re [SHIFTING] Focus

I wonder if I will always subconsciously seek to deepen the despair that sweeps quietly around my ankles. How easy it is to fall prey to the tap-tap-tapping of yet another inaudible scolding inside my head. For every lie I believe, there are a thousand more clawing away at the thin veneer I call my skin.

I found myself last night, face covered in tears. My soul aching for some sort of escape. My heart sobbing out of illegitimate sorrows, a sort of weeping that can find no comfort except in grief.

And I remember the depression. Not the lapses of sadness in everyday life, but the pervasive black cloak of heaviness that weighs down each breath I take. The lack of anything and everything. The desire to run, but the strength to do nothing about it in the meantime. The loneliness that accompanies it. Lying naked on the street, waiting for someone to be looking the other way.

But I know the way out, and its companion is Action. And it bids me to move, if ever so slowly, and escape emotional asphixiation once again. My feet drag, my limbs cry out for rest, but not tonight. I am still fighting, still living with my head above the water.

Because that's what I am.

A fighter.

Things to cross off my list...

The nice thing about making progress in your recovery is scoffing at the feeble attempts of the ed to entice you back into the game. Oh, how pride leads to you-know-what, though.

I've been kickin' it on my own for awhile now, since earlier this year. Things have been going well, pretty darn well, I might add, for the past few months. I made it through some very dark days as I watched my life as I had known it (home, spouse, friends, security) slip away.

Some really great things have happened as well, some very unexpected things that have altered my entire life for good. Reasons to stay healthy. To stay on track. Reasons for which I can never go back to my old life. It's kinda scary. I don't deserve anything, yet I've been blessed beyond all imagination.

So I'm sucking it up, and going back to therapy. I'm not looking forward to rehashing the past - I just want to focus on the future. So why can't I set the agenda, and work on ways to cope with the future instead of drudge up things long gone?

Just because I still have ed thoughts doesn't mean I haven't dealt with previous issues in my life - it just means I need new and better skills to deal with what lays ahead.

Right?

Tonight

I read PostSecret and cried.

Alot.

Pet Peeve Friday: So, what do you do?

This is one of those phrases that just rolls off the tip of the tongue when there's not much else available. I didn't think much of it until I read somewhere just how awkward it really is.

"What do you do?"

Well, I breathe. I eat. I sleep. I take my dog for a walk each day. I struggle with my self esteem. Sometimes I play dress up. I listen to music. I brush up on my French.

If someone wants to know the answer to that question in the way that we intended it, wouldn't the more correct phrase be:

How do you make a living?

or

How is it that you pay your bills?

Really....it's kind of unsettling when you think about it. Because where does your mind go when you hear,

"I'm in Marketing" (likes to drink)

"I'm in Sales" (likes to drink AND has no shame)

"I'm a hairstylist" (knows how to keep a secret)

"I'm a bartender" (likes to party and flirts like nobody's business)

"I'm in Finance" (snooooooooooooze....hey I was a Finance major, so I'm not knocking it. Just pointing out the general perception!)

But really, judgements aside, how would we sum up people in the first few minutes of meeting them without knowing what they spend their time doing most of the day? Perhaps it's because, like children, we assume that people make their living doing what they always dreamt of doing.

The cop who just pulled you over for speeding grew up wanting to save lives. Your family doctor grew up wanting to fight insurance companies for payment of services while trying to make good on hundreds of thousands of dollars in school loans. The clerk at your local convenience store wanted hours of free entertainment while making just enough money to cover their recreational activities.

Gah! Assumptions are too easy.

Someday, when someone asks me what I do, I want to be able to say, "I'm a Mom".

End of story. Because I can't think of anything that answers that question better or more completely.

Pink cheeks are the new 'healthy'

This past week marked the dividing line between life as it were, and life as it will be.

It involved a moving sale, in which the entire contents of a home well loved were disposed of and sold off. Droves of neighbors who stopped by to wish the best as life takes a new fork in the road. Many people, I hadn't seen in a few months. And in that time, I've put some serious effort into my recovery. Which includes but is not limited to:

• Three healthy, balanced meals a day that meet my caloric needs
• Snacks as my body asks for them
• No alcohol
• No pills
• Working through my feelings

I've added some weight to my frame, and I was ready for the comments to roll in. But much to my surprise, there was ONE LONE comment that repeated itself all weekend long.

"Your cheeks have color!"

"Your skin looks rosy!"

(Pinching cheek action ensued...from neighbors MY AGE ;)

So I guess that's the new healthy. I'll take it. It's endearing. Plus, I really like color. Nothing says hope and opportunity like a fresh 64 count box of crayola crayons.

I guess what I'm saying, is that it's really worth it. It's worth it to stop fighting yourself. At least give it an honest go. My biggest fear in learning to feel again was having to deal with the pain of existence. But when you work to shift your focus to that which builds up and doesn't tear down, you may just find that there is alot of joy hidden in the crevices.

And that makes the sacrifice of your ed bearable.

JOY!

Something that's always fascinated me has been the sea of distance between feeling happy and being filled with joy. Because I believe that at times, sometimes many, throughout one's life, people are happy. I'm happy (elated!) when I secure a parking spot close to the mall entrance. I'm happy when I remember where I left my keys and am in a hurry. I'm happy when I find a $5 bill in last winter's coat.

But how many times in my life have I felt joy? And though the number may be small, how many have never felt it? My eating disorder did not bring me joy. At times, it made me happy - if only for a few seconds. Before I realized that my success at losing another pound just meant I now had further to go. It made me feel smug. Proud. Hateful. But never joy.

I read some tips on Blogger Etiquette from the lovely Burp and Slurp, and realized I am entirely too guilty of keeping up on my polite-speak! My goal is to keep my whining and self-pity to a minimum. After all, isn't at least part of the reason for reading blogs to share a little laugh? Lighten up the day? We've all got it pretty tough. But finding the joy in the midst of pain - that's what quality of life is all about.

Oooooooh, that makes me think of...

Goodbye, she said.

I remember why, now, I learned to medicate my feelings.

Emotions are a hard business. In my mind, there are no grey feelings. I love, or I loathe. I hurt, or I find comfort. I find grief, or I discover joy.

I can't stop crying, because I learned how to let myself love, and to care. And now I am leaving behind those I have shared my life with over the past few years. How I could use a dose of my anorexia right now, or a few klonopin to stop the well of sadness overflowing in my heart.

Instead, I'm feeling the pain, and it hurts. I suppose the healing process will begin as time passes, but for now, my heart is heavy and my eyes swollen with tears. Love is many a splendid thing, but never is it easy.