Since I started the job, I feel like I’ve been neglecting the blog here. Maybe it’s that in general I’ve had less free time. Maybe it’s that I’ve been spending more time on Twitter. Maybe it’s that I’m less depressed and the thoughts/feelings/frustrations that usually lead to me running toward my past with anorexia haven’t been as strong. That’s right – I said it: since the job started, I’ve had less inclination to fall into old habits.

That doesn’t mean I don’t think about it. Friday night while out with friends, I talked about the ways in which I used to use my eating disorder to hide. I talked about a big part of why, for me, starvation seemed to help. And maybe that’s part of why I was dreaming about Boston during my nap this afternoon.

When I lived in Boston and was at my sickest, I was rarely taken for a girl. On the streets, it was always “young man, can you spare a dime?” That fit me fairly well and made it really, really hard to give up. Of course, that gender side of things is something that I wasn’t ready to acknowledge then. Sometimes it’s still tough to acknowledge now because it’s something that’s likely to alienate people who haven’t experienced it or who just aren’t open to it.

Same point in time, I’m groggy enough now, after my nap that I’m putting it out there. When I have body image issues it’s because my body doesn’t fit – and it never has. When I talk about looking for a doc, it’s about finding someone who will be willing to work with me to change the way that my body chemistry manifests. When I talk about looking into therapy, it’s because, well, I’m likely going to need someone to be there through the process and to back me with a medical professional.

I get that my experience isn’t typical – at least not for a lot of people who are looking at eating disorder recovery. I get too that it makes me a little disagreeable with everyone who says that anorexia is just a brain disease that manifests. But what it doesn’t do is make me less of an advocate.

I care about the targeted advertising that says a body isn’t enough as is, and think that people in general need better ways to measure their worth. I’m not less of a feminist because I see that women in general have a rough go of things. I’m not a fan of the cankles ad campaign from Gold’s Gym and support those who are vocally fighting against it. I had some initial concerns about the publishing of Wintergirls but after reading a lot of the youth novel in bookstores, I know that I’ll be spending some more time reading the book to finish it – because it tells a horrific story in a tragic way and I want to see how it’s handled.

But when I get quiet or weird, when I start resisting the conversation or seeming out of sorts with things it’s simply this: the more time I spend in recovery and getting to know myself, the more that I realize the general sense of who gets an eating disorder and how I “benefited” from being sick just doesn’t fit.

I’m not often triggered any more when it comes to size and weight issues anymore. The exception, of course, is a more general, underlying body image issue that, quite frankly, wouldn’t be able to be resolved simply by eating or not eating – one that has little to do with fat or thin or anything like that at all. This weekend, however…

It’s interesting to me the way that those who install the buttons are able to push them – even when they don’t realize that they’re doing it. My mom got me really good this weekend, and the problem was that she’d been trying to do something nice – to hook me up with something to open on my birthday rather than “just” the clothing she’d bought me a few weeks ago and the cash that she sent so that my partner and I could pay bills and buy groceries.

Now, before I really get into anything specific, let me preface this by saying that I have only worn men’s clothing during the past 12 years; even to my grandfathers’ funerals, the clothing that I wore was from the men’s side of the store. I do this for two reasons: personal comfort and what feels “right” to me. The fact that my mom decided to buy me clothing from the women’s department, therefore, set me off just on the basis of feeling painfully misunderstood – and my sense of person somehow violated. It came off as one more way in which my parents still want me to be someone I’m not.

But that’s not the worst of it. The issue is that all of the sizes were WAY off. For the first time in a long time, the thoughts that I had teetered on “Does she really think I’m this size?” I know what size I wear in women’s clothing (remember a few weeks back when I was interviewing and my friend took me shopping? She too had me try on women’s clothing – some of which I did buy, only to take back because it would never be worn – so I have a pretty solid idea of what sizes I would wear); Let’s just say that everything that she bought had more than twice the fabric it needed, and, worse, that it just would have looked awful.

I know that I have to step carefully when I’m dressing to avoid looking sloppy – it’s why I try on clothing from one shop to the next even when I have a really good idea of what size I need. I know too that my mom wants me to be the perfect little girl – aspirations that definitely tripped me up when I was younger and that led to a number of really horrific choices on my part. I don’t think this is going to fuck me up to that extent, but I know that this morning I was heading that way. This morning, I was fairly convinced that everything could fall apart.

There are some challenges right now though. The biggest challenge is that I need to let my parents know that the package arrived – and I’m terrified that I’ll just burst into tears again the way that I did last night when I opened the package. The tough part is explaining why it impacted me – because I just know that it’s not going to go well. Fortunately, at the other end of the spectrum, I know that I’ve been able to pull myself together – and I know that despite it all, I’ll be okay.

If you follow me on Twitter, then you might have noticed some mention of the whole turning 35 yesterday thing. I’m not really keen on birthdays – not sure why really, though all of a sudden it kind of dawned on me that I really don’t like the idea of days that are all about me. I’m also still unsettled every year by the realization that, well, I made it through another year.

There’s still something weird about that to me – something strange about the fact that I don’t always feel like I’m getting to where I want to be and about the part in which I really don’t think that I ever expected to live out this much of my life. Toss in some other smaller elements like the fear that I’m not making a difference, not doing what I *should* be doing based on the estimations that I’ve made for myself and, well, more or less I think birthdays lead me down a path to introspection that could get kind of nasty.

But rather than dwell on that, here are some big changes that seem to have happened this year:

• I love the fact that when I got into the office yesterday, there were balloons. Yes, it’s cheesy. No, I don’t think they’re great for the environment. Regardless, they made me really little kid happy.
• I really enjoyed going out for dinner. Sure, making the decision of where to go kinda sucked, but I’m thrilled by the choice that I made, had a great meal and even feel okay about the fact that I didn’t think of anything other than the celebration part.
• I’ve become really comfortable in my skin lately. Sure, there are some things I need to work on and figure out, but I feel really good overall – amazing the difference that a few key life changes can make.

So, today, rather than feeling a little freaked out about all the changes, I’m just going to stick with the face that, well, chance can be a good thing – and, for today, I think that’s enough.

Title taken from “Slowdog” by Belly (Tanya Donelly)

(Albeit slightly off-topic for the way I’ve been using this blog, here’s a quick head’s up).

Anyone who’s gone through the process of eating disorder recovery knows that the insurance companies like to set up a nearly impossible to get through obstacle course in order to approve financing treatment. Once treatment is approved, often it’s either not quite enough or it only addresses one part of the issue – a few therapy sessions, some bloodwork or other testing or a couple quick days of hospital stay.

Part of getting this back on the right track involves advocacy and speaking out to make sure that others are aware of what’s going on. Apparently, Good Morning America (ABC News) is looking to speak with families who have not been able to get the costs of eating disorder treatment covered by their insurance companies. If you and your family have been denied treatment, want to get the word out and get the help that you need, contact Lauren McCurdy:  lmccurdy @ fordham . edu for more information.

I don’t think many people would look to Frank Black (or Black Francis or whatever it is that he’s calling himself these days) for advice, but sometimes he throws titles out there that really out to shape people more. “Hang on to your ego” is one of them – especially for me, especially lately and especially after the way that things have gone the last couple of days.

See, the job is spectacular really, but I keep forgetting that sometimes being part of a team means taking a few giant steps back, reigning in my ego and being willing to just see where things go. There are some concerns that I have about someone, and it’s probably just that we have really similar personalities but very different ways of doing things. Cap it off with the fact that we haven’t met in person, and neither phone nor instant messaging offer smooth sailing in the conversation department – especially when there are other things going on and yesterday simply wasn’t the best day that I’ve ever had.

The challenge, of course, is that while there were some great things that happened yesterday, there were a number of big issues as well. On one hand, there were conflicts because of communication – most of which were able to be worked out quickly, even though I did get a call into the office to discuss the importance of working things out, the reality was that there was already progress being made on that front. By the end of the day, I thought I was going to be able to leave it behind me.

Of course, the more that I think that things are going to fall back into place, the sooner something explodes. I have my first client relationship and such, and – lucky, lucky me – it’s not an easy one. I got ripped a new one simply because, well, I know how to do my job and doing it means changing the way the client does things. Loosely translated, I was sitting on the sofa at home – working at the end of the day on cleaning up a few things, using my own time – and felt so ripped to the core that I was sobbing so hard I couldn’t breathe. I haven’t cried like that in – I don’t think ever.

It wasn’t really any one thing. I know that there will be some more balance again. I know too that change is tough – and there’s a hell of a lot of it going on. I know too that the biggest issue that I have is all me, and it’s not even something that I’m comfortable (fully) talking about in this space. I do have another blog that I’m going to be turning to for that, I just need to make the commitment to writing in it and really working on things. I think that I also need to make an effort to talk with my doctor and start looking at things a bit more on a medical level. Fuck.

I don’t know. It’s funny how inside out a single day can make a person feel. It’s strange the way that even when the pieces are falling into place there’s this weird tension – even when you know something is right, sometimes it’s hard to just embrace the ride.

I’ve been so caught up in life lately that blogging just hasn’t happened. Since my last post I took on a contract position and, after 1 week of the month, turned it into a full time gig. Since then, I’ve been exhausted – but I didn’t want to keep putting off the blog (hence the new design and such).

What else is on my mind?

1. The murder of Dr. Tiller in Kansas. I understand that different people have different opinions, but murder is never the answer – especially when it shows just how much of opinion is often fueled by rage.
2. I love my new job – even the things that irk me a little bit can be overcome.
3. I’m grateful for the fact that my dearest friend is close enough to hear that I’m able to connect with her pretty regularly – and without too much planning ahead. Dinner last night was great.
4. I’ve quit taking my meds. When my mood is off at all, I get nervous about it, but I couldn’t handle feeling like shit the way I was – it was making relapse more likely (something about always feeling too sick to want to eat).
5. I enjoy baseball, really I do – but even though I’m used to being a fan of a losing team, I’m starting to think that asking for a win once in a while wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
6. Twitter has become something of a lifeline for me – I’m not sure that I’d be content if I didn’t have a place to spout off for a moment now and again.
7. I need to figure out a way to get more sleep during the week – there’s a breakdown in my productivity that happens when I get less than 6 hours of sleep a night, and I’m even better when I get 8 hours. Last week’s resorting to Red Bull and Diet Coke to get through the day… not so great actually.

I’ve been fried lately – for anyone reading this semi-regularly, there’s nothing surprising about that really. It’s something about sending out resume after resume, popping in on members of Congress and their staff while looking for a job, reading help wanted listings and just facing a much more fierce degree of competition than I’ve seen since working as a marketer in the music industry for a few years.

What’s interesting though is that I sometimes have missed that pressure and competition. That’s probably a big part of why it’s a stress that I put on myself again and again and again.

Tomorrow, that pressure is going to change a little bit; got a phone call from a co. I interviewed with a couple of weeks ago. Since they acknowledged then that they were having trouble creating a clear description of the position and that it would be weeks before they got back to people, I didn’t have high hopes (okay, I admit it, I thought I bombed the interview, especially since I was almost late getting to it). Today the director called to say that they still haven’t figured everything out, but they need help and asked if I’d come in on a contract basis for a while – if I’d work with them while they figured it out. Not wanting to wind up homeless, I’ll be going in to the offices tomorrow.

Loosely translated, I learned a couple of things today:

• I’m  my own worst critic
• Sometimes I need to be better about taking people at their word
• Persistence pays off
• I’m insanely stressed out about going back into an office environment even though I’ll – for a while at least – be working for myself

Most importantly though, I realized that there is potential and hope – I just need to remember to hang on to it.

Title taken from “Connection” by Elastica

I suspect that it says something that I’ve completely strayed from softer gentler lyrics and moved onto a band that, while simply amazing and brilliant, fell closer to the Industrial movement than the folk or pop that I’m often drawn to. Just what it says is still unclear to me. Sure, there’s the implication that I may be a bit more angry and on edge – which is true – but there’s also something else: I’m desperately trying to find something that fuels me.

Ultimately, despite knowing that I need something to get my blood pumping and to help kick my mood up a notch, I’m not just going to count on music right now. I can’t, not in the way that I used to at least. But then, there are a lot of things that I would have done in the past that I know just won’t help me now.

My stress level is starting to get the better of my. When I thought about eating a container or yogurt for dinner last night because it was the only thing we really had in the house, I realized that the impact is bigger than I’d thought. I’ve been so panicky about cashflow that I can’t remember the last time that we actually went grocery shopping. Sure, there have been a few things picked up here and there a couple of times a week, but there hasn’t been one of those shopping expeditions that says, “I’m healthy and the only way that I’m going to stay that way is going to involve taking care of myself and making sure that my body gets what it needs.”

So that no one worries much, that trip will probably happen tonight; more importantly, perhaps, my partner and I did go out and pick up a quick dinner. It wasn’t a perfect meal, but the reality is that it was balanced enough and served its purpose – especially given that, after I talked to my mom for mothers’ day, I wasn’t at all inclined to eat much of anything at all.

Now, here’s where there’s a need for some back story that I don’t know that I’ve shared. My mom was paralyzed by a viral infection when she was a teenager. In my lifetime, she has never been able to walk without mobility aids. First it was one cane, then two, then two canes plus a molded plastic brace. She’s often fallen and, until recently, she’s been able to bounce back.

A couple of weeks ago, my dad was away on business and, while she was home alone, my mom fell. It was a tough enough fall that a couple of days ago because the injury wasn’t healing she went out and had pelvic x-rays to ensure that nothing was actually broken. Nothing was, but what was discovered is that she needs to go into physical therapy; she’s lost almost all muscle mass in the paralyzed leg – often now resorting to dragging it as she walks.

Like me, however, my mom is a bit stubborn. She’s not ready to accept that a wheelchair or scooter might be necessary and talking with her about it is a lot like trying to convince my grandmother that she shouldn’t drive any more. In both cases, there’s a strong assertion of “I’m just not willing to lose my independence.” For some reason, it’s really bugging me this time (could have something to do with all of my other stress), and I think a lot of it comes down to thinking about the future.

Given that I have no siblings, it’s pretty much going to be up to me to take care of my parents as they get older. In addition to my mom’s paralysis and related physical issues, my dad has severe arthritis and a depression that rivals my own. Mobility isn’t something that either or them is good with, and last night I was suddenly terrified that within a few years, I’m going to be in a position in which I need to give up my life to take more care of them. At best, this is unsettling; at worst, I find it a bit defeating – I had more than a few moments of thinking that I might as well not go after my dreams because they’re just more things that I’ll need to give up.

I’m struggling with defeatist thoughts. I’m facing the reality that things – like a new computer – aren’t really in the near future and that just listening to music or watching bad TV isn’t going to make me feel better. I’m realizing that my inclination to drink isn’t any better than my lack of appetite and that neither drinking more nor eating less is going to have a positive impact on my life. What I’ve come, very suddenly, to recognize is that the only thing that I can do is to quit trying to live in the future – I need to live in the now.

It’s strange really: in the past I’ve always gravitated toward mistakes that I’ve made (or believed that I made). I’ve focused on what I could have done differently and allowed myself to get caught up. Now I’ve swung over to the opposite end of the spectrum. It’s not much more comfortable over here.

Title taken from “X-Insurrection” by Machines of Loving Grace

Every once in a while I realize just how much I doubt myself. Last night I was talking with a friend – someone who I met online during my last major relapse who, like me, has really turned away from the illusions created by being lived by an eating disorder. On one hand, we were talking about her choices and her changing programs at school because her path wasn’t the right fit; on the other we were talking about my job hunt and the fact that I have two real options right now:

1. I can keep believing in myself and shooting for jobs that I really want and believe that I could excel at; or
2. I can decide that I’m aiming too high and just trying to set myself up to fail.

The reality is that I’m not sticking within my comfort zone, and I’m really happy about that. After all, it’s a good change to think that I could thrive in a fast-paced environment just because it’s so very different from what I’ve been doing for a while.

But that doesn’t mean that the doubts are gone.

Unfortunately, I’m not entirely convinced that the doubts will ever be gone. I’m left wondering what it’s going to take, whether or not the pieces will ever all fall into place the way that I want them to – but I’m also recognizing that, well, it’s up to me.

In other words, even though I’m still struggling with the doubts, I know that it’s up to me to make sure that others don’t doubt me – and that means that I need to keep putting myself out there and giving it my all. It means recognizing that I can make the best of my life, and that just maybe I’ll find that I can convince myself that I’m doing alright as well.

Title taken from “A Fixed Point” by Flop

Sometimes I start thinking about age simply because of the songs that I get stuck in my head. The first time I heard the song that I woke up with today was, well, 20 years ago, give or take a month; but it’s all good. After all, it’s not like the song doesn’t still have some relevance today:

While I was standing I saw
Two men with one God to share
Both wanting peace by war
Both want to win by prayer
How long before they find
This holy war a heinous sin
And they find that there’s nothing left to win

- Midge Ure, Remembrance Day

Religious fighting isn’t anything new; no matter where you stand, frankly, I believe that one’s religion is between one’s self and one’s God. While I don’t really understand how certain things stand out more than others or why some people allow themselves to be guided by their fears rather than their faith, the reality is that, well, religion – something that’s meant to bring people together – often only serves to drive a huge wedge between us all.

I think that has a lot to do with the fear part of things, and, when you get right down to it, I recognize that fear holds a lot of power. It’s fear that comes between us in relationships – my partner and I included because with my not really working, well, there’s a lot of money stress that keeps coming to a head.

Last night was a good example of this. She had a rough day at work, and that led to her coming home and kinda going off about my needing to do more.

Let’s throw in here that I’m sending out, on average, 20 resumes a day at this point. There’s a lot of competition for what I do, and that was true even before there were a lot of people looking for the chance to start a new career given the economy. Let’s also go ahead and throw in that I don’t handle rejections well – hearing back from only 2 of the resumes that I’ve sent out is frustrating to me. But that doesn’t mean that I’m giving up.

Interestingly enough, at this point, I’ve got a weird mix of shit going on. I feel okay, I know that I’m pushing myself, that I’ve stepped way far outside of my comfort zone and that I’m plugging away even though I’m emotionally exhausted by the process. But – and it’s a big one – I feel like I’m not getting anywhere right now, and even worse, I feel like I’m letting her down. In other words, I don’t feel like I’m where I want to be, and I know I’m working on changing that. I also know, however, that it’s not just about me – and that’s where I start beating up on myself a bit.

Emotionally, I’m just really, really, really drained – and that’s okay. It goes with the territory. Physically… Well, my skin doesn’t fit the way that I want it to and that does concern me a bit, but I know that I can’t just fight with myself on it indefinitely – there’s nothing to win by doing so.

I’m starting to suspect that my discomfort is something that I really need to deal with, as much as it terrifies me. I feel blessed by the fact that there are people in my life with whom I can talk about things; acceptance is a process that often takes a lot more time than anyone wants it to.

I’m not really a patient person – never have been. I need to remember to just take a giant step back and relax a little. Doing what I can is all that I can do – and if I don’t start remembering that more, well, let’s just say I have my concerns.

Title taken from “Remembrance Day” by Midge Ure