Strength in Numbers

There is no reason for me to not be writing. Since I have gotten “home” (which is in “” because although its where I came from its a very new home) I would like to chalk up the silence to just being very busy, but that would not be completely true. I am also compelled to say that everything is just normal, the average day-to-day, blah blah etcetera…but this is also not the case.

One of the many "Recovery Rabbits"

Sure I am busy, working 6 days a week for the time being and moving/unpacking/getting settled in the few hours I am not at the tattoo shop, but I’m really not too busy to write when it comes down to it. In my chosen “down” time I have been furiously stitching my sock rabbits for the annual Christmas donation to UVA Hospital’s Pediatric Ward but I am pretty sure I will not have quite as many as last year. Regardless of amount its a good thing though – on many fronts.  More on the Rabbit front in the future.

Being back at work has been nice. Being able to tattoo without my muscle-lacking wrist getting sore, being able to stay awake throughout the day, being able to actually think about and focus on the art and not the bottomless pit of hunger that occupied so much of me for so long. I have cause to my actions now. There is logical reason behind what I do and, most of all, I feel sane in my decisions. I may have gained some weight but its a small price to pay for happiness and sanity. This process shows more every day that there is strength in numbers in more ways than one.

Speaking of which I also have a roommate sharing the lovely new apartment with me. Benji moved cross-country about 3 weeks ago from his home in Las Vegas for a new start. He drove for 3 days with his Dad, got a job within the first week of being here, and has been adjusting to the change in lifestyle nicely. We live well together. The 2 bedroom apartment fits us perfectly and, although we don’t rely on each other for recovery, we definitely help each other out.

Benji and I at the 9-11 "postcard" memorial on Staten Island

This shift in my life that has taken place over the last 5 months, from being in NY to the major differences in my circumstances upon the return home, would have been indescribably more difficult without Benji making his own recovery-induced changes. Every day the sense of how lucky I am that he included me in this part of his life is renewed. Sure, we both still have our own hang-ups and trials, but having a friend that knows exactly what you are going through is beyond amazing.  This is just another way that recovery has proven again that there is strength in numbers.

 

Not an End but a Beginning

I know its been a little while since I have written and I don’t like that fact. Circumstances out of my control arose as my life, once again, readjusted itself. Sometimes it seems like a constant state of fluctuation, these days, months, years that we live. Sometimes for the better and sometimes with a hope for ease in the future, but always for the purpose of carrying on.

I have left New York. The return trip back to Virginia was reminiscent of the trip north back in July. My bags, despite having shipped 2 boxes of things I acquired in the city back early, were just as cumbersome and heavy as ever and I occupied my time on the train much the same way as before with writing and audio-books. My Mom picked me up from the station near her house and we made our way back to her place through the dark, still night.

Things are different though. I feel like my journey has quite a stretch to go from here. I am not returning to the situation I had expected when I first left for treatment. There is a reason I am staying this first night with my mom instead of driving back to the house I share with my husband. There is a melancholy sadness surrounding that situation combined with an extreme hope for things to come. I don’t know how much more I can say right now but I have decided to keep the blog up as my recovery and my life continue to unfold.

I’m not exactly sure where all of this will take me but I know the road will be beautiful in all the possibilities that line its way.

Float On

The days have just been rolling along lately. It seems that they go faster and faster and by the time I look back a whole week has turned its page. I have now passed the three-month mark, which is also the original time span that I told work I would be away,  and am now counting down. Nine days left at this point. I bought my train ticket today for October 29th to return home. I’m trying my best to not let the sadness of departure trickle through my cracks but it gets harder with each sunset.

Right now I am unbelievably inclined to start rambling on about how we go through life and some things happen, other things change, we both meet and lose people, etc…but I think I will spare us all. Its not like any of us are unaware of all of that anyways. For me, however, the main idea behind that enlightenment is a great thing to be reminded of every so often. Yes, I have met and said goodbye to people that have helped me through such a tough time in my life, and I have experienced some things that would have never crossed my mind even 5 years ago, but I wouldn’t let go of any of it for any price named.

This is my life and, like all the rest of my past, I know full well that I wouldn’t be who I am today without even the smallest part of what makes that ongoing quilt. I do not regret anything I have been through yet and I can’t foresee anything of that nature in the future.

There any a lot of changes that I have felt recently within myself. Changes about the way I feel about different things and people, about how I view and approach certain situations. Even changes in strength, both mental and physical. There are about a million more I could list but it would put me in front of this computer screen all night. All I can really sum it up as is that I’m going to continue to float through it all. I will float along whichever tide chooses to take me and do my best to make the most of it.

I will float on.

Raw

A new darkness slips behind my eyes into the void of fog that has planted itself in my head. It settles, steady, rising and falling in breath and waiting. Just waiting. I breathe harder before choking. Its caught in my throat. It sits there keeping me, holding me in the moment, refusing to let me carry on with the life that will only let this moment pass through a continued rhythm.

There is an intensity that I am supposed to be feeling and I wont be released until I accept that fact. The fragile fix-it job that so tenderly held what was left of my innocence together has crumbled through the actions of my own hand and now I am forced to live with it.

There is no end to this. Not this one. Not this time.

As things change so do I and the darkness    releases an unexpected calm that I don’t know what to do with. The scream thats building up inside me, the part that needs so badly to be crumbled, just can’t find a footing for launch.

I think I might be taking my life back.

Emotions can be stronger than words and not always easily expressed. They don’t always make sense and they sometimes can’t be identified. They can save us as we lose ourselves in them and they can cause irreplaceable emptiness at the same time as they fill us with light. At the same time as they fill us with life. They are the essence that makes up the give and take of being alive and we ALL have them.

It can be tempting, even easy, to try and box them up but the gilded ribbon tying that box shut will eventually rot. They have to be dealt with sooner or later. To be here is almost like an awakening. Sometimes I am so flooded with the rising tied of emotions that it can feel like a physical drowning. To go though this is at the same time overwhelmingly consuming and energy reaping.

It takes guts to keep this kind of work up and I commend each and every girl here for taking on the trial of a lifetime. When we work we work do it with everything we have and we entirely deserve the outcome.

On All Accounts

There is something to be said for going out to eat by yourself. It is one of the hardest things I’ve had to do yet. Its the test of accountability taken to the height of the eating disorder. Sure, on our passes we write down meal plans, where exactly we will go and what dish we will be consuming, but that doesn’t mean that the staff will know if we actually did it or not. To go out on a pass meal with someone is to work with that person and keep each other in check with the agenda. Without that it is almost unbelievably easy to find yourself with your butt in the dirt and the wagon rolling away without you.

On the unit my eating disorder knows full well that it can find no balance. I checked it at the door when I entered this treatment center only two short months ago. Unfortunately, each time I go out though, its still right there waiting and wanting to know where we are off to today. So I go, trying to ignore it, trying to leave it behind, hoping that it will realize that its really just not wanted and I have had success with that many times now. Most of those times though have been when out with other people.

So far I have done two meals out completely by myself. The first of them wasn’t a total disaster per se, I just came out of it relatively disheartened. The main point was that I should have followed the plan I had written. Instead I got out there and got overwhelmed, second-guessing the original choices I had made, and just had a lot of trouble coming to a decision. It was a frustrating venture but a learning experience at the same time. My mini-shmorgashboard included an egg salad sandwich with tomato on wheat, a bag of sea-salt multi-grain chips, a banana, and a triple berry yogurt muffin with a water and a soda.

I wound up eating about half of each item and calling it lunch. Its hard because we are supposed to get about 900 calories per meal but its gets really difficult to estimate the amounts for items without labels. I know its not supposed to be a strict science but in the beginning nerves get wracked because we haven’t yet learned the flexibility, intuitive eating, and general friendliness of food that should be the end result of all this.

Today was dinner. It was a  dark, rain-soaked, two-block walk to Reme’s up the street. This was the first time I had been there and the little restaurant with the red awning was the exact opposite of its foretold crowdedness. It could have been the dreary weather or the early meal time but, whatever the reason, I had my pick of tables and chose a booth in the corner. The pass meal was written for a Hawaiian ham steak with sides but the price on the menu was a good $3 over what the unit menu said so the plan changed. I wound up getting a hot open brisket sandwich with fries and a dish of green beans. Not so keen on the sandwich bread I ate all the meat and beans. I gave the fries a fair shot too but they were very much lacking in the flavor department, even with catsup, so I gave up.

Out int the rain again I rounded the corner to University Deli for a dessert. It had to be enough to make up for the uneaten fries. I stood in the little carry-out eatery deliberating over the sweets until I was uncomfortable with my own actions. In frustration I made a grab for whatever and wandered back to the atrium with my goodies. I have to say that, although delayed, my final decision was a pleasing one. I munched down a good-sized chocolate chip cookie and half a peanut butter Twix which turned out to be just as amazing as I had dreamed each time I ogled it at the store.

All in all the practice of a second time wasn’t perfect but it was just the tiniest bit easier. I’m learning to be accountable to myself. It does help to have someone there with me but, in life, thats not going to be the case all the time. I realize that the harder something is the more I need to do it. Its taking on the challenge thats key and thats the whole reason I’m here.

Do Not Cross

There is this thing called the “Buffer Zone” that has infiltrated the morale of the unit. The phrase gets tossed around casually, almost with and air of laughter, but its not what it seems. In actuality that one combination of two little words holds more weight (literally and figuratively) than one would ever deem possible upon first hearing them.

The term “Buffer Zone” can make or break you if you let it. What it refers to is the 4 pound difference between when you hit your 90% and when the team comes to the group decision to start reducing the 3,000 calorie daily intake. At this point the Ensures are already gone. Out of the two prescribed per diem they take the first off the schedule when you get to your 90% the second time, the same day they grace you with the holy passes, and the second Ensure goes the following weight day. All of this, the Ensures, the buffer zone, passes; it all pertains to the most important stage of the recovery process – the weight maintenance phase.

My problem with the buffer zone is that people here seem to give it an immense amount of power over them. Its a cause for over-analysis with eventual freak out potential. We all feel at least a minute amount of hesitance as we approach our 90%s because its the universal do not cross line for gaining here. In truth though, what so many people often fail to recognize, is that even at our 90% we are still not 100%. We are still considered underweight according to the standards set by our heights and ages. Even within the 4 pound buffer zone, above our 90%s, we are still not at our ideal body weights yet, in many people’s minds, it seems to become a glass ceiling. Elle was one such thinker. There were more than a few weight days before her final departure that prompted the morning to begin in tears. I know that its hard to see the scale numbers rise. I’m not at all trying to say its easy, even for me. Its just putting that name, that label, to it turns it into a boundary. Would it really be that bad to go above the buffer though? If any of us leave here believing that we have limits to our recovery process we are just going to damage our chances for success.

My view of it all is that I remember, very clearly, that only a handful of years ago I was right below the middle of my normal weight range and I felt really good about myself. I was 123, a good 10 pounds above my 90, and I was happy. Sure I had problems but they weren’t about my looks. It was only later, when I realized I couldn’t control some of my problems, that insecurity translated itself into an eating disorder. I guess what I’m saying is that I just don’t want to go there. Its for my own safety. If my mind lets the standard get set to a lower bar I won’t get through this.

Self protection is a must right now.

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.

Grapes

*I will preface this with the statement that life is not always roses. It has been suggested to me recently that I might want to try and throw a little more my personal emotions into my writing. That this is a tough time and its not always just about whats going on around me, but whats also inside as well, that matters. Its just that its not so consistently as positive as I make it seem here. This next entry is something that I wrote because, at the time of writing it, that is how I felt. It doesn’t mean that its a constant struggle or that I’m not doing well in the long run, just that this revolution is not as easy as I would like it to be…and its hard admitting that.*

Maybe I should start doing some of the exercises in the body image workbook thats been sitting on my desk for the last two months. Its just been staring at me collecting dust without even so much as a single crack in its glossy spine. I have it because I thought it would be helpful but its sitting there almost as a trophy of strength and triumph. Do I think I don’t need the same lengths of help that others do? Am I really that much better if somewhere in my disillusioned mind I still think I’m tougher than everyone else? Why does it become second nature to feel I’m not allowed to show my weaknesses? Its difficult enough to even let leak that I have them. All I know is that right now I don’t feel pretty. I don’t feel myself. I’m not even sure what that would feel like if I did. I feel more nauseous than anything else…or maybe its that I’m hungry. I can’t even tell anymore.

I wish I knew if there was an end to this or not. It sometimes seems that the healthier I get physically the more often I feel confusion mentally. I’ve just been getting this common undermining sense that some part of me is lost. Its not that I felt any better in the depths of the eating disorder, its just that at that point I had something that I could actually pin my sadness to. The emptiness had a name then. There is no way in hell I would want to revisit that misery but I’m not real keen on how I feel right now either. Its troublesome but worth contemplation.

Venturing Adventure

The stars stretch northward from my gaze as I lay on my back beneath them. Consumed by their expanse on this straggling last day of summer the green metal bench is only slightly chilled under my back. To the south are the frilly borders of the slowly burning treetops that build the natural wall between the fresh air park and the highway. East of me is the Inst Center, home sweet home at the moment, and wast is the top of the tall wire fence surrounding the yard. The others are still strolling slowly, pacing the perimeter, but I feel like I have walked enough today. Its finally a time that I can kick off from all the bustle and open up to reflection. I am here, now, and this is what I see. With so much going on its rare to get a clear view in the city.

Its been a long day but a good one. Abound with adventure things didn’t entirely pan out as I had expected but the time had was no less exciting and new. To start there was the very first makeshift art therapy group. If you go by the true bare bones definitive it was actually more of a themed art collective since I had to leave before any therapy really came into play. The project I had come up with involved glue, large heavy paper, scissors, and the immense amount of old magazines we have piling up everywhere. Because of the scissors we had to request the watchful eye of a staff member but Victoria was happy to do it. The instructions were self-interpretive and basically called for the creation of words and pictures to create a self-portrait.

Not everyone on the unit participated but the six who did later reflected on how much they enjoyed it. I had to leave at 11:00 to begin the day’s pass outing but they were all still working diligently even as I stepped out the door. I would have liked to look at everyone’s creations in the end but it just didn’t happen this morning. Actually, that sort of brings up a wall for me. O one hand I would love to hear how people would interpret their self-portraits but, on the other, even though I was asked to lead this group, I don’t want anyone to feel like I am overstepping my bounds by acting like a teacher. I don’t want to be resented. All in all though I have been told by each who attended that it was an enjoyable success. I have been assigned to head up the same alloted time with a new project next week.

As the morning wore on our pre-lunch departure time gained bearing. First things first, upon leaving the building Benji, Amy, and I happily pardoned the Starbucks that had successfully positioned itself kitty corner to the subway entrance. As good as Starbucks coffee is though I am truly seeing its money-consuming potential. I will have to remember to ask Molly which sidewalk cart she frequents in the mornings. Apparently, whatever shes getting as her coffee fix is just as good, if not better, than Starbucks and its only costs the same $.75 as it does in our regular 6th floor cafe.

After we had armed ourselves with caffeine and ice water the three of us trek towards the underground. The subway station’s lower platform has the heat of a snake pit but we are lucky. The train that is meant to carry us to the Washington Square Park Soho area of Manhattan pulls within a minute of our descent into the dank. We board the A-train express and begin to 40 minute bullet shot to the day’s unfolding agenda.

Looking Towards

Okay, I don’t usually do things like this but I was directed towards a site today that intrigued me. I know a little about the different zodiac signs and how mine pertains to me but not anything beyond the generalizations for the month it spans. This site though, it goes by the specific day a person was born on, and I fund mine to be dead on. Crazy coincidence or is there something to the unknown movements of the universe?

June 26 Birthday Astrology

June 26 Cancers are blessed with brilliant and creative minds. They enjoy conversation yet feel frustrated with its limitations. It is easy to mistake these loner types as being unhappy since their disposition is incredibly solemn. Yet under the calm and quiet surface is a wicked sense of humor that can cut their scholarly reputation to ribbons.

The typical June 26 native has a powerful personality that attracts others. However, their complexity can be exhausting for all but those who love them best. In romance, they may be far too analytical to give themselves up to its uncertainties. Despite their bohemian nature, they thrive when part of a relationship or marriage.

Children and Family
June 26 natives are not emotionally bound to their childhood. They may even dismiss it as a somewhat irrelevant part of their lives. Once they have their own children, these formerly self-absorbed people become tender and vulnerable in their parental role.

Health
June 26 people can be quite fussy about their health, worrying that their long hours at work will put an unavoidable strain on their physical constitution. For this reason they are careful to get plenty of physical exercise, and to watch what they eat. Verbal communication is the forte of June 26 individuals, and they make effective writers, public speakers, teachers, and therapists.

Dreams and Goals
June 26 people wish to influence their world in a meaningful way. They will pursue this goal throughout their lives, sometimes feeling cheated if they are not able to accomplish it.

This is the site:

http://entertainment.howstuffworks.com/june-26-birthday-astrology.htm

If you just scroll down the page to your sign and then click on your birthday you might just be surprised. I know I was! Despite all of this though, throughout this recovery process I have found more and more things out about myself that I either thought I had lost or didn’t know existed at all. Its been an amazing journey and I know I don’t ever want to go back to where I came from.