Be Tough to Beat the Tough

I will start with saying that every day is a battle. Don’t get me wrong though – its not necessarily a bad thing. It has to be tough in order to truly be successful. All of this food stuff, staying on track with meal plans, getting in calorie counts, all the hard work in New York, it doesn’t end when you leave the building or even the state. The institute was a sanctuary that only bestowed its best benefits through the time served in the trenches. It took effort to break old habits but, being in an entirely different situation, the edge of impossibility was sanded down. It took less time than I would have thought to form a new routine that incorporated a new calorie and meal regimen befitting of the hospital setting.

Here now, out and about, trying to fit my new way of seeing things into the old setting that I came from, is proving the difficulty that the professionals have been claiming. I have been doing well so far but I feel in my heart that I could be doing better…doing more. I know its a matter of baby steps and I have by no means relapsed in any sense of the word but just moving forward and pushing beyond claims so my of my being on the very minute daily breakdown levels. Each hour, each minute, I have to plan the next move while simultaneously facing the eating disorders ever-present voice of illogical reasoning. It does try to sneak its way in consistently.

I want to look forward to a life without its voice and yearning for influence but I can’t foresee that happening at the moment. I’m not at all trying to sound pessimistic about it all…just realistic. There may come a day when my head it quiet and food can be entirely enjoyed without a din of rebuttal but I know that day is not today. Being so conscious of that fact actually makes me proud at this point. I’m choosing to face these demons head on. I know its a tough situation but I have faith that I can be just as tough in my own personal food fight.

 

 

Gloves on - its another day in the ring!!!

 

 

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.

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.

Creatively Written (part II)

Picking up from yesterday here were my own responses to the questions we had each been given…

Why do bunnies have pink noses? Because of jelly beans.

How do birds fly? Because they have wings.

What makes the pictures in my TV? Modern invention.

Where does the color blue come from? A wheel of balance.

Why do we have two ears? To hear better.

Where does our thinking go when we sleep? The recesses of our minds.

Why are our teeth white? We don’t smoke or drink coffee.

What do wild monkeys eat? Oatmeal in children’s bowls.

Why is the sky blue? It’s light out.

What makes the subway cars go? Motors and wheels.

Why do we have fingerprints? So we can leave a mark.

How do fish not drown? They have filters.

How do lightbulbs work? Energy through switch flipping.

Why is dirt brown? To make mud pies.

How do planes stay in the air? Due to a disillusioned altitude.

Why do we have fingernails? We will claw our way out.

What are dreams? Different versions of reality.

Why is today Tuesday? It wanted to be.

Why is water wet? What is wet?

What do worms do all day? Tunnel through the tough spots.

How does ice get to be ice? It froze when it was ready.

How does the refrigerator stay cold inside? We close the door and stay plugged in.

How (or why) do trees grow leaves? Its the next step in the process.

…And now this is the paragraph that I somewhat haphazardly put together before I knew what its theme was supposed to reveal:

Modern invention. Its the next step in the process; a wheel of balance so we can leave a mark. We close the door and stay plugged in due to a disillusioned altitude. We don’t smoke or drink coffee but the recesses of our minds tell us that the light is out. To hear better we have filters; different versions of reality. We have motors and wheels to create energy through switch-flipping. It froze when it thought it needed to but we do have wings and there are jelly beans, oatmeal in children’s bowls, and the makings of mud pies. All of this to tunnel through the tough spots. We may not know what wet is but we’ll claw our way out if thats the way we want things to be.

…Once I read this aloud, with the idea of it being a view on how I look at life, it just really caused me to think. I’m not sure yet what I fully make of it but somehow it fits for me. Somehow it makes sense. The response I got from my peers was mostly that it showed that I saw life and what is going on around me as something to question. They didn’t mean question in a bad way…more so that I apparently have an optimism to change and I see that as a good thing. For some reason, though, I see the writing as more. I agree with what they said but it hits me personally on a different lever. Maybe its just a different intensity. I have to sort it out a bit more but, above anything else, it makes me feels good and if thats all I take from it then thats enough but I think I will still do some exploring.

The Confi-dance

It’s the last day of July and in about 48 hours it will have been three weeks since I left home. I’ve talked to Chris on the phone, through email, and via instant message more than once a day. My mom and I chat every few days by phone or computer. And I have kept in touch with the guys at work where everything seems to be running smoothly. I miss home, my job at the tattoo shop, my animals, my life…but not in the way that I’m homesick. I miss it all in the way that I am just so excited to return and have things be that much different in good ways, for me to be that much different because I’ll be healthy.

In my lifetime I have never truly believed that I really was deserving of a change like this. At the same time though I have never been so consciously proud of myself as I am each day with this. I have been proud of random acts, certain decisions, or pieces of artwork in the past but I’ve always been proud of the outcome and not specifically the person doing the deed. It’s almost like, in my mind, I just considered it a fluke that I happened to be the one doing those things. It’s truly different, and for me foreign, to actually have this belief in myself.

Thats not to say that I don’t feel the old pull of tension when I put myself in the place of something I have created. I’m not outwardly boastful about things and I try to keep an air of modesty when I talk to other people. Inwardly, though, I am much more conscious that I am the one who accomplished these goals. It didn’t happen by accident – it was me.

Sometimes my mind will try and tell me the same old refrains about how I don’t deserve to feel good about a deed. It tells me that I didn’t do it well enough, that I should have done more. It speaks to me about how everything I do now thats good is just another thing I owe the world for screwing up so bad in my past. Its like every good action is part of the penance I own for messing things up and hurting others years ago. But how long do I have to believe my every action is part of some cosmic repayment plan for my past? I’ve been told time and time again that I deserve to be happy but it wasn’t until now that I really believed that to be true to any extent.

Now it may not be a recognizable change outwardly but, inside, for once I feel truly good about myself. I’m walking a difficult road right now but I know that I am the one doing it. I am accomplishing things now that I truly believed I did not deserve to accomplish before…and it feels good. I know the potential for amazing new things is that much  more heightened because I am here now doing what I need to do for myself.

Now I just have to keep it up while thinking clearly about the next thing life throws my way. No matter what that may be.

Take this girl

Up at 5 am and, looking in the bathroom mirror as I yawn and stretch my arms from sleep, I can’t help but smile. It may just be in my head because, being weighed on a daily basis, I know I haven’t put on a whole lot, but I think my face looks ever so slightly different. For once the drawn out hollow-cheeked thing I have dubbed “the horse face” isn’t staring back at me. The difference is subtle and it may be that I am the only one who notices it, but it feels good. It reminds me that the girl I thought I lost, the one that was replaced by this person that I don’t ever want to think of as me, is still in here somewhere.

The reflection in the mirror that has been gazing back at me with its hollow, purple-rimmed, sleep deprived eyes has been a constant presence for about 4 years now. Whether this sickly zombie version of me has been fully emerged or lurking just below the surface she has made her presence known for a long time. I talk about her as separate from me in hopes that its true. She isn’t the me that I know, the me that has the potential to be happy, the me that actually knows how to smile. Yet she has been there, in and out of vision, slowly inserting her bony cheeks and wan pallor into my life.

She may never be totally gone because, if nothing else, she will exist in memory. That type of presence I can deal with though. I know that I won’t ever be able to forget her once she is completely out of the reflective eyes that stare back at me but at least she will be where she needs to stay…and I will be where I need to stay.

Would now be a good time to sing the praises of zucchini bread? The slice that graced my breakfast plate this morning practically came with its own glowing aura. Somehow, though, I didn’t feel bad about eating it, in all it’s glory, at all. The only thing I can say is that it was calling to me and I took full advantage of its sweet song. Heck no, I don’t feel guilty!