If someone told me ten years ago I’d be blogging about bulimia, I would have said they were crazy. Not just because there weren’t blogs back then. After I recovered, I really didn’t want to have anything more to do with it.
Well, that’s not totally true. During the first couple of years, I used it as an ice-breaker. No matter where I was, a subtle mention of eating disorders, and the other person knew someone or had her own problems, so a long conversation was guaranteed, and I didn’t have to feel ill-at-ease at a party or similar gathering.
The other function was that I was gradually digesting the whole episode by retelling the story. Again and again and again. I really needed to do that. I also needed to hear people tell me that I had done a great thing. I needed positive feedback and reassurance. During that time, I also had frequent nightmares about bingeing – and would wake up extremely relieved to realize it had only been a dream.
Gradually I felt the desire to let go of my bulimia story. I wanted to live without it, to see if I could be an interesting person without that story. I had just started to study Psychology, so the business of going to classes, writing papers, doing projects and taking exams (and all of that in a foreign language) was a convenient way to keep me busy. There was no time to talk about it!
As the years went by, it faded more and more into the past. Yet in the back of my mind, I knew I wanted to write my story eventually. School went on, I had one baby, then another one, the years passed. My studies got slower and slower, as I was involved with the children. The children grew; I passed a few more exams, wrote a Master’s Thesis, and lo and behold – graduated four years ago!
Almost the day after the final exam, I dragged out all of my old journals and got to work, not realizing that it would take a few years to get it done. In the process of working on the book, the whole story came back again. It was an intense project, which I finished last spring. I felt like that was the story, and in the blog I would talk more about the wonders of recovery. My goal was to show that there is indeed life after bulimia.
Just recently, it occurred to me that I cannot deny that part of my life. It belongs to me and is also a gift. There is a lot of insight that grew over the years, which I tend to take for granted, and which keeps developing. I am by no means finished growing! Nor do I have everything figured out! But I have learned a lot and maybe if I share that experience, it could be helpful to others. So that is why there hasn’t been much about bulimia here. Ever since that realization, though, I have not been able to stop writing. It was as though I had a block, and that is now open. So, be prepared for more about bulimia and the recovery process!
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Why am I not satisfied when I eat?
I see that someone used this as a search term today, and that got me thinking. There are some basic reasons I can think of.
Because:
- I want something else
- I eat so fast that I don’t really taste it
- I feel guilty and think I should really eat something else
- I don’t eat enough
- I’m distracted
- I’m not really hungry
- I’m starving
- I want more
- I don’t feel good
- I want love
- my eating is so screwed up that I don’t feel hunger or satisfaction
- I want to relax
- I am tired
Of course, it depends on whether this lack of satisfaction is meant on a physical (satiation) or more emotional level. I can be satisfied when my needs and desires are met.
My thoughts wander to reflection on what I want. What would satisfy me? As a matter of fact, that is how I learned to eat foods that used to trigger a binge. They were the so-called sinful, forbidden delights. I turned it around. Rather than they being forbidden fruits (ok, not fruits, they were usually sweeter), I asked myself: What do I want? If I want a piece of that, I can have it. Which led to: What do I want now? Do I want anything now? Sure enough, after a while, I realized it wasn’t about taking whatever was offered. Not at all. It was about how I felt at the moment. It was my choice. That was not about discipline; it was about what I chose and how I felt.
It’s not as if I’m invited out all the time, but there plenty of occasions where tempting things are offered. If I am hungry, I will take a piece. If I want to. I am allowed to eat what I want, because I said so. I am also allowed to say No.
This brings me to the affirmation that there is enough for me. There will always be enough and it will be there at the appropriate time. As a matter of fact, there is more than enough, so it is my right to pick and choose. See, when you turn it around, you can fulfill your needs. Self-denial is no longer necessary. And when that is the case, there is no more guilt. And when that is the case, there is no need to gulp down a dozen, while at the same time swearing I’ll never eat it again. And it doesn’t occur to me to wolf down anything, because I am entitled to enjoy it.
Sometimes I wonder if our basic drive to survive plays a role. Going back to the gatherers and hunters, they had to eat what was there. Our western civilization has evolved incredibly to the point that we have way too much food, but perhaps our bodies still react in that primitive way when they see food: Eat it! There may not be any more for a long time after this! It takes a while to re-condition.
This all takes a lot of honesty, clarity and practice, but it does work. And it works on a long-term basis, which is what recovery and normal eating are about – for me. I can only speak for myself and what I consider to be normal. After a while, it stretches out to include much more than food. Do I want company? Do I want to be alone? What do I want in this relationship? What is being offered? Is that enough? In a sense, I suppose I can’t be satisfied until I know what I want.
I know I kind of went off on a tangent, and I don’t know what you were looking for, but maybe these thoughts might help.
Because:
- I want something else
- I eat so fast that I don’t really taste it
- I feel guilty and think I should really eat something else
- I don’t eat enough
- I’m distracted
- I’m not really hungry
- I’m starving
- I want more
- I don’t feel good
- I want love
- my eating is so screwed up that I don’t feel hunger or satisfaction
- I want to relax
- I am tired
Of course, it depends on whether this lack of satisfaction is meant on a physical (satiation) or more emotional level. I can be satisfied when my needs and desires are met.
My thoughts wander to reflection on what I want. What would satisfy me? As a matter of fact, that is how I learned to eat foods that used to trigger a binge. They were the so-called sinful, forbidden delights. I turned it around. Rather than they being forbidden fruits (ok, not fruits, they were usually sweeter), I asked myself: What do I want? If I want a piece of that, I can have it. Which led to: What do I want now? Do I want anything now? Sure enough, after a while, I realized it wasn’t about taking whatever was offered. Not at all. It was about how I felt at the moment. It was my choice. That was not about discipline; it was about what I chose and how I felt.
It’s not as if I’m invited out all the time, but there plenty of occasions where tempting things are offered. If I am hungry, I will take a piece. If I want to. I am allowed to eat what I want, because I said so. I am also allowed to say No.
This brings me to the affirmation that there is enough for me. There will always be enough and it will be there at the appropriate time. As a matter of fact, there is more than enough, so it is my right to pick and choose. See, when you turn it around, you can fulfill your needs. Self-denial is no longer necessary. And when that is the case, there is no more guilt. And when that is the case, there is no need to gulp down a dozen, while at the same time swearing I’ll never eat it again. And it doesn’t occur to me to wolf down anything, because I am entitled to enjoy it.
Sometimes I wonder if our basic drive to survive plays a role. Going back to the gatherers and hunters, they had to eat what was there. Our western civilization has evolved incredibly to the point that we have way too much food, but perhaps our bodies still react in that primitive way when they see food: Eat it! There may not be any more for a long time after this! It takes a while to re-condition.
This all takes a lot of honesty, clarity and practice, but it does work. And it works on a long-term basis, which is what recovery and normal eating are about – for me. I can only speak for myself and what I consider to be normal. After a while, it stretches out to include much more than food. Do I want company? Do I want to be alone? What do I want in this relationship? What is being offered? Is that enough? In a sense, I suppose I can’t be satisfied until I know what I want.
I know I kind of went off on a tangent, and I don’t know what you were looking for, but maybe these thoughts might help.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Normal Eating: How I learned to eat
My 13-year history of anorexia/bulimia left me with an enhanced sensitivity about food. My own eating behavior at this point is pretty normal. Some people might even consider it boring! My awareness extends more to other people. I observe the eating behavior of those around me – not in a condescending way, but I am simply curious why so many people have such difficulty with food, on both ends of the spectrum. I observe unrealistic expectations and lack of enjoyment. Just think how often you hear people say, “Oh, it looks sinfully good. I really shouldn’t.” If they eventually eat the sinful object, they feel guilty.
Consider one essential ingredient of most women’s magazines. At the airport recently, I was looking for something interesting, but almost every one of them was bragging about some great diet. I think one of them even claimed you could lose 8 pounds in 12 days. Actually, not to go off on a tangent, but this reminds me of the pollution problem. How often have we heard about how much waste is involved with packaging? We are told not to wrap presents, to buy with “waste awareness.” But if one takes a good look around, packaging is increasing at a rapid pace, and the packaged items are getting ever smaller. It is absurd.
How does that relate to food? Well, how many times have we heard that to lose or maintain weight, we need to change our diet or have a consistent diet, and that it is unhealthy to lose more than a couple of pounds in a certain time frame? Anyone who has ever dieted knows this, I am sure. There is no quick fix. Those who keep looking for one are probably intimately acquainted with the yo-yo effect.
So, today I thought I would outline my steps toward lasting recovery. In addition to Overeaters Anonymous and therapy, at some point I finally realized that food is actually fuel to keep me going. Despite my desire to deny it, I admitted that I wanted to live, and accepted that I needed food to survive. Recovery is about honesty.
Let me warn you from the start: This is not a how-to-recover list of instructions; it’s just what I did. Since I’ve always been stubborn and felt that I had to do everything on my own, I did it with the food as well. As I have said time and again, I wish I’d consulted a nutritionist. But I didn’t.
After several near recoveries, lasting anywhere from a few days to a few months, I realized two things: I wasn’t eating enough during the times of recovery; thus I would binge at some point simply because I was so hungry. The second enlightening realization was: I didn’t know HOW to eat! I set out to research roughly how many calories I actually needed, and what three normal meals a day would look like.
Then I decided to eat three meals a day consistently – no more and no less. From previous experiences with recovery, I knew that I would be constipated, feel funny, possibly gain weight, feel weird or even panicky. So at the outset I vowed to see it through. You see, I’d decided that I’d really had enough of the sickness and I was willing to do whatever was necessary to recover. (I was only doing it for myself, by the way, not to make anyone else happy!)
There were no forbidden foods, no diet foots, and no low-calorie foods to binge on. My goal was normal eating. The only criteria was: it had to taste good. Why? Because I wanted to be satisfied, and I am a person of extremes. If I am not satisfied, I will eventually want more. (That was usually the point when I went off to the races.) I did get a fair amount of exercise at the time – jogged a couple of times a week for about 30 minutes, biked to work and night school – since I hoped that regular exercise would get my metabolism going.
When I ate, I always made sure that I had enough time, and chewed thoroughly. That enabled me to taste the food, to enjoy it, and by eating slowly, the body could send the “full” signal at the appropriate time. (I remember reading that somewhere as well. It’s true!) Now I am still a slow eater. When I try to “keep up” with other people, I generally end up with an upset stomach. It’s much pleasanter to eat slowly.
After a few months (or possibly longer, I don’t remember), something happened. I actually began to feel hunger and satiation. That brought me to the next step: varying the amounts, depending on my degree of hunger. Sometimes I ate more, sometimes less, but it always balanced out. It was important to not overeat, as that feeling was uncomfortable and to be avoided.
Of course it didn’t stop from one day to the next. During the first year or two, there were a few incidents. They generally were stress-related, and so I learned to recognize them as a warning signal and work with them. There was no need to punish myself or feel bad, I just took it to mean that my coping mechanisms needed some fine tuning.
Since I’d been somewhat underweight when I began recovery, I did gradually gain some weight back. Through regular, normal eating, my body was able to find its comfortable/appropriate working weight, and that has been my weight now for nearly 20 years (with the exception of two pregnancies, and over the winter I sometimes put on an extra 3 or 4 pounds, but that disappears by itself). There is no more up and down. (Oops! I actually have gained a few pounds since turning 40, but it was so gradual and barely noticeable, that I still feel the same. I just wanted to say that, to avoid fostering another unrealistic expectation!)
What you need to realize is: There is no quick fix. It doesn’t pay to deprive yourself – you’ll make up for it eventually! And recovery is about making a commitment to yourself. You are not perfect and don’t have to do it perfectly. Life is about ups and downs, why should recovery be different?
Although an eating disorder is awful, it is familiar. It’s kind of like being stuck in a bad relationship. My biggest hindrance in life is and has been fear – fear of everything and fear of the unknown. It was a big help to be willing to open up and try something different, a different way of life. But I think I’ll save that, as well as the issue of a distorted self-image, and the fact that bulimia and anorexia are not just about food for another blog, because the sun is shining and I want to go out for a walk. And I think this one offers enough food for thought. Remember? One step at a time!
Consider one essential ingredient of most women’s magazines. At the airport recently, I was looking for something interesting, but almost every one of them was bragging about some great diet. I think one of them even claimed you could lose 8 pounds in 12 days. Actually, not to go off on a tangent, but this reminds me of the pollution problem. How often have we heard about how much waste is involved with packaging? We are told not to wrap presents, to buy with “waste awareness.” But if one takes a good look around, packaging is increasing at a rapid pace, and the packaged items are getting ever smaller. It is absurd.
How does that relate to food? Well, how many times have we heard that to lose or maintain weight, we need to change our diet or have a consistent diet, and that it is unhealthy to lose more than a couple of pounds in a certain time frame? Anyone who has ever dieted knows this, I am sure. There is no quick fix. Those who keep looking for one are probably intimately acquainted with the yo-yo effect.
So, today I thought I would outline my steps toward lasting recovery. In addition to Overeaters Anonymous and therapy, at some point I finally realized that food is actually fuel to keep me going. Despite my desire to deny it, I admitted that I wanted to live, and accepted that I needed food to survive. Recovery is about honesty.
Let me warn you from the start: This is not a how-to-recover list of instructions; it’s just what I did. Since I’ve always been stubborn and felt that I had to do everything on my own, I did it with the food as well. As I have said time and again, I wish I’d consulted a nutritionist. But I didn’t.
After several near recoveries, lasting anywhere from a few days to a few months, I realized two things: I wasn’t eating enough during the times of recovery; thus I would binge at some point simply because I was so hungry. The second enlightening realization was: I didn’t know HOW to eat! I set out to research roughly how many calories I actually needed, and what three normal meals a day would look like.
Then I decided to eat three meals a day consistently – no more and no less. From previous experiences with recovery, I knew that I would be constipated, feel funny, possibly gain weight, feel weird or even panicky. So at the outset I vowed to see it through. You see, I’d decided that I’d really had enough of the sickness and I was willing to do whatever was necessary to recover. (I was only doing it for myself, by the way, not to make anyone else happy!)
There were no forbidden foods, no diet foots, and no low-calorie foods to binge on. My goal was normal eating. The only criteria was: it had to taste good. Why? Because I wanted to be satisfied, and I am a person of extremes. If I am not satisfied, I will eventually want more. (That was usually the point when I went off to the races.) I did get a fair amount of exercise at the time – jogged a couple of times a week for about 30 minutes, biked to work and night school – since I hoped that regular exercise would get my metabolism going.
When I ate, I always made sure that I had enough time, and chewed thoroughly. That enabled me to taste the food, to enjoy it, and by eating slowly, the body could send the “full” signal at the appropriate time. (I remember reading that somewhere as well. It’s true!) Now I am still a slow eater. When I try to “keep up” with other people, I generally end up with an upset stomach. It’s much pleasanter to eat slowly.
After a few months (or possibly longer, I don’t remember), something happened. I actually began to feel hunger and satiation. That brought me to the next step: varying the amounts, depending on my degree of hunger. Sometimes I ate more, sometimes less, but it always balanced out. It was important to not overeat, as that feeling was uncomfortable and to be avoided.
Of course it didn’t stop from one day to the next. During the first year or two, there were a few incidents. They generally were stress-related, and so I learned to recognize them as a warning signal and work with them. There was no need to punish myself or feel bad, I just took it to mean that my coping mechanisms needed some fine tuning.
Since I’d been somewhat underweight when I began recovery, I did gradually gain some weight back. Through regular, normal eating, my body was able to find its comfortable/appropriate working weight, and that has been my weight now for nearly 20 years (with the exception of two pregnancies, and over the winter I sometimes put on an extra 3 or 4 pounds, but that disappears by itself). There is no more up and down. (Oops! I actually have gained a few pounds since turning 40, but it was so gradual and barely noticeable, that I still feel the same. I just wanted to say that, to avoid fostering another unrealistic expectation!)
What you need to realize is: There is no quick fix. It doesn’t pay to deprive yourself – you’ll make up for it eventually! And recovery is about making a commitment to yourself. You are not perfect and don’t have to do it perfectly. Life is about ups and downs, why should recovery be different?
Although an eating disorder is awful, it is familiar. It’s kind of like being stuck in a bad relationship. My biggest hindrance in life is and has been fear – fear of everything and fear of the unknown. It was a big help to be willing to open up and try something different, a different way of life. But I think I’ll save that, as well as the issue of a distorted self-image, and the fact that bulimia and anorexia are not just about food for another blog, because the sun is shining and I want to go out for a walk. And I think this one offers enough food for thought. Remember? One step at a time!
Greetings from the Roller Coaster
Resurfacing once again out of the depths. It certainly is strange. Even though I’m healthy, I still have depressive mood swings. The grief of the world gets to me, and my personal irritations add to the aggravation. Soon enough those dark, clingy arms encircle me, nearly suffocating, and drag me d-o-w-n. Sensible as I am, and despite the wealth of experience collected, it is nevertheless a harrowing time. I know that it will soon pass, but that doesn’t really serve to alleviate the pressure.
Some things do help, though. I sleep as much as possible, don’t expect too much of myself, and simply accept that I need a break. It also helps to call a friend, be lazy and spend a Sunday afternoon in bed with a book, or go to the movies.
Lately I have recognized that old demon “perfection” sneaking stealthily back into my life. (Did it really ever leave?) Why is it such a challenge for me to simply enjoy life? For example, the other day I went into the recording studio to play & record a bunch of songs, from which I will narrow down the selection for the CD I want to record. I could have simply had a good time, enjoyed singing and playing, and that’s it.
Instead, I was nervous and concerned that I sound good, that the technician “like” the songs. And a few times I lost courage, thinking to myself: “That poor guy. Just imagine all the crap he has to listen to all day.” Well, get off it! It’s his job! It’s just like going to a therapist. You don’t pay for them to listen to how nice and wonderful you are, do you? Sure, sometimes we have sessions in which we feel the impulse to present ourselves that way, but that isn’t the point.
So I go in, can’t breathe, my voice is constricted and thin, my fingers shaky on the guitar strings, and I’m frustrated and dissatisfied with my efforts. This is ridiculous! Sometimes I wish I could have been the born optimist who is full of herself and convinced that she’s great, but I wasn’t.
If I was, I probably wouldn’t have been bulimic all those years. I was indoctrinated with the belief that everybody has to like me, and that I have to be nice and please everyone. And it almost goes without saying that everything I do has to be perfect and a success on the first try. Otherwise I’m not a good person.
I know, I know. You’re probably thinking: come ON! You are 45 years old. Why don’t you get it together and say you don’t care what others think of you? I mean, you’ve been proposing that now for 30 years, and still you are not free of it. Maybe that is your big task in life – to be true to yourself, regardless. Why is that so darn difficult?
Is it so difficult? What holds me back? I’ll let you know when I’ve got it figured out.
Some things do help, though. I sleep as much as possible, don’t expect too much of myself, and simply accept that I need a break. It also helps to call a friend, be lazy and spend a Sunday afternoon in bed with a book, or go to the movies.
Lately I have recognized that old demon “perfection” sneaking stealthily back into my life. (Did it really ever leave?) Why is it such a challenge for me to simply enjoy life? For example, the other day I went into the recording studio to play & record a bunch of songs, from which I will narrow down the selection for the CD I want to record. I could have simply had a good time, enjoyed singing and playing, and that’s it.
Instead, I was nervous and concerned that I sound good, that the technician “like” the songs. And a few times I lost courage, thinking to myself: “That poor guy. Just imagine all the crap he has to listen to all day.” Well, get off it! It’s his job! It’s just like going to a therapist. You don’t pay for them to listen to how nice and wonderful you are, do you? Sure, sometimes we have sessions in which we feel the impulse to present ourselves that way, but that isn’t the point.
So I go in, can’t breathe, my voice is constricted and thin, my fingers shaky on the guitar strings, and I’m frustrated and dissatisfied with my efforts. This is ridiculous! Sometimes I wish I could have been the born optimist who is full of herself and convinced that she’s great, but I wasn’t.
If I was, I probably wouldn’t have been bulimic all those years. I was indoctrinated with the belief that everybody has to like me, and that I have to be nice and please everyone. And it almost goes without saying that everything I do has to be perfect and a success on the first try. Otherwise I’m not a good person.
I know, I know. You’re probably thinking: come ON! You are 45 years old. Why don’t you get it together and say you don’t care what others think of you? I mean, you’ve been proposing that now for 30 years, and still you are not free of it. Maybe that is your big task in life – to be true to yourself, regardless. Why is that so darn difficult?
Is it so difficult? What holds me back? I’ll let you know when I’ve got it figured out.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Wishes and Reflections
Whenever I write, I prefer high energy and positivity: Everything will improve, just start now! Today is the best time to start over! Better late than never! But there is more to life than that.
Lately I’ve been down in the dumps. It has been getting to me that I spent so many years caught up in bulimia/anorexia, that it took so many more years to recover emotionally, and now that I finally know who I am and what I want – I’m 45 years old and feel stuck with decisions I made which were not in my best interest.
Once upon a time I fell in love with someone who didn’t always treat me as well as I deserve. Indeed, if he had, I would have considered him a jerk like all the rest and dumped him. Instead, he managed to string me along, giving me just the right dose of attention coupled with criticism and neglect. So I was able to work hard and tell myself: “If I just try a little harder, improve myself, stop being so sloppy, stop smoking, get rid of any other bad habits, then he’ll treat me better.” Sometimes he did. Maybe I had to stay with this person for 25 years because I otherwise wouldn’t believe it could be possible if someone else told me such a story.
Almost the day after I moved in with him, I knew it wouldn’t work. But I blamed myself, kept trying, managed to fly along on some positive phases of being “in love” and kept blaming myself. After two or three years, I figured we’d been together for such a long time, I just couldn’t leave now. Yet I thought I would someday magically be gone from him, and I was certain it wouldn’t last for 20 years. Ha ha ha!
Two children and ten years later, I couldn’t believe how much of my true self I had sacrificed to make him and them happy. Instead of leaving, I spent several years fighting to get myself back. I created a life within a life – began to write again, read more, go out with friends, play guitar and write songs, give concerts, buy CDs and go to concerts. If one can trust appearances, I could be happy with my parallel lives. But the parallel aspect is causing me trouble. Authenticity has been lacking. I want one authentic life.
Another ten years later finds me questioning the relationship once again. Now that I’m 45, I also realize that I’m not getting any younger and life is flying by. Life really is too short to deny one’s true self. We had a long talk a couple of weeks ago, a talk like we’ve never had before. I had been afraid of him and didn’t want to hurt his feelings – to the extent that I hurt and denied mine constantly. Realizing that my fear was a childhood remnant and had nothing to do with him, I dared to address things and was floored by the ease with which I could speak. My fears had been irrational and only served to block my development.
Night and day remains the most accurate description of our relationship, and I don’t ever expect to be compatible, but I am learning some valuable things:
I do not have to be grateful for everything, even if I don’t like it.
We do not have to agree on everything.
If he doesn’t approve of my behavior, how I spend my time, how I run the house, that is okay. (I don’t always agree with his, either!)
I am not responsible for his happiness.
My family can get by without me at times.
Harmony at any cost makes life monotonous, is stressful, and will kill me (kind of like bulimia/anorexia!!!).
Discussing things and facing potential conflict makes life interesting, reduces stress and can have surprising results.
At times I would like to run away and find someone new, but I believe that these conflicts/fears etc. need to be faced now. I need to learn to communicate without fear. If I don’t do that now, then the next relationship will end there as well. So I might as well see what is possible within this one.
That is also because we have children. My parents’ divorce scarred me for life and I don’t want that to happen to my children. It has always been my priority that my children feel secure and have both parents. However, I regret that I haven’t been the role model I would like to be. Thus, I believe that by working things out now and learning to be more assertive, I can correct some of the unfortunate interaction patterns.
At this point, the future is open. Either we learn to interact in a healthy, constructive way and stay together. Or we learn to interact in a healthy, constructive way and separate. In either case, we learn to interact in a healthy, constructive way, and that is what I want for my children. And the bottom line is: I am authentic.
P.S. On the analytical level, I married the aspects of both of my parents which cause me the most grief/fear/insecurity. I sought and married an authority figure. Healing will come when I have worked through these issues. My dealings in life remind me of the vicious cycle of an eating disorder and first steps towards health: it happened when I began to let go of the old destructive but familiar patterns and had the courage to be open and try new things, without knowing ahead of time what the outcome would be. I guess control is still an issue!
P.P.S. Why am I sharing this? No, not just to unburden myself. I genuinely hope that someone might have an a-ha experience through reading this and find that string of hope which will give her the courage to let go of something destructive in her life – whether it be an eating disorder, a relationship, a job, or whatever. To thy own self be true, as William S. once wrote! By the way, I do not claim to have all the answers, this us just a reflection of what I’m thinking today!
And since this is also about wishes: I wish I’d listened to my heart and followed it! It hasn’t changed.
Lately I’ve been down in the dumps. It has been getting to me that I spent so many years caught up in bulimia/anorexia, that it took so many more years to recover emotionally, and now that I finally know who I am and what I want – I’m 45 years old and feel stuck with decisions I made which were not in my best interest.
Once upon a time I fell in love with someone who didn’t always treat me as well as I deserve. Indeed, if he had, I would have considered him a jerk like all the rest and dumped him. Instead, he managed to string me along, giving me just the right dose of attention coupled with criticism and neglect. So I was able to work hard and tell myself: “If I just try a little harder, improve myself, stop being so sloppy, stop smoking, get rid of any other bad habits, then he’ll treat me better.” Sometimes he did. Maybe I had to stay with this person for 25 years because I otherwise wouldn’t believe it could be possible if someone else told me such a story.
Almost the day after I moved in with him, I knew it wouldn’t work. But I blamed myself, kept trying, managed to fly along on some positive phases of being “in love” and kept blaming myself. After two or three years, I figured we’d been together for such a long time, I just couldn’t leave now. Yet I thought I would someday magically be gone from him, and I was certain it wouldn’t last for 20 years. Ha ha ha!
Two children and ten years later, I couldn’t believe how much of my true self I had sacrificed to make him and them happy. Instead of leaving, I spent several years fighting to get myself back. I created a life within a life – began to write again, read more, go out with friends, play guitar and write songs, give concerts, buy CDs and go to concerts. If one can trust appearances, I could be happy with my parallel lives. But the parallel aspect is causing me trouble. Authenticity has been lacking. I want one authentic life.
Another ten years later finds me questioning the relationship once again. Now that I’m 45, I also realize that I’m not getting any younger and life is flying by. Life really is too short to deny one’s true self. We had a long talk a couple of weeks ago, a talk like we’ve never had before. I had been afraid of him and didn’t want to hurt his feelings – to the extent that I hurt and denied mine constantly. Realizing that my fear was a childhood remnant and had nothing to do with him, I dared to address things and was floored by the ease with which I could speak. My fears had been irrational and only served to block my development.
Night and day remains the most accurate description of our relationship, and I don’t ever expect to be compatible, but I am learning some valuable things:
I do not have to be grateful for everything, even if I don’t like it.
We do not have to agree on everything.
If he doesn’t approve of my behavior, how I spend my time, how I run the house, that is okay. (I don’t always agree with his, either!)
I am not responsible for his happiness.
My family can get by without me at times.
Harmony at any cost makes life monotonous, is stressful, and will kill me (kind of like bulimia/anorexia!!!).
Discussing things and facing potential conflict makes life interesting, reduces stress and can have surprising results.
At times I would like to run away and find someone new, but I believe that these conflicts/fears etc. need to be faced now. I need to learn to communicate without fear. If I don’t do that now, then the next relationship will end there as well. So I might as well see what is possible within this one.
That is also because we have children. My parents’ divorce scarred me for life and I don’t want that to happen to my children. It has always been my priority that my children feel secure and have both parents. However, I regret that I haven’t been the role model I would like to be. Thus, I believe that by working things out now and learning to be more assertive, I can correct some of the unfortunate interaction patterns.
At this point, the future is open. Either we learn to interact in a healthy, constructive way and stay together. Or we learn to interact in a healthy, constructive way and separate. In either case, we learn to interact in a healthy, constructive way, and that is what I want for my children. And the bottom line is: I am authentic.
P.S. On the analytical level, I married the aspects of both of my parents which cause me the most grief/fear/insecurity. I sought and married an authority figure. Healing will come when I have worked through these issues. My dealings in life remind me of the vicious cycle of an eating disorder and first steps towards health: it happened when I began to let go of the old destructive but familiar patterns and had the courage to be open and try new things, without knowing ahead of time what the outcome would be. I guess control is still an issue!
P.P.S. Why am I sharing this? No, not just to unburden myself. I genuinely hope that someone might have an a-ha experience through reading this and find that string of hope which will give her the courage to let go of something destructive in her life – whether it be an eating disorder, a relationship, a job, or whatever. To thy own self be true, as William S. once wrote! By the way, I do not claim to have all the answers, this us just a reflection of what I’m thinking today!
And since this is also about wishes: I wish I’d listened to my heart and followed it! It hasn’t changed.
Cleaning out the Closet
I thought since I’m about halfway there, I had things figured out. Today it seems that I’ve got things about halfway figured out, and nothing is definite. Spring is here. That is a time for clearing out the old, letting go of what we don’t need, making space for the new, getting organized and cleaning up.
My oldest item which takes up the most space is: fear. Fear has been the constant in my life, never failing to accompany me and often helping me make a cautious decision, which I later regret. Letting go of the fear means I don’t have to figure everything out now. Since it is not necessary to know the end result, I can jump in anywhere.
Puttering is one of my favorite words. I love to start just by clearing the papers on my desk. Next thing I know, hours have passed and I’ve landed somewhere else in the house, leaving a trail of order behind me. Recently I was lost in speechlessness. Weeks were spent searching for an opening line, to no avail. Then a situation simply occurred and made discussion a necessity, which turned into an intense four-hour puttering in the relationship.
I tend to let housework collect and then do a marathon cleaning. The older I get, the more sense it makes to simply keep at it. I just don’t have the energy to clean the whole house in one day. Maintaining a relationship is kind of like keeping house. After this last discussion, I was exhausted, and decided I would rather keep at it regularly than let things collect.
My fears have long filled the closet and I can’t close the door anymore. Thus I am compelled to sort them through and get rid of them – one at a time, or by the handful. This can also be dealt with in the puttering mode. Once in the habit of letting go, it feels natural to go with the flow, to take risks, to talk, to face fears, to challenge, and to declare needs.
My first fears grew out of my lack of control. As a child, I was helpless. Now I am a grown woman. I do not control my environment any more now than I did then, but I am powerful and have well-developed coping mechanisms. I can deal effectively with outside influences, and I can be a source of influence.
At 5 am in the morning the Friday before Easter, I met 13 women in a parking lot. Together we walked uphill to a sacred spot at the base of a mountain. We celebrated Good Friday, the Spring Equinox, the full moon and the beginning of Spring. A fire was made, and each woman had the opportunity to put her burdens into the flames, that they be transformed. Some had written their wishes on a piece of paper to be burned. Others simply spoke the words and burned them symbolically, along with various herbs for clarity, cleansing and strength.
After expressing gratitude for the opportunity, I offered my fear to the fire, and asked it to transform that fear into courage and love. Night turned into day, the sky brightened, and it began to snow lightly. When we were finished, we walked back down to the parking lot, through the softly fluttering snowflakes, drove through the misty morning to the home of one of the women. There we had a hearty breakfast, with good talk and lots of laughter, to give us strength for the ongoing journey. After all, I’m only halfway there!
My oldest item which takes up the most space is: fear. Fear has been the constant in my life, never failing to accompany me and often helping me make a cautious decision, which I later regret. Letting go of the fear means I don’t have to figure everything out now. Since it is not necessary to know the end result, I can jump in anywhere.
Puttering is one of my favorite words. I love to start just by clearing the papers on my desk. Next thing I know, hours have passed and I’ve landed somewhere else in the house, leaving a trail of order behind me. Recently I was lost in speechlessness. Weeks were spent searching for an opening line, to no avail. Then a situation simply occurred and made discussion a necessity, which turned into an intense four-hour puttering in the relationship.
I tend to let housework collect and then do a marathon cleaning. The older I get, the more sense it makes to simply keep at it. I just don’t have the energy to clean the whole house in one day. Maintaining a relationship is kind of like keeping house. After this last discussion, I was exhausted, and decided I would rather keep at it regularly than let things collect.
My fears have long filled the closet and I can’t close the door anymore. Thus I am compelled to sort them through and get rid of them – one at a time, or by the handful. This can also be dealt with in the puttering mode. Once in the habit of letting go, it feels natural to go with the flow, to take risks, to talk, to face fears, to challenge, and to declare needs.
My first fears grew out of my lack of control. As a child, I was helpless. Now I am a grown woman. I do not control my environment any more now than I did then, but I am powerful and have well-developed coping mechanisms. I can deal effectively with outside influences, and I can be a source of influence.
At 5 am in the morning the Friday before Easter, I met 13 women in a parking lot. Together we walked uphill to a sacred spot at the base of a mountain. We celebrated Good Friday, the Spring Equinox, the full moon and the beginning of Spring. A fire was made, and each woman had the opportunity to put her burdens into the flames, that they be transformed. Some had written their wishes on a piece of paper to be burned. Others simply spoke the words and burned them symbolically, along with various herbs for clarity, cleansing and strength.
After expressing gratitude for the opportunity, I offered my fear to the fire, and asked it to transform that fear into courage and love. Night turned into day, the sky brightened, and it began to snow lightly. When we were finished, we walked back down to the parking lot, through the softly fluttering snowflakes, drove through the misty morning to the home of one of the women. There we had a hearty breakfast, with good talk and lots of laughter, to give us strength for the ongoing journey. After all, I’m only halfway there!
The Power of Dreams
In this context, I mean the conscious dreams or aspirations that we have. It’s not like I have nothing better to do, but I manage to think reflectively during the day and today my thoughts wandered to singing.
As I worked on my book (Diary of a Recovered Bulimic), which is comprised of journal entries over a period of 20 years, I was surprised by the frequent mention of my desire to sing. I first mention wanting to sing when I was 20. Every time the wish had come up in the past, I’d suppressed it, since I didn’t think I could sing well enough. Ten years ago, when I was 35, I suddenly realized that all I’d ever wanted to do was sing, but had never dared to pursue it. I thought this realization was a new discovery. I decided to pursue that dream and make the most of it, given my life situation and despite my age - 35 is slightly a bit old to become a rock star, but it works fine for a singer/songwriter. Since that time, I have been singing, writing songs and learning to play guitar. I have given a dozen concerts and I confess: I love standing on the stage and talking to the audience - and singing, too!
Now that the background information has been provided, we jump into today’s reflection about the power of dreams. I’ve never been very ambitious, although I do work hard when I have a project or job to do, but just never had that sense of purpose. That has changed. I want to be the best singer I can possibly be, given my late start. This goal is what helped me give up smoking four years ago and not miss it. I didn’t want the smoking to affect my voice.
At the moment, a lot of old stuff is coming up from my past. I thought I had dealt with everything when I first recovered, but things just keep coming up anyway. Perhaps such long-term recovery and strength are necessary before the really heavy stuff can be handled. I don’t know. In any case, I am facing old fears and destructive behavior (relationship) patterns, as well as considering some major changes in my life. Some days I am tempted to just give up and forget everything. What gives me the strength and determination to continue? Singing and the desire to sing the best I can!
The voice is an extremely sensitive instrument. I have noticed in the past how it is affected by my energy level. When I am tired or under stress, I cannot sing well. Singing is also about letting go. I cannot sing well when I try hard. It has to be effortless and flowing, which is no easy task for someone with my background. As is true for many anorexics and bulimics, I have a tendency towards perfection. Since I plan to record a CD in the near future, it would be in my best interest to feel strong, well-rested, not be stressed, and to simply let go and enjoy the process. This realization more or less hit me over the head today. That is the key! I realized I am willing to go to extreme lengths, to take risks and assert myself for my voice. My voice is me!
My mind continued to wander in between chores and errands, and I felt a warm sense of gratitude spread through me. My dream gives me strength to face the more difficult tasks and situations in my life, and encouragement to cope well. My reward is the ability to sing freely and let my voice express itself fully. I’m not there
As I worked on my book (Diary of a Recovered Bulimic), which is comprised of journal entries over a period of 20 years, I was surprised by the frequent mention of my desire to sing. I first mention wanting to sing when I was 20. Every time the wish had come up in the past, I’d suppressed it, since I didn’t think I could sing well enough. Ten years ago, when I was 35, I suddenly realized that all I’d ever wanted to do was sing, but had never dared to pursue it. I thought this realization was a new discovery. I decided to pursue that dream and make the most of it, given my life situation and despite my age - 35 is slightly a bit old to become a rock star, but it works fine for a singer/songwriter. Since that time, I have been singing, writing songs and learning to play guitar. I have given a dozen concerts and I confess: I love standing on the stage and talking to the audience - and singing, too!
Now that the background information has been provided, we jump into today’s reflection about the power of dreams. I’ve never been very ambitious, although I do work hard when I have a project or job to do, but just never had that sense of purpose. That has changed. I want to be the best singer I can possibly be, given my late start. This goal is what helped me give up smoking four years ago and not miss it. I didn’t want the smoking to affect my voice.
At the moment, a lot of old stuff is coming up from my past. I thought I had dealt with everything when I first recovered, but things just keep coming up anyway. Perhaps such long-term recovery and strength are necessary before the really heavy stuff can be handled. I don’t know. In any case, I am facing old fears and destructive behavior (relationship) patterns, as well as considering some major changes in my life. Some days I am tempted to just give up and forget everything. What gives me the strength and determination to continue? Singing and the desire to sing the best I can!
The voice is an extremely sensitive instrument. I have noticed in the past how it is affected by my energy level. When I am tired or under stress, I cannot sing well. Singing is also about letting go. I cannot sing well when I try hard. It has to be effortless and flowing, which is no easy task for someone with my background. As is true for many anorexics and bulimics, I have a tendency towards perfection. Since I plan to record a CD in the near future, it would be in my best interest to feel strong, well-rested, not be stressed, and to simply let go and enjoy the process. This realization more or less hit me over the head today. That is the key! I realized I am willing to go to extreme lengths, to take risks and assert myself for my voice. My voice is me!
My mind continued to wander in between chores and errands, and I felt a warm sense of gratitude spread through me. My dream gives me strength to face the more difficult tasks and situations in my life, and encouragement to cope well. My reward is the ability to sing freely and let my voice express itself fully. I’m not there
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