hope it stays this way.

Serious...as a heart beat

I love it when people mix metaphors. I used to work with a woman who did it all the time. My favorite was when she said we were all going to ‘hell in a purse.’ Really? I think I’d prefer to meet my destiny via attaché case.

My brother is coming into town tomorrow, and I’m mucho excited. Andrew is my baby brother, and one of my favorite people. It’s weird living apart from my family because I receive far fewer hugs than I used to when I lived near my family. I love hugs. They are probably the most sincere, non-selfish expression of affection that I can think of. I feel like I can read into a person’s soul when I hug him. My friend Caroline gives the best hugs. Caroline is on the short side, and she’s the quintessential petite girl, but when Caroline hugs it is with the force of a pro-football tackle (left or right, doesn’t matter). It’s as though all her determination and love and sincerity are pouring out through her arms. I’m always cheerful after a Caroline hug.

A friend of mine recently told me that next month a production of The Phantom of the Opera is going to be shown at a local venue here in Nashvegas. This isn’t just any production of Phantom, this is the 1925 original black-and-white silent film. And on top of it there is going to be live accompaniment by the Nashville Symphony complete with an organ. Nothing gives me goose bumps like a little organ music. I know some people think that Phantom is generic and sort of the Wal-Mart of musical productions, but I must beg to differ. For me there is still so much romance and intrigue and just general emotive music to this musical that I can’t write it off as cheesy. Perhaps it’s because I used to pretend that I was Christine. My parents house had a loft and I could stand at the top of the staircase overlooking the living room from my perch in the loft. I imagined I was being stalked by a masked man in a tuxedo and a cape. Wow, that sounds really stupid now. But I digress. I still love dramatic organ playing and big-lashed heroines and misunderstood bad guys. That will never be cheesy to me.

I’ve had that Relient K’s “Who I am Hates Who I’ve Been” running through my head all day. But not in a self-depricating way. It’s more of an apology to myself and a resolve to do better next time…which turns out to be this time.

No Pat on the Back, Just Your Mind Intact

I’m feeling a bit frazzled and out of control today, so I’m stopping now to write a little and let the catharsis of that sink in.

When I started this blog, it was mostly to talk about myself and the bounty o’ issues I have surrounding myself, my weight, and my eating disorder. These past few months have given way to so much change, and I feel like my life is molding itself into something a little bit closer to what I thought it would be. Therefore, I’m changing the direction of this blog. I still want to talk about my stuff, but I just feel like I have so much more that’s inside of me that I need to explore through my writing.

I like to play a game with myself where I review the last year and decide my worthiness based on how much I have accomplished. This accomplishment, of course is relative because ultimately I’m my own worst critic and don’t recognize what I have truly accomplished. Something about the change in weather, and the promise of fall brings this out of me. When I started to reflect this time, I actually felt good about where I am. In the past year I’ve graduated from college, I’ve gotten a promotion, I’ve lived in one place for more than one year, I’ve bought a car that I saved for all by myself. While all of these are tangible and very important, my more important accomplishments lie within my soul. I think what’s most important is that I’ve made a conscious effort to stop dwelling in the muck of what I think I should be. It’s not easy, and it’s certainly not something that comes naturally. But I am trying.

Things We Buy, To Cover Up What's Inside

On Friday I went to the doctor because I've had this strange sensation at what seemed to be the part where my throat meets my stomach. It wasn't heartburn or indigestion or anything painful. It was kind of a tight feeling and it affected my appetite my throat. It had started the Tuesday prior with no reprieve all week. My doctor thinks I'm having esophageal spasms. She told me right away that it happens to a lot of people, but when I asked her if it could be from the purging, she said higher instances occur in those who are bulimic.

I have to take a series of three medications several times throughout the day. If this doesn't work in one week, my doctor is going to send me to have an esophageal scope. I may have to have my esophagus dialated. Apparently it's a quick procudure and cures the problem indefinitely.

I feel like a complete asshole. Not only because this mostly happens to people over the age of 60, but because I feel like I'm being an irresponsible citizen. I would consider myself to be in recovery - it's been nearly two months since I've purged and I've really started to be aware of my actions and thoughts as they pertain to myself. But because of what I have inflicted on myself, I may have to have minor surgery. People die of things that they have no control over; cancer, heart attacks, blood diseases, and too many others to name. Here I am with my head over the toilet several times a week because I can't get ahold of myself. It pisses me off that I've let it go this far.

I don't want to hate on myself too much for this, because I don't want it to lead to self-destruction. However, I don't feel like this is one of those touchy-feely things I should just 'be ok' with. I'm praying that the meds will work and I can just put the rest of the unpleasantness behind me. I'm also praying that it's not something worse than esophageal spasms. I wish I could go back to myself when all of this started and just reason with that little girl who thought she could just take it all on and not bother anybody. I wish I would have told her to speak up.

I've Got My Reasons, Got My Seasons

Today marks six weeks of no purging. Actually six weeks of no purging and not purposely overeating. What makes this even more significant is that I hadn't even counted the six weeks. Usually I'm like an abacus, counting every millisecond that I haven't purged. It feels good to have not noticed the time passing so quickly. This leads me to analyze what has been different about the last month-and-a-half that has allowed me to stop searching for reasons to binge.

• I did an insane amount of traveling - especially during the weekends when I tend to isolate and fall into the binge/purge cycle
• I really threw myself into work. It's been an especially stressful time for my department and I worked really hard to make changes that I hope will have a lasting impact on my team.
• I've been careful about journaling whenever that negative anti-Emily voice kicks in. I'm working to respond to all the misconceptions I have about myself.
• I've been praying a lot. I don't like to get all Jesus-y here, but I do notice that my life is a bit more peaceful during the times when I am meditative and prayerful. I'll leave it at that.

That being said, I'm a bit worried about starting to purge again. Based on my past history, I usually don't last much longer than this before I freak out and fall into old habits. All I can say is that this time I feel like my arsenal of defense tools is stronger than before. I don't want to be overy-analytical here. I'm just excited about my success and tomorrow will be a new day.

I've been dancing and singing all day long. I actually used to sing all the time. During my first stint in college, I studied under the tutelage of Eugenia Yau. She was this amazing petite little Asian woman with the voice of an Operatic Goddess. She worked diligently with me to convince me that I could in fact, perform at a couple showcases the music department sponsored. My voice was a lot more pure then - before cigarettes, and shouting, and throwing-up turned me a bit rusty. All of this is to say that I miss singing and I want to get back into it. Part of me wants to find a church with a choir, even though I'm happy where I am now. We'll see. For now, the shower and my car will have to do.