Everybody has them

Things happen here that you wouldn’t expect. Things forgotten, things remembered, ways of force by means of will we dig deeper than we would have thought possible. There is no real right or wrong way to go about discovery because its only the outcome of the experience that is tangible.

I never reall understood the term “you are as sick as your secrets” and yet it seems to be a common theme for the day. Dr Vanhalen says that I keep them but I don’t really think I really have any. I generally believe that I have only truths and just a lack of people who really care enough to ask me about them. I’ll open up, I have no problem with that, but I’m not going to readily offer up my soft underbelly if I don’t think its going to be treated with fragility by those around me. I figure that if people want to know something about me they will ask and if they don’t then I think its safe to assume that they don’t perticularly want to be burdened with my problems. Thats what therapists are for. Thats why we pay them. Its their job.

I don’t know where this idea that I have to be some sort of pillar of strength came from. I’m not sure why truly breaking down and asking for help seems so out of my nature. Maybe my true feelings on this subject were a secret I was keeping from myself.

So, it wasn’t singularly Dr. Vanhalen that spurred this inner diving session. Creative writing group had a free write seesion with the theme being secrets. Most people seemed to write on the topic with ease but, for some reason, I just couldn’t come up with anything. Naturally I was discouraged because I have been recently priding myself in my written words. I feel like I am going to have to think more on this subject. On the surface, if asked about secrets and the like, I’m sure I would off-handedly say something about trust or truth but after this I believe sompletely rethinking my ready-reply answer is in order.

The Creative Outlet

There is no art therapy on the unit. When I fist got here there was sort of hap-hazard art group that was halfway organized for the weekend slot but mostly we just sat around reading the newspaper. The woman who was supposed to be there for the purpose of the group never had anything specific planned. She was presumably around my age and, although very pleasant to be around, seemed as though she was only with us for the means of filling a quota. One day though, about three weeks into my stay here, she came in and announced that she would be replaced with someone better suited to the eating disorders unit. Its been almost two months since that announcement now and the scant, bedraggled, art supply remnants sit collecting dust.

The general consensus around here seems to be that the lack of an art therapy group, a real art therapy group, is not the ideal. There are few select groups that art therapy seems to be very beneficial to and one of those is the treatment of eating disorders, especially where body image is concerned. All of this, not so much taking it but counseling with art therapy is something that I am extremely interested in. It is something that has caused a whirling excitement of hope for a while now. Every time I think of being able to help others in that way I can’t help but feel almost a giddy centering sensation.

I’m scared too, of course. I can prospectively see myself getting passionately woven into the thick of art therapy dynamics but there are aspects of this dream that I am not so solid on. First off is how the get there. I can’t readily be of any accountable access to others if I’m still engulfed in an eating disorder myself. I have taken that step though. I am on my way to recovery and, although I wouldn’t feel comfortable really practicing with potential clients until I was at least a year in, I now need to bring some focus onto whats next. What scares me about the whole thing is the possibility of disappointment. I’m terrified of wanting something so badly and having it fall through like so many other miscellaneous dreams. If I expect the worst and prepare myself for possible failure then it surely will be laid to rot but if I hold hope too tightly then I’ll be broken if I can’t achieve.

I’ll need help. I know I’ll need help with this just as I’ll need help with recovery once I get home, but it’s hard to say so. I’m so used to not relying on people. sometimes I say that if I’ve learned anything in life it is how to be self-sufficient but thats not always a good thing. In general I don’t like to believe that people will do what they say and, because of that, I try to do everything myself. Past experiences have just taught me that its easier that way so I don;t have to be mad at people if they do let me down. I’ll work something out though. Asking for help may very well be the hardest part of this endeavor.

The lack of descent art therapy here versus the heightened interest in it from the group has put a new and unexpected spin on things though. It seems that I have been voted the unofficial leader of a new impromptu art therapy group. I have checked out project ideas and inventoried the supplies at our disposal so I think I’m at least somewhat close to prepared. Its another new adventure and it kicks off tomorrow morning. I have my fingers crossed.

Creatively Written (part I)

For the most part, unless the instructor is out for some rare reason, we have a creative writing group each and every Tuesday. Shes pretty reliable, only out a few times, and I definitely miss this set aside time when we don’t have it. Its not exactly what you would think of when you think “creative writing group”. Its not about how to write better, more descriptively, or grammar corrections. The instructor really knows her stuff and what she does is gives urging through prompts and then, after a few minutes of wordplay, we read aloud and analyze what we have written. Its almost like art therapy but with writing instead. We work on trying to find out what our writing says about us. Often when we each read aloud the others around the table hear hidden messages and meanings in the words that we never realized were present.

This week she gave us a list of simple questions and we were told to reply to each one with whatever came to our minds when we read the question. What we came up with didn’t necessarily have to be a direct response to the question itself but, at least preferably, a semi-complete thought or part of a sentence that had to do with what we thought about it. After we had written down our answers she then told us to find a blank sheet of paper and write down only what we had written as reply to each question but we were supposed to turn it into a paragraph that had some flow to it. It didn’t have to make complete sense but it couldn’t be totally disjointed. When we read our paragraphs out loud it was supposed to invoke a view into the various ways we looked at life. It was a lot of intrinsic translation that could only be seen through the eyes of a bystander.

The questions:

Why do bunnies have pink noses?

How do birds fly?

What makes the pictures in my TV?

Where does the color ——- come from?

Why do we have two ears?

Where does our thinking go when we sleep?

Why are our teeth white?

What do wild monkeys eat?

Why is the sky blue?

What makes the subway cars go?

Why do we have fingerprints?

How do fish not drown?

How do lightbulbs work?

Why is dirt brown?

How do planes stay in the air?

Why do we have fingernails?

What are dreams?

Why is today Tuesday?

Why is water wet?

What do worms do all day?

How does ice get to be ice?

How does the refrigerator stay cold inside?

How (or why) do trees grow leaves?

…the answers tomorrow.

Rice Rice Baby!

The rice smelled amazing as Amy stirred it, letting the contents of the steaming pot slowly absorb the apple cider it was cooking in. It was supposed to be an apple walnut rice recipe that we had found on the internet but, due to majority rule, we wound up omitting the nuts. That didn’t matter when it came time to eat though because the rice had a great unique flavor without them. Beyond the side dish the broiler, oven, and remaining burners were all hard at work on tuna steaks, cheese sauce, broccoli, and a delicious little sweet treat entitled Earthquake Cookies.

All of this came with my first experience in cooking group. Its a group run by Talia every Tuesday at lunch time and we have to be on level 3 and at a certain percentage of our ideal body weights to participate. This time there were 4 of us aside from the staff, Talia and Carly. Besides me our little posse was made up of Laura, Amy, and Diane with Laura being the only veteran. The main objective of the group is what one might expect from the name. We get together and choose our menu, those who are available trek to the grocery store down the street, and we all reconvene before lunch to get our slick cooking skills on.

I was in charge of the cookies which have now turned into one of my favorite recipes due to their simplicity and deliciousness. They called for our choice of boxed cake mix, all of us agreeing on spice cake, 2 eggs, shortening, a tablespoon of water and a dusting of confectioners sugar. Believe you me, I will have this recipe memorized in no time just from sheer repetition. Talia got the fish ready and we each seasoned our fillet with what we wanted before it went into the broiler. Through that Diane and Amy prepared and made the rice and Laura, with her energetic personality, was checking on multiple things during breaks from stirring the cheese sauce.

Finally, after about 45 minutes of mouth-watering aromas barraging our noses, it was time to sit down and eat. Earlier in the day Talia had e-mailed Sally, the dietitian, about the correct portion sizes for this meal so we could each meet our caloric needs and thats where a bit of a problem arose. It just a little shoddy planning on our part but a good lesson of the various things that need to be taken into consideration when balancing a meal. The portions were all acceptable except for the whole cup and a half of rice we each had to consume. Got it. Lesson learned. That was indeed a lot of rice. It would have been a better idea to add in a glass of milk or a sauce to the fish, either of which would have reduced the rice to just one cup, but now we know for next time, I guess.

Full and happy we cleared our plates after the meal and then sat back down at the table for processing. Mostly everyone had done well and felt okay about the experience as a whole. Amy was concerned about the apple rice allotment but, once the reasoning behind it was explained, she understood. The cooking group experience had been a happy success. Not everyone who comes in here has such an easy time with it. We all have different phobias surrounding food including, but certainly not limited to, consumption, cooking, prep work, growing, etc., so that cooking group can become a freakishly intimidating experience. I think, though, that this time we persevered achieving our goal, and, I for one, am proud of it.

It looks like next time the general consensus has fallen on a dinner of quesadillas…yum!