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.
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, September 8, 2007
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 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.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
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.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, August 27, 2007
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.
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.
Thursday, August 2, 2007
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.
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.
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