The human body is amazing....for more reasons than I can count, but one of which is its ability to physically compensate. Whether you know it or not, there are all kinds of autonomic functions (the kind you don't have to think about, like your heart beat) that are constantly changing to accommodate everything you throw at it. One such "situation" is called partially compensated metabolic acidosis.
For my non-medically oriented audience, stick with me. Under specific conditions of duress your body can develop something called acidosis, the cliff notes on the subject are that the pH in your blood drops too low. If it drops too low it's incompatible with life, in in reality, the tolerated range is really quiet small. Nature was kind in our evolution and created autonomic functions that try their very best to "right" things before we crash and burn. In fact, you can go on for a fair amount of time before your ability to compensate is worn out...or the problem that caused the acidosis in the first place overwhelms the ability to compensate. Still with me? Any idea where I am going with this?
My current state of being is the cerebral equivalent of partially compensated metabolic acidosis. My brain has, for years, recognized the scattered disordered thoughts, the inattentiveness, the restlessness and has created ways to compensate, to accommodate it all. I makes lists down to the minutest detail so that I don't miss anything (but then usually lose the list or don't fully follow it). I use having to pee as a socially-acceptable excuse to get up and move (whether is is leaving a class, on a plane, a movie--makes no difference). I think in black and white because it gets things done--I don't know what to do with grey (it actually overwhelms me). There are set places in the house that a few select things go so I CAN'T lose them (like my wedding rings). This is, apparently, how I have compensated. There are things I have actively done to organize my life (not knowing why, mind you, other than the fact that is decreased my anxiety) and there are things that I have just done but seems to make a helluva lot more sense in hindsight. Now, this all works fine and dandy until something tips the scales and suddenly I can't compensate anymore. The expression of the loss of the ability to compensate has been panic attacks and shut down. I flap, as in my hands. And wring them too, and pull on the hair on my arms and really, everything just goes haywire--in fact, I look something akin to a schizophrenic poodle (yes, I realize its not proper English to start a sentence with a conjunction--bite me). Complete meltdown = feeling broken. I feel guilty for having lost it, incompetent for not having been able to prevent it, berate myself--then I try to pick up the pieces. Rinse and repeat--over and over again. Its exhausting--and until now, there has never been an explainable "cause." Cue entrance from stage left: ADHD!
Its hard to explain to someone who has never experienced severe anxiety what it is really like. I have tried to tell my husband that its like that moment of shock you have after a near car accident - except it lasts for hours, days, or even weeks. Its not something that you can "just stop" or choose to not have happen--its a symptom! Problem is--if you don't know what is causing the symptom, you are screwed! By now it must make sense to someone why this whole ADHD diagnosis is such a revelation??
In partially compensated metabolic diagnosis you do a number of things: figure out what the cause is, take over the role of compensating or assist the body in doing so, treat the root cause. When applied to my brain and life...well, it starts to make sense! It might have taken 20+ years to figure out the root cause (there were a lot of red herrings in there!!) but finally there is a diagnosis that actually makes sense and accounts for all the random bits and pieces: ADHD. Check. In terms of assisting my brain - treatment of ADHD should be multifacted--it's not something that magically goes away--you have to learn a way to accomodate and live with it. I started vyvanse this past Saturday--a little baby dose that will inch up slowly if I need it to (really, its a trial and error thing). I go to therapy once weekly to talk through things (there is alot of sorting through the past and unlearning some bad thoughts about myself) and for cognitive behavioral therapy. I do homework at home. For the record, those who believe that you simply fix ADHD with medication you are crazy--its something that helps you manage life but it doesn't fix anything permanently--just like tylenol doesn't permanently fix a fever. Excuse me as I clamber off my soapbox (I'll probably trip and fall anyway--I'm clumsy like that).
Don't know if this was more to try and explain things to the world or rationalize it to myself in a language I trust. In any case, its undeniable progress in the march of acceptance.
Sarah
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Saturday, November 5, 2011
It's Been While
Admittedly I have lost track of time, of myself, of the original impetus that brought me to blogging. For the few of you who used to read this, a long while back I decided to find myself, to gallantly (and somewhat blindly) delve into the human experience of actually living in your own body, and with your own thoughts, brain and head. It was (and is) a magnanimous undertaking--one that got lost for awhile. Ironically, it was lost in the process of grad school and truly following what I thought was my dream and the first real step I've ever taken that is truly an honest interest of mine. Oh how the mighty have fallen. Suffice it to say that a lot has happened since the "beginning" - maybe realization is a better term - of my quest. Its time to start again.
I was diagnosed with ADHD this week. For me, its life changing. It is not that I am am suddenly some radically different person (at least not to the outside looking in)...its just that things are beginning to make more sense. I finally feel like I can truly figure myself out. Have you ever worked on a puzzle and as you get close to the end there are only a few more pieces and your heart races in excitement (as fast as it can anyway when you are working on a 2000 piece picture of kitten and puppies with bows tied around their necks)? As you realize that you have it almost figured out, you know where those last pieces are and where they are supposed to go? The little kitten after all this time finally has both eyes (and the eyeball puzzle piece is no longer staring at you from the coffee table) and doesn't look so creepy anymore? I'm about halfway through the puzzle - in true Sarah style, the pieces are all over the place, half organized, mostly flipped upright.
ADHD. It's a pop-culture term these days--everyone flippantly says, at one point or another, "I'm so ADD" when they are having trouble focusing, can't get something done or are trying to spread their time and attention to thinly. I agree--there is reason to be skeptical. I'm slightly skeptical--my husband is more than "slightly" skeptical. At the same time, I am neither a novice or a layman (nor am I an expert for that matter)on the subject. I am a pediatric nurse practitioner. ADD and ADHD are one of the most pervasive diagnoses in a pediatrician's office--there isn't a day that goes by that you don't get asked by a parent about "it"--maybe passively think that the child you are trying to examine might have "it" or are questioning families about how their child is doing on the new medication for "it." Now I'm the one diagnosed with "it."
The point of my blog is to document my journey of self-exploration, acceptance and understanding. This is not intended to be technical--but I feel like I need to clarify something. ADHD and ADD are not diagnoses that you just suddenly "come down with" like the common cold--its a pervasive mental health diagnosis for which symptoms must have presented prior to age 7. Those who are diagnosed as adults have had symptoms for a lifetime - they may have waxed and waned depending on the situation, changed over time, or been crowded out by co-morbid diagnoses like anxiety and depression--but they have always been there. Regardless of whether ADD/ADHD are identified as a child or an adult--it is rarely a clear-cut picture and is never a simple diagnosis. There is no single test that gives a definitive yes or no--no blood test or single physical finding. There are a number of screening tools, questionnaires, checklists and observational tools that have been thoughtfully and scientifically developed that have high sensitivity and validity for detecting ADD/ADHD symptoms and correlating them with the DSM criteria. Its just as valid a diagnosis as a "physical" problem, like diabetes, high blood pressure or a broken leg--but more based on qualitative data. Which DOESN'T mean its any less real--just saying. I think I have lost track with where I was going with this (what the real end goal was)--in fact, I know I have...I guess the point is that while it may seem that "everyone" has ADHD, in fact, everyone doesn't.
Explaining Myself...
You know, I will openly admit (and have no problem doing so) that I have had my fair share of mental health issues in the last 28 years of life. I don't have any problem talking about them--anxiety, depression, anorexia, self-mutilation. I am having trouble talking about the ADHD (at least with my immediate family and friends--clearly not with the "anonymous" world wide web). I think that, in part, it has to do with the following responses (that I have either received or I am anticipating): "Oh, I do too!" or "That's not possible - you have done so well" or "That's just the diagnosis du jour" or other less supportive than things. I get it--I get the skepticism, the suspicion--don't you think I have those feelings?? I am a relatively accomplished person for being 28--I went to a prestigious undergraduate program, have successfully attended graduate school, matriculating with a dual master's degree and 4.0GPA. I live in a single family home that we "own" (I only say that since no one "owns" their home anymore--the bank is really just letting us pretend we all do), a wonderful husband, some excellent friends and relatively successful career. I don't fit the (stereo)typical profile--so clearly I can't have ADHD. I think that is why I don't feel like talking to anyone close to me about it--because I feel like I have to argue or prove the diagnosis, explain my whole life and how it supports the diagnosis, and then wonder if they believe me. Its easier to just not say a word for now. Funny that no one ever grilled me about the "other" mental health diagnoses I've had. I feel defensive. It doesn't help that my husband is one main people questioning it...Here's the thing-- I was diagnosed through a series of medically validated qualitative tests by a board-certified and well-respected psychiatrist whom I trust. I have agonized over the possibility--spent hours mentally reviewing my past, scrutinizing different parts of my mental-self, facing the things I despise about myself head-on and actively ignore whenever possible. And you know what--things finally make sense. I can finally see how the puzzle fits together--and for ONCE in my life I finally feel like I have some answers. Its like putting the 3D glasses on in the movie theater 30 minutes into the film--the images finally make sense as opposed to some red-blue double image that gives you a headache. Does it mean that you instantly understand everything you missed? No--you have to go back and think through and process all that you saw in the purple diplopic fuzz so that you understand why the main character is now standing nude in a ball-pit with a sombrero on and why that is funny. It also doesn't mean that you will fully understand the plot now that you have the right glasses on (though you do have a better shot for sure) or that you will know how it ends. I finally have my 3D glasses on. I'd prefer being offered tape to keep them in place as opposed to being told they don't fit and I should take them off and find some other pair.
This has been long winded--I realize--but honestly, its not for you--its for me. In fact, its apparently one of the coping skills I have culled over time--I work though things by writing them out, arranging and rearranging them until they make sense--its an "active" coping skill. In anycase, my brain is tired, a little jumbled, and honestly I am having trouble focusing at this point. So off I will flit to any number of other things I am actively working on but never actually finishing. One day I will. Not today...and you know what? I'm okay with that.
Sarah
I was diagnosed with ADHD this week. For me, its life changing. It is not that I am am suddenly some radically different person (at least not to the outside looking in)...its just that things are beginning to make more sense. I finally feel like I can truly figure myself out. Have you ever worked on a puzzle and as you get close to the end there are only a few more pieces and your heart races in excitement (as fast as it can anyway when you are working on a 2000 piece picture of kitten and puppies with bows tied around their necks)? As you realize that you have it almost figured out, you know where those last pieces are and where they are supposed to go? The little kitten after all this time finally has both eyes (and the eyeball puzzle piece is no longer staring at you from the coffee table) and doesn't look so creepy anymore? I'm about halfway through the puzzle - in true Sarah style, the pieces are all over the place, half organized, mostly flipped upright.
ADHD. It's a pop-culture term these days--everyone flippantly says, at one point or another, "I'm so ADD" when they are having trouble focusing, can't get something done or are trying to spread their time and attention to thinly. I agree--there is reason to be skeptical. I'm slightly skeptical--my husband is more than "slightly" skeptical. At the same time, I am neither a novice or a layman (nor am I an expert for that matter)on the subject. I am a pediatric nurse practitioner. ADD and ADHD are one of the most pervasive diagnoses in a pediatrician's office--there isn't a day that goes by that you don't get asked by a parent about "it"--maybe passively think that the child you are trying to examine might have "it" or are questioning families about how their child is doing on the new medication for "it." Now I'm the one diagnosed with "it."
The point of my blog is to document my journey of self-exploration, acceptance and understanding. This is not intended to be technical--but I feel like I need to clarify something. ADHD and ADD are not diagnoses that you just suddenly "come down with" like the common cold--its a pervasive mental health diagnosis for which symptoms must have presented prior to age 7. Those who are diagnosed as adults have had symptoms for a lifetime - they may have waxed and waned depending on the situation, changed over time, or been crowded out by co-morbid diagnoses like anxiety and depression--but they have always been there. Regardless of whether ADD/ADHD are identified as a child or an adult--it is rarely a clear-cut picture and is never a simple diagnosis. There is no single test that gives a definitive yes or no--no blood test or single physical finding. There are a number of screening tools, questionnaires, checklists and observational tools that have been thoughtfully and scientifically developed that have high sensitivity and validity for detecting ADD/ADHD symptoms and correlating them with the DSM criteria. Its just as valid a diagnosis as a "physical" problem, like diabetes, high blood pressure or a broken leg--but more based on qualitative data. Which DOESN'T mean its any less real--just saying. I think I have lost track with where I was going with this (what the real end goal was)--in fact, I know I have...I guess the point is that while it may seem that "everyone" has ADHD, in fact, everyone doesn't.
Explaining Myself...
You know, I will openly admit (and have no problem doing so) that I have had my fair share of mental health issues in the last 28 years of life. I don't have any problem talking about them--anxiety, depression, anorexia, self-mutilation. I am having trouble talking about the ADHD (at least with my immediate family and friends--clearly not with the "anonymous" world wide web). I think that, in part, it has to do with the following responses (that I have either received or I am anticipating): "Oh, I do too!" or "That's not possible - you have done so well" or "That's just the diagnosis du jour" or other less supportive than things. I get it--I get the skepticism, the suspicion--don't you think I have those feelings?? I am a relatively accomplished person for being 28--I went to a prestigious undergraduate program, have successfully attended graduate school, matriculating with a dual master's degree and 4.0GPA. I live in a single family home that we "own" (I only say that since no one "owns" their home anymore--the bank is really just letting us pretend we all do), a wonderful husband, some excellent friends and relatively successful career. I don't fit the (stereo)typical profile--so clearly I can't have ADHD. I think that is why I don't feel like talking to anyone close to me about it--because I feel like I have to argue or prove the diagnosis, explain my whole life and how it supports the diagnosis, and then wonder if they believe me. Its easier to just not say a word for now. Funny that no one ever grilled me about the "other" mental health diagnoses I've had. I feel defensive. It doesn't help that my husband is one main people questioning it...Here's the thing-- I was diagnosed through a series of medically validated qualitative tests by a board-certified and well-respected psychiatrist whom I trust. I have agonized over the possibility--spent hours mentally reviewing my past, scrutinizing different parts of my mental-self, facing the things I despise about myself head-on and actively ignore whenever possible. And you know what--things finally make sense. I can finally see how the puzzle fits together--and for ONCE in my life I finally feel like I have some answers. Its like putting the 3D glasses on in the movie theater 30 minutes into the film--the images finally make sense as opposed to some red-blue double image that gives you a headache. Does it mean that you instantly understand everything you missed? No--you have to go back and think through and process all that you saw in the purple diplopic fuzz so that you understand why the main character is now standing nude in a ball-pit with a sombrero on and why that is funny. It also doesn't mean that you will fully understand the plot now that you have the right glasses on (though you do have a better shot for sure) or that you will know how it ends. I finally have my 3D glasses on. I'd prefer being offered tape to keep them in place as opposed to being told they don't fit and I should take them off and find some other pair.
This has been long winded--I realize--but honestly, its not for you--its for me. In fact, its apparently one of the coping skills I have culled over time--I work though things by writing them out, arranging and rearranging them until they make sense--its an "active" coping skill. In anycase, my brain is tired, a little jumbled, and honestly I am having trouble focusing at this point. So off I will flit to any number of other things I am actively working on but never actually finishing. One day I will. Not today...and you know what? I'm okay with that.
Sarah
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Reality and Epiphitamous Moments
Okay...yeah, last semester handed me my ass is a brown paper bag. NO JOKE! I am serious--it is pretty bad that I cannot account for August-December of 2009. It doesn't so much bother me that I cannot account for my time (although that is distantly disturbing)--but rather that I cannot account for what I learned. In 130 days I will graduate and take a test and be charged with young, beautiful, innocent lives--ACK!!!!! I will take a test that will say that I am qualified (yes, my 4.0 average will testament that I will likely pass the test the first time around) but will I really feel that way.??
There is a lot that has happen, mainly in the last 2 weeks when I have actually had the time to think about my life and course of action. There are a number of books that have guided my thoughts...including The Happiness Project and How to Unclutter Your Life in a Week.....admittedly I have yet to read either cover to cover. I am mildly obsessed with the DVD the Secret. In the end, I have to wonder whether it really matters what the impetus for change is as long as change occurs...I wrote this in an email to my bestest friend in the whole wide world today (and I might have been a little drunk...I'll admit):
"You are the only person who has every really understood these moments in time...the only one who has taken them for what they are and raced me to the finish line with them whether they are real or true or not--my inspiration. You cannot fail at something if you never do it. If you fail to try then you cannot fail--but you cannot do anything. What is the worst thing that happens if you fail? Typically you worry that someone will laugh or ridicule you--sometimes there is money at stake. But how will you ever know that you have failed if you never try? How will you ever know what you are good and amazing at if you never attempt it? Will you spend your life forever fantasizing about the things that you could be and want to be? If you never do it then you never have the opportunity to fail, to grow, to succeed! Failure is not the end point, it is the learning point. It means that there is opportunity for growth. If you had fun doing it and learning it then why does failure matter? It doesn't. Anyone can succeed successfully....its takes a special person to fail successfully. I will write a children's book and be published. I will learn to play the French horn. I will sky dive and walk the great wall of china....I like epiphitamous moments...tooo bad epiphatamous isn't a real word. Thank you for not rationalizing them. xoxo
S"
I think that is good for the night....stay tuned for more!
There is a lot that has happen, mainly in the last 2 weeks when I have actually had the time to think about my life and course of action. There are a number of books that have guided my thoughts...including The Happiness Project and How to Unclutter Your Life in a Week.....admittedly I have yet to read either cover to cover. I am mildly obsessed with the DVD the Secret. In the end, I have to wonder whether it really matters what the impetus for change is as long as change occurs...I wrote this in an email to my bestest friend in the whole wide world today (and I might have been a little drunk...I'll admit):
"You are the only person who has every really understood these moments in time...the only one who has taken them for what they are and raced me to the finish line with them whether they are real or true or not--my inspiration. You cannot fail at something if you never do it. If you fail to try then you cannot fail--but you cannot do anything. What is the worst thing that happens if you fail? Typically you worry that someone will laugh or ridicule you--sometimes there is money at stake. But how will you ever know that you have failed if you never try? How will you ever know what you are good and amazing at if you never attempt it? Will you spend your life forever fantasizing about the things that you could be and want to be? If you never do it then you never have the opportunity to fail, to grow, to succeed! Failure is not the end point, it is the learning point. It means that there is opportunity for growth. If you had fun doing it and learning it then why does failure matter? It doesn't. Anyone can succeed successfully....its takes a special person to fail successfully. I will write a children's book and be published. I will learn to play the French horn. I will sky dive and walk the great wall of china....I like epiphitamous moments...tooo bad epiphatamous isn't a real word. Thank you for not rationalizing them. xoxo
S"
I think that is good for the night....stay tuned for more!
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Tired...and a little defeated
I have to say that it is tiring never being able to be right about anything. Exhausting, actually. In reality, it has nothing to do with being right--it has everything to do with being heard. I could care less about being right (unless I really am SURE that I am right on the FACTUAL level)--there is really no right and wrong with feelings I don't think. That is the problem with a thinker and a feeler being married--1/2 the time it is also the problem between men and women. I don't necessarily have logic or rationale behind the way I think and feel--and just because I can't provide the rationale or logic, well, it doesn't mean that I am wrong. I can't "win" no matter what route I take, however--and it isn't even winning. If I "argue" my case, I have to provide rationale for everything that comes out of my mouth--which isn't always there--and even if I am able to put up some sort of "reasonable" defense, I am never right and can never defend myself. Not "arguing" my case is not an option either, however--I am not allowed to just sit and listen--and it isn't even about winning--just like its not about being right--what I have to say is never taken for what it is and digested--its argued and battered about--like a cat playing with a 1/2 alive mouse--eventually for self-preservation the mouse just plays dead--I can't even flippin' play dead! Why is it that I always leave the conversation feeling like the villain and feeling like I should apologize? With a relatively reasonable person (I did say relatively) such as myself, it really is not statistically possible that I am "wrong" EVERY SINGLE TIME WE "TALK." I wish I had found my voice before I got married.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Hello My Friend
I have not been here in 2 months.....and I am not really able to account for the last 2 months of my life. Truly laughable that I thought that I would be able to "work on myself" while in school, much less blog about it. I should have known that there was a snowball's chance in hell of that working out. That being said, my current mission is to merely survive.
This semester has worked me over in a way that I could never have imagined. I mean, seriously kicked my ass--and I am not done yet. I am still waiting for that point that I just don't care any longer and can just "let it all go" and not have to get straight As or worry about doing everything perfectly and right. I have a sneaking suspicion that that day will never come, at least not without some serious therapy first....one thing this semester has been good for it teaching me the value of a few free hours--although that doesn't really exist in my life.
I got to thinking the other day--what exactly happened during my childhood to screw me up and make me the way I am? That sounds as though I am not owning the mess that makes up me--but that is not really it at all--I would just like to pinpoint what started all of this. Surely there is some genetic susceptibility here, but nature is not alone in shaping humans--nurture counts too! I wish desperately that I could remember what exactly changed things. I remember being a happy kindergartner--I think. I remember the not-happy times too....like having to make my own lunch when I was in the 4th grade---that I either made my own lunch or I had to buy lunch....I remember envying all the kids whose mom's packed their lunches and wrote them nice notes on the napkins...no one ever wrote me notes after the 3rd grade. I remember my parents being unhappy and my mom being miserable. I remember trips to home depot with my dad early on Saturday mornings--I didn't really want to go and I don't think that he really wanted me there with him, but it was like some sort of routine--he had to act like he actually wanted me around when he really wanted to be alone and I had to act like I wanted to go to home depot when all I really wanted was for my dad to like me. I remember waiting at the bus stop in the dark waiting for my dad to get off the bus from the pentagon, just so I could walk 2 blocks home with him before he was angry with my mom and my mom mad at him. I remember the day he told me that I didn't need to put cheese on my hamburger because I was already heavy enough and when my mom showed me the movie 'Circle of Friends' just to prove to me that boys liked fat girls too. I remember doing things to earn my parent's praise so that they would like me....I never really thought they did...but they seemed to like it well enough when I got good grades and didn't make trouble.
The first time I thought about suicide was in the 6th grade. I think that I was 12. I wrote a note, decided who was getting what of my personal posessions. I don't remember now how I was going to do it--but I remember the feelings. I remember the night that I wrote the letter, under the covers with a flashlight in hand---emotional hurt beyond anything I had ever known--I can still feel that pain. I gave the note to a boy, who either gave it to the teacher or it got confiscated, one of the two. I don't really know what happened after that--I remember being sullen at lunch, bursting into tears on the platform that went upstairs to the classroom and then my mom being so angry with me. That sealed the deal---my emotional pain brought on disapproval and anger--I wasn't allowed to feel those feelings--it made my parents dislike me even more. I dropped it. They tried to get the guidance counselor to talk to me--I shut down. I got made fun of in school for a long time after that. It didn't matter. I had always been an outcast and different.....a loser of sorts. I think that is when I learned that it was not okay to feel the way I felt--that it only meant people would be angry with me. Was that when things really changed?
This semester has worked me over in a way that I could never have imagined. I mean, seriously kicked my ass--and I am not done yet. I am still waiting for that point that I just don't care any longer and can just "let it all go" and not have to get straight As or worry about doing everything perfectly and right. I have a sneaking suspicion that that day will never come, at least not without some serious therapy first....one thing this semester has been good for it teaching me the value of a few free hours--although that doesn't really exist in my life.
I got to thinking the other day--what exactly happened during my childhood to screw me up and make me the way I am? That sounds as though I am not owning the mess that makes up me--but that is not really it at all--I would just like to pinpoint what started all of this. Surely there is some genetic susceptibility here, but nature is not alone in shaping humans--nurture counts too! I wish desperately that I could remember what exactly changed things. I remember being a happy kindergartner--I think. I remember the not-happy times too....like having to make my own lunch when I was in the 4th grade---that I either made my own lunch or I had to buy lunch....I remember envying all the kids whose mom's packed their lunches and wrote them nice notes on the napkins...no one ever wrote me notes after the 3rd grade. I remember my parents being unhappy and my mom being miserable. I remember trips to home depot with my dad early on Saturday mornings--I didn't really want to go and I don't think that he really wanted me there with him, but it was like some sort of routine--he had to act like he actually wanted me around when he really wanted to be alone and I had to act like I wanted to go to home depot when all I really wanted was for my dad to like me. I remember waiting at the bus stop in the dark waiting for my dad to get off the bus from the pentagon, just so I could walk 2 blocks home with him before he was angry with my mom and my mom mad at him. I remember the day he told me that I didn't need to put cheese on my hamburger because I was already heavy enough and when my mom showed me the movie 'Circle of Friends' just to prove to me that boys liked fat girls too. I remember doing things to earn my parent's praise so that they would like me....I never really thought they did...but they seemed to like it well enough when I got good grades and didn't make trouble.
The first time I thought about suicide was in the 6th grade. I think that I was 12. I wrote a note, decided who was getting what of my personal posessions. I don't remember now how I was going to do it--but I remember the feelings. I remember the night that I wrote the letter, under the covers with a flashlight in hand---emotional hurt beyond anything I had ever known--I can still feel that pain. I gave the note to a boy, who either gave it to the teacher or it got confiscated, one of the two. I don't really know what happened after that--I remember being sullen at lunch, bursting into tears on the platform that went upstairs to the classroom and then my mom being so angry with me. That sealed the deal---my emotional pain brought on disapproval and anger--I wasn't allowed to feel those feelings--it made my parents dislike me even more. I dropped it. They tried to get the guidance counselor to talk to me--I shut down. I got made fun of in school for a long time after that. It didn't matter. I had always been an outcast and different.....a loser of sorts. I think that is when I learned that it was not okay to feel the way I felt--that it only meant people would be angry with me. Was that when things really changed?
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Dread
And thus it has begun--a semester that I have dreaded from afar, the semester that guarantees to hand my ass to me in a brown paper bag, without so much as a courtesy bow. I wonder whether I have made in out worse mentally than it will really be--I have a tendency to do that. I imagine the worse, make it my reality, and then live it regardless of the actual situation. It is really quite silly, actually. There is part of me that just wants to be in the thick of all of it--to be in a "routine" of school that is comfortable. I hate this beginning period--where everything is up in the air and there is this muddling sense of disorganization that plagues everything and just makes it harder--and just makes me anxious. Oh the common theme. Anxiety. I used to say that I would give anything to eat normally again--to be a normally functioning "human being" again--this is what I said when I was anorexic. Now I am an axiectic (yes, I made this word up--it is my self-description for a person often paralyzed by anxiety--also known as me). I just wish that it didn't pervade everything I do and everything I am. It dominates me--like chocolate dominates some women. It makes me worry about things that haven't happen and may not necessarily happen. It makes me act stupid or silly or paranoid or not in my right mind. I suppose that it is part of me....but I don't particularly like it. I am not anxious all the time--like at work--I am not anxious when I am not floated (being in a strange place with an unfamiliar charting system, on the other hand, is very anxiety producing). Yet, I digress. I just want it to be 3 weeks from now. Not only because it means that I will be 3 further weeks into school, but also because I will be comfortable in my routine, in how it is going to work and how I might possible be able to function. I am still struggling with getting up at 0430. I think I have mentally made this my cornerstone--I have placed some blind faith in the idea that if I get up at 0430 and exercise for an hour that somehow my routine will be solidly in place and all will be well with the world. Maybe I am wrong...maybe I am right. I have yet to explore this--or rather, I have yet to drag myself out of bed at 0430. It is just so early....so middle of the nightish. Routine = control = less anxiety = fanatacism = god knows what. There is a fine line between motivated and obsessed. On a random note, I am mildly disturbed by the fact that I will be working with the doctor that treated me for my eating disorder....seeing as I feel like I am on the cusp of the divide between normal and not. Then again, I have to remind myself that I never chose to be anorexic--I just realized one day that I was. I don't think that it was something I could have accomplished if the situation wasn't just right--how else does someone eat 300 calories a day and run 5 miles? I am not sure. It was in some ways super foolish....and in some ways superhuman. Something to fear and to be proud of. It is no longer my "badge of honor" but rather a part of my past. It doesn't mean that I don't peruse the occasional pro-anorexic website...I wonder whether it is an activity I don't participate in when I am in such stressful situations because I don't want to or because I don't think that I can. I will never know....
Monday, August 24, 2009
A Father's Wisdom
Mountain Dew Ultraviolet is gross. Fact. Not the real point here though. I love my Dad--though I don't get much time to spend with him. He is very different now than how he was growing up--though I didn't get much of a chance to know him then either. It was a bad combination of lifestyles, I guess you could say. The upshot of all of it is that I am just now really getting to know my pops. Making it that much harder is that we live 2000 miles away...it makes me sad. Very sad. When Ross (my husband) and I were visiting recently, my dad and I were talking about grad school and graduation and everything else in life. Correction. I was complaining about school and lamenting it starting again...blah blah blah. Anyway, in his wise wisdom he opened my eyes to something--something that, if I can take it to heart and live my vague understanding of it, might make the next 9 months (finishing school, not baking a baby) a little easier. "Boo, its always something else. There will always be something else. You will finish one thing and there will always be another. It isn't about the 'what' of what your are doing, but rather, the 'who'". Huh? Yeah--its not the easiest to explain in a blog--nor is is quite as easy to digest without a side of Dale's Pale Ale--but the theory behind it is that you will continue to feel as you do, no matter the task, as long as you stay the same. Again--clear as mud. Maybe if I explain it in real-life terms....
I am counting the days down to May 15th. It is my graduation day. Mentally, I feel like everything will be better if I can just get through the next 9 months--that suddenly life will be fixed. I will be happier--Ross and I will be happier. (Kind of like when I thought that being less than 90 pounds would make boys like me and my life would be perfect--no, not so much).Life will just be better. But as my dad pointed out, however, something will just take school's place. I will have something else to complain about or be anxious about or to "get through." The only way that things will really be better is if I change my view on things--my perspective--my outlook. This is daunting but give me hope--and fuels my pink high heel project. It is daunting as it takes a profuse amount of energy to change one's perspective. Hopeful, however, because it makes the next year of school potentially less scary. I am a little late in discovering this--school starts tomorrow. Or rather--I should have visited my daddy a little earlier in the summer. Nonetheless, it is a glimmer of hope.
I am counting the days down to May 15th. It is my graduation day. Mentally, I feel like everything will be better if I can just get through the next 9 months--that suddenly life will be fixed. I will be happier--Ross and I will be happier. (Kind of like when I thought that being less than 90 pounds would make boys like me and my life would be perfect--no, not so much).Life will just be better. But as my dad pointed out, however, something will just take school's place. I will have something else to complain about or be anxious about or to "get through." The only way that things will really be better is if I change my view on things--my perspective--my outlook. This is daunting but give me hope--and fuels my pink high heel project. It is daunting as it takes a profuse amount of energy to change one's perspective. Hopeful, however, because it makes the next year of school potentially less scary. I am a little late in discovering this--school starts tomorrow. Or rather--I should have visited my daddy a little earlier in the summer. Nonetheless, it is a glimmer of hope.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
CAGE
CAGE is the screening questionnaire that is used to screen for alcoholism. I took the test tonight and failed. These are the questions:
1. Have you ever felt you should cut down on your drinking?
2. Have people annoyed you by criticising your drinking?
3. Have you ever felt bad or guilty about your drinking?
4. Have you ever had a drink first thing in the morning to steady your nerves or get rid of a hangover (eye-opener)?
If you answer yes to 2 or more of these, you are at risk for a drinking problem or alcoholism. I scored a 2...it is true that I have often thought that I needed to cut back and I have often felt guilty about drinking. This scares me--it scares me to the core. It is a hard concept for me to grasp though. I don't feel abnormal--it is more that I really enjoy a glass of wine or two in the evenings after a long and stressful day at work or school or clinical....when I "drink alone" it is not hard liquor nor am I trying to hide it from anyone--I just so happen to have a glass of wine in the evenings when my husband isn't home yet. I don't hide my drinking, I don't lie about how much I drink. I certainly don't need to drink to get through the day and have never needed an eye-opener. I drink wine and beer--never hard liquor...though I don't suppose that matters. My drinking has never interfered with any of my responsibilities...but I do crave a glass of wine or two, or a beer at night. Am I an alcoholic? I wonder. I drink to relax me, to let go, to relax. I feel guilty when I have had too much to drink because I feel like crap and I act stupid. It doesn't happen too terribly often, but more often than I think is right. "Just stop" you might say--but that is where I get hung up--I am having a hard time doing that...just stopping. I don't know whether it is because of dependence or habit. I don't know if it is because I feel so stressed beyond belief half the time right now that I don't otherwise know how to chill out. It is social. It is personal. I am scared. I think that somewhere in my history there was an alcoholic...there was certainly a great grandparent addicted to gambling. Maybe I just need to get pregnant--I certainly would never drink during my pregnancy...I write this as I sip a glass of wine, alone on my couch. Hypocrit. I failed the CAGE....
The Irony of A/C
Just as I was beginning to think that a true Virginia summer would never happen, today happened. In true August fashion, it is hot and stickey outside with promises of temps nearing 100 this weekend. Ahhhh--something to look forward to. I mention this only becuase of the impact it has on every indoor activity you might possibly participate in and the obnoxious impact on my wardrobe. I don't like wearing shorts (refer back to shadows on my thighs) and yet wearing anything else in weather like this is truly oppressive. Jeans are completely out of the question and capris are borderline--thus necessitating the need for shorts. As for upper body attire, this is always a tough decision--finding something to wear that will not show the truly obscene amounts of sweat (i.e. anything black or white) but that doesn't require a strapless bra (too labor intensive). The upshot is that I end up in the same outfit neraly daily and have to replace my white anything every 2weeks on account of the hideous and embarrassing yellow pit stains. The irony of all of this, however, is that we dress scantily to brave the rediculous heat and humidity but just end up someplace indoors where the A/C is cranking and you are laucky if the temperature is 60, tops. If you are not wearing a bra with your strapless something or other, then you are even worse off as it looks like you are smuggling tic tacs, raisinettes if God was kinda. This necessitates the bringing of a sweater to all indoor locations in the dead of summer. I can't even begin to tell you how silly I feel carrying an emergency cardigan with me lest I die of hypothermia in a movie theater or mall. I might feel slightly less chagrin about the topic if I were not the only person sporting a 3/4 length J.Crew look-alike @ 95 degrees and 85% humidity outside, but that never seems to be the case. How is it that the mini teens and tweens walk around in practically nothing and never seem to get cold? I don't know--nor do I know why I am wondering about such things....funny how the mind works. Either way, it is hot as butt outside and when the alarm clock goes off at 5:45, the A/C should not already be on!
Monday, August 3, 2009
Mold, Marlin and Fear
I have every good reason to be scared of my MIL's food. Today, minding my own business, eating a unidentifiable noodle dish given to us by said MIL, I stab another bite and looked down to see a gumball size pocket of green and white fuzzy mold staring at me. Not immediately puking was not an easy task, but sitting with a group of semi-strangers meant I could not follow such instincts. Swallowing hard, I fought the urge to dry heave and instead, very politely excused myself from the table and rocketed the grossness into the trash. EWWWWWWW!!!! Need I say more? And my husband wonders why I pick at everything and sniff everything his mother gives us. GROSS!
I caught one of the beginning portions of Finding Nemo this morning and it dawned on me that I am much like Marlin. Scared of everything--always wondering the what-ifs and letting them paralyze me. I really am not scared of everything--but I am scared enough that it changes how I live my life. There are risks that I wish I had taken, choices that I wish I had made, opportunities that I lost--all based on my fear. There are lots of fears. Fear of not being prepared, of not knowing how to do something, of being wrong or looking stupid, of the unknown, of anything different. I do really well with routines and changes from that make me anxious. It is anxiety too--I am anxious as that damn fish--and look where it got him! Nowhere! His mini-flippered son disappeared and it wasn't until he manned up and grew a pair (if fish even have a pair) that things turned out okay. Is that what I need to do? Grow a proverbial pair?
Fears. The fears. I would be an airline pilot right now if I hadn't been scared. I would also not have gone to UVA. I would be able to get rid of my paper bank and credit card statements. I would be able to be honest all the time without fear of being left and abandoned. I would be able to "stick to my guns" and not be resentful and frustrated for giving up my convictions. I might be able to stand up for myself (or maybe not) and I might even be willing to put my neck out and write the children's book I have always wanted to write. Fear and anxiety. Fear and anxiety.
I feel pathetic. I am a semi-grown woman (I will never be a real grown up) and I am dominated by fear and anxiety. I am expert and playing out in my head all the possible scenarios in any situation. And I let those scenarios stop me in my tracks--freeze me. FUCK! Even my career (though I love taking care of my kiddos with cancer and would never in a million years take it back) is based on SOMEONE ELSE'S hopes and dreams and aspirations. Not my own!
Wow--never said that out loud before. Feels a little odd...maybe some sense of freedom...though I probably won't ever really feel that until I apologize to the person whose dream I copied. I am struggling to believe that it doesn't make me a bad person. Struggling and failing. If you read this--you know who you are--I am sorry--and someday maybe I will be fearless enough to actually say it to your face.
I am sorry world. I am a coward. A fake. Is that why I want to do daredevil things? To prove that I am fearless? Is that why I want to find myself? To prove that I am not a fake?
I caught one of the beginning portions of Finding Nemo this morning and it dawned on me that I am much like Marlin. Scared of everything--always wondering the what-ifs and letting them paralyze me. I really am not scared of everything--but I am scared enough that it changes how I live my life. There are risks that I wish I had taken, choices that I wish I had made, opportunities that I lost--all based on my fear. There are lots of fears. Fear of not being prepared, of not knowing how to do something, of being wrong or looking stupid, of the unknown, of anything different. I do really well with routines and changes from that make me anxious. It is anxiety too--I am anxious as that damn fish--and look where it got him! Nowhere! His mini-flippered son disappeared and it wasn't until he manned up and grew a pair (if fish even have a pair) that things turned out okay. Is that what I need to do? Grow a proverbial pair?
Fears. The fears. I would be an airline pilot right now if I hadn't been scared. I would also not have gone to UVA. I would be able to get rid of my paper bank and credit card statements. I would be able to be honest all the time without fear of being left and abandoned. I would be able to "stick to my guns" and not be resentful and frustrated for giving up my convictions. I might be able to stand up for myself (or maybe not) and I might even be willing to put my neck out and write the children's book I have always wanted to write. Fear and anxiety. Fear and anxiety.
I feel pathetic. I am a semi-grown woman (I will never be a real grown up) and I am dominated by fear and anxiety. I am expert and playing out in my head all the possible scenarios in any situation. And I let those scenarios stop me in my tracks--freeze me. FUCK! Even my career (though I love taking care of my kiddos with cancer and would never in a million years take it back) is based on SOMEONE ELSE'S hopes and dreams and aspirations. Not my own!
Wow--never said that out loud before. Feels a little odd...maybe some sense of freedom...though I probably won't ever really feel that until I apologize to the person whose dream I copied. I am struggling to believe that it doesn't make me a bad person. Struggling and failing. If you read this--you know who you are--I am sorry--and someday maybe I will be fearless enough to actually say it to your face.
I am sorry world. I am a coward. A fake. Is that why I want to do daredevil things? To prove that I am fearless? Is that why I want to find myself? To prove that I am not a fake?
Friday, July 31, 2009
Reading and Rockstar
Just one more chapter, just a few more pages, then I'll quit and do what I need to do. FAT CHANCE! I am like an addict once I start reading a good book--I just can't stop. Now I am not reading quality literature, mind you, it is more like a series of murder/romance mystery novels. It is mindless, and escape of sorts. That has been my M.O. today...read while I was on the elliptical machine, rand errands, sat down and read some more, finally took a shower, sat down and read some more. I am truly ignoring what should be done--like unloading the dishwasher and putting clothes away...actually, I should be doing my schoolwork. As is true with many things in my life, the less I have to do, the less motivated I am to do it. I have been procrastinating on a number of things for school for, oh, the last 6 weeks--but it is time to face the music. Why do we procrastinate? Is it really that we just don't feel like doing something? Is it because we don't know what we are doing and so we just put it off? I am sitting here, sipping a sugar-free Rockstar (I really don't understand the hype surrounding this bizarre cocktail of nutrients--it tastes like weird bubblegum and turns your pee a disconcerting color of neon green, kinda like methotrexate pee), procrastinating. Part of my procrastination has been fooling around on the "Stumble!" site and seeing what I come across--its so nice and mindless! In my stumbles I came across a site that I have seen before and really liked--so that will be my self-lesson for the day--follow these mental heuristics:
And with that...I am off to do something productive
If you want something done, do it yourself
Comment: Obviously true, and doing it is usually very good for your self esteem. A surprising amount of work can be done this way, and experts are not always necessary. However, there is a risk of becoming overworked if you try to do everything yourself - we all need other people after all.Never procrastinate anything you can do right now
Comment: Very powerful. There are many things that can be fixed or solved with a minimum of effort, but are often pushed aside as unimportant. Unfortunately they won't go away, and in time the feelings of guilt for not having done them will make you even less likely of fixing the problems.When you have several things you could be doing and don't know which to do: Just do any one of them!
Comments: If you cannot decide between two or more possibilities, then there is a good chance that the differences don't matter. However, most people begin to hesitate in this kind of situation (Fredkin's paradox). If you are conscious of this, you can just choose one choice randomly or according to some standard method.Always assume that you will succeed
Comments: If you don't expect to succeed in an endeavor, then you will not do your best and will not notice possible solutions, while if you feel that you will eventually succeed you will concentrate all your power at the problem. Of course, there is no point in attempting what you cannot do, a certain amount of self-knowledge is always needed.If you can't find a solution, change the rules.
Comment: Remember that there are no no-win scenarios.If you cannot do anything about something, there is no point in worrying about it.
Comment: Worrying is stressful, and in most situations doesn't accomplish anything - it just wastes energy. Instead of worrying about things, either do something about them or find ways around the problem. One useful idea is to write down your worries on slips of paper, and then put them away in a box. Regularly, once a week or so, you open the box and see what you can do about the worries that are still relevant.Do not rely on conscious decisions for speed - Just Do It
Comments: The conscious mind is surprisingly slow, conscious choices and actions are delayed for a significant time (a reflex acts within some tens of milliseconds, an unconscious reaction to external stimuli circa 100 milliseconds and a conscious choice several seconds). The duty of the conscious mind is usually to inhibit rather than start action, and if you become too conscious of what you are doing in a tense situation you will hesitate or slow down.It is a good idea to learn to rely on your non-conscious mind, since our conscious mind is slow and has very low bandwidth while the other systems in our brains have a tremendous capacity and actually do most of the real work anyway.
Don't try to explain away your actions for yourself
Comment: While we often do things we do not want to explain our real motivations for before other people (out of fear of embarrassment, anger or loss of image), it is a bad idea to try to convince oneself that the motivation was anything different from what it was. It will only reduce your self-knowledge with deliberate misinformation, and it is often valuable to understand what motivations you have (even if you dislike them or would never admit them in public).Listen to your intuition, but do not believe it unconditionally
Comments: Intuitive or emotional thinking, analogies, "gut feelings" or "flashes of inspiration" can sometimes give fantastic new insights or show problems from a new direction. Unfortunately such thinking isn't always reliable, and quite often completely wrong! Such insights should never be accepted because you admire their beauty or they are intuitive, only because they fit with reality.And with that...I am off to do something productive
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Me
I am embracing myself, my whole, my thoughts and feelings--my me. I am finding myself...which means lists. I love lists. I love crossing things off lists. I make lists when I am bored in class or waiting for friends at the mall (ooh that sounds so 6th grade) or when I am trying to fall asleep at night....so here are a few things about me...a list (muahahahaha)
- One of my pet peeves is when people don't call when they say they are going to call. WTF. We all have cell phones--its not like you aren't close to a phone. Fine, I understand if you n't talk, but its still not hard to say that to a person when you call them. Either way--call like you say you are going to. Or send a voice mail--you don't even have to call for real! Or text! C'mon people--its a common courtesy. I am less annoyed by people who don't call you back when you leave them multiple messages, but I can forget about that more easily.
- I am very texture-sensitive about foods--which is why my mother in law's leftovers scare me. I don't like onions on pizza or in lasagna. All the yucky parts in chicken should be taken off PRIOR to cooking. If I bite into something that crunches or is rubbery when it shouldn't be, the meal is over. YUCK!
- I drink my milk with ice cubes in it and I like any food that is supposed to be hot to be ATOMIC hot
- I love thunderstorms and blizzards.
- I have my first cavity this year:-(
- I have an older brother--he once rolled me down the stairs hogtied wrapped in a flannel blanket--we are friends now. We look nothing alike and people are confused about who is older. I am 3 years younger.
- I am the spitting image of my father but I can feel when I am making the same faces my mom makes
- I never lost my Moro reflex as a baby--I startle with even the slightest noise and it gets to me sometimes
- Loud noises really bother me occasionally (another reason my MIL gets to be sometimes)
- I love the smell of pine-sol, rain on hot asphalt, and fresh baking bread.
Signs
I got to thinking today...what would happen if I let "signs" run my life? The night I started my blog, Jillian, the bachelorette, wore pink high heels (on a tangent, she chose the wrong man--Ed and his mankini were a bad choice, she was a fool to pass up Kiptyn--he was a real steal, like anything you buy at the VS semi-annual sale)--was that a sign? Maybe. How about Tuesday--last week I found out that I need to be tested for antiphospholipid syndrome and there was a women on the mother/baby suite who had it and was having troubles. Or how about today--finding 6 matching baskets at Target (I have been looking for 6 matching baskets for 2 months now) and they were on clearance. Or the boat in Ft. Lauderdale named the Bella Contessa--my nick name combined with the name I want to name my daughter (no, I am not packing a fetus at this point in time)....or maybe signs are like horoscopes and tarot cards--people apply them to their lives as they wish--they want to see them work and so mentally they figure out a way for the signs to really mean something or the horoscope to be true. I don't think that there is anything wrong with this--I think that it can be a powerful motivator, but I don't necessarily believe that it is true. Ahhh, the power of suggestion...
There is something spooky, romantic, mystical, amazing about the idea of following the signs. Maybe because it is an excuse to not have to make decisions, to ride on the whims of the universe. Some might see it as a way to live freely...others as a way to avoid taking responsibility for anything. Ask yourself, do you believe in signs?
There is something spooky, romantic, mystical, amazing about the idea of following the signs. Maybe because it is an excuse to not have to make decisions, to ride on the whims of the universe. Some might see it as a way to live freely...others as a way to avoid taking responsibility for anything. Ask yourself, do you believe in signs?
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
ESB, Breastfeeding and Aggressive Driving
I am sitting naked, wrapped in a soft, fuzzy blanket, nursing my Redhook ESB. I didn't take off all my clothes for shits and giggles--I don't particularly enjoy being nude--I just didn't want to get a more pimples and a yeast infection from sitting around in sweaty work-out gear--that would just add insult to injury. I spent the day learning about breastfeeding--fascinating what the girls can really do. I saw lots of boobs today--didn't know that an areola could be nearly the size of a dinner plate--THAT'S HUGE! Also can't say that I have ever heard anyone refer to a boob as a big mac before...would you like the special sauce with that? My adventures in breast feeding were at Holy Cross Hospital in Silver Spring, which is only important because it means I have quite a commute. No offense to Maryland drivers, but what the hell is wrong with all of you? There is never any question when I have passed into Maryland driving space on the beltway--all of the sudden I am surrounded by asshole drivers doing 80 and not using turn signals. What is that about? Routinely, I get extremely aggravated by merely having to be on the beltway--but being on the beltway in Maryland adds a special je ne c'est quoi...it drives me up a wall! In the midst of my sailor-mouth swearing this morning, however, I stopped to think about my aggravation, the chest pressure, the gripping of the steering wheel with knuckles white and sweaty palms--and questioned my heightened physical and emotional reaction. Is it really worth it? No. It really isn't. I can't change how any of those people drive--though I have often contemplated holding up demeaning signs as I pass them too closely on the right--or even just informative signs, like "Your turn-signal is on the right side of your steering wheel--use it!" or "Consider looking in your blind spot before changing lanes without a turn signal!" (Yes, I have an obsession with turn signals--it dates back my my driving lessons years ago). However, if I can't change anything, why get wound up about it? I have my life lesson for the day--now it is just a matter of sticking to it and applying it elsewhere. Vow - I will not get worked up over the asinine Maryland drivers because I cannot change them. I will not let my vital signs change because of people doing stupid shit that I cannot do anything about. I will take a deep breath and move on--at the requisite 80mph around the inner loop while in PG County. I will look for other opportunities to apply said lesson. Stay tuned.
Shadows on My Thighs
We have moved the elliptical machine from the foyer (yes, a little ghetto, but welcome to home renovation) to my favorite room in the house--the yellow room. By the time I get around to getting on the elliptical in the afternoon the sun shines through the windows "just so," highlighting certain objects in the room--including my thighs when I am on the elliptical machine. I noticed this the other day--and was less than pleased with what I saw. There was, of course, fuzz covering my pasty legs--that's is, after all, what happens when you don't shave for 10 days--but more disturbing was the cellulite. Now, I realize that all woemn have cellulite...blah blah blah--but really? On the TOPS of my thighs--everywhere--covered in fuzz? Come on nature--cut me some freaking slack! Now, I am no svelte Victoria Secret model, nor will I ever be, but it isn't like I don't work out--I am trying here! Is this about getting older? Where your attempts to change your body are fruitless because you are fighting some cruel change in metabolism and redistribution of body fat? How many times do women need to go through this--the "change" in our bodies--we are like damn shape-shifters--like that guy from some star trek-esque show that had the funny nose and always wore grey. Can't I just opt out? No thank you, I don't want for my body to change again, adolescence was traumatic enough thank you!
Needless to say, my motivation and irritation was renewed by said discovery and I am blogging from the damn elliptical machine now. Jeez. Here is where I am supposed to have some insightful and deep comment about loving my body and person within as part of finding myself. Fuck that. I will be there someday, but right now is not it. I was much more inspired after my Yuengling Black and Tan yesterday--maybe I will have something deeper after my Redhook ESB--AFTER I get off the freaking elliptical. ARGH!!!!
Needless to say, my motivation and irritation was renewed by said discovery and I am blogging from the damn elliptical machine now. Jeez. Here is where I am supposed to have some insightful and deep comment about loving my body and person within as part of finding myself. Fuck that. I will be there someday, but right now is not it. I was much more inspired after my Yuengling Black and Tan yesterday--maybe I will have something deeper after my Redhook ESB--AFTER I get off the freaking elliptical. ARGH!!!!
Monday, July 27, 2009
Yes--Pink High Heels
I am new to this blogging thing...but I like the idea of being held accountable for what I am trying to do. Altogether too often we make decisions to change and then they fall by the wayside, shoved behind grocery shopping, laundry and aggressive driving. So here I am world--openly declaring my mission, thinking that perhaps pursuing my mission publicly will somehow commit me to truly change. We will see...Just so we are all aware of what I am doing here--for any of those who somehow fall across my dreadful blogging--I am on a mission to find myself. I am not entirely sure whether I am trying to find myself or recover myself. I have long contemplated this question. Did I ever know who I was? Maybe, maybe not. Do I know who I am now? No--I don't think I do. I know who I think I am supposed to be and I am pretty damn good actress and portraying that role. This begs the question, however, whether who I am trying to be now if who I really am or who I think I am supposed to be...oh the confusion. In the end, it doesn't really matter. I am not my genuine person right now, at least not fully. No to say that I am lying...just not being true to myself. Which is why I will wear pink high heels. That is something genuine. I know this--there is no question--I just haven't ever had the courage to wear them and do so proudly. So that is my goal--so proudly wear pink high heels, among many other goals that is--many more important goals--but the high heels are something tangible.
So, this is my journey. To find myself. To find who and what I am, and to embrace it. I am scared. What if I find out that I am a bad person or someone no ones likes? What if I fall off the wagon? What if everyone I know and love leaves me because my genuine person is some evil ogre and awful and ugly? But what if I live my whole life not being who I am supposed to be--merely acting a role rather than living it? Today I am choosing the scarier option--the road less traveled. Thank you Robert Frost.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveller, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference
...Robert Frost
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