Sweet Growth

You know, this getting older thing really isn't so bad. Sure, there are downsides. I have lines where I didn't have lines before, I have rolls before. But I also have this beautiful growth, this amazing confidence that I where I didn't have beautiful growth, or confidence before.

Three revelations that I had today where I had, as Oprah would say (don't groan), an "aha!" moment.

1.) I was driving to work, thinking about that inner confidence and assuredness that some people seem to have. I wondered why I didn't have it. Then I thought to myself, "well, I suppose you have to earn it, and I haven't been through anything big enough to warrant something like that". And then, like a flash of light from God, the phrase "demon slayer" came in to my mind. Now, usually, that phrase does not inspire a sense of holy awe (unless you're at some sort of face-melting death metal concert?). But on my drive to work, I started to cry, and the phrase repeated itself in my mind over and over and over again. And I realized that I was amazing. I realized that I am a demon slayer. I am courageous. I don't ignore my demons, I don't live my entire life frantically denying they exist. I track them mercilessly, and I do battle with them. And I win. I spent...what's 22-7? THAT MANY years of my life (15?) being eaten alive by disordered eating, flogging myself mercilessly for any imperfection. Torturing my body and my mind. But for fuck's sake, I WON. My 18 year old self would never, NEVER believe that I just ate Oreos and drank a beer after dinner. I remember thinking that I would never be free from that disease. And here I am. How amazing. Demon slayer.

I have done battle with my ego, with my jealousy, with my desperate desire to please...the list of my demons could go on forever. I do battle with them all. And eventually, I win. Demon slayer. I am fiercely proud of myself.

Then I started to wonder if I really did win. I did, after all, just begin recently an episode of despair. I caught a glimpse of myself in a dark computer screen, and noticed my newly saggy boobs (thanks, motherhood), my newly saggy face (thanks, motherhood), and remembered that I had gained 15 pounds with no plan on the horizon to lose it. I was despondent. I was scared shitless over the changes I was seeing in my body, in my life, and began to panic that I had no way to change it back. That I would never be young and beautiful again.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized something. Which brings us to #2.


2.) "Winning" meant something different than what I thought it did. I wondered if I had really "won" my battles at all, if I was still fighting them. And then BAM, it hit me: I was winning BECAUSE I was still fighting them. I realized that demons don't pack up and move on the second there is a well-placed revelation to be had from Oprah magazine (and no, I will never stop referencing Oprah). They don't leave. They don't. But I fight with them every day, and every day, they get quieter. They are only a whisper now. They will never stop whispering, and finding their way in to my weakest moments. But I won. And I am winning. Fucking demon slayer.

3.) I think, for many years, something my mom told me stuck with me. She told me that only when she stopped giving a shit if she got fat, did she ever get thin. And I warped that message so badly in my mind. Up until, about 30 minutes ago, for the past decade since she told me that, I realized I did all of the emotional work to heal my eating disorder with one goal in mind: to not care about being fat so that I could finally not be fat. I know that sounds absolutely moronic, but truthfully, I thought that was my magical ticket out. I was driven to heal myself so that I could finally be thin. How fucked is that, right? But it's true. So when I added another 15 pounds post child birth, my thought was- "wait, but I don't care if I'm fat now, so WHY AM I NOT GETTING THIN?? WHAT IF I NEVER GET THIN NOW???" And I realized in that moment that I still have so, so much to let go of. I'm still fighting. Always fighting. But that is so courageous. I am willing to look at every dark corner of myself, I am willing to illuminate it no matter how painful it is, to right what is wrong. Demon. Slayer.

Okay, I lied. There are four things. Another thing I thought about in the car on my drive home (I guess I do my best emotional work in the car?). I realized that I needed to embrace discomfort. I have spent my entire life fastidiously arranging my world so that I can avoid discomfort. I tailor my interactions with others, my life decisions, and everything else in my known universe to make sure that no one has a fucking problem with it. I avoid rejection and discomfort at all costs. And I always assumed that there was something wrong with me for feeling such intense discomfort with rejection, with the idea of making an unpopular choice. My life, as I write about all the time, has been a series of popular choices. I place the safe bet. Always. And I realized that no amount of spiritual awakening would ever make that discomfort go away. There is not much I can do to ensure that I don't break out in to stress sweats when I have to give someone negative feedback on an evaluation. I have realized that I'm going to sweat and feel a bit throw upp-y no matter how spiritually awakened I am. There isn't an easy answer that will suddenly bring all in to perspective, and make me not want to faint dead away at the thought of having to make an awkward phone call. There just isn't a way out of it. It just is what it is. And the answer is not to carefully craft my life in such a way that I will never even be PUT in a situation to stress sweat. That has led to a somewhat lackluster life. A safe life, where I pretend I don't have dreams. The answer is to realize that IM GOING TO SWEAT NO MATTER HOW FUCKING ENLIGHTENED I AM, and I just have to open my arms to that discomfort and walk right in to the fire. There is no other way. There just isn't. My autonomic nervous system cannot be controlled. Just walk in to the fire, and let it burn. And then eventually, it will stop burning. And you will have done an amazing thing.

I will keep fighting. I have won.


Love to you all. I'm going to publish this without proof reading it, because...YOLO (sorry).

Not Again

Somehow I always end up back here. Not sure I'm a fan of always meeting like this, you and I.

After all these years, I still can't figure out what is wrong with me. Why I am always so predisposed to malcontent. I think I've said it before, and I'll say it again...I can't tell you how deeply I wish the problems I have weren't mine. I wish I had other problems. But then, I guess all people have the same wish, for a wide variety of problems. I guess, if we were more honest, we would just say, "I wish I didn't have any problems". I wish I didn't.

I keep going back and forth between what I think my problem could be. Am I living life wrong? If I went on some wild and crazy cross-country adventure with nothing but $20 in my pocket and a dream, would that make this go away? The people who do similar things in all of the documentaries I watch seem so carefree. I wonder if that's the secret. I wonder if maybe I quit my job and became a zookeeper, or something glamorous like a film maker, if that would do the job. I wonder if my house was cleaner and more organized, if I would finally find peace. Previously I wondered if I cut my hair into this cool hairstyle I'd always secretly envied but never had the stones to try, would that fix me? (Sorry- managed to get it cut into said "cool style", and the answer is, unfortunately, no.) I hoped having a child would reset my mindset and make me realize all of the magical things I need to realize to fix my attitude and to bask in the true wonder of life. While my son is, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me, and the purest, most amazing thing I have ever witnessed- no. That hasn't been the answer either. I desperately want to be better for him. I want to give him a white picket fence childhood, where he always feels safe and loved, where his mom is always coming up with zany arts and crafts to push the limits of his imagination, where he comes home from school every day with a delicious snack and dinner in the oven (always at 7, sharp). He deserves such security. Despite a few bumps on the road (adolescence was a bit of a mountain range, as opposed to a few bumps, if I'm being real), my childhood was idyllic. I have so many good memories. I never doubted that my parents would take care of me (still no doubt). We never wanted for money, so the visceral, lurking fear of poverty never came near us.

Unfortunately, I have had the sneaking suspicion for some time now that the problem doesn't originate from my circumstances. It feels like I've got blue-tinted sunglasses surgically implanted over my eyeballs, and I keep running around frantically trying to change the outside world to make my vision less blue. I just carry the blue tinge with me wherever I go. No matter the hairstyle, no matter my full-time occupation, no matter the existence of a white picket fence, or a cleaner house. I carry blue with me wherever I go, and it won't go away unless I take the goddamn blue sunglasses off. Unless I address the real issue. It's in my brain. My brain is blue, I can't think a thought where blue isn't bleeding through. I wish I could, I wish I could, I wish I could. How do you change the color of your brain? How can I change something so fundamental?

I've been on 20 mg. of Prozac for a long time now. I feel the same. I hope there is some thing, some answer, that doesn't leave me feeling the same.