Eat in Kitchen

Day 7 of eating one meal at a time.
I look at the full plate of chicken and green beans and think it is way too much food.
I am ashamed that it is mine.
And I want it to be mine.
Ambivalent.
Just like Winona on Girl, Interrupted.
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Susanna: I'm ambivalent. In fact that's my new favorite word. 
Dr. Wick: Do you know what that means, ambivalence? 
Susanna: I don't care. 
Dr. Wick: If it's your favorite word, I would've thought you would... 
Susanna: It *means* I don't care. That's what it means. 
Dr. Wick: On the contrary, Susanna. Ambivalence suggests strong feelings... in opposition. The prefix, as in "ambidextrous," means "both." The rest of it, in Latin, means "vigor." The word suggests that you are torn... between two opposing courses of action. 
Susanna: Will I stay or will I go? 
Dr. Wick: Am I sane... or, am I crazy? 
Susanna: Those aren't courses of action. 
Dr. Wick: They can be, dear - for some. 
Susanna: Well, then - it's the wrong word. 
Dr. Wick: No. I think it's perfect. 


I used to watch that movie and wonder if I was mostly sane, like Winona.
Or mostly crazy, like Angelina Jolie.
I wanted to be Angelina.  Because she roared from the screen her apathy in every movement she made...in the bony swivel of her hips.
In fact, she says that.  She screams it.

"You think you're free? I'm free! You don't know what freedom is!  I'm free. I can breathe. And you... will choke on your average fuckin' mediocre life! "

    'Will I choke on my average mediocre body if I eat this plate of chicken and green beans?'


It used to be, past a certain point, I wasn't hungry anymore.  My stomach just gave up. It almost seemed possible, that I could starve the light out of me.
I could be in one place and not have any desires...not need anything.  
That's why I have a hard time eating the full plate of food.
But there is a light in me. It knows better.  It grows warmer when truth is near, and it propels me to keep trusting the world.
It is the same light I heard in my Mom's voice when she would sing me to sleep.  Her voice was meek and uncertain.  She wasn't the best singer, but she was the only one I wanted.  She'd run her pointer finger along the contours of my face, along my forehead and down around my ear.  I do this for my daughters, even when I can't keep my eyes open. I do it because it matters.


Sometimes when I am eating, I snap at my kids.  Like I did today.
Because I am trying so hard to be good...and I don't want to be trying.
I just want things to be easy.  I want to food to be a non-issue.  But that's not going to happen.


At the end of the movie, Winona is riding in the cab away from her mental institution.  Away from barred windows, and little white paper cups of pills.  She leaves her friends there too,- all smiling.  What a convenient ending.  So now here I am.  I've decided to be Winona...now what?  What life is worthy of this hopeful end to the girl who was interrupted?
It is lonely sometimes.  In fact, everyday I am lonely for small moments.


I am not certain why I chose this last image...I guess because I do love, even my sickness...even my most cynical self has a desire to sing.  I tried to explain to my husband this alternative, eating-disordered voice whom I call Lydia.  I told him how destructive and afraid she is.  
His response was, 
"Well, I guess I'll just have to learn to love Lydia too."