I am a bit of a hoarder. In the sense that I like to know I have things, but I don’t like to deal with them. So I let them sit in boxes and forget I have them, until I get so annoyed that I have boxes cluttering my room and I go through them. That’s when I discover MAGICAL THINGS!!!
- an envelope full of baby pictures and things I made when I was a kid
- a $15 unused gift card to itunes
- my contacts prescription (!)
- 15 books of music + loose sheet music for voice and flute, some from THE 8TH GRADE.
- riding spurs
- and an art project…
…from a class I took at Cooper Union a few years ago where we had to cut out pictures from magazines and write a story based on them.
I must have been in fine form that night, because, well, here I’ll share.
Once upon a time there was a girl. This girl, like all other girls she knew, loved Jesus. She prayed to him, sang to him… she even got his name tattooed on her body without her mother’s permission – that’s how much she loved Jesus. She also, like all other girls she knew, loved to be beautiful. Being beautiful was imperative in the town she lived in, much more important than being intelligent. (But not as important as loving Jesus, of course.)
Now, this girl did a very, very good job at loving Jesus and being beautiful. But she had a weakness: cake. Especially chocolate cake. She would often walk (in disguise) to the cake shop across town. Everyone was so nice and friendly there, but she always had an ache in her heart. She knew, because her Bible School teacher in 1st grade told her, that Jesus hates cake and it makes you ugly. Her Bible School teacher also happened to be her mother, who reminded her every day that her sinful desires for thick, moist, sugary desserts would lead her straight to the fires of hell.
Today is her 16th birthday and she celebrated with a wheatgrass shake that her mother had shipped all the way from the big city 50 miles away. They all lived “happily” ever after.
Hello, blog. So apparently on July 5th at Bluestockings Bookstore here in NYC I will be reading some sort of written piece I come up with about recovery from eating disorders.
Honestly, I never feel like I have anything to say, because I think I kind of suck a lot and haven’t really accomplished anything. I don’t have an awesome recovery story. I’m not really recovered. But I don’t WANT an eating disorder, so that’s something. And I have come a very long way since the beginning of it all.
It’s for the release of the book You Are Not Alone.
My friend Jenn Friedman is organizing it and asked me if I could read something. So I said yes, since A) I love doing outreach, advocacy and awareness and B) I wanted to challenge myself.
Because I’m not alone. It’s very hard to remember that when entrenched in an eating disorder, which makes it all the more important to actively stop isolating in those moments of clarity.
So this post is basically a kick in the ass for me to actually start writing something that is readable, relatable, not depressing or triggering. Heh. I will post the end result here after the event. 🙂 Stay tuned! (I promise it will be better than this, that I can guarantee.)
I haven’t felt like I have anything of importance to say about anything lately. Who am I to put my opinion out there? Do I even have an opinion? Who cares what I think or what I have to say anyway?
What I have been thinking a lot about is my increasing awareness that I am trapped within myself. My self is trapped within myself. I can chirp all day long (or, years and years) about “self-love” “health at every size” “the ego and the essential self” I can quote everyone from Erik Fromm to Martha Beck, from Jung to Sartre, but none of it is really changing ME in MY life. Why? Because I can’t let go. And I don’t really know why…. why can’t I just say, dude no! I don’t want to take handfuls of diet pills until my heart feels like it’s going to explode, I don’t want to constantly count calories, I don’t want to binge on crappy fast food and purge just because “I can”, I don’t want to purge anything just because “I can”, I don’t want every time I consider putting something in my mouth to be a MORAL DECISION.
But I do, and there is a part of me that doesn’t want to let that go. Why would I want to keep traumatizing my body and mind this way? I like it? That’s what I apparently keep telling myself. If I could let this go… it would free up so much mental energy to focus on actual important things. I could actually produce output, instead of constantly reeling forcefully back and forth on this hamster wheel.
But I think the whole charade is ending…