sand dollar

12/26/12

Wow.  has it really been 2 weeks since I've written?
Mindfulness has perhaps taken a back seat to aquisition.
Christmas tunnels my vision and exhausts my insight.
I am reaching out gathering objects, gifts, and only a glance inward.
Only to notice that I am not writing...............

12/27/12

.........and that's as far as I got yesterday.....
Amazing how quickly I feel there is nothing to say.

So I'll start back at the beginning.  I will write "what is" right now.
For breakfast I ate 6 chocolate covered pretzels.  I also noticed that Andrew had eaten all of my chocolate covered cinnamon bears. Damn him.  It's probably a good thing.
Then I went downstairs to Sophie's room and stared into her box of chocolates.
I spent 20 minutes trying to figure out which one matched each picture as if I was actually going to eat one.
In the end, I nibbled the outside chocolate from  the strawberry and orange cream ones.
I threw away the orange and pink centers.  I just wanted the chocolate.
Then I opened the other box of chocolates.  The one I bought for Pepper.
Except I didn't eat any of those, I just read the pictures.
Did I just call that breakfast?
And did I mention this was at 4:23 in the morning?

I woke up craving chocolate, that's how I know I went to bed hungry.
I once read this story about an anorexic woman who would wake up and eat 4 Hershey's kisses every night.
It was obvious to me that her body was lacking fat.  So it tricked her in the middle of the night.

Now it is 5:47 a.m. and I am not so much different than her.
Not today.

I stood in the shower last night thinking, mine is a subtle form of dishonesty.
I deny my needs, not because I believe I don't deserve them, but because there simply isn't enough.
Not enough space or energy for me to sleep, to eat, to write, to feel, to listen to my own music.
I have been here before.  I have believed my needs won't get met, so it is pointless to admit them.
I am surprised to find that I still do this.
Because it doesn't work.
I end up waking at 4 a.m. and eating my daughter's Christmas chocolates.

However, there is one difference.
I am not doomed to follow this path all the way to the end where I check into rehab.
I can gently observe my dishonesty.  I can turn it over in my hand like a sand dollar washed up on shore.
It is a side-effect of motherhood.
At least I went for a slow walk this morning and found it lying there.
I can eat a piece of toast, and drink a glass of milk, and sit down to write.
Because it doesn't take too much time.
It takes as much time to deny hunger as to satisfy it.

too skinny

A friend told me I was too skinny yesterday.
Actually, she didn't say too skinny.  She said,
"You're looking very skinny right now."
Then she screws up her nose, jams hands on her hips and looks me up and down.
My first thought is ~ 'That's funny cuz I was fat 2 days ago...didn't you read my blog?' ~
"Really," I question "Well that changes for me everyday.  I have no idea what the truth is."
"Well, ya, you're tiny."
I try to explain to her that Andrew said the same thing to me a couple weeks ago.
I assured him too, I am not restricting, not starving.  In fact, I don't even exercise everyday.
And I can feel myself scrambling.
She is posed, chin in palm at the kitchen counter, eyes folded up at me in doubt.
Is it doubt, or do I just perceive it that way?  Maybe she doesn't even care.
Certainly, she doesn't care as much as I do.
I am unloading the dishwasher and grabbing at acceptable reasons to present her with.

Now that I am writing this, I see it more cleearly.
I don't need to justify my body size to anyone.
The truth is, I don't know from day to day what size I actually am.
This sounds ridiculous.  Had I not experienced it, I would not believe it.
Of course you know what size you are.  How could you not?
When I say size, I guess I am not talking about a number.
I have been a size 7 for a while.  I know that.  My brain knows that.
I also know that I can wear anything from a size 2 to a size 12.  So size is relative.
I am talking about my judgement of:  Am I skinny enough?
If I am.  Then I am afraid to eat because I have to keep it going. 
If I am not skinny enough, then I deserve punishment for my failure, and I don't get to eat. 
So whether I am skinny or not skinny, I do not get to eat.
Not eating results in binging and more failure.
This is why I don't get to decide anymore.
Because if I don't have to trust my judgements of skinniness,  I am allowed to value myself for other reasons.

waiting for the bus

Yesterday I rode the UTA bus with 8 teenage girls.
(One of whom was my daughter Sophie, she is only 10, but fancies herself to be 13)
We missed the first bus, even though I sent two of the most spastic sets o' legs to chase it down.
So we sat at the bus stop drinking hot chocolate.
I sat back like Yoda just grinning and loving them.
Most had never ridden the bus in their life.
We brought with us 4 fleece blankets made by the girls themselves.
Sophie insisted on carrying the child-sized table we had decorated.
There were two matching Modge Podged chairs to go with it.
All the weeks of my pushing paid off in one afternoon.
As a teacher, I often wonder, do they even care about what I am trying to teach them?
What am I doing?
But after yesterday, I know they got it.


quote from a patient inside an IV bag

The idea came from them.  After sitting twice a week after school, I found out they had soft spots for children.  I also learned they like making 3-D art as opposed to 2-D art.  They want something to put their hands on.  Ours is a community where the most imortant thing is to unwind and be with each other.  It is a sewing circle, an old-fashioned space where women shell peas, or darn socks.
They won't make art for their own expression.  I don't know why.  But they will make something for someone else. 

As we entered the hospital we were greeted by a Christmas tree.
First we meandered casually on the outside ring, but curiosity brought us closer.
We read the ornaments.  We read the description of how the tree came to be.
Every ornament was made from medical equipment used to treat two girls in the process of a bone marrow transplant.  More than 11,000 pieces were used.
The volunteer explained to us what such a transplant involves.
When a child is in this process, they cannot leave their room for weeks. 
They have no immune system.
They are completely wiped out. 
I watched the girls who had been impossible to reach in the beginning.
They were skeptical of me and of art.
I could see their minds and hearts stretching in amazement. 
I watched their worlds get a little bit bigger. 
I was proud of them.  It was their idea to come with me up to the hospital. 
It sounded too complicated for me.  I am so glad  I listened.

As we walked back to the school, they asked, how old do you have to be to volunteer at the hospital?
They overflowed with ideas for our next project.

On that day, I was not too small in any sense.
I am gaining in substance, in faith, in life.

 

Making a wish on our way out 

 

I'm taking my ball and...

"I am fat today."
Thank you, Lydia.
Do you ever have anything else to say?

I just took a shower.
Lydia told me my stomach is getting thicker.
I can't decide if I believe her or not.
After all these years...after all I know...I still get confused.
My body has morphed 12 times today, and I don't know what is real.
I can't always comfort Lydia, I can't always love her.
Sometimes.  Like now.  I just want to tell her to shut-up and push her down.
I watch my 3 year old, Pepper do this when she is tired.
She picks fights.
I want to pick a fight with Lydia.
I don't want to be kind, or understand.
I just want her to stop taking things from me.
I want her to stop picking on me and making me cry.
I want to push her down and take my stuff back.
I want to hide out in my fort with my pudgy arms folded across my chest and my chin tucked in tight.
I want to sit in there until a new story unravels.
Hopefully it will involve running through clean air on strong legs.
There will be a sunrise and I will shoot my body straight into it with all the music pushing me faster.
I will breath and breath and breath and nothing will catch me.
I will outrun it all. In front of me will be only possiblility rolled out like a red carpet.
At the end I will arrive with floppy legs and a heart that remembers.

So instead, I will go to bed, and see if I love her in the morning.
I will decide if I'm actually fat when I wake up.
Good night.

Pretzel

My baby Beckam has had diarrhea for the last 5 days.
"He has lost weight," my husband notices as I plopped him in the bath.
Then he looks askew at me.
I've just stepped from the bath which Beckam is now soaking in.
I am bent in half drying my calves.
"And so have you...I've never seen you this skinny."
"What?"  I feel unsteady on my guilty legs. 
Loosing weight on accident is not a good sign.
Hearing "too skinny" comments from people who care about me is not a good sign.

Lydia and Sarah are swelling fast.

Lydia:  Yes! We are winning!  See. 
             You don't really know the truth.  You are still dilusional. 
             You have always known that.  You are not really getting better. 
             You are a fraud.  Anyone who looks at you knows what you are...
             a scared little girl who can't let herself eat.

Sarah:   It's okay.  You are on the path.  
             You don't know what it's supposed to look like.  It is always
             changing.  Just trust.  Even though you are scared.  None of it is wrong.

I get dressed in my tightest shirt to try and see what he is talking about.
I don't.  I can't see it.  But I know he is right.  I am small right now.  I only know this because of how my jeans fit today.  I noticed a couple of times.  My tight jeans are not so tight.  I felt relieved.  At least opening the food doors all the way has not made me gain weight, but I didn't expect to loose any.  So now I don't know how to answer him when he asks,
"Are you ok?"
We are bundled up on the couch about to watch Walking Dead.
I don't like gore or death or blood or violence.  I don't understand why it is interesting.
I watch it because he watches it.  I suppose it's kind of like a soap opera.  I just want to know what happens next.
I am a pretzel folded into the crook of his arm.  It is one of my spots.  I venture out slowly,
"Usually I'm ok.  But I really don't know how to answer that question.  You tell me I'm too skinny, and I honestly can't see it.  I don't believe you."
"Really?"  He is truly surprised by this.
I feel like I'm sinking.  I want to give him something that makes sense.
I explain to him what I am trying to do, what I am trying to let go of...it's not coming out right.


So I finally tell him the one thing I do know,
"When I am talking to a woman I know has an eating disorder, I never comment about her body."
It clicks,
"Oh, because she'll always be too fat or too skinny?"
"Ya, she will always be failing or succeeding."
"Ok, I get it."
"I need my outside appearance not to dictate whether or not I'm okay."
"So, are you okay?"
"I don't know.  I think so....maybe it's just from carrying Beckam around all the time.  He is pretty heavy.  It's a lot of work."
He smiles, and kisses my forehead.
"Yes it is."

To recover, I must learn to trust.  Trust Sarah.  This is the hardest part.  I have been so dillusional that I stopped menstruating for a whole year, yet still deprived myself of food.  I have ravenously eaten until my stomach balled me up on the couch, then walked straight to the kitchen for more.  I have purged at my daughter's school into the toddler toilet just minutes before wrapping her in my arms with a smile.  I have purged while pregnant because I was terrified to gain weight.  How can I possibly know what is healthy for myself?  The path is messy.  Uncertain.  Undefined.  Pain...with moments of light, warmth.

The only way is to trust...to walk....

step............^^^write^^^.............step......((rest))............step.....step.....**pray**.....^^write^^....step......((rest))....**pray**......step..........^^write^^.......step......**pray**

~~~~~~~~~thank you~~~~~~~~~

"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving." – Lao Tzu



Anselm Kiefer, Varus, 1976

 



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