Living me Softly

I realized today, that as I was traipsing down the office hallway for the 72nd time, I was making this odd sigh/motorboat sound with my lips. And I thought to myself, "what the hell are you doing?" And I really had no answer.

I watched a movie this weekend with a fat, red-headed woman, who portrayed an overbearing and slightly psychotic mess of a boss to the movie's main character. She wore a lot of polka dots, ate jelly donuts, and carried on office banter in a shrill, earsplitting tone. The movie actually opened with an office celebration of her birthday party, and her little beady eyes glistened as she cut herself a Texas-sized piece of cake.

Really? Seriously? Is this material still funny and cool and trendy? Is the overbearing, overeating, overweighted, shrew of a woman still a necessary cinematic staple? Are we really still buying the mentality of the fat person's agony? Hiding sugary snacks, over-compensating for a bullied adolescence, wearing tentlike fabrics to hide abdominal fat? Really? I was annoyed before the plot was ever introduced.

Fat acceptance is something I struggle with, mostly because I can't seem to accept myself. At any size. It's been almost six months since I've had a bulimic episode, and I can't say that I feel any sense of accomplishment for it. I guess I just thought that if I stopped all of that behavior, I would just start losing weight. I thought the 'next step' would be so natural, that I wouldn't even realize it was happening.

What I seem to forget everytime is that this is not going to be an easy fix. In the past, when I wanted to lose weight, I would stop eating for days, weeks, or even months at a time. In the past, I could drop weight by starving myself and then having one big binge and purge session to work out my hunger. But my reality today is that those things have stopped working for me, emotionally and physically. Forcing my body to react to my actions just doesn't fulfill me any more.

That said, I have realized the only thing I can do at this point is be gentle with myself. Restricting, obsessing, forcing, overhauling; all these do is send me into a crash that takes me longer and longer to retreat from each time it happens. I want serenity. I want peace. I want to know that I am ok no matter what the tag on my pants says. And even as I read those words, I still can't quite convince myself that it's true.

Elbow Room

I'm tired.

I've tried to write here several times over the past few weeks and nothing is really happening for me each time I belly up to my desk. Part of it has to do with another creative endeavor I am attempting, but the rest of it has no real cause, destination, or plot. I'm just tired.

I'm feeling that oppressive, crushing, dark feeling again. My heart feels heavy in my chest. My limbs seem to be moving solely of their own volition. Brain set to autopilot. I'm reacting. Responding. Smiling when it's appropriate. Forcing myself to accept outing invitations from friends. Convincing myself to stay awake just one more hour. Then laying in bed for two.

I looked at the calendar today and realized it's been nearly six months. And while I want so badly to be happy for myself, I'm having trouble mustering anything beyond cautious nervousness. What next? Who am I without being the Eating Disorder Girl? What if I still can't get it right?

Part of me wonders if all of this therapy and self-exploration has turned me into someone very selfish. That maybe in the process of trying to find myself, I really just lost the girl I was meant to be all along.

I talked to absolutely no one
Couldn't keep to myself enough
And the things bottled inside had finally begun
To create so much pressure that I'd soon blow up

And I heard the reverberating footsteps
Syncing up to the beating of my heart
And I was positive that unless
I got myself together I would watch me fall apart

Callous

I learned the art of sarcasm from my best friend in junior high. Her name was Laura, and she had long dark hair with a sweep of bangs and she wore topsiders nearly every day. We would make prank phone calls during our sleepovers at her house and we made a killing from scamming CD companies out of those 10 CDs for a penny deals. Her father used to beat her with a belt and she would call my house in hysterics asking me to have my mom come over and get her. Her mom was as aloof as the wallpaper in the hallway of their family home, and her brothers showed love by letting Laura and me smoke their cigarettes.

Laura and I drifted apart our freshman year of high school. She wanted to drink and have casual sex with college boys. I could barely stomach half of a Zema and couldn't figure my way out of a blow job. It was strange watching our friendship end. I knew she was completely awful for me, and that she was holding me back socially, emotionally, and academically. My parents practically threw a party when I came home one day after school and announced that our friendship was no longer. And even more strange was I didn't miss her. I didn't skip a beat, I just moved on to different friends and new activities and ended up having an awesome time in high school.

What is it about getting older that makes moving on so much more difficult? What makes the Laura's of adulthood so much harder to shake? In high school, I knew Laura was completely toxic to me. I think I even had an idea that our friendship would not stand the test of time. I don't know that I go into relationships any less aware now, so I'm not sure what has changed. Part of me wonders if it is because I want to believe that people aren't as fickle or flippant in relationships as they get older. Or maybe I just think that if I show enough love, support, and care, I'll be able to eclipse any hurt that might be imposed.

My worry is that I'm starting not to trust people. I'm starting to get paranoid that I'm being lied to; that everyone really is out for themselves. I don't want to buy into that. I don't want to be skeptical all the time. I don't want to carry past hurts around like some sort of preemptive badge. Mostly, I don't want to miss out on an opportunity to meet someone amazing because I can't stop looking over my shoulder at proverbial reminders.

But you can't will yourself happy
You can't will your cunt wet
You can't keep standing at the station
Pretending you're being met
You can't wear a sign that says 'yours'
When that ain't what you get

It flows and flows away from me
My love is a stream
Your love is a vaudeville show
So charming and obscene
We both had our moments
We both had our fun
And then I hated to prove 'em all right
All those who said I'd run

Dracula Moon

I'm starting to wonder if there are any genuinely good people left. I know this sounds very dramatic and dare I say, whiny, but I'm starting to lose hope. Perhaps it's just that everyone (like myself) is riddled with insecurity and self-doubt. But where I internalize and just abuse myself, other people project their stuff on to the people around them. Or maybe everybody just gets beat up all day long; by their kids, their spouses, their ex-spouses, their coworkers, and food service employees. And maybe they gather all that up and exploit the one shred of power they have over someone else.

Or maybe I just need to get over it.

I turned 27 a couple weeks ago, and I've been crafting a to-do list of things I want to accomplish before I turn 30. I realize that 30 is three whole years away, but since I barely noticed the past 27 years I figure it's time to get crackin'. Sadly, I have decided to omit my goal of learning to skateboard. I realized that I don't really want to learn how to skateboard. I just want to be automatically good at skateboarding. I don't want to go through that fall-all-the-time-as-you're-learning phase. So here it is, in no particular order.

1. Learn Spanish.
2. Learn how to operate a sewing machine and successfully sew things for myself.
3. Start reading books about world history.
4. Travel to Italy.
5. Travel to France.
6. Travel to Greece.
7. Learn how to make a cheesecake.
8. Lose enough weight so that I can go down two full dress sizes.
9. Buy a couch.

I think I'm going to start by learning Spanish. My friends got me a bookstore gift card for my birthday, and I'm going to put it to good use.

Don't worry mother, it'll be alright
And don't worry sister
Say your prayers, and sleep tight
And it'll be fine, lover of mine
It'll be just fine

I Know Where It's Not

Got back from vacation yesterday. Wish I was not back from vacation. Wish vacation never had to end.

So I've been sad for the past 24 hours. Crying and pacing. Attempted to read/watch movies/talk to friends to no avail. Took a bath. More pacing, or maybe just more roaming aimlessly from room to room. Finally went to grocery despite having no appetite.

I really want to talk about the great times I had last week, and I will very soon. Right now, I'm just a little raw and emotional to give a rundown. So instead of dwelling on that, I've decided that I need to remind myself of all the people in my life who I'm grateful for. I haven't done this in awhile, and it seems more productive than reminding myself how much I miss something I just can't have right now.

1. William. For being my best friend and the greatest travel buddy a girl could ask for.
2. Bigs and Beeler. For serenading me with what was quite possibly the greatest rendition of the 'Happy Birthday' song.
3. Mom. For being there, always.
4. Chris. For reminding me that I deserve better than I allow myself to believe I deserve.
5. Andrew. For smart-ass birthday cards that never cease to crack me up.
6. Ryan. For being the most angelic and precious little boy I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. I can't wait to see the person you grow up to be.

Lumina
Come and wrap around me
Lumina
Take me through the snow

Eve took a fruit, Eve picked a fruit
Juice ran down her chin
Babies will put things in their mouths
Never heard of sin

Lumina
Open like the sea
Lumina
Sing me in the dark

Eve had to ask, Eve had to ask
What is wrong with this
Here is the place, now is the time
Let's invent the kiss

What it all comes down to

I purged last weekend, but not in a bad way. I was doing some spring cleaning, and reorganizing my bookshelves to accommodate a bunch of new reading material I've purchased over the past six months. And while not alarming in number, I did notice that I have quite a few books on diets. And by diets, I mean fairly restrictive eating and exercise plans that are nearly impossible to maintain over a lifetime. I was struck with the realization that this may be one of those 'garbage in, garbage out' kind of things. Those books peer out from their shelves at anyone who uses my living room. Perhaps it is not the healthiest thing to have all of my past fails at diet attempts staring me in the eye when I'm trying to relax.

I contemplated boxing up the books and donating them to the library. But then it struck me that perhaps this may just perpetuate the problem. Maybe I'm just adding proverbial fuel to the proverbial fire by passing along material that is essentially weight loss propaganda. So, instead I took my box of books to my local recycling center. I was thrilled to see that my books could be recycled into something that may actually benefit my fellow citizens.

I'm still in this really weird restless, kind of mopey and contemplative place. I'm hoping my vacation next week will help me relax and clear my mind.

There's really no hope for me
And that three second rule
Somethin gets dropped
And still I'm the slowest damn fool
Slow to realize what's really going on
Slow to know in a moment
Who or what has gone wrong

I wanna tighten down on the lag time

Your consonants were buzzing
Around your head like flies
Your true colors were showing
And your shape and your size
You were drinking your way though it
I was shrinking right there inside of my clothes
My eventual twenty/twenty
Arms crossed
Tapping her toe

Girl, Corrupted

I've had a really tough month, so I am incredibly grateful that April is just a couple hours away. Not that flipping a page in my calendar is going to solve everything, but I'm hoping I will get some inspiration from my upcoming vacation.

My last session with Dr. Gray left me feeling deflated and defeated. I think it's safe to say that I've made a lot of progress in the last year. The problem is that I keep hitting this cement wall every few months and there just doesn't seem to be some tangible way to push past it.

I love to dance. I danced for 11 years, and even now, over a decade after I've left it behind, I still can't find a high that compares to dancing. I've been taking a hip-hop class once a week for the past few months, and for that hour every week I leave feeling like I can take on the world. Yet somehow, there is still that resonating voice that tells me I don't deserve to feel good and like dance. I don't deserve other pleasures because I'm not good enough. And I'm not good enough because I'm not thin enough.

See, the problem is that I'm fighting a voice that is almost as old as I am. A voice that has a lot of back story on me. A voice that knows every weakness and guilt and sorrow I've ever felt. And most of all, a voice that is vengeful and vindictive. Of what, I don't know.

I know that I don't want to stop fighting that voice. And I know that I need to convince myself that I do deserve to have a hobby that is fulfilling, relationships where I feel loved, and a career that is rewarding. I want to be able to hold on to what I have right now, even if it's not what I want to be right now. I'm tired of holding my breath and waiting for my life to be different.

This is probably the point where I should make some self-proclamation and declare that I'm going to take a course action. But I'm not, because I don't know what that looks or feels or acts like. What I do know is that I'm not ready to quit fighting. I know it's going to be sad and angry and probably lonely, but I can't keep falling down because of a shame I don't deserve to feel.

Time to tell me the truth
To burden your mouth for what you say
No pieces of paper in the way'
Cause I can't continue pretending to choose
The opposite sides on which we fall
The loving you laters, if at all
No right minds could wrong be this many times

My memory is cruel
I'm queen of attention-to-details
Defending intentions if he fails
Until now, he told me her name
It sounded familiar in a way
I could have sworn I'd heard him
Say it ten thousand times
If only I had been listening