Can't sleep, mind racing...

*Warning! The following post contains some really sentimental and mushy/cheesy stuff.

It's just where I'm at right now, ok?

Consider yourself warned ;)





"I should write. I should write. Fuck, I have so much to write about. Why I don't I just do it already. Seriously, why I haven't I written. I have so much to write about. Fuck."



The refrain that finally got me out of bed after me lying there for nearly an hour thinking and feeling a hundred different things and not knowing what to do with it. When I realized that sleep was not coming, writing was the only other option.



So here I am, feeling compelled now to re-examine the past month that I have been absent from the blog, the month that has elapsed since my post from that dark place I had found myself in on November 10th.

And I do want to reflect on that, and the journey from there...but this is not what is on my mind at present. Nope. At present, I am in the past.



Getting stuck in the past is an old habit of mine, I'm sure there are some of you who can relate. At this time of year I am especially prone to nostalgia, in a season that is rife with family tradition and warm fuzzy holiday feelings. However this year there is a whole new layer added on to that, and this has been occupying my mind. For it was this time last year that I did what I consider to be the most brave and important thing I have done in my life thus far: confessing my love to a friend of five years.

Martin and I's friendship was strictly that - friendship - with the exception perhaps of some innocent flirting here and there. Yet somehow I knew that he was the person I was meant to be with, the true love of my life. It felt a bit crazy to be thinking this, and I'm sure there were some that would agree with the crazy part. But as time went on my feelings only became more intense, and my need to express them grew more urgent. Martin told me about his plan to move to Montreal the following summer, and I was terrified. Terrified that I would miss out on an opportunity to be with the one I loved. Terrified at the idea of telling him my true feelings, and at the idea of rejection and unimaginable heartbreak.


So yes, it took a lot of courage, and lot of support from some people close to me (you know who you are!) to get me to the point of telling Martin that I cared about him much more than as a friend. The time leading up to this is kind of foggy as I try to recall it now, but I do know that they day of the evening he was coming over for dinner was the most anxious I have ever been. It was the weight of the unknown... not knowing what the hell was going to happen, but knowing that whatever it was my life would drastically change. And of course, it did. I didn't have the immediate resolution that I expected, and in fact things became even more confusing (I kind of find it funny now that I didn't see that one coming). It was an emotionally treacherous month that followed, for the both of us, but what it lead to was worth all of the pain and uncertainty. The potential for great love that I had somehow seen beforehand was realized when Martin met me with the same courage and open heart that I had offered to him. There are no words to describe the love and connection that followed...only that it was all, and more, that I dreamt and hoped for. That is cliched as hell, I know, but it is so completely true. Today marks one year since I opened my heart and soul to Martin, and I am so overwhelmed by gratitude - to myself for doing what I did, and to my friends for helping me get there, yes; but overwhelming of all is my gratitude for waking up each day in Martin's arms, knowing that we share a love that is deep and passionate and true, and that we are both committed to this beautiful relationship that we so suddenly found ourselves in. I think of myself a year ago, unbearably anxious and terrified, yet so longing to know and love this mysterious man that was my friend, and so uncertain of what was to come... and I am in awe. What a gift I have been given. I now share my life with this man, and that is something that excites me every day. I have never had so much fun, felt so loved, or known that something was so right.

Martin - I love you so goddamn much.
Thank you for being in my life.


And to everyone else, thank you for reading my sentimental outpourings, for sticking through to the end, cliches and all. I had to write this stuff down, sometimes it is the only way I can deal with really overwhelming emotion. Hopefully now I will be able to sleep :)

The dark places...

...that still exist, no matter where one is at in their recovery. Well, that is my assumption anyway, the most I can say for certain is that they still exist no matter where I am at in my recovery. Thankfully now I visit them far less frequently, and they involve a lot less self harm than they used to.

I am writing now because I am in one of those dark places, where I am freaked out by how rapidly I descended into it, and how powerful those familiar old feelings of shame can be. And with the familiar feelings comes the desire to turn to familiar coping mechanisms. I happy to say that I have not turned to these harmful ways for months now, but every once in a while an urge will come up, and though I am able to deal with it, I am frightened by the force of it and how much energy it takes for me to resist it.

And along with this comes a whole gamut of stuff that is so overwhelming that I want nothing more than to lock myself in a room, curl up into the corner, and cry my eyes out. This is not a bad alternative to other things I might do (ie. bingeing and purging), however this time I tried to get some of the overwhelming energy out through writing. I've always had that there as a trusty "binge alternative", but have rarely been able to use it as such.

I didn't go through an urge to binge tonight, but I did notice as I descended further into my pool of shame I became increasingly nauseous and occupied with thoughts of throwing up. And of course stopping to think about what the hell that was about just made me more anxious and ashamed. Ugh. Is my body still programmed to throw up when I feel afraid and/or ashamed? Seems like that could be the case. Do I need to punish myself for this? No, nor do I need to pretend that it is not so.

So what now, then? I'm not sure. I'm not going to lie - I have slightly numbed myself out with some red wine over the course of writing this. I have not been in the practice of doing this, in fact I have hardly had any alcohol over the past month and a half (nor have I wanted to have any). And tonight, well, Martin and I had already planned to get some wine to have with dinner (it's been rare for us to have an entire evening together lately), and for whatever reason I started using our conversation to hurt myself, and got really stressed about the things I have been trying to avoid lately. So yeah, the wine was an immediately available option to relieve what felt like some intense unbearable shit. And the writing! The writing has helped immensely as well.

Without the wine, I think I could keep writing...but, I am not without wine, and in fact I think I am a little tipsy. So, I'll sign off here, and come back to examine this sometime soon...because the dark places will always be there, no amount of wine is going to change that!

So busy...trying to stay connected.

Wow, so I haven't even been able to keep up to a once weekly posting! I've been really busy these days, between work, errands, and bringing a new family member into our home (we adopted a simply lovely 2.5 year old black cat, Nora, through Toronto Cat Rescue http://www.torontocatrescue.ca/store/index.asp). Also, I am always extra busy when there is a show coming up (I am part of a burlesque troupe - more on how that ties into everything later). There is also the unfortunate fact that my old beast of a desktop finally croaked, and so I don't have a computer of my own to use (although I use Martin's laptop when I can - thanks baby!)

So, at the moment, I have a giant list of things that I want and need to do. A lot of it involves online business, mostly getting in touch with friends I have been trying to meet up with for ages, or respond to emails that have been sitting in my inbox for a least a week. Another thing is writing posts for this blog and sending it to the people I have yet to send it to (there are many). I always seem to run out of time, just when I'm in the mood to sit down and write my heart out and make connections with people.

And that's exactly the place I am in now. I feel like I could write for an hour, but instead I'm going to do the dishes and then run off to work. My next two days are almost completely occupied already, so it looks like it will be Tuesday before I get to spend a good chunk of time doing this. I have sooo much to write...but when I have the time, I will do it. No punishment or regret, just understanding and compassion for myself during this crazy busy time.

Coming up soon (hopefully)... Vulnerability = Health (?!)

"It all comes down to you"

I had a really difficult time leaving the house today, mostly due to some extreme fatigue, as well as this strange resistance that comes up every once in a while; a resistance that keeps me stuck at the computer hitting the refresh button on Facebook every three minutes, or in bed reading the same page of a book over and over, not making sense of anything.

At any rate, I finally got myself out the door, and made my way over to MoonBean for a coffee. The title of this post was the first thing that someone said to me. I was standing in line, spaced out and holding my coffee, wishing that the line would get moving so I could down the damn thing. Then the man in front of me turned and said "It all comes down to you". I just kind of stared at him blankly, and was so not in the mood to be in the middle of a pick-up attempt when I hadn't even had a coffee yet.

The man repeated himself, and added "Joni Mitchell. It's the song that was just on."
Blank look from me.
"Ah, you weren't paying attention", he said.
Some sort of mumbled response from me.
Clearly a Joni fan, he went on to tell me some of the other lyrics. More amused than annoyed at this point, I smiled and told him I would listen to the song when I got home.

True to my word, that's what I did. I suppose my main reason for this was that first thing he said to me, which caught me off guard not just because it was unexpected, but because it rang in my ears as a reminder that I am responsible. I am responsible for my feelings, for the cycles I get stuck in, for my recovery and well-being. At an earlier time I would have used this as a way to punish myself - ie. "It's your fault that you are like this, you stupid fucking idiot". It's like listening to the Radiohead song "Just", particularly the line "You do it to yourself, you do, and that's why it really hurts", and crying because you know that it's true. Idiot, idiot.

Now I can recognize that this type of thinking is what kept me in a self-destructive cycle for a very long time. Now I am learning how to use self-responsibility as a positive, as a way to motivate and empower myself. I got a taste of this at the Haven, when practicing self-responsible communication, and finding out that I felt less ashamed of my feelings when they were out in the open. I can also empower myself when I take the credit for how far I have come in my recovery. There have been various factors that have helped me immensely along the way, but ultimately it is me who has got me to this point.

It doesn't matter that Joni's song "Down to You" is actually in reference to another person. It wouldn't have mattered if the man was attempting to use the words "it all comes down to you" as some kind of a pick-up line. None of that matters, because to me it was a much needed reminder not only to be self-responsible, but also that it is okay to be a little bit selfish once in a while.

And hey, it's a really beautiful song...and it turns out I can relate to it in all sorts of other ways...but I will have to save that for another post!

Here goes nothing...

I've wanted to start a blog for a long time. Actually, I did start one just over a year ago, but I created a whole new gmail account with a pseudonym, and I think I only posted on it twice. I felt very self-conscious about starting a blog, particularly because the content would, inevitably, be centered around the eating disorder that I was still struggling with (and had been for over seven years). At that time I saw the blog as a way for me to reach out into some invisible world where I might find support, instead of reaching out into the real world around me where I would definitely find support.

I suppose that there are a number of factors that kept me from reaching out to the people that I knew. Mostly, it was shame. A few years back, when I was visibly underweight, people expressed their concern. I was in denial, yes, but I also did not have shame around the fact that had been losing more and more weight. I was proud.

When I think about bulimia and compulsive over-eating, pride is the furthest thing from my mind. Shame, as I mentioned, is the first thing that I think of. It is that shame that kept me from reaching out for support, that kept me in a vicious cycle of self-loathing and punishment. A shame so strong that it enabled me to put on a brave face and keep functioning (sometimes barely) as I went through three years of intense full-time studies with the Drama program at the University of Toronto. I was going to say that I did this without anyone knowing that something was going on with me, but I know this isn't true. There were people that knew, and people that didn't - but because there were only a very few people who ever approached me about it, I have spent a lot of time believing the latter.

Just for the record, this is not an attempt to make those knowers-but-non-approachers feel guilty. Sure, I have had some frustration about the fact that once the symptoms of the visible illness (anorexia) went gone away, the open concern ceased, and I was left with 1) the self-hatred and shame I experienced as a result gaining weight, and 2) the general assumptions that I was just fine now that I wasn't underweight. Both of these things have been painful, and yes, there is still anger around that, but it is for me to deal with. And anyone else can take comfort in the fact that even if you had asked me if I was okay, there is a good chance I would have lied to you anyway. I am aware that I have been the main factor in my isolation and secrecy.

On a happier note, although I still have all kinds of residual pain, anger, neuroses, shame, etc., to work through, I'm off to a great start with that. 2009 has been one of immense healing for me. I am learning to let go of old ideals and to welcome acceptance and love - from others, and most importantly, from myself.

And it is thanks to my experience last week that I am creating this blog. I spent the week on Gabriola Island in British Columbia, at an incredible place called The Haven (www.haven.ca), doing their five-day program "Come Alive" with my fiance and soulmate, Martin. Sometime very soon I will go into more detail about my personal experience there, for it is not really possible to briefly sum it up. I know that it is important for me to stay connected to my time there, and to the people I got to know...I can't believe it has already been a week since we all left to return to our lives! Back to the place where the real work has to happen. For mye, the temptation has been to allow myself to get sucked back into old thoughts patterns and ways of communicating, into a less-conscious/present way of living . Another reason why I am doing this blog is to stay present and honest, checking in with my self and staying in open connection with others.

So here it is, my initial attempt to do that. I'm already getting nervous about what people will think...but that's not doing me any good, so I'll stop :) Think what you will, and I'll keep writing nonetheless.

Wishing you love and warmth on this cold and rainy afternoon!