every now and again i'm compelled to go back through my stacks and read my writing from past years. today, sitting on a bed in an apartment that's mostly vacant (and soon an apartment for which i won't have to pay rent) i found myself doing just that - leafing back through my old blog. today, i was reading through a specific time period.
one year ago (plus a month) i was getting ready to leave for seattle. my husband (then boyfriend) was leaving for japan for the summer and at the time i wasn't sure if our relationship would continue past that point. and i didn't know how i felt about that uncertainty, either. i remember the feeling - mostly because i wrote about it well. it seemed as though life was based on leaving and i longed for some sort of permanence.
i wrote about getting back on track with my health habits, not wanting to part with dearly-loved roommates, leaving my scale behind, and my thoughts on my eating disorder recovery.
in a discussion with my husband earlier today i said something along the lines of it just feels like i was still really naive right before i went to seattle. it changed something in me and i've grown so much.
and then on the bed reading my blog post from a year ago about moderation, self-forgiveness, confidence and self-love, i was taking notes (and taking to heart) what this girl was saying. sometimes we were better at some things than we are now, and it's funny when we don't remember.
that doesn't make much sense. what i'm trying to say (i think) is i realized that a year ago i had a pretty good (and healthy, really genuinely healthy) grip on parts of life that i struggle with from day to day the last while. and it surprised me when i started telling myself i should take the advice of the younger-me.
basically, where we are now is a product of where we've been (right?). but that doesn't mean that we're better in all areas. and it doesn't mean that we're worse in all areas, either. it just means different. and sometimes we have to relearn lessons over and over and over and over before they really stick, really get deep down in our heads and our hearts.
so i looked back. and realized that i'm relearning a lot of lessons that i really used to have a good, fairly firm grip on.
deep breath.
i'm not who i was. i'm who i am.
and it's okay to not be as on top of things as i was a year ago. and not just because of the space between. sure, the space of 13 months counts for something, but when there's no space between (take last week) and one minute i'm fine and dandy and looking at how far i've come and the next i'm wallowing in distress because i'll never be good enough, it's okay. it's okay that there isn't space between.
that was quite a ramble.
the whole take-home here is just that i'm okay the way i am at this very instant. disregarding where i was yesterday or a year ago, i'm okay right now - wherever and however i am.
and so are you, yaknow?
Saturday, May 19
Friday, May 18
the city that cries at least once a day
i think about seattle quite a bit, lately. about how i've come to really love the concept of seattle in my mind despite how difficult it was to be there a year ago. i hated seattle while i was there. at least, i thought it was seattle i hated. after the passage of time has dulled the experience slightly, i've been able to separate the experience (which was something close to hell) from the city, which i distinctly remember falling in love with (at some moments). i miss it, i'll be honest.
what really keeps my attention though, when i think of the whole three-and-a-half months that was my adventure on the west coast is how impossible it was to write. sure, i tried. for the first few weeks, i woke up early and wrote while i was eating breakfast. and then i started work, and then i started feeling less and smaller and not enough. and then i stopped eating breakfast and stopped running and didn't wash my hair for days and days and days at a time. after which i stopped writing altogether.
several times i've heard eating disorders described in a nutshell as simply not-wanting-to-feel. yeah, there are a multitude of other things that go along with it, but if i had to boil it down to one thing, at this point in my life i would say the same thing. the desperate suppressing of emotion, to the point that everything becomes distorted and simple tasks like getting out of bed and dressing yourself are. so. impossibly. difficult.
during the past five years, my struggle with food has dragged me underwater several times. sometimes it's been a fight to keep my head above, and every so often i've had a short period where i simply floated. in seattle i was drowning with my hands tied.
and that's why i stopped writing. once in the cycle of negative emotion, numbing and food abuse, it makes complete sense to do all you can to stop feeling the negative emotions in hopes that you'll be able to feel happy and function normally again. so i stopped writing because in order to write i had to open myself up. i had to be vulnerable and ask myself what i was thinking about and what i was feeling. and i couldn't do that without risking the start of the cycle all over again.
so i stopped.
it's still a wonder to me that from a place so void of self-compassion i exited my stay in seattle with something akin to determination. toward the end, there was healing. or the seeds of it.
but it's taken me longer to be able to write again. at first, the idea of writing at all was daunting. i didn't want to be that vulnerable ever, ever again. old habits die hard, i guess. i've always loved to write and after forming a three-year habit of writing several times a week, a summer-long hiatus didn't break it. i started writing about every day things, common things, at first. in places no one would ever see.
but i'm getting braver.
and if there's anything i've learned from my experience in seattle and the relationships that spanned over and through the dark time, it's that you can't bury those emotions forever. they'll always find a way out.
so i'm going to start writing more about my adventure on the west coast. because it's been on my mind. and because i'm working on feeling again. and because a lot of things happened in seattle that most people don't talk about. and because we'd all be a lot better off it we did talk about those things.
so here goes.
what really keeps my attention though, when i think of the whole three-and-a-half months that was my adventure on the west coast is how impossible it was to write. sure, i tried. for the first few weeks, i woke up early and wrote while i was eating breakfast. and then i started work, and then i started feeling less and smaller and not enough. and then i stopped eating breakfast and stopped running and didn't wash my hair for days and days and days at a time. after which i stopped writing altogether.
several times i've heard eating disorders described in a nutshell as simply not-wanting-to-feel. yeah, there are a multitude of other things that go along with it, but if i had to boil it down to one thing, at this point in my life i would say the same thing. the desperate suppressing of emotion, to the point that everything becomes distorted and simple tasks like getting out of bed and dressing yourself are. so. impossibly. difficult.
during the past five years, my struggle with food has dragged me underwater several times. sometimes it's been a fight to keep my head above, and every so often i've had a short period where i simply floated. in seattle i was drowning with my hands tied.
and that's why i stopped writing. once in the cycle of negative emotion, numbing and food abuse, it makes complete sense to do all you can to stop feeling the negative emotions in hopes that you'll be able to feel happy and function normally again. so i stopped writing because in order to write i had to open myself up. i had to be vulnerable and ask myself what i was thinking about and what i was feeling. and i couldn't do that without risking the start of the cycle all over again.
so i stopped.
it's still a wonder to me that from a place so void of self-compassion i exited my stay in seattle with something akin to determination. toward the end, there was healing. or the seeds of it.
but it's taken me longer to be able to write again. at first, the idea of writing at all was daunting. i didn't want to be that vulnerable ever, ever again. old habits die hard, i guess. i've always loved to write and after forming a three-year habit of writing several times a week, a summer-long hiatus didn't break it. i started writing about every day things, common things, at first. in places no one would ever see.
but i'm getting braver.
and if there's anything i've learned from my experience in seattle and the relationships that spanned over and through the dark time, it's that you can't bury those emotions forever. they'll always find a way out.
so i'm going to start writing more about my adventure on the west coast. because it's been on my mind. and because i'm working on feeling again. and because a lot of things happened in seattle that most people don't talk about. and because we'd all be a lot better off it we did talk about those things.
so here goes.
Tuesday, May 15
the elderly of abilene
tonight was grocery shopping night. actually, that should have been last night, but other things came up and grocery shopping was put off until tomorrow - which is fairly typical. the list was long, my husband and i were both tired, it was late and we were hungry.
once we got to the check-out stand and started putting groceries on the conveyor belt, i remembered we needed bananas. so i took off to grab some. while i was gone, taylor finished putting our groceries on the belt and began swiping his card and punching in the numbers. as i walked back up to the stand, the older woman behind us finished placing her groceries behind ours. it wasn't much: a couple bags of chips, a few bottled drinks. she had a plastic separator between our items. but as i walked up behind her to place the bananas in our section, she reached out quickly {sooo discretely} and took the can of olives from our section and placed them in her own. just one can of olives. with her groceries there was no way she could have thought it was hers - she had deliberately taken the can of olives from us to pay for them and take them home herself.
confused, as i set down the bananas i looked at the can of olives and then up into her face. she looked away quickly. i had seen her take them - she had seen me watch her take them. i was only standing a foot away from her {and right in front of her} when she had.
my first impulse was to reach in front of her, take the can of olives and give it to the cashier to place safely in a bag and into our cart. but i froze. i couldn't do that - what if she started a scene, accused me of stealing her food? i wanted to say something. ma'am, those are my olives. that's all it would have taken, probably. but who knows? i froze. my husband paid, and spun our cart away and out into the parking lot.
she took my can of olives and with it my hope for american society {for the day}. have we really fallen so far and become so used to instant gratification that we would steal from a stranger on that kind of an impulse?
she didn't break any laws - she paid for the darn can of olives. all she did was greatly inconvenience the people in front of her to satisfy her instantaneous craving for olives. she could have waited until her next shopping trip. she could have asked the cashier to wait while she quickly grabbed another can from the isle we were standing right next to. heck, she could have told me she was tired and asked if i would grab her a can of olives while she paid. i would have. happily.
but steal my can of olives? really?
while working at red mango {which thankfully is completely over-with} i heard many an ancient person come for a cup of coffee and complain about my generation's sense of entitlement. after today, i have no sympathy for them at all. they may have lived in a better world once upon a time. but today, 70 year old women feel entitled to steal from the grocery carts of twenty-something-year-olds. if that's not an entitlement complex, i don't know what is.
thanks to you, old woman, my pasta salad will be entirely without olives this week.
once we got to the check-out stand and started putting groceries on the conveyor belt, i remembered we needed bananas. so i took off to grab some. while i was gone, taylor finished putting our groceries on the belt and began swiping his card and punching in the numbers. as i walked back up to the stand, the older woman behind us finished placing her groceries behind ours. it wasn't much: a couple bags of chips, a few bottled drinks. she had a plastic separator between our items. but as i walked up behind her to place the bananas in our section, she reached out quickly {sooo discretely} and took the can of olives from our section and placed them in her own. just one can of olives. with her groceries there was no way she could have thought it was hers - she had deliberately taken the can of olives from us to pay for them and take them home herself.
confused, as i set down the bananas i looked at the can of olives and then up into her face. she looked away quickly. i had seen her take them - she had seen me watch her take them. i was only standing a foot away from her {and right in front of her} when she had.
my first impulse was to reach in front of her, take the can of olives and give it to the cashier to place safely in a bag and into our cart. but i froze. i couldn't do that - what if she started a scene, accused me of stealing her food? i wanted to say something. ma'am, those are my olives. that's all it would have taken, probably. but who knows? i froze. my husband paid, and spun our cart away and out into the parking lot.
she took my can of olives and with it my hope for american society {for the day}. have we really fallen so far and become so used to instant gratification that we would steal from a stranger on that kind of an impulse?
she didn't break any laws - she paid for the darn can of olives. all she did was greatly inconvenience the people in front of her to satisfy her instantaneous craving for olives. she could have waited until her next shopping trip. she could have asked the cashier to wait while she quickly grabbed another can from the isle we were standing right next to. heck, she could have told me she was tired and asked if i would grab her a can of olives while she paid. i would have. happily.
but steal my can of olives? really?
while working at red mango {which thankfully is completely over-with} i heard many an ancient person come for a cup of coffee and complain about my generation's sense of entitlement. after today, i have no sympathy for them at all. they may have lived in a better world once upon a time. but today, 70 year old women feel entitled to steal from the grocery carts of twenty-something-year-olds. if that's not an entitlement complex, i don't know what is.
thanks to you, old woman, my pasta salad will be entirely without olives this week.
Monday, May 14
fat talk
i was re-reading a few of my favorite posts from the brunette bombshell on body image, eating disorder recovery and food, when i came across this video. sure, it's a few years old. but it gave me goosebumps. it has me thinking of how many times i let the way i look {or my perception of my appearance} dictate my actions. this week i'll be more aware of what i say and think. i don't want to be one of the many perpetuating a culture in which losing weight is the ultimate goal.
bb&b and some captain america
every once in a while, my husband will call from the front room something like "you have to come look at this!" this captain america comic is one of my favorites of his finds yet. someday i'm going to either buy or make a really massive reproduction and hang it on the wall in my living room. really. i love it that much.
also, i probably love it that much because we watched captain america this last weekend. fantastic movie, really. it's fun, smart, and the characters are just flat out good. and that's my favorite thing about it: characters that make you think yeah, i wanna be more like that.
as part of the same date {sub shopping and a movie for dinner and a movie}, we went to bed, bath, and beyond to blow the $50 gift card we've had since our wedding. it was one of the funniest shopping trips i've ever been on. it took us well over an hour and a half to figure out how to spend 50 dollars. typically, i'd have that money spent in a flash. we even had a list! but we wandered around the shopping loop about six times before buying more kitchen supplies. as if our kitchen wasn't stuffed enough.
we ended up with a garlic press, a new can opener {which will restore taylor's sanity}, a beautiful glass pie pan, a big-enough bamboo cutting board, ice trays, and a misto. yes, i've wanted a misto for several years now. ever since ari moved into the fleur-de-lis apartment and brought with her the coolest little olive oil sprayer to replace our pam. the misto is one of the coolest things ever. i think. and now i have one. it was a last minute grab as the store was closing, and it put us $5 over, buuut since i've already used it about twelve times, i think it was probably worth it.
the things we wanted but didn't find have been on my mind, though: a littler box, food and water dishes for a little creature, and a food processor {that one might be a few years...}. but the cat stuff... well, that's in the making. after we both get jobs. oh money. sometimes i love the left-over wedding gift cards just because they let us buy things that aren't exactly necessities, but are pretty darn desirable. like a misto.
and yeah, the cat's a necessity, but it'll just have to be pending for few months more until we pay tuition and can find money for food afterward. then we'll go look at cats. until then, i'm avoiding them for fear of not being able to resist. you know..
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)