Wednesday, October 20, 2010
I'm Going to See Someone.
Asking for help is hard. I feel silly and disappointed in myself that I feel that I have to take this step. All I know is that my issues are creeping and bubbling under the surface again. This is not an easy road, but I have got to be responsible for my own health and wellbeing.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
And.....?
So, having said all that (see previous posts), why would I even consider accepting the Facebook friend request? AB sent one several months ago, along with a message (I know, who sends a message, right?) that said "its been a long time, no hard feelings." Well, you know what? I have hard feelings!! And maybe that makes me childish and petty, but so what. I guess I'm just the person who can't be friends with an ex. Not that I have so many major ones to choose from, but there it is.
But then I thought...what if he really has grown up and I can be the bigger person here by accepting his friend request. I debated it. I discussed it with friends. I even mentioned it to college friends for the shock value. The answer was a collective 'no.' I made myself go down that path of memories (maybe not in the detail I have described here) and ultimately, I told myself...no, reminded myself that that was a really, really dark period in my life. He controlled me and scared me, and even if I haven't completely processed through all of that...I have moved on. I don't need to go back there. If I did accept the friend request, it would be out of sheer nosy-ness. I couldn't imagine having a Facebook 'conversation' with him. So what would the point be? I clicked 'ignore.'
And then, out of the blue, clear sky (Ha! That was "our song." How apropos.) he sends another friend request! Who does that? After you've been ignored once, let it go!! And why would I even ever consider accepting it???????
Right now, I'm settling for just glancing at his info every now and then to satisfy any curiousity.
But then I thought...what if he really has grown up and I can be the bigger person here by accepting his friend request. I debated it. I discussed it with friends. I even mentioned it to college friends for the shock value. The answer was a collective 'no.' I made myself go down that path of memories (maybe not in the detail I have described here) and ultimately, I told myself...no, reminded myself that that was a really, really dark period in my life. He controlled me and scared me, and even if I haven't completely processed through all of that...I have moved on. I don't need to go back there. If I did accept the friend request, it would be out of sheer nosy-ness. I couldn't imagine having a Facebook 'conversation' with him. So what would the point be? I clicked 'ignore.'
And then, out of the blue, clear sky (Ha! That was "our song." How apropos.) he sends another friend request! Who does that? After you've been ignored once, let it go!! And why would I even ever consider accepting it???????
Right now, I'm settling for just glancing at his info every now and then to satisfy any curiousity.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Turn the Page
So, I was miserable and pretending to be ecstatic. AB just plain frightened me at times. I had never ever seen myself being the victim in an abusive relationship, yet that is where I found myself. I withdrew from my friends, all but stopped going to class, and drank a LOT. A lot, a lot, a lot.
Second semester just got worse. We pretty much moved in together in a crappy one-bedroom apartment. As I force myself to type that, I feel like a weight is on my chest. It is ridiculous...I knew at the time that I wanted no part of that, but yet I allowed myself to be manipulated into doing it. Why? Spring semester, I went to class even less than the first, and dropped out of all but like 2 of my classes. And I failed one of those. It was awful. I don't really consider myself as ever having been truly suicidal, but I do recall fantasizing more than once about what it would be like to fall out of my seventh story dorm room. I remember packing up and leaving to go home for the summer. I cried as he held me. I was afraid that nothing would be the same the next year; he assured me that it would. I was probably unconsiously more afraid of owning up to my parents for the...well, for the lack of grades from that semester.
Somehow, I convinced my parents to let me go back to school in the fall. I am surprised they agreed to that with as little fanfare as they did. I had reconnected with some of my girl friends, and was looking forward to going back to school. At one point, toward the end of the summer, I had given AB back his ring, not to break the engagement, but because he couldn't afford it. I was making him return it. It was around that point that he had called me at work and we got in some meaningless fight on the phone. It may have had something to do with the ring. At any rate, he ended the phone call by calling me a "fucking bitch" and hanging up on me. I snapped. He called back; I didn't pick up. When I got home from work I went on a walk, wanting to avoid the enevitable phone call that would come there. Walking around my neighborhood, I saw what I dreaded most: his pick-up turning the corner and pulling into my parents' driveway. I panicked. I am so usually the one to avoid drama, so I was in a very uncomfortable position. I made a split decision to go to a very close neighbor's house rather than going home. From there I called my mom and told her that I was done with AB and that I didn't want to see him. She convinced me to come home to relay the news to him myself.
I don't remember exactly what I said, but with the knowledge that my Daddy was inside the house, I laid out the law on the sidewalk. I was over it, beyond it, through with it. Done. And I knew that I would not be returning to it this time, period. (like most melodramatic couples, we had had a couple of trial 'break ups' that never lasted long)
He sent flowers to work (I gave them to my mom), he came to work to give me a fraternity bid in jest (I didn't accept), he had HIS MOM call to try to talk to me (please)...on and on. I went back to school, and tried the friend route. We even had a near miss or two...hooking up, but after one of those nights, he went psycho. He yelled at me and practically chased me around his fraternity house. It was all I could do to get out of there. He called incessantly. I destroyed every single piece of photographic evidence of the relationship.
Fortunately, the freaky episodes got fewer and fewer. He tried a few times to reconnect, but I was determined in my resolve. I am lucky that he was never physically violent with me, but I know in my heart that it would have gone there had we stayed together. I also know how trapped it feels to be in an abusive relationship. It is like all of the air is squeezed from your body. As sick as it is, you somehow feel committed to the farce of it all, even though you know it is not healthy or right.
I didn't know where I stood when that relationship was over. My childhood ideal of only being in love once was crushed. I felt like I had been used and put back on the shelf. But I was free. And I knew that whatever else, I would absolutely not put myself in that position again. Ever.
Second semester just got worse. We pretty much moved in together in a crappy one-bedroom apartment. As I force myself to type that, I feel like a weight is on my chest. It is ridiculous...I knew at the time that I wanted no part of that, but yet I allowed myself to be manipulated into doing it. Why? Spring semester, I went to class even less than the first, and dropped out of all but like 2 of my classes. And I failed one of those. It was awful. I don't really consider myself as ever having been truly suicidal, but I do recall fantasizing more than once about what it would be like to fall out of my seventh story dorm room. I remember packing up and leaving to go home for the summer. I cried as he held me. I was afraid that nothing would be the same the next year; he assured me that it would. I was probably unconsiously more afraid of owning up to my parents for the...well, for the lack of grades from that semester.
Somehow, I convinced my parents to let me go back to school in the fall. I am surprised they agreed to that with as little fanfare as they did. I had reconnected with some of my girl friends, and was looking forward to going back to school. At one point, toward the end of the summer, I had given AB back his ring, not to break the engagement, but because he couldn't afford it. I was making him return it. It was around that point that he had called me at work and we got in some meaningless fight on the phone. It may have had something to do with the ring. At any rate, he ended the phone call by calling me a "fucking bitch" and hanging up on me. I snapped. He called back; I didn't pick up. When I got home from work I went on a walk, wanting to avoid the enevitable phone call that would come there. Walking around my neighborhood, I saw what I dreaded most: his pick-up turning the corner and pulling into my parents' driveway. I panicked. I am so usually the one to avoid drama, so I was in a very uncomfortable position. I made a split decision to go to a very close neighbor's house rather than going home. From there I called my mom and told her that I was done with AB and that I didn't want to see him. She convinced me to come home to relay the news to him myself.
I don't remember exactly what I said, but with the knowledge that my Daddy was inside the house, I laid out the law on the sidewalk. I was over it, beyond it, through with it. Done. And I knew that I would not be returning to it this time, period. (like most melodramatic couples, we had had a couple of trial 'break ups' that never lasted long)
He sent flowers to work (I gave them to my mom), he came to work to give me a fraternity bid in jest (I didn't accept), he had HIS MOM call to try to talk to me (please)...on and on. I went back to school, and tried the friend route. We even had a near miss or two...hooking up, but after one of those nights, he went psycho. He yelled at me and practically chased me around his fraternity house. It was all I could do to get out of there. He called incessantly. I destroyed every single piece of photographic evidence of the relationship.
Fortunately, the freaky episodes got fewer and fewer. He tried a few times to reconnect, but I was determined in my resolve. I am lucky that he was never physically violent with me, but I know in my heart that it would have gone there had we stayed together. I also know how trapped it feels to be in an abusive relationship. It is like all of the air is squeezed from your body. As sick as it is, you somehow feel committed to the farce of it all, even though you know it is not healthy or right.
I didn't know where I stood when that relationship was over. My childhood ideal of only being in love once was crushed. I felt like I had been used and put back on the shelf. But I was free. And I knew that whatever else, I would absolutely not put myself in that position again. Ever.
Friday, July 16, 2010
Can of Worms
Okay, so apparently all I needed to light a fire under my ass was to just start telling a story. So, Asshole Boyfriend. Yeah.
He called, I was excited, yada yada yada. He said all the right things and asked me out. I. cannot. remember. our. first. date. I remember the before. I remember being extremely nervous and trying to watch for him out of my seventh story window. He arrived, and we went...somewhere. No clue. Cannot pull it up for the life of me. Cannot remember our first kiss. Although I know we kissed that night. It is gone.
I do remember him telling me that he was going home that weekend for his birthday. Now that I type that I can't remember specifically what day his birthday is!! Geez, my memory is TERRIBLE!!! That weekend was Labor Day weekend, and I went home a bit but back to school shortly after learning that my curfew was still in effect.
That Monday, I was thrilled when he called again and wanted to take me out to eat. I remember this specifically because I had eaten a bowl of ravioli, and yet I let him take me to Appleby's where I ate chicken fingers. I am disgusted with myself even now. One of his friends tagged along that night, it was casual. I remember when AB dropped me off that night him getting on to me about liking his friend more than I liked him. I did not like the way that made me feel. I ignored it and assured him that of course I liked him more. It was all downhill from there.
I'm pretty sure that it was only three weeks later that we were engaged. He stood in the parking lot of his fraternity house and told me that 'when you find the person you want to spend forever with, you want forever to start right now.' I was wrapped up completely. And let me stop here and interject: I knew all along that this was against my grain. But I was eighteen. I really felt that when I loved someone, that would be the only person in my life that I would love and it would all be a neat little fairy tale. I remember the first time I told him that I loved him. I had to force myself to say it. I wanted it to be true, but deep down I knew it wasn't. But I digress, so the engagement, got a ring, freaked the hell out of everyone, not the least of which were my parents, I'm sure.
I wanted to wait until we were married to have sex. I told him that and he agreed. But somehow, he kept pressuring me to do it. Finally, around week 5 of our relationship, I sprained my ankle. Bad. He took care of me, took me to the clinic, did everything I needed. I was weak. He was caring. I gave in. I haven't reflected on this, maybe ever, but I HAD A SPRAINED ANKLE THE FIRST TIME I HAD SEX. It was awful. And, although I wouldn't have admitted it then, I felt damaged. I was the living embodiment of making my bed and having to lie in it.
And, with that, I have to take a break. More to come.
He called, I was excited, yada yada yada. He said all the right things and asked me out. I. cannot. remember. our. first. date. I remember the before. I remember being extremely nervous and trying to watch for him out of my seventh story window. He arrived, and we went...somewhere. No clue. Cannot pull it up for the life of me. Cannot remember our first kiss. Although I know we kissed that night. It is gone.
I do remember him telling me that he was going home that weekend for his birthday. Now that I type that I can't remember specifically what day his birthday is!! Geez, my memory is TERRIBLE!!! That weekend was Labor Day weekend, and I went home a bit but back to school shortly after learning that my curfew was still in effect.
That Monday, I was thrilled when he called again and wanted to take me out to eat. I remember this specifically because I had eaten a bowl of ravioli, and yet I let him take me to Appleby's where I ate chicken fingers. I am disgusted with myself even now. One of his friends tagged along that night, it was casual. I remember when AB dropped me off that night him getting on to me about liking his friend more than I liked him. I did not like the way that made me feel. I ignored it and assured him that of course I liked him more. It was all downhill from there.
I'm pretty sure that it was only three weeks later that we were engaged. He stood in the parking lot of his fraternity house and told me that 'when you find the person you want to spend forever with, you want forever to start right now.' I was wrapped up completely. And let me stop here and interject: I knew all along that this was against my grain. But I was eighteen. I really felt that when I loved someone, that would be the only person in my life that I would love and it would all be a neat little fairy tale. I remember the first time I told him that I loved him. I had to force myself to say it. I wanted it to be true, but deep down I knew it wasn't. But I digress, so the engagement, got a ring, freaked the hell out of everyone, not the least of which were my parents, I'm sure.
I wanted to wait until we were married to have sex. I told him that and he agreed. But somehow, he kept pressuring me to do it. Finally, around week 5 of our relationship, I sprained my ankle. Bad. He took care of me, took me to the clinic, did everything I needed. I was weak. He was caring. I gave in. I haven't reflected on this, maybe ever, but I HAD A SPRAINED ANKLE THE FIRST TIME I HAD SEX. It was awful. And, although I wouldn't have admitted it then, I felt damaged. I was the living embodiment of making my bed and having to lie in it.
And, with that, I have to take a break. More to come.
Lighting the Corners of My Mind
So, recently I received a friend request--a SECOND friend request--from someone who I like to think of as Asshole Boyfriend. Not even deserving of being referred to by his name.
He is someone that I don't like to think about often. I certainly do not talk about him. It was my freshman year of college, and I was too green to burn. I hadn't ever had a real boyfriend, and I was ripe for the picking. Young, virginal, reeling with newfound independence...I was an easy mark.
We met in a group of friends; I didn't think he noticed me at all the first night. He was cute enough--previously a football player in JuCo. So, when I heard through the grapevine that he wanted my number, I was surprised. And, although my friend told me that she had heard some not-so-good things about him, I decided to chance it.
Apparently, he had a little reputation of being a stalker. Calling too many times, showing up when he wasn't supposed to, etc. I brushed it off as girls being stupid and petty. My internal alarms were blaring STOP! THIS IS WRONG! But I squelched them and pressed ahead. I wanted to be wanted.
To be continued...
He is someone that I don't like to think about often. I certainly do not talk about him. It was my freshman year of college, and I was too green to burn. I hadn't ever had a real boyfriend, and I was ripe for the picking. Young, virginal, reeling with newfound independence...I was an easy mark.
We met in a group of friends; I didn't think he noticed me at all the first night. He was cute enough--previously a football player in JuCo. So, when I heard through the grapevine that he wanted my number, I was surprised. And, although my friend told me that she had heard some not-so-good things about him, I decided to chance it.
Apparently, he had a little reputation of being a stalker. Calling too many times, showing up when he wasn't supposed to, etc. I brushed it off as girls being stupid and petty. My internal alarms were blaring STOP! THIS IS WRONG! But I squelched them and pressed ahead. I wanted to be wanted.
To be continued...
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Rambling
I woke up at 4:45 this morning with the intent to do some cleaning or exercise. I sat down *just for a minute* to read the end of Eclipse, and well, next thing I knew...it was 6:00 and I still wasn't finished the book yet!! At least I got through the fight. (Re-read, I should say. I have finished the series once.)
I love to read. My problem is getting too distracted when I am in a book. I find it virtually impossible to put it down.
I am so pre-menstrual right now it is driving me mad. I feel completely de-railed. Argh. Pressing on. It will pass. I wish that I could clue into myself enough to spill it all on paper, but I can't form a thought that I am willing to type. Maybe later.
I love to read. My problem is getting too distracted when I am in a book. I find it virtually impossible to put it down.
I am so pre-menstrual right now it is driving me mad. I feel completely de-railed. Argh. Pressing on. It will pass. I wish that I could clue into myself enough to spill it all on paper, but I can't form a thought that I am willing to type. Maybe later.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Okay, I Get It...I Suck.
Scratch that plan for July. My self-imposed writing challenge was the surest way to block anything close to inspirational. Whatev.
Why is it, though, that I have such a hard time doing the things that I like to do? Like writing, or walking, or having a clean house? I can rationalize not doing them all day long so well, you would think I was trying to avoid the plague!! Blah!
Today I am feeling really unbalanced. I need to center myself. I think I am getting more comfortable with taking a spiritual journey (seeking things outside of Christianity...not to replace, just to supplement) and trying to just breathe and focus.
I have an overriding thought the last couple of days. Not a totally foreign one, but it is making me think. I wonder if I am being present enough for my kids. Is there a way for me to not work (or not work so much) and be able to provide for them? I feel like I am not able to give them enough consistent quality time...I'm sure a concern of all working mothers...and I am so stressed to the max, that I can't really be present when I am with them. I worry about my daughter. I think she needs me more, and needs more structure. Less TV. How can I accomplish this? How could I be able to pick her up in the afternoons and help her with her homework rather than squeezing it in after I get home at 6:00 in the evenings?
How could I afford to pay my bills? Other people get by with a lot less salary than we have--why can't I?
(I know the answer to that last question is 'because I don't want to,' but I don't want to accept that fact right now).
To be continued...
Why is it, though, that I have such a hard time doing the things that I like to do? Like writing, or walking, or having a clean house? I can rationalize not doing them all day long so well, you would think I was trying to avoid the plague!! Blah!
Today I am feeling really unbalanced. I need to center myself. I think I am getting more comfortable with taking a spiritual journey (seeking things outside of Christianity...not to replace, just to supplement) and trying to just breathe and focus.
I have an overriding thought the last couple of days. Not a totally foreign one, but it is making me think. I wonder if I am being present enough for my kids. Is there a way for me to not work (or not work so much) and be able to provide for them? I feel like I am not able to give them enough consistent quality time...I'm sure a concern of all working mothers...and I am so stressed to the max, that I can't really be present when I am with them. I worry about my daughter. I think she needs me more, and needs more structure. Less TV. How can I accomplish this? How could I be able to pick her up in the afternoons and help her with her homework rather than squeezing it in after I get home at 6:00 in the evenings?
How could I afford to pay my bills? Other people get by with a lot less salary than we have--why can't I?
(I know the answer to that last question is 'because I don't want to,' but I don't want to accept that fact right now).
To be continued...
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Whoops
So, five days in and already missing days. Oh well, I'm going to press on. I actually had an idea for a post, but now I've lost it. I'll be back...
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Zen
I had a good walk first thing this morning and it got my creative juices flowing. I came home and made a patriotic door hanging that I like. I really am trying to let my exercise be an organic process right now. I am not forcing it, just enjoying it.
All in all, a pretty good day. Am looking forward to spending the day tomorrow with the fam. Hopefully it will be low on drama!
All in all, a pretty good day. Am looking forward to spending the day tomorrow with the fam. Hopefully it will be low on drama!
Friday, July 2, 2010
I Knew That I Would
(as in..."I Feel Good, nananananaNA...")
I really feel good today. I feel like I have a grip. All of a sudden, I really feel like I am getting the full benefit of my meds. Before, I could tell that I was coming out of the fog, but TODAY! Today I am fog-free!!
In celebration of being angst-free, I am going to start my list of things that make me happy. Originally, I had intended on waiting until I got to 100 Things to post it, but there is no time like the present!!
Ahem, in no particular order...
1. Target
2. Coffee
3. Post-its
4. Making lists
5. Scratching things off lists
6. Daydreaming
7. Painting
8. Walking (exercise walking)
9. the smell of asphalt after it rains in the summer
10. New makeup
11. a good book
12. Drinking in the afternoon
13. Patios
14. catching up with old friends
15. quiet time with myself
16. pedicures
17. being fiscally responsible (trying to get there...)
18. blogging
19. a really good bargain
20. trashy magazines, the kind you find in line at the grocery store.
21. reality TV.
22. songs that remind me of college
I am trying to carve out some time for myself in the mornings just to breathe and reflect. I want to spend more time focusing on the positive things in life than kvetching about the negative.
Peace
I really feel good today. I feel like I have a grip. All of a sudden, I really feel like I am getting the full benefit of my meds. Before, I could tell that I was coming out of the fog, but TODAY! Today I am fog-free!!
In celebration of being angst-free, I am going to start my list of things that make me happy. Originally, I had intended on waiting until I got to 100 Things to post it, but there is no time like the present!!
Ahem, in no particular order...
1. Target
2. Coffee
3. Post-its
4. Making lists
5. Scratching things off lists
6. Daydreaming
7. Painting
8. Walking (exercise walking)
9. the smell of asphalt after it rains in the summer
10. New makeup
11. a good book
12. Drinking in the afternoon
13. Patios
14. catching up with old friends
15. quiet time with myself
16. pedicures
17. being fiscally responsible (trying to get there...)
18. blogging
19. a really good bargain
20. trashy magazines, the kind you find in line at the grocery store.
21. reality TV.
22. songs that remind me of college
I am trying to carve out some time for myself in the mornings just to breathe and reflect. I want to spend more time focusing on the positive things in life than kvetching about the negative.
Peace
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Random Thought I Don't Want to Tweet
Prozac = liberating dose of self assurance.
That, or a better defined sense of Fuck It.
Either way, I'm loving it.
I just realized that I did not take it this morning. whoops.
That, or a better defined sense of Fuck It.
Either way, I'm loving it.
I just realized that I did not take it this morning. whoops.
July Jabber
I need a challenge. I am going to attempt to blog each day in July. I like writing as an outlet, but the hardest part for me is finding inspiration and beginning. So, I am going to do what I do best: force it. I'm not promising anything super-exciting...just something every day. And, if I miss a day, no hard feelings. Its my game, its my rules. I'm the only one reading this anyways.
I like being anonymous in my blog. I have another blog where I am not anonymous, and its great and all, but its very vanilla. Pics of the kids, lighthearted stories, etc. I don't have the balls enough there to really write.
I would love to be able to write a book. A memoir of sorts, I think. The more I get comfortable with myself, the more I could see this happening. I have no clear direction, but if I force myself to write it, I could ferret out the story. Maybe an embellished memoir.
"How wonderful it is that nobody needs wait a single moment before starting to improve the world." -Anne Frank
I like being anonymous in my blog. I have another blog where I am not anonymous, and its great and all, but its very vanilla. Pics of the kids, lighthearted stories, etc. I don't have the balls enough there to really write.
I would love to be able to write a book. A memoir of sorts, I think. The more I get comfortable with myself, the more I could see this happening. I have no clear direction, but if I force myself to write it, I could ferret out the story. Maybe an embellished memoir.
"How wonderful it is that nobody needs wait a single moment before starting to improve the world." -Anne Frank
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Serendipity
Okay, so I quoted Aerosmith in my last post, then googled the lyrics to 'Amazing,' and wow. I love it when I completely see my life in song. It gives me goose bumps.
In related news...why can't I copy and paste into my blog? Anyone...anyone...Bueller?
In related news...why can't I copy and paste into my blog? Anyone...anyone...Bueller?
I Don't Believe in Beatles, I Just Believe in Me
I can't believe that I have mostly avoided religion up until this point!! Of all the sources of internal conflict!! Hold on to your hats...
I have been raised with the requisite amount of Catholic Guilt. The funny part of this is, when I was a child, a teenager, I had no problem blindingly accepting the nice little package of The Church all bundled up and tied with a bow. No--scratch that. The funny part is that at the time, I TRULY did not think that I was naive. Cut to Toby Keith singing I wish I didn't know now, what I didn't know then....but I digress.
At some point I woke up and started questioning my faith. And I still am. And here is what I've figured out for myself*
-Faith is different than religion.
-I have a major problem with organized religion. (This is a whole other post. Or series of posts)
-I still feel the need to attend church on a weekly basis. (Really. I feel bad if I don't.)
-I did not know about transubstantiation until after college (that's what growing up in rural, protestant MS will get you). I can't get on board with the Catholic thinking on that one. However, I can't seem to make the switch to Episcopal Church (even though that is one of the major diffs between the two, and the Episcopals seem to be a little friendlier to the social causes that I support).
-I just ordered a book on Buddhism yesterday. Buddhism is not really a religion, but in my opinion (and from the limited reading that I have done), it seems to be a really good way to implement many of the things that religion implies that people should do.
-I wish I could just take the plunge and be Buddhist.
-However, I don't believe in reincarnation, and I do believe in God.
-Maybe I should just join up with the Jews for Jesus. After all, Jesus did not teach people to be good Christians. He wanted people to be good Jews.
-Let me preface this by saying that I think Jesus was a really good guy. A moral example for all of us. Having said that, I think people put way too much emphasis on Jesus, and kind of make God second fiddle. Let's remember our priorities.
-I believe in evolution and have already begun telling my kids about it (in the words of They Might Be Giants, "Science Is Real.") (hey, they sure won't be getting that version in Catholic school)
-Yes, my kids go to Catholic School.
-I do believe in God because I want to. I really want to believe that there is more out there and that there is some devine force that exists.
-Its more the man-made product of religion that I find questionable.
-My heaven consists of me getting to meet my Grandmother and learning the truth behind the JFK assassination.
-Life's a journey, Not a destination. Thank you Aerosmith.
*this list is subject change with or without notice at any moment
I have been raised with the requisite amount of Catholic Guilt. The funny part of this is, when I was a child, a teenager, I had no problem blindingly accepting the nice little package of The Church all bundled up and tied with a bow. No--scratch that. The funny part is that at the time, I TRULY did not think that I was naive. Cut to Toby Keith singing I wish I didn't know now, what I didn't know then....but I digress.
At some point I woke up and started questioning my faith. And I still am. And here is what I've figured out for myself*
-Faith is different than religion.
-I have a major problem with organized religion. (This is a whole other post. Or series of posts)
-I still feel the need to attend church on a weekly basis. (Really. I feel bad if I don't.)
-I did not know about transubstantiation until after college (that's what growing up in rural, protestant MS will get you). I can't get on board with the Catholic thinking on that one. However, I can't seem to make the switch to Episcopal Church (even though that is one of the major diffs between the two, and the Episcopals seem to be a little friendlier to the social causes that I support).
-I just ordered a book on Buddhism yesterday. Buddhism is not really a religion, but in my opinion (and from the limited reading that I have done), it seems to be a really good way to implement many of the things that religion implies that people should do.
-I wish I could just take the plunge and be Buddhist.
-However, I don't believe in reincarnation, and I do believe in God.
-Maybe I should just join up with the Jews for Jesus. After all, Jesus did not teach people to be good Christians. He wanted people to be good Jews.
-Let me preface this by saying that I think Jesus was a really good guy. A moral example for all of us. Having said that, I think people put way too much emphasis on Jesus, and kind of make God second fiddle. Let's remember our priorities.
-I believe in evolution and have already begun telling my kids about it (in the words of They Might Be Giants, "Science Is Real.") (hey, they sure won't be getting that version in Catholic school)
-Yes, my kids go to Catholic School.
-I do believe in God because I want to. I really want to believe that there is more out there and that there is some devine force that exists.
-Its more the man-made product of religion that I find questionable.
-My heaven consists of me getting to meet my Grandmother and learning the truth behind the JFK assassination.
-Life's a journey, Not a destination. Thank you Aerosmith.
*this list is subject change with or without notice at any moment
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Monday, June 28, 2010
Ahhhh....
So, I've changed the background of the blog. Heretofore, it has been Black, Plain Black, and it was appropriate. But I'm not feeling so dark lately. I have to open the proverbial windows and let some light in here! Not that I'm not still conflicted, confused, and self-involved...now just in Color!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Ate way too much on vacation. That wouldn't have been so bad had I not continued to eat waayyy too much the week following vacation. It is gross. I can't even bring myself to get on the scale. But I am moving on. Walked yesterday morning and this morning. Endeavoring to walk each day this week. I digress...
I struggle with doing the things it takes to just be. I get bogged down in the details. I will have a burst of...something, and have an uber-productive day, and then it is like all my energy is spent for the longest time. It bugs me!! Establishing a pattern is the HARDEST thing for me to do, even though I know I love routine, and would thrive. Whine, whine, whine. I know the solution is to just buck up and do it! Whatever 'it' may be. Maybe if I stopped contemplating, and just started doing.
I am changing slowly, though. I accept that I am me more than I did, say 6 months ago. I remember being 17-ish and really feeling like I did not know "who I was." (like, panicking about it. is that how you spell 'panicking?') What I want to go back in time and tell myself is "Self, learning yourself is a lifelong journey. Take your time. Get to know yourself well. Spend time with others, but also spend time alone. Feelings are not wrong."
I find myself longing for simplicity. Large, open spaces, time at home, cleanliness. I don't think this is a coincidence. I think that I need that and even more, that I value that. Weird? Crunchy? Maybe.
I do know that I want (and have always wanted) to be authentic. I don't like hypocracy, even though I am not above it sometimes. I avoid labels for myself, and for the longest time I have feared that meant that I didn't know myself, but now I am realizing that just means that I don't fit into a box. I really want to find the things that I value, that I desire, and implement them into my life. The trick for me is, going from that being a nice idea at 10:00 in the morning to being the peace that I live with at 6:00 p.m.
I struggle with doing the things it takes to just be. I get bogged down in the details. I will have a burst of...something, and have an uber-productive day, and then it is like all my energy is spent for the longest time. It bugs me!! Establishing a pattern is the HARDEST thing for me to do, even though I know I love routine, and would thrive. Whine, whine, whine. I know the solution is to just buck up and do it! Whatever 'it' may be. Maybe if I stopped contemplating, and just started doing.
I am changing slowly, though. I accept that I am me more than I did, say 6 months ago. I remember being 17-ish and really feeling like I did not know "who I was." (like, panicking about it. is that how you spell 'panicking?') What I want to go back in time and tell myself is "Self, learning yourself is a lifelong journey. Take your time. Get to know yourself well. Spend time with others, but also spend time alone. Feelings are not wrong."
I find myself longing for simplicity. Large, open spaces, time at home, cleanliness. I don't think this is a coincidence. I think that I need that and even more, that I value that. Weird? Crunchy? Maybe.
I do know that I want (and have always wanted) to be authentic. I don't like hypocracy, even though I am not above it sometimes. I avoid labels for myself, and for the longest time I have feared that meant that I didn't know myself, but now I am realizing that just means that I don't fit into a box. I really want to find the things that I value, that I desire, and implement them into my life. The trick for me is, going from that being a nice idea at 10:00 in the morning to being the peace that I live with at 6:00 p.m.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Bottoms Up
Forgive me this moment of self-indulgence. Recovering from an eating disorder has got to be harder than being a recovering alcoholic. That probably sounds unintelligent and self-serving, and I guess it is. But you don't need alcohol to survive. If you stop drinking, you don't have to keep drinking...just not too much or too little.
However, with food...you kind of do need it to survive. You can't just stop. And with an eating disorder, it is a daily, hourly, minute-ly (ahem) battle with a) if you are eating; b) what you are eating; c) how much you are eating, etc. You can't escape it.
I had a stomach bug last week and threw up once. It was the first time in over 6 months that I had vomited. And it was involuntary, honestly. And yet, I still felt a warm sense of happiness wash over me when it happened. I have realized over the past week that with the help of meds and time, I do not have the strong desire to purge any more. That is an accomplishment. Yet, I still fight a daily battle between not eating enough and eating too much.
I used to wish to be anorexic (rather than bullemic). I coveted the willpower it took to simply not. eat. food. I guess that's just not my brand of crazy, though...I was never any good at it. I still have that thought flash through my head at times. And I am still no good at not eating.
So, I do feel that I am "better" in a sense, but the reality that I must accept is that I will live with this for the rest of my life to some degree.
However, with food...you kind of do need it to survive. You can't just stop. And with an eating disorder, it is a daily, hourly, minute-ly (ahem) battle with a) if you are eating; b) what you are eating; c) how much you are eating, etc. You can't escape it.
I had a stomach bug last week and threw up once. It was the first time in over 6 months that I had vomited. And it was involuntary, honestly. And yet, I still felt a warm sense of happiness wash over me when it happened. I have realized over the past week that with the help of meds and time, I do not have the strong desire to purge any more. That is an accomplishment. Yet, I still fight a daily battle between not eating enough and eating too much.
I used to wish to be anorexic (rather than bullemic). I coveted the willpower it took to simply not. eat. food. I guess that's just not my brand of crazy, though...I was never any good at it. I still have that thought flash through my head at times. And I am still no good at not eating.
So, I do feel that I am "better" in a sense, but the reality that I must accept is that I will live with this for the rest of my life to some degree.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Great Message
...in church, of all places! Yesterday, the homily was about choices. If someone walked up to you with two platters and on one was bad health and the other was good health...well, the choice is obvious, isn't it? We would all certainly choose good health. So, picture the same person walking up with the same two platters, but on one was cheeseburgers, fries, cake, chips, m & ms, the works, and on the other was broccoli and tofu...the choice becomes a little more difficult.
Difficult, but still basic. Our lives come down to choices. They are constant, and can be overwhelming...but we choose our outcomes. They are not handed to us. If I want to be healthy, then I need to evaluate each decision I make and choose the path that will lead to health...mentally, physically, emotionally, etc.
And yes, each time I have one of these life-changing epiphanies, they seem rather...obvious and blatant, but if I had this all figured out from the get-go, well, then life wouldn't be very fun now, would it?
Difficult, but still basic. Our lives come down to choices. They are constant, and can be overwhelming...but we choose our outcomes. They are not handed to us. If I want to be healthy, then I need to evaluate each decision I make and choose the path that will lead to health...mentally, physically, emotionally, etc.
And yes, each time I have one of these life-changing epiphanies, they seem rather...obvious and blatant, but if I had this all figured out from the get-go, well, then life wouldn't be very fun now, would it?
Monday, May 3, 2010
Things To Do Today...
As this is my venue for airing my neurotic successes (and non-successes), allow me to digress...
I have to brag on myself for mostly sticking to my house-cleaning schedule last week. Yes, many things were done after schedule....but they were done! I am not going to be on the cover of Southern Living...well, ever, but certainly not anytime soon, but I am counting this as capital 'P' Progress!!
Having a schedule WRITTEN IN BLACK AND WHITE that I can physically encounter every day is essential to me getting things done. Its just how my mind operates. I am an ESTJ on the Myers-Briggs, and while I can't tell you in detail what that means exactly, I can tell you this: I (marginally) draw my energy from other people, I don't like a lot of bullshit, I make decisions based on fact and reason rather than feelings (mostly), and I LIKE LISTS!! You would think that by the hardened age of 32 I would have realized that this would apply to housework as well as everyotherthingikeeplistsfor. Who knew? Pressing on...
I have to brag on myself for mostly sticking to my house-cleaning schedule last week. Yes, many things were done after schedule....but they were done! I am not going to be on the cover of Southern Living...well, ever, but certainly not anytime soon, but I am counting this as capital 'P' Progress!!
Having a schedule WRITTEN IN BLACK AND WHITE that I can physically encounter every day is essential to me getting things done. Its just how my mind operates. I am an ESTJ on the Myers-Briggs, and while I can't tell you in detail what that means exactly, I can tell you this: I (marginally) draw my energy from other people, I don't like a lot of bullshit, I make decisions based on fact and reason rather than feelings (mostly), and I LIKE LISTS!! You would think that by the hardened age of 32 I would have realized that this would apply to housework as well as everyotherthingikeeplistsfor. Who knew? Pressing on...
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Clarity, Briefly
Had a good follow up with my Internist today. She is the best. Yes, I need a psychiatrist, but my Internist is my Confessor, the only one (well, her and her GI spouse) that know the tip of my secret iceberg.
I feel healthier having visited her, somehow more whole. I think that I would greatly benefit from having a counselor/therapist in the same way, but...baby steps. We are upping my dose of Prozac. Its funny, 4 months ago - although I KNEW I needed to be on something - I dreaded it. I felt as if I was admitting defeat. I should be able to manage my emotions, my behaviors, my self. Problem is...I can't. I can't do it without help. Anyway, today, even before the dose increase...I don't want to stop taking the meds. I feel as if I have been ironed out. I am able to think through things clearly and process things on what feels like a normal level. I can be outside of my head. Oh, how much do I love being outside of my head?!?!!!!
Recently, an acquaintance remarked on how they have seen me at the gym with no headphones. "I could never do that," she said. My response was that I have a lot of things to sort out up there. And it's true. I may never come to a conclusion, but I have always felt the need to focus my energy on just thinking sometimes. It may be an elaborate fantasy that I want to think through, just to escape. It may be mulling over my relationships, my shortcomings, my successes. Either way, sometimes I just have to wrap myself in silence and just exist alone with my thoughts. What I am learning is that for me, the flip side of that is just as important: I have to periodically 'check out' of my self and realize that I can...I am...functioning...and I am doing okay.
I feel healthier having visited her, somehow more whole. I think that I would greatly benefit from having a counselor/therapist in the same way, but...baby steps. We are upping my dose of Prozac. Its funny, 4 months ago - although I KNEW I needed to be on something - I dreaded it. I felt as if I was admitting defeat. I should be able to manage my emotions, my behaviors, my self. Problem is...I can't. I can't do it without help. Anyway, today, even before the dose increase...I don't want to stop taking the meds. I feel as if I have been ironed out. I am able to think through things clearly and process things on what feels like a normal level. I can be outside of my head. Oh, how much do I love being outside of my head?!?!!!!
Recently, an acquaintance remarked on how they have seen me at the gym with no headphones. "I could never do that," she said. My response was that I have a lot of things to sort out up there. And it's true. I may never come to a conclusion, but I have always felt the need to focus my energy on just thinking sometimes. It may be an elaborate fantasy that I want to think through, just to escape. It may be mulling over my relationships, my shortcomings, my successes. Either way, sometimes I just have to wrap myself in silence and just exist alone with my thoughts. What I am learning is that for me, the flip side of that is just as important: I have to periodically 'check out' of my self and realize that I can...I am...functioning...and I am doing okay.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Let It Be
Wow. I really thought I had more to say than this. I don't want to be all dark all the time, and I guess I haven't been feeling too dark at all lately to want to come here and reflect. Just a few random observations/ponderings...
I always thought that I partied a normal amount in college. I recently have been reflecting on that somewhat and am wondering if that is not so much true. I have a friend that in college swore that she saw me getting sick in a garbage can in our dorm. A fact that I always laughingly disputed...but now I wonder, did it actually happen and I have absolutely no memory of it (or ever did. I have a terrible memory).
One I was thinking about this morning is a formal party I went to my freshman year. I remember getting ready in the dorm. I was wearing the dress I had worn to junior prom. I remember getting ready, because other girls on my hall were going to a different formal than I was that night, and I remember talking about it with them. I can remember nothing else from that night. I don't remember getting picked up, I don't remember where the party was, I don't remember what I drank, ate, said, did....anything. Did I get so fucked up that I blacked out? (well, obviously, but I passed out a LOT, and yet still could remember things that went on) Or did something awful happen that I have deleted from my memory? It is bizarre.
I have always felt a little (probably within the range of normal) awkward in social situations, and alcohol always helps. At the time, I never thought of myself as taking it too far. But more often than not, when I started drinking, I kept going until I could drink no more. Due to not being conscious. Hmmm...
Second random thought of the day. I have always been overly inquisitive. Why not just ask? A lot of times, people will answer. Well, I got my comeuppance last week. I don't want to elaborate, but I unfortunately stumbled upon some history last week (because I asked) that I believe has very subconsciously effected my psyche and has unknowingly contributed directly to my neuroses. Getting this information has made me so much less curious about things...at least for the time being. Sometimes, there really are things you don't want to know. But when you find out, you can't go back. I feel like my whole world has been rocked off of its axis. And yet, at the same time, nothing has changed. And I think that I feel oddly comforted, somewhere in the depths of being completely horrified, by this knowledge.
Life goes on.
I always thought that I partied a normal amount in college. I recently have been reflecting on that somewhat and am wondering if that is not so much true. I have a friend that in college swore that she saw me getting sick in a garbage can in our dorm. A fact that I always laughingly disputed...but now I wonder, did it actually happen and I have absolutely no memory of it (or ever did. I have a terrible memory).
One I was thinking about this morning is a formal party I went to my freshman year. I remember getting ready in the dorm. I was wearing the dress I had worn to junior prom. I remember getting ready, because other girls on my hall were going to a different formal than I was that night, and I remember talking about it with them. I can remember nothing else from that night. I don't remember getting picked up, I don't remember where the party was, I don't remember what I drank, ate, said, did....anything. Did I get so fucked up that I blacked out? (well, obviously, but I passed out a LOT, and yet still could remember things that went on) Or did something awful happen that I have deleted from my memory? It is bizarre.
I have always felt a little (probably within the range of normal) awkward in social situations, and alcohol always helps. At the time, I never thought of myself as taking it too far. But more often than not, when I started drinking, I kept going until I could drink no more. Due to not being conscious. Hmmm...
Second random thought of the day. I have always been overly inquisitive. Why not just ask? A lot of times, people will answer. Well, I got my comeuppance last week. I don't want to elaborate, but I unfortunately stumbled upon some history last week (because I asked) that I believe has very subconsciously effected my psyche and has unknowingly contributed directly to my neuroses. Getting this information has made me so much less curious about things...at least for the time being. Sometimes, there really are things you don't want to know. But when you find out, you can't go back. I feel like my whole world has been rocked off of its axis. And yet, at the same time, nothing has changed. And I think that I feel oddly comforted, somewhere in the depths of being completely horrified, by this knowledge.
Life goes on.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Thought for the Day
I found this website, and it makes me smile.
http://operationbeautiful.com/
Its important to remember that we are not alone, and that we are all beautiful.
http://operationbeautiful.com/
Its important to remember that we are not alone, and that we are all beautiful.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Starting....Now.
I have done nothing but eat for the past week. And how! Junk, junk, junque!!! It has been disgusting, and I have probably put on at least 8 pounds (in two weeks, I'll say). However, through the magic of prozac, I am secure in the fact that I will regain ground quickly and get back into my healthy eating routine. And, truly, I want to. I feel gross.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Untitled
I have a problem adjusting to change. After my first child was born, I went through some post-partum depression, that was nasty and unexpected. Again, as is a theme with me, I did not seek help and I SHOULD HAVE. I wasted so much time feeling rotten and something could have been done about it! Prideful and stupid!!
I was tired, sluggish, confused, sad, angry...and it festered. I definately was not able to connect with my baby like I thought I should be...and I was ashamed!! I always thought motherhood would come easy to me...not that I assumed it would be easy, but I thought I would be a natural (afterall, I had a good example in my mom). I think that the lesson I had to learn - and that I am still learning - is that I am not my mom. And that is okay.
I never hurt my baby, but I did have really ODD thoughts during this time. I was irrationally terrified to hold her on a sidewalk or the driveway, cause I had overwhelming thoughts of dropping her. Also, I remember at night when she would wake I would be so exhausted that I would think "I can just put her outside of the window and then it will be quiet and I can sleep." And I was lucid enought to KNOW how crazy that was...but it was still a thought that I had!
Anyway, that was the first round of real depression that I have dealt with. Well, not counting my freshman year of college. But that is another story for another time. At any rate, I still feel reverberations from the PPD. In some ways, it is a funk that never entirely went away. I read an article about rumination this week and that fits me to a 'T.' I over-analyze myself until there is nothing there.
I was tired, sluggish, confused, sad, angry...and it festered. I definately was not able to connect with my baby like I thought I should be...and I was ashamed!! I always thought motherhood would come easy to me...not that I assumed it would be easy, but I thought I would be a natural (afterall, I had a good example in my mom). I think that the lesson I had to learn - and that I am still learning - is that I am not my mom. And that is okay.
I never hurt my baby, but I did have really ODD thoughts during this time. I was irrationally terrified to hold her on a sidewalk or the driveway, cause I had overwhelming thoughts of dropping her. Also, I remember at night when she would wake I would be so exhausted that I would think "I can just put her outside of the window and then it will be quiet and I can sleep." And I was lucid enought to KNOW how crazy that was...but it was still a thought that I had!
Anyway, that was the first round of real depression that I have dealt with. Well, not counting my freshman year of college. But that is another story for another time. At any rate, I still feel reverberations from the PPD. In some ways, it is a funk that never entirely went away. I read an article about rumination this week and that fits me to a 'T.' I over-analyze myself until there is nothing there.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Scratch That Off the List
This weekend has been good. I have done most everything that I endeavored to do. Thanks to the weather, I even got 'wash the car' scratched off the list!! I have had a few too many jelly beans (darn the Easter aisle!), but I have been able to get exercise both days. I do love the look of a completed list!!
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Soon You'll Be Walking Out the Door...
Writing is easier when I am not happy with myself. This week has been okay on that front. I have done okay with my food choices the last few days and have exercised every day this week, including today, and it is 9:30 on Saturday morning. Exercise is a key to my sanity. It is hard sometimes to make myself do it, but I find that if I stay is a real routine....every day....then it is doable. Is doable a word? Or should I hyphenate? Oh well, I can do it. Enough.
Actually, I am that way with everything, food, exercise, house cleaning, checkbook balancing*, etc. As long as I can stay in my strict routine, I do all right. It has taken me nine years of adult married life to realize this, and yet I still have trouble forcing myself to stay on track. I just get diverted really easily. And then I get overwhelmed. And when I am overwhelmed, I cease functioning. It is easier to avoid the undesirable task than to just do it and get it over with. And then it grows...it is a cycle and I recognize it. Today, this morning, I am owning that.
So, I make lists. I have a list for this weekend that, if I get everything scratched off will leave me with a pretty clean house, happy kids, and an exercised body and rested mind. That is a tall order!! I just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other...
*another confession: I really don't balance my checkbook. Mea culpa.
Actually, I am that way with everything, food, exercise, house cleaning, checkbook balancing*, etc. As long as I can stay in my strict routine, I do all right. It has taken me nine years of adult married life to realize this, and yet I still have trouble forcing myself to stay on track. I just get diverted really easily. And then I get overwhelmed. And when I am overwhelmed, I cease functioning. It is easier to avoid the undesirable task than to just do it and get it over with. And then it grows...it is a cycle and I recognize it. Today, this morning, I am owning that.
So, I make lists. I have a list for this weekend that, if I get everything scratched off will leave me with a pretty clean house, happy kids, and an exercised body and rested mind. That is a tall order!! I just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other...
*another confession: I really don't balance my checkbook. Mea culpa.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Background
I am not petite. Never was, never will be. The first time that I remember being big, though, was in the third grade when my dance instructor told me (and the class) that I would be the first to develop breasts. I don't really think she was taking a stab, but even at 9 years old I had the accute sense that it was because I was fat. And let me clarify, I wear my weight pretty well. If you looked at 9 year old me, you would see a girl, a little chubby, but by no means would you think 'fatty.' Baby fat.
In the fourth grade, the teacher got each of us in front of the room and weighed us. Not for announcing the info or anything, but I still question why in the hell she needed to know our weight. I weighed 100 pounds. I was embarassed.
In middle school and through high school my parents would try anything to get me to exercise and diet. They are both physically fit and my mom is petite. I felt singled out, though I would have never admitted it at the time. On a couple of occasions, I remeber making deals (bribes?) to lose XX amount of weight in a certain time and getting a $200 shopping spree. I never got the shopping spree. And still through high school, I was big, but not grotesque or anything. If I had lost 20 pounds, I would have been perfectly acceptable.
I am writing all of this to force myself to try to remember how I got to this point. I am not placing blame, just trying to peel away the layers of the onion.
One more insight for now. I don't like to do things at which I may not succeed. This extended from me not trying out for cheerleader in middle school, to not taking the $200 bribe. I make excuses for not doing things when the real reason is that I am afraid to fail. I think that my body feeds into that as well. It kept me insulated from having to do things that I may have failed at.
Of course....I could also have succeeded.
In the fourth grade, the teacher got each of us in front of the room and weighed us. Not for announcing the info or anything, but I still question why in the hell she needed to know our weight. I weighed 100 pounds. I was embarassed.
In middle school and through high school my parents would try anything to get me to exercise and diet. They are both physically fit and my mom is petite. I felt singled out, though I would have never admitted it at the time. On a couple of occasions, I remeber making deals (bribes?) to lose XX amount of weight in a certain time and getting a $200 shopping spree. I never got the shopping spree. And still through high school, I was big, but not grotesque or anything. If I had lost 20 pounds, I would have been perfectly acceptable.
I am writing all of this to force myself to try to remember how I got to this point. I am not placing blame, just trying to peel away the layers of the onion.
One more insight for now. I don't like to do things at which I may not succeed. This extended from me not trying out for cheerleader in middle school, to not taking the $200 bribe. I make excuses for not doing things when the real reason is that I am afraid to fail. I think that my body feeds into that as well. It kept me insulated from having to do things that I may have failed at.
Of course....I could also have succeeded.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Where to Begin
I have a lifetime of neuroses to regurgitate. I don't know how to start. Maybe I'll start in the middle and then pick it all apart. Again, having no formal therapy on the subject, I'm not actually sure how to address myself. I don't like saying 'I have bullemia,' because I think that it is less something that I have and is more something that I am. But I really don't like the sound of 'I'm bullemic.' I just don't like the word. It's not pretty.
And then where do I even fall into that? I'm a recovering bullemic? I'm a bullemic on a break? A bullemic once removed? Will I ever not be bullemic, even if I am not practicing? I don't know.
Here's what I do know. I don't remember exactly how old I was the first time I made myself throw up. I was old enough to know exactly what I was doing, so 13 or 14. I knew what bullemia was, and I was desperate to try it. When I was finally successful, I was ecstatic. And then, I really just flirted with it on and off. A few times, here and there, in high school, and even less in college. Thinking back on it, I really think that some part of me assumed that I would become a full-fledged, card carrying bullemic when I went to college. But it didn't really stick then either. Maybe I liked myself just enough to keep it at bay? Maybe I was just terrified of losing my teeth?
It took until I was 30 for it to rear its ugly head again. And I let it fully envelop me. And I couldn't stop. For nearly two years.
Now, I haven't thrown up in three months. A victory, for sure. But I fear that it is just below the surface, waiting for a weak moment to resurface. So I am here to process, to confess, and to recover myself.
And then where do I even fall into that? I'm a recovering bullemic? I'm a bullemic on a break? A bullemic once removed? Will I ever not be bullemic, even if I am not practicing? I don't know.
Here's what I do know. I don't remember exactly how old I was the first time I made myself throw up. I was old enough to know exactly what I was doing, so 13 or 14. I knew what bullemia was, and I was desperate to try it. When I was finally successful, I was ecstatic. And then, I really just flirted with it on and off. A few times, here and there, in high school, and even less in college. Thinking back on it, I really think that some part of me assumed that I would become a full-fledged, card carrying bullemic when I went to college. But it didn't really stick then either. Maybe I liked myself just enough to keep it at bay? Maybe I was just terrified of losing my teeth?
It took until I was 30 for it to rear its ugly head again. And I let it fully envelop me. And I couldn't stop. For nearly two years.
Now, I haven't thrown up in three months. A victory, for sure. But I fear that it is just below the surface, waiting for a weak moment to resurface. So I am here to process, to confess, and to recover myself.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Catharsis
I have an eating disorder. Probably more than one. I have not yet sought help in the form of therapy, but am currently on medication that is helping me keep things under control. I need a way to get my thoughts out of my head and hopefully worked out. Therefore, hello Internet, mind if I sit on your couch and spill my guts*? Oh yeah, and I am over 30. This isn't going to be your normal blog.
*Under the circumstances, I realize that this phrase was probably not the best choice of words.
*Under the circumstances, I realize that this phrase was probably not the best choice of words.
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