It's hard to believe that I haven't written anything in nearly two and a half months. I wish I could come up with a better excuse than I have been busy but thinking about it, honestly, I have gone through another stint of avoidance.
I wish I could report back and say things have been better but they haven't. Mom has been in and out of the hospital (still cancer free :)) but now experiencing unknown medical problems which may or may not be complications of her surgery. The positive is I have practiced some of the skills I learned in my first outpatient program and remained calm. It wasn't until they decided to do a catscan of her brain that I lost my mind. Thankfully, that came back clean. Where do we stand now? Well, I wish I had the answers. Her doctor's words were "I'm baffled." I guess you could say that it's time for a second opinion? I don't know. I have resigned myself to the fact that she is being taken care of and isn't alone. There is nothing I can do and this is completely out of my hands.
I guess the biggest struggle has been the EDNOS (I still prefer anorexic but who am I to fight with the DSM IV). I was ok for a bit. Maybe the first month out of treatment but things have taken a huge backslide. Alarms on my cell phone go off to remind me to eat and I don't... I skip meals intentionally and completely survive on coffee/lattes with an extra shot of espresso. I can only imagine that my stomach is screaming for help at this point but I don't hear the noise.
My husband and I made a deal when I started the EDP (eating disorders program). He would take BOTH of my scales and hide them. I promised not to look for them and when he and my therapist decided I could have them back, they would be returned to me. Fortunately (or unfortunately) depending on how you look at the situation, I found them. It was all very innocent. I was looking for slippers under the bed and there they were. He admits that he moves them from time to time but now I know where they are. For days it was all I could think about.... I shared it with my therapist-- which as much as I adore her, I regret since she threw me under the bus by telling my husband I found them.
.....it was almost like the gravitational pull the moon has on the ocean waves. Knowing they were there. Easily accessible..... I broke down. I haven't weighed myself since August 2, 2011 until one morning when I couldn't take it anymore..... I just had to do it. I always had strict rules-- I wouldn't weigh myself unless it was after the first pee in the morning, completely naked (including no jewelry), the scale needed to be placed on the same exact bathroom tile and I could not have my period. You would think having my period that day would have stopped me but it didn't.
I carefully removed the scale from under the bed, making sure I knew the exact position so when I placed it back, no one would be the wiser. I brought the scale to my trusty bathroom tile, disrobed and stood on it only to be scared, ashamed and guilty of what I had done. Prior to being admitted to the EDP I had a goal weight.... I never hit it. But now, here I was nearly 3 months out of the program, below my goal weight. I actually weighed less then I did before I sought help.
I just opened a Pandora's box of emotions. I felt guilty. Not only had I lied to myself, but I betrayed the trust of some of the most important supporters, especially my husband. In my EDA (eating disorders anonymous) group, i shared this but right now I am writing/saying it out loud for the first time. I'm sick to my stomach over it but it's done-- and I have to move on and I fear I will lose my scale as a result of this blog but I can't live with the guilt anymore.
In the fairy tales I read to my daughter, the princess always lives happily ever after.... but not this princess. A wise member of my EDA group told me to sit down, write about my daughter and all of the reasons I love her and then think about how I would feel if another woman raised her. It would kill me. Instead I am intentionally killing myself but I don't know how to stop.
My fairytale would end like this: ".....and one day the princess began eating again. She learned to love what she saw in her mirror. No magic, no tricks, just her own inner and outer beauty. The princess realized that the numbers meant nothing. She realized she had no control. Control is an excuse for out of control behavior. It's something she told herself to feel better. Yet, she finally realized how important it was to be happy, healthy and eating and being a size 0 is nothing to be proud of, but ashamed of and then, and only then did she live happily ever after."
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Ocean Mist
For years I've been keeping a secret to myself that I finally needed to reveal. In order for me to write what I hope will be the next great American novel, there is something that needs to come out first. It's not only a secret but it also will come to a shock to many people who thought they knew everything about me. This is probably one of the hardest blogs that I've ever written but I need to get it out there.... and after several glasses of liquid courage, I'm ready. At least I think so. I know I have the support out there but again, even some of my closest friends have no idea about what they are going to ready---let alone the small amount of family-- who will read this. What scares me are the friends/family who are law enforcement who are going to see this for the first time. I know how it will turn their stomach. I spent a long time in therapy talking about this today and it has been overwhelmingly determined this one event in my life is directly related/connected/controlling my anorexia (to an extent).
In August 2001, I was raped.
It's a sentence that stands alone. It needs no further explanation in my mind but in order to be honest with myself and who I am, I need to finally open about it. I remember the night clearly. I was living in down by the beach after I took the Bar exam and was planning an average night out at the local popular bar. I didn't go alone. I went with someone who I thought was a good friend (clearly she and I no longer speak as I truly learned what a good friend is). We were going to meet a group of people from our Bar Review class. People we had spent hours with over the last two moths. People I trusted.
At the time I was in a self destructive phase. I was convinced I failed the bar (which I did), convinced I lost the man that I loved (which I did) and was out of control with partying. Alcohol has always been my drug of choice because at 5'1" it was an inexpensive way to numb myself from the reality. After a night of downing shots and mixed drinks, I had noticed that my girlfriend was into a guy who was a friend with one of our Bar review class "buddies" so I invited him and his friend back to where we were staying. Our friend, who I'll refer to as the rapist, was someone we had hung out with before. I knew him. I felt safe. I mean, honestly, I always thought whores got raped right? I saw the Accused-- this wasn't like that. How could this possibly happen to me?
Once we got back to the condo, all the drinking hit me hard and I was ready to pass out. I quietly snuck up to a bedroom only to be followed by the rapist moments later. There I was, practically passed out on the bed and he walks in-- asking to "snuggle." Yeah- whatever., Knock yourself out. I'd been alone with him before so what the fuck was the big deal. Clearly I was not prepared for what was about to happen.
There I was, lying on the bed with the Golden Girls playing on Lifetime in the background when he walked in..... Did I know he liked me? Yup. Did I think he'd act on it? No. I was "dating" one of our mutual friends at so the why would he ever put a move on me. Naive = Me. I was lying there next to him, moments from passing out when he rolled on top of me and started to kiss me. I kissed him back thinking, how far can this go? He's annihilated. A kiss may be enough and may just show him how uninterested I was in him. Besides he seemed sweet enough and wasn't very aggressive in pursuing this crush that he had. I was so fucking wrong,
Next thing I knew, he was holding back my arms with one hand and trying to unbutton my jeans with the other hand. It was surreal. An out of body experience. Almost as though I was floating in the air and looking down. I struggled and said no. His response? "It's ok because I really like you and I know you like me too." Yeah, I did like him.... as a friend. I really didn't want to have sex with him. It was not what I wanted and I keep saying no, please stop. The only response I remember from him was, "No, really, it's ok, I like you."
At this point my law school background came into play. After what seemed like an hour of struggling (which was probably more like 5 minutes), I asked him to at least wear a condom. At that point I knew I was fucked both literally and figuratively. Instantly a case popped into my head where I read a man was acquitted of rape charges because the victim asked him to wear a condom which meant she had enough time to try and stop him..... or fight harder. But I'm 5'1"...... and I was so drunk.... and he was so strong...... so, I just laid there. I decided that I no longer had a choice. I had no strength or energy to fight him off.
In the back of my head, I decided that I clearly deserved this considering I let him back to my house, drunk, knowing he liked me and then allowed him to kiss me. If I had time to ask him to where a condom, then obviously I had the ability to fight him off. But, I didn't. I remember lying there, his body on top of me, pumping away until he was satisfied. I put on what was left of my torn panties and went downstairs to get my girlfriend. I told her, "X just raped me. They need to go." Within second he and his friend had been kicked out --- not knowing why and acting confused like I had just lost MY mind. What the fuck? You just fucking forced me to have sex and you DON"T KNOW WHY I AM KICKING YOU GUYS OUT???????
There was no I'm sorry, From anyone. My girlfriend and I stayed up a few hours..... talking about what happened and decided we needed to call our friend who was a prosecutor before we made another move. Secretly, we both knew from a legal stand point I was screwed. I was drunk, allowed him back to the house and stopped him long enough to put on a condom. The jury was going to see I had an opportunity to protect myself.... but FUCK them because unless you've been in that situation you have no fucking idea. I'm all about equality between men and women but the reality is, men are stronger than women--- especially when the woman is only 5'1".
After talking to my friend, I knew I was fucked. I would be crucified. So, in what I consider to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life, I didn't press charges. There are times I wonder if he did it again-- to another girl. If so, I can't help but blame myself. I may have been able to prevent it. Instead, he is practicing law and is an unregistered sex offender and will never have to admit to the mistake he made. Sadly, he's still alive. Sadly, I'm still living it.
I've pushed this secret deep into the dark bowels of my soul so why write about it now? Well, I need to move past my past. I need to move past my anorexia. All of these moments are directly tied to my self worth, self esteem and ability to move forward. I need to purge these thoughts and stop hiding behind them. Set myself free from the incarceration of this secret. There are people who are so close to me and have been friends of mind for years and will be reading about this for the first time but it's a chapter in my life I need to close in order to bring me closer to regaining the self esteem and self worth I lost 10 years ago this month.
I don't know if this accomplished much but it's out there. I can't take it back--- but I don't want to because I want to get better, For years I blamed myself for what happened to me.... maybe I sent the wrong signals.... maybe I was a promiscuous whore.... maybe I should have been more alert and sober.... the maybes could go on forever. At the end of the day, I was raped. By someone I thought was a friend. Nothing will ever change and along with the anorexia, it will be something I need to work on because I refuse to stuff these feelings down for another 10 years. It's time. Time to deal with the trauma I ignored for so long.
It's the year of me..... and the biggest part of this year leaving my past where it belongs.
In August 2001, I was raped.
It's a sentence that stands alone. It needs no further explanation in my mind but in order to be honest with myself and who I am, I need to finally open about it. I remember the night clearly. I was living in down by the beach after I took the Bar exam and was planning an average night out at the local popular bar. I didn't go alone. I went with someone who I thought was a good friend (clearly she and I no longer speak as I truly learned what a good friend is). We were going to meet a group of people from our Bar Review class. People we had spent hours with over the last two moths. People I trusted.
At the time I was in a self destructive phase. I was convinced I failed the bar (which I did), convinced I lost the man that I loved (which I did) and was out of control with partying. Alcohol has always been my drug of choice because at 5'1" it was an inexpensive way to numb myself from the reality. After a night of downing shots and mixed drinks, I had noticed that my girlfriend was into a guy who was a friend with one of our Bar review class "buddies" so I invited him and his friend back to where we were staying. Our friend, who I'll refer to as the rapist, was someone we had hung out with before. I knew him. I felt safe. I mean, honestly, I always thought whores got raped right? I saw the Accused-- this wasn't like that. How could this possibly happen to me?
Once we got back to the condo, all the drinking hit me hard and I was ready to pass out. I quietly snuck up to a bedroom only to be followed by the rapist moments later. There I was, practically passed out on the bed and he walks in-- asking to "snuggle." Yeah- whatever., Knock yourself out. I'd been alone with him before so what the fuck was the big deal. Clearly I was not prepared for what was about to happen.
There I was, lying on the bed with the Golden Girls playing on Lifetime in the background when he walked in..... Did I know he liked me? Yup. Did I think he'd act on it? No. I was "dating" one of our mutual friends at so the why would he ever put a move on me. Naive = Me. I was lying there next to him, moments from passing out when he rolled on top of me and started to kiss me. I kissed him back thinking, how far can this go? He's annihilated. A kiss may be enough and may just show him how uninterested I was in him. Besides he seemed sweet enough and wasn't very aggressive in pursuing this crush that he had. I was so fucking wrong,
Next thing I knew, he was holding back my arms with one hand and trying to unbutton my jeans with the other hand. It was surreal. An out of body experience. Almost as though I was floating in the air and looking down. I struggled and said no. His response? "It's ok because I really like you and I know you like me too." Yeah, I did like him.... as a friend. I really didn't want to have sex with him. It was not what I wanted and I keep saying no, please stop. The only response I remember from him was, "No, really, it's ok, I like you."
At this point my law school background came into play. After what seemed like an hour of struggling (which was probably more like 5 minutes), I asked him to at least wear a condom. At that point I knew I was fucked both literally and figuratively. Instantly a case popped into my head where I read a man was acquitted of rape charges because the victim asked him to wear a condom which meant she had enough time to try and stop him..... or fight harder. But I'm 5'1"...... and I was so drunk.... and he was so strong...... so, I just laid there. I decided that I no longer had a choice. I had no strength or energy to fight him off.
In the back of my head, I decided that I clearly deserved this considering I let him back to my house, drunk, knowing he liked me and then allowed him to kiss me. If I had time to ask him to where a condom, then obviously I had the ability to fight him off. But, I didn't. I remember lying there, his body on top of me, pumping away until he was satisfied. I put on what was left of my torn panties and went downstairs to get my girlfriend. I told her, "X just raped me. They need to go." Within second he and his friend had been kicked out --- not knowing why and acting confused like I had just lost MY mind. What the fuck? You just fucking forced me to have sex and you DON"T KNOW WHY I AM KICKING YOU GUYS OUT???????
There was no I'm sorry, From anyone. My girlfriend and I stayed up a few hours..... talking about what happened and decided we needed to call our friend who was a prosecutor before we made another move. Secretly, we both knew from a legal stand point I was screwed. I was drunk, allowed him back to the house and stopped him long enough to put on a condom. The jury was going to see I had an opportunity to protect myself.... but FUCK them because unless you've been in that situation you have no fucking idea. I'm all about equality between men and women but the reality is, men are stronger than women--- especially when the woman is only 5'1".
After talking to my friend, I knew I was fucked. I would be crucified. So, in what I consider to be one of the biggest mistakes of my life, I didn't press charges. There are times I wonder if he did it again-- to another girl. If so, I can't help but blame myself. I may have been able to prevent it. Instead, he is practicing law and is an unregistered sex offender and will never have to admit to the mistake he made. Sadly, he's still alive. Sadly, I'm still living it.
I've pushed this secret deep into the dark bowels of my soul so why write about it now? Well, I need to move past my past. I need to move past my anorexia. All of these moments are directly tied to my self worth, self esteem and ability to move forward. I need to purge these thoughts and stop hiding behind them. Set myself free from the incarceration of this secret. There are people who are so close to me and have been friends of mind for years and will be reading about this for the first time but it's a chapter in my life I need to close in order to bring me closer to regaining the self esteem and self worth I lost 10 years ago this month.
I don't know if this accomplished much but it's out there. I can't take it back--- but I don't want to because I want to get better, For years I blamed myself for what happened to me.... maybe I sent the wrong signals.... maybe I was a promiscuous whore.... maybe I should have been more alert and sober.... the maybes could go on forever. At the end of the day, I was raped. By someone I thought was a friend. Nothing will ever change and along with the anorexia, it will be something I need to work on because I refuse to stuff these feelings down for another 10 years. It's time. Time to deal with the trauma I ignored for so long.
It's the year of me..... and the biggest part of this year leaving my past where it belongs.
Friday, August 19, 2011
One Bite At A Time
When we last saw the princess, it was a dark and stormy night..... She was seeking shelter in an old run down castle deep into the forest.... As she opened the creaky wooden doors, she saw a bright light. She hoped that bright light was the treasure she had been searching for this whole time. The princess lightly crept towards the glistening sparkle with trepidation but as she came closer, she realized it truly was what she had been seeking. ....and she lived happily ever after.
BULLSHIT. Life is not a fairy tale. Life sucks. I put on my big girl panties and went off to treatment for my "disease" only to learn..... NOTHING. I'm still being classified as EDNOS (eating disorder not otherwise specified) because I'm not quite there yet to be considered anorexic. Okay. Whatever helps you sleep at night, but I'll still with anorexic because it's easier to explain..... I didn't want to go and I cried in the car all the way there. This was now my second venture into a psychiatric outpatient treatment program in 3 months. How the fuck did I get here? How was it that I was truly an anorexic and getting treatment? Was I really going into fucking rehab? Yup.
I fully expected this trip to be as easy peasy as the first one but 15 minutes into the morning I knew I was settling in to Gitmo on Guantanamo Bay. I avoided writing anything about my time there because I wasn't ready. I didn't want to think about that place while I was away from it. I still don't like thinking about it. The women in the group were great-- supportive and understanding. The rest? Well, no. Most of them sucked. I essentially went someplace every day to have someone babysit me while I ate. I may have learned a little about nutrition but I learned nothing about the affects of this disease on my body, how to counteract a negative thought and/or body image, how get through each day trying to eat... The list could go on and on about what I didn't learn.
Everyone else seems happy because I continue to eat but I can see the relapse. It within my reach. Something that would have been helpful to learn? Not wanting to make that reach. I still have absolutely no desire to eat. Now that I'm on my own doing this, I have resorted to setting an alarm on my cell phone to remind me to eat (it's gone off 4 times since I've been writing and I keep pressing snooze-- clearly that's not helping either). I am eating 3 meals a day but my portions are getting smaller and smaller. It really is only a matter of time for me to get back to where I was.... but, my fear of residential treatment is keeping me from skipping meals. If I get back on the train, the next stop is Renfrew and I don't want to go there.
I'm trying to put on a brave face. There are people in my life who are bursting with love and support. They are beyond proud of me. It's great. I'm lucky to have support because I met so many women that didn't have any support at all. My biggest supporter is/was/will be my husband but LiLi is there for me emotionally in a way he can't be. I have the best of both worlds. I truly do. But..... I don't want to eat. I still really honestly don't have the desire.
I know it's lunch time but no one is here.... no one is watching me.... I had breakfast.... I could skip lunch and no one would know. Not a soul. It's so tempting. My first weekend in treatment, I was home about to eat my first breakfast without supervision. I measured everything out and started to cry. I sat on the floor, crying, looking at the GINORMOUS bowl of Cheerios I had to eat. How was I going to do it? My husband came in the house and found me on the floor. He picked me up, sat me down, put the food in front of me and started a conversation about something else entirely. So that's how I did it, one bite at a time.
Sitting here alone while my daughter naps, and my alarm keeps going off, I have an inner struggle and debate on what I should do. Soon, she'll wake up and my focus and attention will be on her and I won't eat. I have a small window to make the right decision but it's so hard. I still cannot get the food down when I'm alone. It was definitely easier eating with a group of women battling eating disorders. I miss them.... but I sure as hell don't miss the escorted trips to the bathroom, being confined to one room all day, not being allowed to leave the room for any reason except to go to the bathroom. I don't know.... sounds like prison to me,
My struggle is getting worse. I have to eat, I know I do. But when you aren't hungry, it's so hard to find something to eat. While I was in rehab, we did meal planning everyday off of a menu. That was easy but now, I need to think about what I am going to eat and it all makes me so tired. I am so fucking tired of thinking about food. I wish people would stop telling me how great I look too..... what does that mean? I look great because I put on weight? is that it? I have no idea what I weigh. There are no scales in my house and I have convinced myself that I've gained 10 pounds, if not more. I guess that's an "irrational thought." Um, ok. Fuck you then.
I'm glad I went because it made everyone happy but I don't feel better. If I was better, I would have stopped typing when the alarm went off to eat, but I didn't. I just want to sit here and cry because I'm so not hungry. The thought of eating actually makes me physically ill. I honestly just don't give a fuck anymore--- but the perfectionist in me is telling me to eat--- to finish what I started--- DON'T BE A QUITTER.
So what does that mean? It means I'm going to go and have lunch. FML.
BULLSHIT. Life is not a fairy tale. Life sucks. I put on my big girl panties and went off to treatment for my "disease" only to learn..... NOTHING. I'm still being classified as EDNOS (eating disorder not otherwise specified) because I'm not quite there yet to be considered anorexic. Okay. Whatever helps you sleep at night, but I'll still with anorexic because it's easier to explain..... I didn't want to go and I cried in the car all the way there. This was now my second venture into a psychiatric outpatient treatment program in 3 months. How the fuck did I get here? How was it that I was truly an anorexic and getting treatment? Was I really going into fucking rehab? Yup.
I fully expected this trip to be as easy peasy as the first one but 15 minutes into the morning I knew I was settling in to Gitmo on Guantanamo Bay. I avoided writing anything about my time there because I wasn't ready. I didn't want to think about that place while I was away from it. I still don't like thinking about it. The women in the group were great-- supportive and understanding. The rest? Well, no. Most of them sucked. I essentially went someplace every day to have someone babysit me while I ate. I may have learned a little about nutrition but I learned nothing about the affects of this disease on my body, how to counteract a negative thought and/or body image, how get through each day trying to eat... The list could go on and on about what I didn't learn.
Everyone else seems happy because I continue to eat but I can see the relapse. It within my reach. Something that would have been helpful to learn? Not wanting to make that reach. I still have absolutely no desire to eat. Now that I'm on my own doing this, I have resorted to setting an alarm on my cell phone to remind me to eat (it's gone off 4 times since I've been writing and I keep pressing snooze-- clearly that's not helping either). I am eating 3 meals a day but my portions are getting smaller and smaller. It really is only a matter of time for me to get back to where I was.... but, my fear of residential treatment is keeping me from skipping meals. If I get back on the train, the next stop is Renfrew and I don't want to go there.
I'm trying to put on a brave face. There are people in my life who are bursting with love and support. They are beyond proud of me. It's great. I'm lucky to have support because I met so many women that didn't have any support at all. My biggest supporter is/was/will be my husband but LiLi is there for me emotionally in a way he can't be. I have the best of both worlds. I truly do. But..... I don't want to eat. I still really honestly don't have the desire.
I know it's lunch time but no one is here.... no one is watching me.... I had breakfast.... I could skip lunch and no one would know. Not a soul. It's so tempting. My first weekend in treatment, I was home about to eat my first breakfast without supervision. I measured everything out and started to cry. I sat on the floor, crying, looking at the GINORMOUS bowl of Cheerios I had to eat. How was I going to do it? My husband came in the house and found me on the floor. He picked me up, sat me down, put the food in front of me and started a conversation about something else entirely. So that's how I did it, one bite at a time.
Sitting here alone while my daughter naps, and my alarm keeps going off, I have an inner struggle and debate on what I should do. Soon, she'll wake up and my focus and attention will be on her and I won't eat. I have a small window to make the right decision but it's so hard. I still cannot get the food down when I'm alone. It was definitely easier eating with a group of women battling eating disorders. I miss them.... but I sure as hell don't miss the escorted trips to the bathroom, being confined to one room all day, not being allowed to leave the room for any reason except to go to the bathroom. I don't know.... sounds like prison to me,
My struggle is getting worse. I have to eat, I know I do. But when you aren't hungry, it's so hard to find something to eat. While I was in rehab, we did meal planning everyday off of a menu. That was easy but now, I need to think about what I am going to eat and it all makes me so tired. I am so fucking tired of thinking about food. I wish people would stop telling me how great I look too..... what does that mean? I look great because I put on weight? is that it? I have no idea what I weigh. There are no scales in my house and I have convinced myself that I've gained 10 pounds, if not more. I guess that's an "irrational thought." Um, ok. Fuck you then.
I'm glad I went because it made everyone happy but I don't feel better. If I was better, I would have stopped typing when the alarm went off to eat, but I didn't. I just want to sit here and cry because I'm so not hungry. The thought of eating actually makes me physically ill. I honestly just don't give a fuck anymore--- but the perfectionist in me is telling me to eat--- to finish what I started--- DON'T BE A QUITTER.
So what does that mean? It means I'm going to go and have lunch. FML.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Mission Accomplished
The love of a best friend can be truly powerful. When I use the term "best friend" it's something I take extremely seriously. This isn't a person I hear from once in a while or see on occasion or have know for a few years. It's someone that has been a part of my life for not years, but decades. Someone who really knows me-- for all the good and the bad. It's a person who has celebrated my achievements but also has pulled me out of the deepest of holes. I remember when Oprah once described Gayle, she said, "Gayle is the friend everyone deserves to have." I disagree. Lilijohnson is the friend everyone deserves to have. She is my Gayle..... She is the Ethel to my Lucy.... She's the Monica to my Rachel. Most importantly, she's the sister I never had as an only child.
I can count on LiLi to be honest with me, without hurting my feelings. She knows how to navigate me through tough waters. Once again, she's pulled me out of drowning waters. After a brief visit, she has made me see what no one else has even come close to showing me. My behavior isn't just hurting me, but it's hurting others around me. Very Intervention (ie- "your behavior affects me negatively in the following ways....). She has researched anorexia and continued to educate herself, even though she has been down this path with me once before. Sitting across from your best friend, with tears streaming down her face, saying "I can't do this [life] without you. You're all I have and I can't lose you" bring everything to a new perspective.
Considering I'm well schooled in guilt, that's not what this was. It was genuine concern and fright for my well being. That's when it hit me. Someone would really miss me to the point that I don't think she'd ever be the same if I were gone. I guess my husband always thought these were implied feelings on his part but it was nice to hear.... almost what I needed to hear. I had a sudden flash of myself gone and leaving behind all these people who care about me for what? To be thin? Well, that's pretty selfish and self destructive. All it once, like running into a brick wall, it hit me--- I need to get better. This has got to stop. It's just got to stop.
That said, I've decided to enter an outpatient eating disorders program. I'm sure work will be thrilled when the time comes but given that I STILL hear whispers behind my back about my eating, it shouldn't come as a surprise. One day, I'll have to do an Anorexia 101 seminar in the conference room for everyone on my floor.... Rule Number 1: Whispering about the anorexic girls eating habits while she is in earshot can be negative and triggering. *sigh*
Ok, so now what right? I've made this decision but when am I going? That's the million dollar question. There's no convenient time. I totally sound like someone on Intervention, "Oh I can't go today. No, no, no. I've got to take care of my dog/bills/court date/etc." Fear is keeping me from making a solid decision. Fear of upsetting my job, fear of putting on weight, fear of treatment AGAIN, fear of eating.... All of it makes me sick to my stomach but at the same time, I'm tired of feeling tired and weak.
I'm going though, I am. I'm 99.9% ready to go. But I've made a huge decision because this wasn't even on the radar. There was no possibility I was going. I had set a goal weight, once I reached it I was going to stop. Clearly I'm the only asshole who believed THAT theory. It's a big step and I'm scared. More scared than I have ever been about anything in my life. But, I have Lilijohnson. She's there for me. I have my husband. He's here for me. So, I know I'm going to be ok.
I am forever indebted to Lili. Whether this works, or doesn't work, it doesn't matter. She got me to see something I wasn't seeing. The love and concern in her voice was so overwhelming that night, I literally thought my heart was going to explode. I didn't know how to handle it. When she poured her feelings out, it took everything in my power not to cry--- especially when I put myself in her shoes and thought, Oh My God, what the FUCK would I do without her? It actually took my breathe away.
so here I am about to start on this new adventure.... very soon.... and of course, Lilijohnson's response, "This is going to make for great blog material." She's right. ....once again.
I can count on LiLi to be honest with me, without hurting my feelings. She knows how to navigate me through tough waters. Once again, she's pulled me out of drowning waters. After a brief visit, she has made me see what no one else has even come close to showing me. My behavior isn't just hurting me, but it's hurting others around me. Very Intervention (ie- "your behavior affects me negatively in the following ways....). She has researched anorexia and continued to educate herself, even though she has been down this path with me once before. Sitting across from your best friend, with tears streaming down her face, saying "I can't do this [life] without you. You're all I have and I can't lose you" bring everything to a new perspective.
Considering I'm well schooled in guilt, that's not what this was. It was genuine concern and fright for my well being. That's when it hit me. Someone would really miss me to the point that I don't think she'd ever be the same if I were gone. I guess my husband always thought these were implied feelings on his part but it was nice to hear.... almost what I needed to hear. I had a sudden flash of myself gone and leaving behind all these people who care about me for what? To be thin? Well, that's pretty selfish and self destructive. All it once, like running into a brick wall, it hit me--- I need to get better. This has got to stop. It's just got to stop.
That said, I've decided to enter an outpatient eating disorders program. I'm sure work will be thrilled when the time comes but given that I STILL hear whispers behind my back about my eating, it shouldn't come as a surprise. One day, I'll have to do an Anorexia 101 seminar in the conference room for everyone on my floor.... Rule Number 1: Whispering about the anorexic girls eating habits while she is in earshot can be negative and triggering. *sigh*
Ok, so now what right? I've made this decision but when am I going? That's the million dollar question. There's no convenient time. I totally sound like someone on Intervention, "Oh I can't go today. No, no, no. I've got to take care of my dog/bills/court date/etc." Fear is keeping me from making a solid decision. Fear of upsetting my job, fear of putting on weight, fear of treatment AGAIN, fear of eating.... All of it makes me sick to my stomach but at the same time, I'm tired of feeling tired and weak.
I'm going though, I am. I'm 99.9% ready to go. But I've made a huge decision because this wasn't even on the radar. There was no possibility I was going. I had set a goal weight, once I reached it I was going to stop. Clearly I'm the only asshole who believed THAT theory. It's a big step and I'm scared. More scared than I have ever been about anything in my life. But, I have Lilijohnson. She's there for me. I have my husband. He's here for me. So, I know I'm going to be ok.
I am forever indebted to Lili. Whether this works, or doesn't work, it doesn't matter. She got me to see something I wasn't seeing. The love and concern in her voice was so overwhelming that night, I literally thought my heart was going to explode. I didn't know how to handle it. When she poured her feelings out, it took everything in my power not to cry--- especially when I put myself in her shoes and thought, Oh My God, what the FUCK would I do without her? It actually took my breathe away.
so here I am about to start on this new adventure.... very soon.... and of course, Lilijohnson's response, "This is going to make for great blog material." She's right. ....once again.
Monday, July 18, 2011
What happens when you pass bottom?
For months I've been talking about hitting rock bottom.... Everytime I hit what I think is rock bottom, it's clearly not because I continue on a path of self destruction. It's been a few weeks since I have written and not because of lack of time, but more because of shame. I once believed I had control over this eating disorder but now, I realize it has complete control over me. For example: ordering off a menu has become difficult. I can't do it. My husband either cooks or brings dinner home and put it in front of me because I have no desire to eat so when I'm asked "what would you like for breakfast/lunch/dinner?" I can't answer-- because I don't want anything.
In the time I've been back to work, which is about 5 weeks now, I've lost an additional 7 lbs. I know that's fucked up. I can hear the whispers behind my back at my job so I kow that they've noticed too. My husband has been very supportive and suggested I Netflix a documentary so he could learn more--- which turned out to be a ploy. He wanted me to watch it as an eye opener. So, this weekend we watched it. And it scared the shit out of me. I was emotionally drained, scared, confused, ashamed and sad all at the same time. But, I still said to him, "I'm not as bad as those girls though, right?" He couldn't believe that I still don't see that I am-- but they were getting ont he scales weighing 82 pounds, 90 pounds, 79 pounds, etc. I'm still way above all that. I guess what people see, which I don't see is I am on the same exact path as these women.
Watching the documentary made me curious about how long and how intense this eating disorder has been for me throughout my life. I've kept a journal which goes all the way back to my freshman year of college and so yesterday, I sat and read and cried for the girl who wrote about her pain. The girl who could have been in that documentary. The girl that was me. I hid this from some people for so long. I honestly don't think anyone had a clue except for the handful of roommates I've had. My anxiety has been off the charts and I'm trying to work through it. But..... ya know what? I STILL have a goal weight. It pains me to even type that but I do.
Everyone around me wants me to get help. Sadly-- I have a ton of excuses why I shouldn't go. But watching this documentary, I realized what my biggest fear is. I don't wnat to put weight on. I want to be thin. I really do. I don't want to give up the control. Yet, at the same time, I'm so tired. It consumes me.... I think about it all the time. There is a really small part of me that wants to go.... but it's very small.
I feel like shit. Every single day I feel like shit. My stomach hurts and I'm nauseaus. I live on Turbo Dunkin Donuts coffee which means my stomach has to be a mess. I fear the damage I have done or doing to myself. And at the same time, I still don't wnat to go. I wish I knew what was going on with me and why I relapsed. I have no idea and I don't think anyone can fix me. There are nights I go to bed and wonder if I'm going to wake up. Is my heart going to stop beating in the middle of the night? One would think this would definitlete make me want to go but it doesn't.
Surprisingly I'm not depressed. I'm overall pretty happy with most of my life--- I see more good in it now than I did before I was in the hospital. I just don't know how much further it's got to go before I get help. I say I'm going to voluntariliy admit myself but, honestly, I don't think I'm going to. This week, I'm going to NewYork where my best friend lives. For some reason, I think she's going to have all the answers for me--- but she won't. She'll be able to guide me and she'll be honest with me (which everyone, except my mom who is in denial, has been).
Being anorexic at 22 is much different than being anorexic at 36. My body can't handle this anymore. I just don't have the motivation I need to go. I wish I did. I wish I wanted to go and get help, but honestly, deep down, I don't. I just want to be thin. I want to stay thin forever. I like what I see in the mirror.... but again, I don't see what everyone else is seeing. I know I'm sick. But what's the bottom for me? Death?
In the time I've been back to work, which is about 5 weeks now, I've lost an additional 7 lbs. I know that's fucked up. I can hear the whispers behind my back at my job so I kow that they've noticed too. My husband has been very supportive and suggested I Netflix a documentary so he could learn more--- which turned out to be a ploy. He wanted me to watch it as an eye opener. So, this weekend we watched it. And it scared the shit out of me. I was emotionally drained, scared, confused, ashamed and sad all at the same time. But, I still said to him, "I'm not as bad as those girls though, right?" He couldn't believe that I still don't see that I am-- but they were getting ont he scales weighing 82 pounds, 90 pounds, 79 pounds, etc. I'm still way above all that. I guess what people see, which I don't see is I am on the same exact path as these women.
Watching the documentary made me curious about how long and how intense this eating disorder has been for me throughout my life. I've kept a journal which goes all the way back to my freshman year of college and so yesterday, I sat and read and cried for the girl who wrote about her pain. The girl who could have been in that documentary. The girl that was me. I hid this from some people for so long. I honestly don't think anyone had a clue except for the handful of roommates I've had. My anxiety has been off the charts and I'm trying to work through it. But..... ya know what? I STILL have a goal weight. It pains me to even type that but I do.
Everyone around me wants me to get help. Sadly-- I have a ton of excuses why I shouldn't go. But watching this documentary, I realized what my biggest fear is. I don't wnat to put weight on. I want to be thin. I really do. I don't want to give up the control. Yet, at the same time, I'm so tired. It consumes me.... I think about it all the time. There is a really small part of me that wants to go.... but it's very small.
I feel like shit. Every single day I feel like shit. My stomach hurts and I'm nauseaus. I live on Turbo Dunkin Donuts coffee which means my stomach has to be a mess. I fear the damage I have done or doing to myself. And at the same time, I still don't wnat to go. I wish I knew what was going on with me and why I relapsed. I have no idea and I don't think anyone can fix me. There are nights I go to bed and wonder if I'm going to wake up. Is my heart going to stop beating in the middle of the night? One would think this would definitlete make me want to go but it doesn't.
Surprisingly I'm not depressed. I'm overall pretty happy with most of my life--- I see more good in it now than I did before I was in the hospital. I just don't know how much further it's got to go before I get help. I say I'm going to voluntariliy admit myself but, honestly, I don't think I'm going to. This week, I'm going to NewYork where my best friend lives. For some reason, I think she's going to have all the answers for me--- but she won't. She'll be able to guide me and she'll be honest with me (which everyone, except my mom who is in denial, has been).
Being anorexic at 22 is much different than being anorexic at 36. My body can't handle this anymore. I just don't have the motivation I need to go. I wish I did. I wish I wanted to go and get help, but honestly, deep down, I don't. I just want to be thin. I want to stay thin forever. I like what I see in the mirror.... but again, I don't see what everyone else is seeing. I know I'm sick. But what's the bottom for me? Death?
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Top of the All Set List
Everyone has that one person in their family known as "the shit stirrer." These delightful family members are the ones who love to spread gossip, maliciously whether true or not. Most of the time it is exaggerated in order to drum up unnecessary drama and conflict. I used to have a similar family member which we all tolerated. Unfortunately, they are also a source of useful information. Although they may slightly embellish the story to give it more oomph, they have the basic facts and surrounding circumstances pretty accurate.
Being Italian, there are two things I look for in friends (as well as when I was looking to meet the right guy): loyalty and respect. Sadly, as important as these attributes may be to me, it is not always a guarantee that you are going to gain in laws with such admirable traits. Obviously, if I am writing about it- I ended up with some shitty fucking in laws.
My husband comes from a very large and interestingly diverse family. For the most part, I adore his parents and even the majority of his siblings but there always ends up being one rotten apple in the bunch. It was very recently brought to my attention that one of his siblings called me a cunt. (This was said to the shit stirrer and has circulated through a semi gossip mill.) Yup, you heard me right. A cunt. Its not a pretty word to type or even a pretty word to read. Now, I freely admit there is no love there..... This family member, their spouse and I have never seen eye to eye on many things: morals, responsibility or even the qualities of a good human being. Essentially, they go against any and all semblance of what a basically good person is. Over the years, in addition to this colorful description, I have been accused of breaking down the relationship my husband has with them. Um, ok.... it has nothing to do with the fact that you are a complete douchebag but everything to do with the plotting and scheming i stay up into the wee hours planning to tear these two apart. Give me a fucking break.
Now, I have this information but have given my word to not confront the sibling at hand. Yet, what do I do with this information? ....nothing. I wait until the perfect moment. Everything comes full circle in life and like Oprah, I don't believe in coincidences. I believe there is a divine "intervention." I hate to use that term in quotes because I'm not especially religious. This will come back, and smack them in the face like a brick. It may not be what they said, it may just be karma, but I know they'll get theirs. I know the underlying element is their insane jealousy for what seems to be the perfect life that my husband and I live. I've said this before, the walls on the inside have been cracking--- we just have chose to keep it private (aside from the public blog that is). Not that they would give a shit- believe me. They are the type to revel in our misery.... and would enjoy the suffering of my restrictive eating.... because again, they are not good human beings. Let's say the concept of paying it forward isn't their mantra. Theirs is more--- how much can I sponge off of this person emotionally and financially.
An event is rapidly approaching where most of the siblings will be together--- at my house. This summer BBQ is causing anxiety for several reasons: an abundance of food, seeing family that I haven't seen anywhere from 6-9 months who will notice I am 25 lbs lighter than the last time they saw me and now, in addition to that, I am welcoming people into my home who believe I am a CUNT. This is being downplayed by my husband, and others, as it's all hearsay. I don't give a fuck what it is--- all I can be sure of is this is a possibility which is enough to cause anxiety levels to rise to the point of restricting food (I am still a work in progress).
I refuse to be uncomfortable in my own home and have decided, in the most Italian way possible, these people are dead to me. I refuse to lose another moment's happiness over them. It's been a long 7 years of me taking the high road for the sake of the rest of my in laws. I will not and should not do it anymore. I am in control of me. I have the power. No one can fight my battles for me and I need to face this head on... I am in a new place in my life and there is no room for them (literally and figuratively). They are not a good influence on my child, nor do they emanate positive energy to be around. My husband, as much as he loves to hear about the drama, refuses to take part in it so I am on my own in the way of defending myself. Again, the power lies within me to take control of how I want this to go. The concept of respect and loyalty is downplayed in his mind. For him, it's all about just ignoring it and letting it go. So, I will....
Essentially this means no more contact. I won't make my husband choose--- he can continue to maintain a relationship but I will not attend a birthday, a holiday or special occasion ever again. Although I rather my daughter not either, i don't feel it fair to make that decision myself. As she gets older, she will eventually see these people for who they really are and I have full confidence she won't want to be around them either.... In all honesty, my husband doesn't really want to be around them either but he does because, well, it's family...... at least I guess that's why. Nothing else makes sense to me.
It feels good to get it off my chest and until there is a reason to let these people back into my circle of trust, it feels good to let go.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Being Italian, there are two things I look for in friends (as well as when I was looking to meet the right guy): loyalty and respect. Sadly, as important as these attributes may be to me, it is not always a guarantee that you are going to gain in laws with such admirable traits. Obviously, if I am writing about it- I ended up with some shitty fucking in laws.
My husband comes from a very large and interestingly diverse family. For the most part, I adore his parents and even the majority of his siblings but there always ends up being one rotten apple in the bunch. It was very recently brought to my attention that one of his siblings called me a cunt. (This was said to the shit stirrer and has circulated through a semi gossip mill.) Yup, you heard me right. A cunt. Its not a pretty word to type or even a pretty word to read. Now, I freely admit there is no love there..... This family member, their spouse and I have never seen eye to eye on many things: morals, responsibility or even the qualities of a good human being. Essentially, they go against any and all semblance of what a basically good person is. Over the years, in addition to this colorful description, I have been accused of breaking down the relationship my husband has with them. Um, ok.... it has nothing to do with the fact that you are a complete douchebag but everything to do with the plotting and scheming i stay up into the wee hours planning to tear these two apart. Give me a fucking break.
Now, I have this information but have given my word to not confront the sibling at hand. Yet, what do I do with this information? ....nothing. I wait until the perfect moment. Everything comes full circle in life and like Oprah, I don't believe in coincidences. I believe there is a divine "intervention." I hate to use that term in quotes because I'm not especially religious. This will come back, and smack them in the face like a brick. It may not be what they said, it may just be karma, but I know they'll get theirs. I know the underlying element is their insane jealousy for what seems to be the perfect life that my husband and I live. I've said this before, the walls on the inside have been cracking--- we just have chose to keep it private (aside from the public blog that is). Not that they would give a shit- believe me. They are the type to revel in our misery.... and would enjoy the suffering of my restrictive eating.... because again, they are not good human beings. Let's say the concept of paying it forward isn't their mantra. Theirs is more--- how much can I sponge off of this person emotionally and financially.
An event is rapidly approaching where most of the siblings will be together--- at my house. This summer BBQ is causing anxiety for several reasons: an abundance of food, seeing family that I haven't seen anywhere from 6-9 months who will notice I am 25 lbs lighter than the last time they saw me and now, in addition to that, I am welcoming people into my home who believe I am a CUNT. This is being downplayed by my husband, and others, as it's all hearsay. I don't give a fuck what it is--- all I can be sure of is this is a possibility which is enough to cause anxiety levels to rise to the point of restricting food (I am still a work in progress).
I refuse to be uncomfortable in my own home and have decided, in the most Italian way possible, these people are dead to me. I refuse to lose another moment's happiness over them. It's been a long 7 years of me taking the high road for the sake of the rest of my in laws. I will not and should not do it anymore. I am in control of me. I have the power. No one can fight my battles for me and I need to face this head on... I am in a new place in my life and there is no room for them (literally and figuratively). They are not a good influence on my child, nor do they emanate positive energy to be around. My husband, as much as he loves to hear about the drama, refuses to take part in it so I am on my own in the way of defending myself. Again, the power lies within me to take control of how I want this to go. The concept of respect and loyalty is downplayed in his mind. For him, it's all about just ignoring it and letting it go. So, I will....
Essentially this means no more contact. I won't make my husband choose--- he can continue to maintain a relationship but I will not attend a birthday, a holiday or special occasion ever again. Although I rather my daughter not either, i don't feel it fair to make that decision myself. As she gets older, she will eventually see these people for who they really are and I have full confidence she won't want to be around them either.... In all honesty, my husband doesn't really want to be around them either but he does because, well, it's family...... at least I guess that's why. Nothing else makes sense to me.
It feels good to get it off my chest and until there is a reason to let these people back into my circle of trust, it feels good to let go.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Monday, June 27, 2011
Can Someone Stop This Ride So I Can Get Off
This blog initially started as a way to write about dealing with the struggles I faced while dealing with my mom's illness and recovery. Instead it's became a literary journey of how I am beginning to change as a person and finally face my struggles head on. I've lost sight of the original purpose--- but with good reason.
I've received many inquiries about how my mom is doing. It's a difficult question to answer.... Very difficult. Now I am at the point that i don't want to jinx anything so I may stop answering the question forever. I was most recently asked over the weekend by a good friend and told her that my mom was doing amazing. She's become more active and seems to be regaining strength every day. But, after seeing her yesterday, it's not true. She may have taken one step forward but she has taken 3 steps back.
Over the past few weeks, she was going out more-- even dining out which was amazing. Father's Day she attended brunch with my stepfather, husband, daughter and me. It was the first time the five of us had been in a restaurant together in well over a year. It was a great day. To be honest, it was indescribable. She looked beautiful and full of life. Throughout the week when I spoke with her, she sounded good. She was excited to be going to dinner for her anniversary to one of her favorite places.... I started to feel like I could really breathe again. It's been almost a year since the Cancer diagnosis and about 9 months since she's been Cancer free. I was convinced things were getting better.
Yesterday, my daughter and I visited her. My mom looked terrible. Just terrible. I was uncomfortable the entire time I was there. I spoke with her a few times over the week and as the weekend approached, I didn't hear from her much but assumed (wrongly) that she was out but that we'd catch up on Sunday. Sunday afternoon I called her and asked how she was and if she was up for a visit (my 2 year old wears ME out so I can only imagine what she does to my mom who doesn't have all her stamina back yet). Although she said yes, I sensed differently but went against my better judgment because I wanted her to see my daughter. Sometimes I feel that she is the only reason that she finds to live. I also wanted to see my mom--- it's no secret that she and I are close.
But it's getting harder and harder to watch. I become angry then guilty for feeling such anger. Not surprisingly, since yesterday my appetite has waned even more. I've decided for my own mental health, I really need to stop going to there until she gets her shit together and feels good. Clearly she isn't going to be honest about it. I suppose I can go back to just called my step father on the sly--- find out what the deal is and then make a decision from there. I don't know.... Being in my partial program has taught me to that I should remove myself from an uncomfortable situation. Why create extra anxiety? Why worry about the what ifs? Clearly that gets me fucking no where.
In the meantime, when someone asks how she's doing, my response is going to be a generic "fine" and leave it at that. I love her so much and I have had more glimpses into the mom I remember than the mom she was becoming, so that's a positive. This journey seems to be getting longer and longer. I can't help but think she pushes herself to hard to get better and it backfires. Yesterday was miserable. I felt unwelcome in my mom's house.... MY house for the first time ever. I couldn't wait to leave. There was this overwhelming feeling that she really wanted to be left alone to rest--- which is fine. I just wish she would tell me.
Protecting me for fear of the consequences doesn't help. I'm still restricting food (yet not losing weight-- ugh) so being clandestine about how she physically feels isn't really helping anyone. She's sure as hell not protecting me at this point. While I still care, I can't get caught up in it and it's an inner power struggle that I try to manage.... I thought I was doing really well, but I guess like my mom, I'm doing fine.
I've received many inquiries about how my mom is doing. It's a difficult question to answer.... Very difficult. Now I am at the point that i don't want to jinx anything so I may stop answering the question forever. I was most recently asked over the weekend by a good friend and told her that my mom was doing amazing. She's become more active and seems to be regaining strength every day. But, after seeing her yesterday, it's not true. She may have taken one step forward but she has taken 3 steps back.
Over the past few weeks, she was going out more-- even dining out which was amazing. Father's Day she attended brunch with my stepfather, husband, daughter and me. It was the first time the five of us had been in a restaurant together in well over a year. It was a great day. To be honest, it was indescribable. She looked beautiful and full of life. Throughout the week when I spoke with her, she sounded good. She was excited to be going to dinner for her anniversary to one of her favorite places.... I started to feel like I could really breathe again. It's been almost a year since the Cancer diagnosis and about 9 months since she's been Cancer free. I was convinced things were getting better.
Yesterday, my daughter and I visited her. My mom looked terrible. Just terrible. I was uncomfortable the entire time I was there. I spoke with her a few times over the week and as the weekend approached, I didn't hear from her much but assumed (wrongly) that she was out but that we'd catch up on Sunday. Sunday afternoon I called her and asked how she was and if she was up for a visit (my 2 year old wears ME out so I can only imagine what she does to my mom who doesn't have all her stamina back yet). Although she said yes, I sensed differently but went against my better judgment because I wanted her to see my daughter. Sometimes I feel that she is the only reason that she finds to live. I also wanted to see my mom--- it's no secret that she and I are close.
But it's getting harder and harder to watch. I become angry then guilty for feeling such anger. Not surprisingly, since yesterday my appetite has waned even more. I've decided for my own mental health, I really need to stop going to there until she gets her shit together and feels good. Clearly she isn't going to be honest about it. I suppose I can go back to just called my step father on the sly--- find out what the deal is and then make a decision from there. I don't know.... Being in my partial program has taught me to that I should remove myself from an uncomfortable situation. Why create extra anxiety? Why worry about the what ifs? Clearly that gets me fucking no where.
In the meantime, when someone asks how she's doing, my response is going to be a generic "fine" and leave it at that. I love her so much and I have had more glimpses into the mom I remember than the mom she was becoming, so that's a positive. This journey seems to be getting longer and longer. I can't help but think she pushes herself to hard to get better and it backfires. Yesterday was miserable. I felt unwelcome in my mom's house.... MY house for the first time ever. I couldn't wait to leave. There was this overwhelming feeling that she really wanted to be left alone to rest--- which is fine. I just wish she would tell me.
Protecting me for fear of the consequences doesn't help. I'm still restricting food (yet not losing weight-- ugh) so being clandestine about how she physically feels isn't really helping anyone. She's sure as hell not protecting me at this point. While I still care, I can't get caught up in it and it's an inner power struggle that I try to manage.... I thought I was doing really well, but I guess like my mom, I'm doing fine.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Dream Dictionary Would Be Helpful
Ugh, against my better judgment, I have decided to write about DB (see previous posts). There has been a trending problem since our friendship dissolved-- the nightmares. I really, really hate to even write about him but this blog has become so cathartic for me that perhaps a short blog on this will help me since last night I had a pretty disturbing nightmare. Brief recap: DB and I met when we were 13, instant best friends for years, dated about 2 years in our twenties, broke up, but remained friends until it became impossible. We're both now married, with children and out of each other's life for good. There was a mutual agreement to that about 8 years ago.
All that being said, since the split, from time to time I have had horrible nightmares. They all basically consist of the same premise: in the dream he and I know we aren't friends and time has passed since we've seen each other last. What does change from time to time is our interaction. Sometimes we reconcile and have a love fest of how much we missed each other and glad that we are back in one another's life. Or, as in last night's case, we fight like cats and dogs the same way we did when the friendship was hanging on by a thread. In each case, the dream wakes me up, startled and in tears. Last night was no different.
These dreams bother me on so many levels that I don't even know where to begin. First, I hate that he's still on my mind because I know that I'm not on his. Clearly I need closure here, even though I thought I had it. When we mutually agreed to never speak again, it was a calm conversation while sitting at my kitchen table. We hugged and kissed good bye. Wished each other well and that was it. Um, looks like closure to me, right? Starting to think no.
Second, I am disturbed to the point of nausea that I may actually still miss him in my life. I tell myself that I miss the times we had and the person he was but that's it-- right? I know for a fact, he and my husband would not get along. My husband would HATE him. Of course, he would be bias due to all the stories I've told him but I know there would be a strong personality clash. I never share good stories with my husband, even though there are many. Mostly because we did date and it's just weird. It's funny because I am "friends" with some exes, and my husband knows that and is perfectly ok with it. But, if DB and I reconnected, there would be problems. I know there would.
I know that in the relationship aspect, I'm over him. He would deny it and never believe it- but that's his ego. His ego is SUPER big. Sometimes, there wasn't enough space for him, his ego and me in the same room. Sadly, from what I her from mutual acquaintances (yes, we have mutual friends but never see each other), that hasn't changed. Did we have good time as a couple? Sure but we had better times as best friends. Those are what I miss. The dreams never relate to a romantic relationship but more of the friendship we once had. I trusted him implicitly and he broke my heart. I haven't been able to trust since we disconnected. So, in essence: pre-DB friends are ok, post DB friends are always on the fringe and can be cut at anytime. I guess I can thank him for that.... so, DB, if you see this, thanks for fucking me up more than you already did.
As I said, I hate to even give this asshole any attention but last night's dream was disturbing and woke me up in tears. I don't know why it continues to happen. It's not frequent but, once I have one, I have them for a few nights in a row. Makes sense because he's on my mind so why wouldn't I dream about him. Ugh.Makes me so angry. I just know he has hasn't looked back once and it bothers me that I have. I wish I knew why I cared so much about what he thinks and if I've crossed his mind.... but maybe there was no closure.
Our paths have crossed several times since that day we wished one another luck in their future. Do you know how he handles it? By ignoring me and pretending not to see me. After 14 years of friendship, he pretends NOT to see me. Fucker. That shit really irritates me. Beyond any explanation. He may not want to be friends but I'm still a human being, and if he is as nice and as changed a person as he claims to be (from what I've been told), he would be a tad more magnanimous when we see one other. I suppose I could break the ice and say hi, but I always feel as though if I do, I'm setting myself up for disappointment.
A dear friend of mine once posted an anonymous quote:
"There comes a a point in your life when you realize who matters, who
never did, who won't anymore and who always will. So don't worry
about people from your past, there's a reason why they didn't make
your future."
I think of this quote often when DB comes to mind.... I also share it with those who are experiencing conflicts with a loved on in their life. I try to convince them of how true this is, but I haven't been able to convince myself. Perhaps one day......
All that being said, since the split, from time to time I have had horrible nightmares. They all basically consist of the same premise: in the dream he and I know we aren't friends and time has passed since we've seen each other last. What does change from time to time is our interaction. Sometimes we reconcile and have a love fest of how much we missed each other and glad that we are back in one another's life. Or, as in last night's case, we fight like cats and dogs the same way we did when the friendship was hanging on by a thread. In each case, the dream wakes me up, startled and in tears. Last night was no different.
These dreams bother me on so many levels that I don't even know where to begin. First, I hate that he's still on my mind because I know that I'm not on his. Clearly I need closure here, even though I thought I had it. When we mutually agreed to never speak again, it was a calm conversation while sitting at my kitchen table. We hugged and kissed good bye. Wished each other well and that was it. Um, looks like closure to me, right? Starting to think no.
Second, I am disturbed to the point of nausea that I may actually still miss him in my life. I tell myself that I miss the times we had and the person he was but that's it-- right? I know for a fact, he and my husband would not get along. My husband would HATE him. Of course, he would be bias due to all the stories I've told him but I know there would be a strong personality clash. I never share good stories with my husband, even though there are many. Mostly because we did date and it's just weird. It's funny because I am "friends" with some exes, and my husband knows that and is perfectly ok with it. But, if DB and I reconnected, there would be problems. I know there would.
I know that in the relationship aspect, I'm over him. He would deny it and never believe it- but that's his ego. His ego is SUPER big. Sometimes, there wasn't enough space for him, his ego and me in the same room. Sadly, from what I her from mutual acquaintances (yes, we have mutual friends but never see each other), that hasn't changed. Did we have good time as a couple? Sure but we had better times as best friends. Those are what I miss. The dreams never relate to a romantic relationship but more of the friendship we once had. I trusted him implicitly and he broke my heart. I haven't been able to trust since we disconnected. So, in essence: pre-DB friends are ok, post DB friends are always on the fringe and can be cut at anytime. I guess I can thank him for that.... so, DB, if you see this, thanks for fucking me up more than you already did.
As I said, I hate to even give this asshole any attention but last night's dream was disturbing and woke me up in tears. I don't know why it continues to happen. It's not frequent but, once I have one, I have them for a few nights in a row. Makes sense because he's on my mind so why wouldn't I dream about him. Ugh.Makes me so angry. I just know he has hasn't looked back once and it bothers me that I have. I wish I knew why I cared so much about what he thinks and if I've crossed his mind.... but maybe there was no closure.
Our paths have crossed several times since that day we wished one another luck in their future. Do you know how he handles it? By ignoring me and pretending not to see me. After 14 years of friendship, he pretends NOT to see me. Fucker. That shit really irritates me. Beyond any explanation. He may not want to be friends but I'm still a human being, and if he is as nice and as changed a person as he claims to be (from what I've been told), he would be a tad more magnanimous when we see one other. I suppose I could break the ice and say hi, but I always feel as though if I do, I'm setting myself up for disappointment.
A dear friend of mine once posted an anonymous quote:
"There comes a a point in your life when you realize who matters, who
never did, who won't anymore and who always will. So don't worry
about people from your past, there's a reason why they didn't make
your future."
I think of this quote often when DB comes to mind.... I also share it with those who are experiencing conflicts with a loved on in their life. I try to convince them of how true this is, but I haven't been able to convince myself. Perhaps one day......
Thursday, June 16, 2011
What's a Grace without a Will?
It so happens that gay pride month is the same month of my best friend's birthday. I should mention the significance of this is the fact that he's gay. Since I never use names, we'll just call him Will. June has always been dubbed "Will Appreciation Month." Obviously a birthday celebration shouldn't last just ONE day.... and the concept of an entire month of appreciation was his idea. Of course, being an only child who had birthday extravaganza's every year, I decided to adopt this way of thinking.
Per usual I am late with his birthday present but I spent a great deal of time thinking about it, and have finally come up with the perfect gift. At least I hope he thinks so. In addition to the gift itself, I sort of thought I would take the opportunity to write a blog not necessarily about Will specifically, but why EVERY Grace (me) needs a Will in her life. Will and I have been friends for 17 years. Yes, there have been ups and downs. A few heated arguments and even periods of separation (although brief, painful nonetheless). We were Will and Grace before there was a Will and Grace.
Finally, there came a point in our lives where our dream was to be fulfilled--- we were moving in together (again, this was before it became hip to live with your gay best friend). Will isn't a stereotypical gay man-- by that I mean, when you say the word gay man, usually Liberace or more recently, Christian Soriano come to mind. He's like neither. But, they won't take his rainbow card away because he does maintain some of the traits of a gay man (well dressed, well coiffed and well versed in "Mommie Dearest"). Living together was the best 2.5 years of my life-- whether or not he knows it.
Anyway, I decided to put together a top 10 list of why every Grace Needs a Will. I love lists and it's the best way to express myself. As usual, I'll start in reverse.
10. Good for the ego--- Will constantly tells me how beautiful I am, how chic I am, how I'm working it... I love it.
9. Honest when shopping--- Will has no problem telling me something looks bad on me before I make a horrendous mistake on a purchase that will no doubt sit in my closet.
8. Enjoys chick flicks--- We've watched Steel Magnolias, Fried Green Tomatoes and Mommie Dearest countless times.
7. Perpetual date-- I always had a wedding date, formal date, valentine, and so on even if he was dating someone. There was no jealousy.
6. Gay clubs/bars-- it's a place where you can go, dressed up in the shortest skirt and highest heels and NOT get hit on by creepy guys. It's all about going out and having fun without douchebags bothering you. The one draw back is, no one is buying you drinks.
5. Mutual love of hot men--- I know, stereotypical but one of favorite past times is to people watch and check out guys together. Again, there's no competition.
4. Drama -- there is not a gay man on the planet that does not have drama following him in some capacity. It makes my life seem a great deal more interesting when Will has drama going on in his life. It's exciting and invigorating with all the "No he did not" or "Are you EVEN kidding me right now?" which comes out of our mouths
3. Clean Bathrooms--- when we lived together, he bleached the entire bathroom down daily. It was awesome. He was worried about water bugs and made sure he killed that shit with the bleach. Gay men don't like bugs.... It's a nice thing. Aside from that, the seat was never up. There were never drops of urine on the seat. It was just pristine (as pristine as it could be for a bathroom in Queens).
2. Loyalty - every true Will is loyal to his Grace. Although mine has tried to find "psuedo-Graces" to hang out with since we live miles and miles and miles apart, he hasn't been able to find one. I haven't even attempted to search for a "psuedo Will." No one will even come close to him, so why waste my time? Eventually he'll figure that out. I choose just to be lonely.
1. Love- Hands down it's a special love/bond that I don't think can ever sever. He fulfills my needs in ways my female friends can't or my husband. It's not a brother/sister love--- I think it runs deeper than that. We "get" each other. There is a chemistry and a connection that I've never found with anyone else. I think the closest analogy would be what twins feel. It's funny because somehow, even though he is miles away, if I am having a really bad day or something is going on, I'll randomly get a phone call or a text. Almost as if he knew some how. Gay Man-Straigh Woman love is unique. I feel blessed to have it.
Willl is extraordinary, no doubt but no one is perfect. Again, we've had our moments. I may not always agree with him, but I support him and vice versa. I know I can count on him.... I've been able to do that for 17 years now, which is almost half my life. I can't imagine how these last 17years would have been without him in it. He's been there through the death of my father, my first round at beating anorexia, my difficulty to conceive and now--- when I seem to need him most as I battle this addiction to restricting food all over again. He never leaves me--- he may get mad at me, but he never leaves me. I'm sure there are many friends out there like this but, again, I think this type of relationship is unique.
I've learned a great deal being his friend and sharing his struggles. I hope he has too.
Happy Birthday Will. I love you.
Per usual I am late with his birthday present but I spent a great deal of time thinking about it, and have finally come up with the perfect gift. At least I hope he thinks so. In addition to the gift itself, I sort of thought I would take the opportunity to write a blog not necessarily about Will specifically, but why EVERY Grace (me) needs a Will in her life. Will and I have been friends for 17 years. Yes, there have been ups and downs. A few heated arguments and even periods of separation (although brief, painful nonetheless). We were Will and Grace before there was a Will and Grace.
Finally, there came a point in our lives where our dream was to be fulfilled--- we were moving in together (again, this was before it became hip to live with your gay best friend). Will isn't a stereotypical gay man-- by that I mean, when you say the word gay man, usually Liberace or more recently, Christian Soriano come to mind. He's like neither. But, they won't take his rainbow card away because he does maintain some of the traits of a gay man (well dressed, well coiffed and well versed in "Mommie Dearest"). Living together was the best 2.5 years of my life-- whether or not he knows it.
Anyway, I decided to put together a top 10 list of why every Grace Needs a Will. I love lists and it's the best way to express myself. As usual, I'll start in reverse.
10. Good for the ego--- Will constantly tells me how beautiful I am, how chic I am, how I'm working it... I love it.
9. Honest when shopping--- Will has no problem telling me something looks bad on me before I make a horrendous mistake on a purchase that will no doubt sit in my closet.
8. Enjoys chick flicks--- We've watched Steel Magnolias, Fried Green Tomatoes and Mommie Dearest countless times.
7. Perpetual date-- I always had a wedding date, formal date, valentine, and so on even if he was dating someone. There was no jealousy.
6. Gay clubs/bars-- it's a place where you can go, dressed up in the shortest skirt and highest heels and NOT get hit on by creepy guys. It's all about going out and having fun without douchebags bothering you. The one draw back is, no one is buying you drinks.
5. Mutual love of hot men--- I know, stereotypical but one of favorite past times is to people watch and check out guys together. Again, there's no competition.
4. Drama -- there is not a gay man on the planet that does not have drama following him in some capacity. It makes my life seem a great deal more interesting when Will has drama going on in his life. It's exciting and invigorating with all the "No he did not" or "Are you EVEN kidding me right now?" which comes out of our mouths
3. Clean Bathrooms--- when we lived together, he bleached the entire bathroom down daily. It was awesome. He was worried about water bugs and made sure he killed that shit with the bleach. Gay men don't like bugs.... It's a nice thing. Aside from that, the seat was never up. There were never drops of urine on the seat. It was just pristine (as pristine as it could be for a bathroom in Queens).
2. Loyalty - every true Will is loyal to his Grace. Although mine has tried to find "psuedo-Graces" to hang out with since we live miles and miles and miles apart, he hasn't been able to find one. I haven't even attempted to search for a "psuedo Will." No one will even come close to him, so why waste my time? Eventually he'll figure that out. I choose just to be lonely.
1. Love- Hands down it's a special love/bond that I don't think can ever sever. He fulfills my needs in ways my female friends can't or my husband. It's not a brother/sister love--- I think it runs deeper than that. We "get" each other. There is a chemistry and a connection that I've never found with anyone else. I think the closest analogy would be what twins feel. It's funny because somehow, even though he is miles away, if I am having a really bad day or something is going on, I'll randomly get a phone call or a text. Almost as if he knew some how. Gay Man-Straigh Woman love is unique. I feel blessed to have it.
Willl is extraordinary, no doubt but no one is perfect. Again, we've had our moments. I may not always agree with him, but I support him and vice versa. I know I can count on him.... I've been able to do that for 17 years now, which is almost half my life. I can't imagine how these last 17years would have been without him in it. He's been there through the death of my father, my first round at beating anorexia, my difficulty to conceive and now--- when I seem to need him most as I battle this addiction to restricting food all over again. He never leaves me--- he may get mad at me, but he never leaves me. I'm sure there are many friends out there like this but, again, I think this type of relationship is unique.
I've learned a great deal being his friend and sharing his struggles. I hope he has too.
Happy Birthday Will. I love you.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Why Don't I Want to Eat?
As I was sitting doing GRE prep work on vocabulary (which I was kicking ass at), I was suddenly disturbed by the ringing of my phone. Since I have caller ID, I knew it was a friend and welcomed the distraction. In the first 5 minutes, per usual, he was circling around in a conversation not making much sense and I finally asked him if he was calling for a legitimate reason. That was my first mistake. He was calling to place a little wager..... Although the terms are sketchy (meaning, there doesn't seem to be prize for the winner or consequence for the loser) I humored him and agreed to it. The bet: I have until July 31 to put on 3 lbs. I laughed out loud and continue to laugh to myself. Clearly people just don't get it. This was pretty much the straw to break the proverbial camel's back. Ironically enough, my husband and I discussed my issues with eating last night since the workshop I participate in was very triggering yesterday. But, I'll assume he didn't talk to my husband and this is coming from general concern.
Let me preface my rant by saying this first: I know that each and every statement about my weight (or lack thereof) is coming from a place of love and concern for my overall well being. I'm not angry at all. I know people are worried but what is starting to worry me more is the ignorance of my disease. I was told by one of the many psychiatric treaters I have that I needed to put on 3 lbs before returning to work, well, turns out I weigh less now than when I went out on leave. Concerning, yes but we'll get to that later. In the last week I've been (in addition to the wager), the following has occurred:
1. You need to eat
2. Eat some baby back ribs
3. Just go to Coldstone
4. You're a stick!
5. You are so thin! Are you like that on purpose?
6. Eat more protein
7. Chow down on Big Macs
Of course these are in addition to the calls wherein I am asked, "What did you eat today?" Again, the ignorance is starting to grate on my nerves. I understand not everyone knows what to say. There isn't really a book of etiquette when it comes to dealing with a close friend/family member battling an eating disorder. If there is, please let me know so I can give them out as Christmas presents. In the mean time, here's the deal:
I DON'T WANT TO EAT
I know it's hard to believe it's that simple, but it truly is. So telling me to eat or what to eat isn't helping me, although I know where you're all coming from. As my husband says, "You're fucked." And in it's simplest form, I am because I don't want to eat. I wish I knew why I didn't want to eat. I am hoping one of my treating professionals can tell me and we can work on it. But, instead I'm setting goal weights for myself. So, sure, I have this wager but it's not incentive to eat. It's funny, in a sick twisted way, but the longer you go without eating, the easier it is NOT to eat. I've spiraled so far out of control that I don't even know how or why this started. I just know that I'm not ready to give up.
Do I eat? Yes. Anorexics do eat. In most cases, they eat every day (as do I). It's just what we eat. I physically cannot handle too large a meal. I get so grossly ill that it's not worth it to me. For some reason, I do better at eating when we're out in a restaurant. I don't know why but it's something my husband has noticed. Maybe the glass of wine lowers my will power.... I have no idea. I guess a great deal of the problem is, I am still not in a dangerous weight range nor am I feeling any serious affects from it. Apparently I lack energy--- so I've been told. There may be truth to that statement, so I'll go with it for now.
My husband believe the anorexia really has no ascertainable beginning point or ending point, but rather it's the collateral damage of what I have been dealing with over what will soon be a year. I can see that. But, I'm going off on a tangent.....
The main point is, what I once took for granted (eating) is now almost an impossibility for me. I wish I could eat, but I can't. It sounds ludicrous--- I know. When I say it out loud even I'm like, what the fuck am I talking about. Eating is difficult. Plain and simple. It's not a matter of will power or even control. Now I'm into a layer of fear. Restricting food is an addiction and like most addictions, it's hard to stop. I don't know how to eat anymore. Ironically, I don't think about food and I'm not all consumed by calories/fat/exercise. I just don't think about it. If there is food there, I may or may not eat it. Eating just isn't important to me---which in all honesty scares me. I often wonder what it is going to take to get me to stop this roller coaster ride but I don't have the answers. Would more time out of work help? Probably not. It just sort of is what it is.
I can say that negativity DOES NOT help. For example, telling me that I look terrible or sick or that I'm not getting better does not encourage me. In actuality, it makes me do the opposite. It makes me feel as though any work or effort I have put in STILL isn't enough so why bother? There is a way to approach the situation in a positive way such as, "I know you're trying but you still don't look good and I'm concerned because I love you." Very easy. Very simple. But to badger me about it, well, that's the worst thing to do.
Another thing that doesn't help? Ignoring it. It's real and it's there. Don't pretend it's not because that makes me uncomfortable. I have no problem discussing the anorexia-- clearly or wouldn't be posting it on a public blog--- but pretending there isn't a problem, isn't going to make it go away. Do I want to get better? 100% yes. Believe it or not, I am working towards that goal. The first order of business is to figure out why I don't want to eat. Until I do that, there really isn't much I can do. The good news is, I am trying to figure it out by going to therapy and outpatient treatment. I'm not ignoring the problem. I truly want to stop, but sadly, it's difficult.
I can appreciate most people's ignorance on the matter. I have a handful of people in my life (not in the psychology field) who have had past experience in this with either friends, family or me for that matter. They get it. Sometimes noticing how much I ate is more more effective than noticing how much I didn't eat. It's a tough concept to understand--- it seems to against all reason.
To be honest, I'm dancing as fast as I can folks. This isn't going to happen overnight.... and until I can get to the root of my problem, it is what it is. I do try. I do make an effort. I'm thankful to have people in my life who are so worried and concerned. This is just a daily struggle..... sadly. I know the consequences and it's not that I don't care, there is just a part of me that doesn't believe they can happen to me. Although I admit I am anorexic (through a great deal of therapy), deep down inside, I don't feel like I am.
Let me preface my rant by saying this first: I know that each and every statement about my weight (or lack thereof) is coming from a place of love and concern for my overall well being. I'm not angry at all. I know people are worried but what is starting to worry me more is the ignorance of my disease. I was told by one of the many psychiatric treaters I have that I needed to put on 3 lbs before returning to work, well, turns out I weigh less now than when I went out on leave. Concerning, yes but we'll get to that later. In the last week I've been (in addition to the wager), the following has occurred:
1. You need to eat
2. Eat some baby back ribs
3. Just go to Coldstone
4. You're a stick!
5. You are so thin! Are you like that on purpose?
6. Eat more protein
7. Chow down on Big Macs
Of course these are in addition to the calls wherein I am asked, "What did you eat today?" Again, the ignorance is starting to grate on my nerves. I understand not everyone knows what to say. There isn't really a book of etiquette when it comes to dealing with a close friend/family member battling an eating disorder. If there is, please let me know so I can give them out as Christmas presents. In the mean time, here's the deal:
I DON'T WANT TO EAT
I know it's hard to believe it's that simple, but it truly is. So telling me to eat or what to eat isn't helping me, although I know where you're all coming from. As my husband says, "You're fucked." And in it's simplest form, I am because I don't want to eat. I wish I knew why I didn't want to eat. I am hoping one of my treating professionals can tell me and we can work on it. But, instead I'm setting goal weights for myself. So, sure, I have this wager but it's not incentive to eat. It's funny, in a sick twisted way, but the longer you go without eating, the easier it is NOT to eat. I've spiraled so far out of control that I don't even know how or why this started. I just know that I'm not ready to give up.
Do I eat? Yes. Anorexics do eat. In most cases, they eat every day (as do I). It's just what we eat. I physically cannot handle too large a meal. I get so grossly ill that it's not worth it to me. For some reason, I do better at eating when we're out in a restaurant. I don't know why but it's something my husband has noticed. Maybe the glass of wine lowers my will power.... I have no idea. I guess a great deal of the problem is, I am still not in a dangerous weight range nor am I feeling any serious affects from it. Apparently I lack energy--- so I've been told. There may be truth to that statement, so I'll go with it for now.
My husband believe the anorexia really has no ascertainable beginning point or ending point, but rather it's the collateral damage of what I have been dealing with over what will soon be a year. I can see that. But, I'm going off on a tangent.....
The main point is, what I once took for granted (eating) is now almost an impossibility for me. I wish I could eat, but I can't. It sounds ludicrous--- I know. When I say it out loud even I'm like, what the fuck am I talking about. Eating is difficult. Plain and simple. It's not a matter of will power or even control. Now I'm into a layer of fear. Restricting food is an addiction and like most addictions, it's hard to stop. I don't know how to eat anymore. Ironically, I don't think about food and I'm not all consumed by calories/fat/exercise. I just don't think about it. If there is food there, I may or may not eat it. Eating just isn't important to me---which in all honesty scares me. I often wonder what it is going to take to get me to stop this roller coaster ride but I don't have the answers. Would more time out of work help? Probably not. It just sort of is what it is.
I can say that negativity DOES NOT help. For example, telling me that I look terrible or sick or that I'm not getting better does not encourage me. In actuality, it makes me do the opposite. It makes me feel as though any work or effort I have put in STILL isn't enough so why bother? There is a way to approach the situation in a positive way such as, "I know you're trying but you still don't look good and I'm concerned because I love you." Very easy. Very simple. But to badger me about it, well, that's the worst thing to do.
Another thing that doesn't help? Ignoring it. It's real and it's there. Don't pretend it's not because that makes me uncomfortable. I have no problem discussing the anorexia-- clearly or wouldn't be posting it on a public blog--- but pretending there isn't a problem, isn't going to make it go away. Do I want to get better? 100% yes. Believe it or not, I am working towards that goal. The first order of business is to figure out why I don't want to eat. Until I do that, there really isn't much I can do. The good news is, I am trying to figure it out by going to therapy and outpatient treatment. I'm not ignoring the problem. I truly want to stop, but sadly, it's difficult.
I can appreciate most people's ignorance on the matter. I have a handful of people in my life (not in the psychology field) who have had past experience in this with either friends, family or me for that matter. They get it. Sometimes noticing how much I ate is more more effective than noticing how much I didn't eat. It's a tough concept to understand--- it seems to against all reason.
To be honest, I'm dancing as fast as I can folks. This isn't going to happen overnight.... and until I can get to the root of my problem, it is what it is. I do try. I do make an effort. I'm thankful to have people in my life who are so worried and concerned. This is just a daily struggle..... sadly. I know the consequences and it's not that I don't care, there is just a part of me that doesn't believe they can happen to me. Although I admit I am anorexic (through a great deal of therapy), deep down inside, I don't feel like I am.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Cruise 2011: Day 5 (Coming Home)
Three girls with a dream set off on an adventure...... as with most good things, this adventure had come to an end. The Carnival Destiny had docked in Miami and it was time to go home. So sad. We filled up on breakfast and caught up on email because we finally had working internet service then we parted ways once outside the port. GF#2 was off to Miami International Airport and #1 and I were off to Ft. Lauderdale. All I can think about is how much I hate to fly..... The anticipation was horrible as usual but I sat and reflected back on all those "shared moments" between Donnie and me. I came to the conclusion that the name of the ship was the Destiny for a reason. We'll be together again, I just know it. We have more moments to share....
While waiting in the airport terminal, we ended up chatting with the dad of one of the New Kids. Turns out he's on our flight. I met him last year and we chatted but this year, we ended up sitting with him on the flight. We talked about this and that.... He shared some fun anecdotes about the old days when they started out. Without him knowing it, he created more of a personal relationship between us and the guys. I knew things about them which weren't particularly sacred but tidbits of information that made them more real to us.
He asked us if we had tickets to any of the upcoming shows with the Backstreet Boys. GF#1 is very blunt.... without missing a beat she said, "No, we hate the Backstreet Boys." Inside I went *ugh* but on the outside I laughed when I saw he found the humor in it. Maybe we should reconsider? Maybe we should go to the concert? Hmmmmm....
As we parted ways with him at the airport, we exchanged information and decided that if we did go to see a concert, we'd let him know and meet up again. Did this really happen? Did we just make friends with one of the dads? Only GF#1 and I..... Meanwhile, at an airport an hour away, GF#2 was flying home with Jon and Jordan Knight only six rows in front of her on the plane. Really????? I can't believe how we ended up in these situations.... are they all coincidental? I don't know.
What I do know is this: It was all Destiny.
PS- The three of us ended up going to a NKOTBSB concert. It was truly amazing. Did we meet up with the dad? Hell yeah. No, we didn't go backstage. I'll admit, sure it was in the back of our heads but at the same time, having these moments--- one on one mean more than a photo op.
While waiting in the airport terminal, we ended up chatting with the dad of one of the New Kids. Turns out he's on our flight. I met him last year and we chatted but this year, we ended up sitting with him on the flight. We talked about this and that.... He shared some fun anecdotes about the old days when they started out. Without him knowing it, he created more of a personal relationship between us and the guys. I knew things about them which weren't particularly sacred but tidbits of information that made them more real to us.
He asked us if we had tickets to any of the upcoming shows with the Backstreet Boys. GF#1 is very blunt.... without missing a beat she said, "No, we hate the Backstreet Boys." Inside I went *ugh* but on the outside I laughed when I saw he found the humor in it. Maybe we should reconsider? Maybe we should go to the concert? Hmmmmm....
As we parted ways with him at the airport, we exchanged information and decided that if we did go to see a concert, we'd let him know and meet up again. Did this really happen? Did we just make friends with one of the dads? Only GF#1 and I..... Meanwhile, at an airport an hour away, GF#2 was flying home with Jon and Jordan Knight only six rows in front of her on the plane. Really????? I can't believe how we ended up in these situations.... are they all coincidental? I don't know.
What I do know is this: It was all Destiny.
PS- The three of us ended up going to a NKOTBSB concert. It was truly amazing. Did we meet up with the dad? Hell yeah. No, we didn't go backstage. I'll admit, sure it was in the back of our heads but at the same time, having these moments--- one on one mean more than a photo op.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
22 Memories and 14 Legacies
It's been 14 long years since I lost my dad. His anniversary was recently and it seems that it's getting harder and harder. Most likely it has to do with the fact that he's missed out on so much and I feel like he's been gone as long as he was my dad. We aren't quite there yet, but soon. The list of important moments which have passed without his presence goes on: college graduation, graduate school graduation, my wedding, the birth of my child and so on....
I have only recently embraced my mom's husband as my stepfather. He's an amazing man who has NEVER tried to take the place of my father but there have been moments where I've caught myself calling him "dad" by accident. (Calling Dr. Freud, calling Dr. Freud......). My time in the "hospital" has helped me come to this point. It would be a lie to say that I'm at 100% with this but I'm working on it. It's part selfish brat, part loyalty/respect for my dad. I'm not sure when it switched but I can say, there was no one, including my godfather, that I would have wanted to walk me down the aisle but him. In the last year, with mom being sick, our bond has deepened. We were each other's rock.... at least he was mine.
I still have a difficult time keeping a boundary now and as I get older, I don't know if I need this boundary. I can love my dad and still love my stepfather, although it will never be the same love. I think that's what my mom has been trying to explain to me for years. I've come quite a ways--- through radical acceptance.
A dear friend of mine lost her dad 3 days after I lost mine, hers was more sudden and unexpected but she has been able to give me great guidance on how to explain my dad to my daughter as if he's still here. She's been told she has a special guardian angel watching over her--- and me. My friend wrote a tribute to her dad this year which inspired me to do something similar. Of course I have more than 22 memories, but 22 represents the number of years he was physically present in my life as my dad. So, if you will indulge me:
22 MEMORIES
1. Frequent trips to the local zoo to see the animals and ride the carousel, just the two of us.
2. Sitting in my room on a hot summer's night and him coming in and asking if I'd like to go and see "Annie." I remember this moment so clearly too.... I was inside playing with my Barbies and the Barbie Dream pool.
3. The look on his face the day I received my acceptance letter from Boston University. There was a look of pure joy. He was so proud of me.... When he went to hug me he picked me up off the ground-- which was so uncharacteristic of him
4. Hot summer nights watching the Yankee game with him in the living room because it had an air conditioner. My mom would put together a makeshift bed and I would try to stay awake to watch the game with him. I can still remember the yellow Minnie Mouse nightgown I wore.
5. One year for Halloween, he dressed up as his favorite New York Yankee, Mr. October, Number 44, Reggie Jackson.
6. For as long as I can remember his cards were addressed to "Little '44'", and signed "Love Daddy, Big '44'"
7. The passion and love he had for his job as well as the people he helped.
8. Not all memories can be good, obviously but they still shape the person you are. I still remember what he said to me the day he told me he was terminal. I'll cherish those words forever and I will never forget that it was the first time I ever saw him cry.
9. Although I didn't understand it at the time, he always left mid-way through Thanksgiving dinner to "throw out the trash." It wasn't until the first Thanksgiving he was gone that I realized what that code was for.
10. Some of his favorite things were simple pleasures which reminded him of being a kid --- Christmas, Disney World, the Muppets and chocolate cabinets.
11. How he'd joke he was going to claim my best friend on his taxes from being at my house so much. She later went on to give his eulogy and is still in my life today. I love her unconditionally and so did he.
12. In the last remaining weeks of his life, I came home from college to spend time with him. At this point he was confined to the bedroom. He spent day in and day out sitting in his over sized navy blue recliner watching TV. I would just sit there, by his side, holding his hand.
13. His LOVE of Jack Nicholson. My father found humor in him even in the most serious of roles. There was just "something" about Jack that made him laugh. He had a great laugh too--- unlike anyone else's I have ever heard.
14. I remember watching TV shows like Vegas, Hart to Hart, Magnum PI and re-reruns of Hawaii 5-0. My mom would be at work and he'd keep me up, at 6 or 7 years old to watch cop shows with him. As soon as he saw the headlights of my mom's car, he sent me right up stairs.
15. When I was 7 years old, I got the chicken pox. I missed the last week of second grade. Not a big loss but at the time I was devastated. When he came home from work the day they started, he brought me a stuffed yellow and white unicorn. I have that unicorn to this day. Ironically, dad ended up catching the chicken pox from me....
16. Father/Daughter dances were the highlight of the school year for both my dad and me. After every dance, we ended up either at Friendly's or a local restaurant. My dad would be dressed in a beautiful suit and would give me a bouquet of roses a flower girl would carry in a wedding. Those pictures, from all 8 dances are still prominently displayed in my home.
17. My first trip to Yankee stadium with him. A moment like that remains eternally priceless.
18. His cologne. If I try hard enough, I can still remember the smell.
19. Sitting on the steps of the porch at our old house during the summer. Most of those moments were silent-- given the nature of who he was--- but I look back on those moments as tiny treasures which would learn to cherish years later.
20. At Christmas, my cousins and I were stuck at the kid table... In the kitchen. Not a whole lot of fun but, my dad would come and hang out with us at the kid table. At the time, I thought he was doing it because he was the cool dad and felt bad that we were ostracized..... Again, years later I realized the truth behind this.
21. Every sentence to me usually started with, "Kid...."
22. His last days. I was the last person he saw before he went into a coma. Although it didn't last long, it felt as though it was an eternity. I can still remember the moment he died, family by the bedside. I was lying there, on the bed with him, my head on his shoulder and an arm wrapped around him in a semi-hug as he took his last breath.
He may be gone now but he has left me with not only powerful words of wisdom but traditions I can carry on forever. For each year he's been gone, there's been a lesson I've learned whether about myself as a person, or about the person he wanted me to become.
14 LEGACIES
1. The diamond necklace from him that I wear daily. I received this necklace when I graduated from law school, 4 years after his death.
2. "Keep Your Friends Close, and your Enemies Closer."
3. Respect, Loyalty and Family-- that's what it means to be Italian
4. "Keep Your Nose Clean"
5. The St. Michael medal he wore around his neck until the day he died. It's been passed on to me and someday, it will be passed on to my daughter.
6. "Keep Your Mouth Closed, and Your Ears Open"
7. It's not important to get mad, or get even but to get revenge-- spoken like a true Sicilian
8. When I'm driving, I'm always in the right
9. Not to take life for granted-- especially time. No matter how much money you have, you can't take it with you so live each day as though it were your last.
10. Be true to who you are and where you came from
11. It doesn't take a college diploma to make you a success in your life if you are doing what you love
12. As his daughter, I learned what is possible and expected from my husband to be an amazing dad to our daughter
13. The driveway goes one way, once you go down, you don't come back
14. He will always be with me, wherever I go, in my heart.
When I look at my little girl, and I'm sad to think he isn't here to see her, I hope I can remember all these things. I look forward to the day when I can tell her all about him and she'll be able to understand what an amazing person her "Gampa" truly was.......
I have only recently embraced my mom's husband as my stepfather. He's an amazing man who has NEVER tried to take the place of my father but there have been moments where I've caught myself calling him "dad" by accident. (Calling Dr. Freud, calling Dr. Freud......). My time in the "hospital" has helped me come to this point. It would be a lie to say that I'm at 100% with this but I'm working on it. It's part selfish brat, part loyalty/respect for my dad. I'm not sure when it switched but I can say, there was no one, including my godfather, that I would have wanted to walk me down the aisle but him. In the last year, with mom being sick, our bond has deepened. We were each other's rock.... at least he was mine.
I still have a difficult time keeping a boundary now and as I get older, I don't know if I need this boundary. I can love my dad and still love my stepfather, although it will never be the same love. I think that's what my mom has been trying to explain to me for years. I've come quite a ways--- through radical acceptance.
A dear friend of mine lost her dad 3 days after I lost mine, hers was more sudden and unexpected but she has been able to give me great guidance on how to explain my dad to my daughter as if he's still here. She's been told she has a special guardian angel watching over her--- and me. My friend wrote a tribute to her dad this year which inspired me to do something similar. Of course I have more than 22 memories, but 22 represents the number of years he was physically present in my life as my dad. So, if you will indulge me:
22 MEMORIES
1. Frequent trips to the local zoo to see the animals and ride the carousel, just the two of us.
2. Sitting in my room on a hot summer's night and him coming in and asking if I'd like to go and see "Annie." I remember this moment so clearly too.... I was inside playing with my Barbies and the Barbie Dream pool.
3. The look on his face the day I received my acceptance letter from Boston University. There was a look of pure joy. He was so proud of me.... When he went to hug me he picked me up off the ground-- which was so uncharacteristic of him
4. Hot summer nights watching the Yankee game with him in the living room because it had an air conditioner. My mom would put together a makeshift bed and I would try to stay awake to watch the game with him. I can still remember the yellow Minnie Mouse nightgown I wore.
5. One year for Halloween, he dressed up as his favorite New York Yankee, Mr. October, Number 44, Reggie Jackson.
6. For as long as I can remember his cards were addressed to "Little '44'", and signed "Love Daddy, Big '44'"
7. The passion and love he had for his job as well as the people he helped.
8. Not all memories can be good, obviously but they still shape the person you are. I still remember what he said to me the day he told me he was terminal. I'll cherish those words forever and I will never forget that it was the first time I ever saw him cry.
9. Although I didn't understand it at the time, he always left mid-way through Thanksgiving dinner to "throw out the trash." It wasn't until the first Thanksgiving he was gone that I realized what that code was for.
10. Some of his favorite things were simple pleasures which reminded him of being a kid --- Christmas, Disney World, the Muppets and chocolate cabinets.
11. How he'd joke he was going to claim my best friend on his taxes from being at my house so much. She later went on to give his eulogy and is still in my life today. I love her unconditionally and so did he.
12. In the last remaining weeks of his life, I came home from college to spend time with him. At this point he was confined to the bedroom. He spent day in and day out sitting in his over sized navy blue recliner watching TV. I would just sit there, by his side, holding his hand.
13. His LOVE of Jack Nicholson. My father found humor in him even in the most serious of roles. There was just "something" about Jack that made him laugh. He had a great laugh too--- unlike anyone else's I have ever heard.
14. I remember watching TV shows like Vegas, Hart to Hart, Magnum PI and re-reruns of Hawaii 5-0. My mom would be at work and he'd keep me up, at 6 or 7 years old to watch cop shows with him. As soon as he saw the headlights of my mom's car, he sent me right up stairs.
15. When I was 7 years old, I got the chicken pox. I missed the last week of second grade. Not a big loss but at the time I was devastated. When he came home from work the day they started, he brought me a stuffed yellow and white unicorn. I have that unicorn to this day. Ironically, dad ended up catching the chicken pox from me....
16. Father/Daughter dances were the highlight of the school year for both my dad and me. After every dance, we ended up either at Friendly's or a local restaurant. My dad would be dressed in a beautiful suit and would give me a bouquet of roses a flower girl would carry in a wedding. Those pictures, from all 8 dances are still prominently displayed in my home.
17. My first trip to Yankee stadium with him. A moment like that remains eternally priceless.
18. His cologne. If I try hard enough, I can still remember the smell.
19. Sitting on the steps of the porch at our old house during the summer. Most of those moments were silent-- given the nature of who he was--- but I look back on those moments as tiny treasures which would learn to cherish years later.
20. At Christmas, my cousins and I were stuck at the kid table... In the kitchen. Not a whole lot of fun but, my dad would come and hang out with us at the kid table. At the time, I thought he was doing it because he was the cool dad and felt bad that we were ostracized..... Again, years later I realized the truth behind this.
21. Every sentence to me usually started with, "Kid...."
22. His last days. I was the last person he saw before he went into a coma. Although it didn't last long, it felt as though it was an eternity. I can still remember the moment he died, family by the bedside. I was lying there, on the bed with him, my head on his shoulder and an arm wrapped around him in a semi-hug as he took his last breath.
He may be gone now but he has left me with not only powerful words of wisdom but traditions I can carry on forever. For each year he's been gone, there's been a lesson I've learned whether about myself as a person, or about the person he wanted me to become.
14 LEGACIES
1. The diamond necklace from him that I wear daily. I received this necklace when I graduated from law school, 4 years after his death.
2. "Keep Your Friends Close, and your Enemies Closer."
3. Respect, Loyalty and Family-- that's what it means to be Italian
4. "Keep Your Nose Clean"
5. The St. Michael medal he wore around his neck until the day he died. It's been passed on to me and someday, it will be passed on to my daughter.
6. "Keep Your Mouth Closed, and Your Ears Open"
7. It's not important to get mad, or get even but to get revenge-- spoken like a true Sicilian
8. When I'm driving, I'm always in the right
9. Not to take life for granted-- especially time. No matter how much money you have, you can't take it with you so live each day as though it were your last.
10. Be true to who you are and where you came from
11. It doesn't take a college diploma to make you a success in your life if you are doing what you love
12. As his daughter, I learned what is possible and expected from my husband to be an amazing dad to our daughter
13. The driveway goes one way, once you go down, you don't come back
14. He will always be with me, wherever I go, in my heart.
When I look at my little girl, and I'm sad to think he isn't here to see her, I hope I can remember all these things. I look forward to the day when I can tell her all about him and she'll be able to understand what an amazing person her "Gampa" truly was.......
Friday, May 27, 2011
Cruise 2011: Day 4 (Red Carpet Night)
Sadly, it's our last full day on the boat but what a day it was going to be.....
It was almost here-- the one guaranteed photo op with all five of the guys. It's pretty much the culmination for most of the fans (unless you stalk them, which we don't) because it's the only picture you can truly count on with your man. Luckily I had a shared moment on a white leather sofa with Donnie but barring that, I never ran into him on the ship. This year we were able to form our group of 10 girls for the photo because we had made friends from the previous cruise. The best part-- I was the only Donnie girl. That NEVER happens. I usually have to fight for a spot near him but not this year. He was ALL MINE. Yum.
The group photo went quickly but I left satisfied. I got a huge bear hug from Donnie and a kiss. I even left a lip gloss print on his check which I so carefully rubbed off. I tried not to think of how many other kisses he received there... I needed to hold on to my moment. We were able to hug all the guys and they were so sweet, as usual. But, after 3 minutes, it's all over until we receive an email notifying us the picture is up and we can relive that moment all over again. Now this was over, I had some real business to take care of.... It was time to line up for D-Dub's Back Rub.
Lines. Lines. Lines and more lines. If I was asked to describe my experience as a New Kids fan I would say, "It requires a great deal of patience because you stand in line alot." To date, I've stood in line outside in Boston in January in the middle of the night, I've stood in line in Boston in the humidity 14 weeks pregnant, I've stood in line for various meet and greets, photo opportunities and finally in line for 6 hours for the Back Rub. It was a total cluster fuck. No one knew where the wait or what time to line up. Ugh, stress. Finally some woman from the cruise came out with green wristbands. I pushed and shoved to get one. Was it worth it? yes, and let me tell you why....
Here's the thing, I can't describe the back rub. There are no words. You need to live it or hear it or see it. There is just no way to put into words what you experience. Simply put it's Donnie on stage talking semi dirty while massaging various lucky girls.... Sounds silly. People mock it--- but you come out a changed woman. Donnie would always take it so far without crossing the line. Well, that was LAST year. This year it was pornographic. Dirty. Hot. Sexy. Did I say pornographic???? I was mesmerized and the fantasy of Donnie is probably better than the real thing, which is fine. I watched him choose girls from the audience and feed them chocolate covered strawberries and champagne while saying amazingly sexual things. I totally blacked out for a minute, I'm sure of it.
At one point, he brought a girl on stage and poured whipped cream into her mouth only to lick the excess off her chin. Yup. Hot. Just hot. At that point, Donnie takes a fresh can of whipped cream and says, "Ladies, close your eyes. If you feel near you, open your mouth." As he walked through the crowd, he saw girls peaking and told them they lucked out. My eyes were closed so tight, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to open them again. Just then, I felt a presence of someone in front of me, then his fingers on my lips.... so, I did what I was told ad opened my mouth only to have him pour whipped cream into my mouth...... *ugh.* There was some excess whipped cream on my chin too--- now, because my eyes were closed I don't know if he used his fingers or his tongue to remove it. I wish I could write about the rest of the show, but I don't know what happened. By this point, I was in my own world. My own place. My own fantasy. Next I knew, the lights were up and GF#2 said, "are you ok? Its time to go."
Off we went to get dressed for Red Carpet night, our last night on the cruise. Our last night to party on the Lido Deck. We saw an amazing acoustic show with Danny Wood then listened to Joe McIntyre belt out Broadway tunes. FYI, Joe is hilarious. He's hilarious when he's drunk, when he's sober, whenever. He entertains a crowd and draws the women in like Donnie does but in a whole different way. I think he may be my #2 favorite--- if I had to choose.
After the shows, I ran to the casino so I could watch Donnie play poker. Yup. Sounds just as exciting as watching gold. Actually, golf may be a tad more exciting. Wow. It was hot and boring. But, there was some humorous commentary by Joe which created a bit more enjoyment but overall, I stood there in 5 inch heels and a cocktail dress to watch Donnie. Last year he had a microphone and was funny. This year, there was no microphone. Just a bullhorn so there was nothing to really hear. Being a true Donnie girl, it's really all about seeing him--- he doesn't have to say a thing.
Rumor had it there was a torrential downpour out on the Lido Deck but thankfully it stopped by the time we were out there. It was our last chance to party. GF #2 and I grabbed GF#1 and we partied until we couldn't anymore. We watched our boys in tuxedos dance, sing and tell us they love us. Unless you've been on the cruise, you don't understand what this truly means to be there. It's such an intimate environment that you walk off that boat and feel like you've really gotten to know these guys. You partied with them.... it was one on one time. It was amazing.....
Can't wait until next year.
It was almost here-- the one guaranteed photo op with all five of the guys. It's pretty much the culmination for most of the fans (unless you stalk them, which we don't) because it's the only picture you can truly count on with your man. Luckily I had a shared moment on a white leather sofa with Donnie but barring that, I never ran into him on the ship. This year we were able to form our group of 10 girls for the photo because we had made friends from the previous cruise. The best part-- I was the only Donnie girl. That NEVER happens. I usually have to fight for a spot near him but not this year. He was ALL MINE. Yum.
The group photo went quickly but I left satisfied. I got a huge bear hug from Donnie and a kiss. I even left a lip gloss print on his check which I so carefully rubbed off. I tried not to think of how many other kisses he received there... I needed to hold on to my moment. We were able to hug all the guys and they were so sweet, as usual. But, after 3 minutes, it's all over until we receive an email notifying us the picture is up and we can relive that moment all over again. Now this was over, I had some real business to take care of.... It was time to line up for D-Dub's Back Rub.
Lines. Lines. Lines and more lines. If I was asked to describe my experience as a New Kids fan I would say, "It requires a great deal of patience because you stand in line alot." To date, I've stood in line outside in Boston in January in the middle of the night, I've stood in line in Boston in the humidity 14 weeks pregnant, I've stood in line for various meet and greets, photo opportunities and finally in line for 6 hours for the Back Rub. It was a total cluster fuck. No one knew where the wait or what time to line up. Ugh, stress. Finally some woman from the cruise came out with green wristbands. I pushed and shoved to get one. Was it worth it? yes, and let me tell you why....
Here's the thing, I can't describe the back rub. There are no words. You need to live it or hear it or see it. There is just no way to put into words what you experience. Simply put it's Donnie on stage talking semi dirty while massaging various lucky girls.... Sounds silly. People mock it--- but you come out a changed woman. Donnie would always take it so far without crossing the line. Well, that was LAST year. This year it was pornographic. Dirty. Hot. Sexy. Did I say pornographic???? I was mesmerized and the fantasy of Donnie is probably better than the real thing, which is fine. I watched him choose girls from the audience and feed them chocolate covered strawberries and champagne while saying amazingly sexual things. I totally blacked out for a minute, I'm sure of it.
At one point, he brought a girl on stage and poured whipped cream into her mouth only to lick the excess off her chin. Yup. Hot. Just hot. At that point, Donnie takes a fresh can of whipped cream and says, "Ladies, close your eyes. If you feel near you, open your mouth." As he walked through the crowd, he saw girls peaking and told them they lucked out. My eyes were closed so tight, I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to open them again. Just then, I felt a presence of someone in front of me, then his fingers on my lips.... so, I did what I was told ad opened my mouth only to have him pour whipped cream into my mouth...... *ugh.* There was some excess whipped cream on my chin too--- now, because my eyes were closed I don't know if he used his fingers or his tongue to remove it. I wish I could write about the rest of the show, but I don't know what happened. By this point, I was in my own world. My own place. My own fantasy. Next I knew, the lights were up and GF#2 said, "are you ok? Its time to go."
Off we went to get dressed for Red Carpet night, our last night on the cruise. Our last night to party on the Lido Deck. We saw an amazing acoustic show with Danny Wood then listened to Joe McIntyre belt out Broadway tunes. FYI, Joe is hilarious. He's hilarious when he's drunk, when he's sober, whenever. He entertains a crowd and draws the women in like Donnie does but in a whole different way. I think he may be my #2 favorite--- if I had to choose.
After the shows, I ran to the casino so I could watch Donnie play poker. Yup. Sounds just as exciting as watching gold. Actually, golf may be a tad more exciting. Wow. It was hot and boring. But, there was some humorous commentary by Joe which created a bit more enjoyment but overall, I stood there in 5 inch heels and a cocktail dress to watch Donnie. Last year he had a microphone and was funny. This year, there was no microphone. Just a bullhorn so there was nothing to really hear. Being a true Donnie girl, it's really all about seeing him--- he doesn't have to say a thing.
Rumor had it there was a torrential downpour out on the Lido Deck but thankfully it stopped by the time we were out there. It was our last chance to party. GF #2 and I grabbed GF#1 and we partied until we couldn't anymore. We watched our boys in tuxedos dance, sing and tell us they love us. Unless you've been on the cruise, you don't understand what this truly means to be there. It's such an intimate environment that you walk off that boat and feel like you've really gotten to know these guys. You partied with them.... it was one on one time. It was amazing.....
Can't wait until next year.
Cruise 2011: Day 3 (Pink Night)
This by far was one of the best days of the cruise because we actually didn't do anything. We slept in and went for breakfast at the buffet-- which was just about to close for lunch--- and relaxed. GF#1 wanted more time in the sun, per usual and GF#2 was taking scenic shots of Nassau. I guess we could have taken a journey off the boat but honestly, I was tired. I snuggled up on a chair by the quiet pool with my iPad when I heard some girls whispering, "Donnie is getting ice cream at the buffet." Just like Wonder Woman, I leaped up out of my seat and tried to get into the dining hall as quickly as possible. Sadly, the moment was lost. It was at this point when I ran into some friends who sadly had a crazy fan attached to them.
This pretty much sums it up: she slept with the DJ to try and sleep with one of the guys. In the course of the conversation she began to tell me what a man whore Donnie was and ruined my day. How dare you say something like that about him? who the fuck was this girl? Clearly a classless whore. I allowed it to consume me for about an hour and decided it was nap time. It was my only nap on the cruise but it was great.
We all started to get ready for pink night which was a fundraiser for breast cancer. You would think our energy would have been high but speaking for myself, I was getting tired. After dinner we ran up to the Lido deck to get ready to party. I was secure in the thought I was going to make this an early night-- especially since the next day was a big one. It was the Back Rub.... but more on that later. I was out on the deck and wouldn't you know, the battery on my camera died. FML. Now what??????
Here's an idea, why don't I just watch them and enjoy them? So I did. I put my camera away, and stood there watching Donnie stand on one of the B stages and soaked it in..... For the first time, in a long time, I enjoyed the moment. I watched him work the crowd in his salmon colored sweater vest and pink fedora..... I think there were 4 other guys there too but I can't be certain. That night they were inconsequential. Of all the nights on the boat, dancing on the Lido deck, this night in particular stands out for me. Maybe because I wasn't trying to get near him or to secure the perfect photo... I don't know. Everything came full circle for me that night. I was in awe of the crowds and his magic over all these women. It was sort of amazing.
The highlight of course was him coming through the crowd on the shoulders of one his bodyguards and he grabbed my hand (along with hundreds of others) but it was awesome. I have to say, his singing the words to "Tonight I'm Fucking You" by Enrique Inglesias was pretty hot too.... I enjoyed that moment and can remember it vividly. I would be remiss if I didn't mention the DJ.... and how TERRIBLE he was. I mean, horrendous. Not only was he constantly putting himself up on the LCD screen, every other song was about "bitches." I probably wouldn't have noticed it except for the fact that Donnie stopped the DJ and said, "there are no bitches on this ship." Let's just say, that's the last we saw of THAT DJ.
It was the end to another amazing day but we knew in the back of our minds that we only had one more night on the Lido Deck..... *sigh* Sometimes, I still wish I was on that Lido Deck. I'm thankful that I soaked up that night. I was on a pure high dancing in my sparkling Louboutins until the wee hours of the night.
This pretty much sums it up: she slept with the DJ to try and sleep with one of the guys. In the course of the conversation she began to tell me what a man whore Donnie was and ruined my day. How dare you say something like that about him? who the fuck was this girl? Clearly a classless whore. I allowed it to consume me for about an hour and decided it was nap time. It was my only nap on the cruise but it was great.
We all started to get ready for pink night which was a fundraiser for breast cancer. You would think our energy would have been high but speaking for myself, I was getting tired. After dinner we ran up to the Lido deck to get ready to party. I was secure in the thought I was going to make this an early night-- especially since the next day was a big one. It was the Back Rub.... but more on that later. I was out on the deck and wouldn't you know, the battery on my camera died. FML. Now what??????
Here's an idea, why don't I just watch them and enjoy them? So I did. I put my camera away, and stood there watching Donnie stand on one of the B stages and soaked it in..... For the first time, in a long time, I enjoyed the moment. I watched him work the crowd in his salmon colored sweater vest and pink fedora..... I think there were 4 other guys there too but I can't be certain. That night they were inconsequential. Of all the nights on the boat, dancing on the Lido deck, this night in particular stands out for me. Maybe because I wasn't trying to get near him or to secure the perfect photo... I don't know. Everything came full circle for me that night. I was in awe of the crowds and his magic over all these women. It was sort of amazing.
The highlight of course was him coming through the crowd on the shoulders of one his bodyguards and he grabbed my hand (along with hundreds of others) but it was awesome. I have to say, his singing the words to "Tonight I'm Fucking You" by Enrique Inglesias was pretty hot too.... I enjoyed that moment and can remember it vividly. I would be remiss if I didn't mention the DJ.... and how TERRIBLE he was. I mean, horrendous. Not only was he constantly putting himself up on the LCD screen, every other song was about "bitches." I probably wouldn't have noticed it except for the fact that Donnie stopped the DJ and said, "there are no bitches on this ship." Let's just say, that's the last we saw of THAT DJ.
It was the end to another amazing day but we knew in the back of our minds that we only had one more night on the Lido Deck..... *sigh* Sometimes, I still wish I was on that Lido Deck. I'm thankful that I soaked up that night. I was on a pure high dancing in my sparkling Louboutins until the wee hours of the night.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Cruise 2011: Day 2 (Pajamajam Party)
Before I begin this blog, let me say, this was one of the best days EVER :)
We woke up early the next morning and ate our continental breakfast out on the balcony. We were anchored in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean at Half Moon Cay. Today was concert day. I am the first to admit that when the itinerary came through and it said "Concert to be held on Half Moon Cay at 1:00 pm" I read it three times. Was it possible these ass clowns were going to perform in the mid-day sun, heat, and humidity? On an island? While we STOOD and watched? No fucking way. Couldn't be possible. Had to be a typo. It just had to. Who would be that masochistic to the fans they appear to adore so much? Sadly, it was true.
The three of us boarded the tender to Half Moon Cay equip with our foam fingers. Mine, blaring I heart Donnie. GF#1 couldn't decide so she hearted Joe on one side and Jordan on the other. GF#2 fully supported Jon as being her Number One. #2 insisted we do foam fingers while shopping for door decorating accoutrement at Michael's--- this would turn out later to be the best idea she's ever had in the 23 years I've known her. My best idea ever? Renting floaties for the day and watching the concert from the ocean. ...which we did. Foam fingers and all.
After cooking in the sun for HOURS we watched the concert. I was hoping Donnie would take his shirt off but remained satisfied with him, dressed all in white again, with his shirt unbuttoned. Happiness. The show was short--- I'm guessing half way through they also realized what a fucking stupid idea this was. After the performance, we hopped a tender excited to shower and get ready for pajama night. This was a big night for me and Donnie. It was the season finale of Blue Bloods and the Lido Deck was going to broadcast it live. GF#1 and #2 were amazing and sat waiting for 3 hours so I could have a good seat. At least what I thought would be a good seat.
I was definitely ready for bed dressed in my Old Navy pajama pants and my Team Wahlberg t-shirt after sitting in the hot sun all day. I needed a boost. Turns out my old friend, Bahama Mama was there to help me out. Before the show premiered I sucked down 2.5 of them. I was feeling pretty good and ready to P-A-R-T-Y. Woot!
At 10 pm, you could hear a pin drop in a crowd of 2500 people. We were all focused on the huge LCD screen watching a SUPER BIG MOVIE SIZE Donnie in the season finale of everyone's favorite show. (As a side note, I did call my husband earlier in the day to make sure he taped this for me "just in case" I was distracted from watching). During commercial breaks, Donnie told cute anecdotes and made jokes during the show.... About half way through the show, he said he wanted to sit on his VIP couch with someone to watch the rest of the show and were there any volunteers?
At this moment, the seas parted..... angels began to sing... and I raised my foam finger emblazoned with I Heart Donnie in glitter glue only to hear, "You with the hand!" as he pointed to little old me. Me? Me? You want to sit with me? I'm not sure how I got up to the couch-- I believe I floated on a sparkling cloud..... and before I knew it, I was sitting on this white couch with Donnie Wahlberg. I think he picked another fan too. I don't know. That part is inconsequential.
GF#1 and #2 anxiously asked me what happened and what we discussed when I finally descended from my throne. I told them everything. How he offered me Grey Goose and Cranberry (his drink of choice when its not Red Bull) or something to eat, perhaps some of his guacamole and tortilla chips? I declined both telling him he'd already given me more than I could ask for-- insert kiss #1 on my neck. He's a messy little eater and I needed to help place the napkin on his lap. I held his microphone and he put his arm around me. I patiently waited for a commercial to talk to him and pretended to watch the show while playing out a conversation in my head. I told him thank you-- thank you for all that you do, for all he gives and that he goes above and beyond-- insert kiss #2 on my neck as he whispered thank you into my ear. *sigh*
Bahama Mama did me wrong that night as she fully kicked in when I was on the couch, but that gave me to courage to chit chat. I asked him when he sleeps--- because honestly, I don't think the man ever sleeps. He smiled and said, "On the plane." He was off for more food and once again offered me a cocktail..... Sadly all good things come to an end. The credits rolled and my moment was over. I thanked him again-- got one of those huge Donnie bear hugs which he is so famous for- insert kiss on the check and kiss #3 on my neck. He smelled just as amazing as always--- I believe I've said it before, his scent must be close to that of God's.......
I was full on drunk from those 2.5 Bahama Mamas by the time the Lido Deck party started. The guys were dressed in togas. See through togas and it was very, very windy that night. At this time, I would like to thank those girls who were close enough to get pictures of what happened when the wind blew. I partied hard with the crew and beat back the beat with my foam finger while trying to unsuccessfully pimp out GF#1. Ugh, again, this is why I shouldn't drink hard alcohol. I staggered back to the room sometime in the wee hours with #2. Again, we lost #1 early on.... it was ok though. I was on a high. Nothing was going to top this right? What else could possibly happen with Donnie? But, I was on The Destiny and there was more in store for me........
We woke up early the next morning and ate our continental breakfast out on the balcony. We were anchored in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean at Half Moon Cay. Today was concert day. I am the first to admit that when the itinerary came through and it said "Concert to be held on Half Moon Cay at 1:00 pm" I read it three times. Was it possible these ass clowns were going to perform in the mid-day sun, heat, and humidity? On an island? While we STOOD and watched? No fucking way. Couldn't be possible. Had to be a typo. It just had to. Who would be that masochistic to the fans they appear to adore so much? Sadly, it was true.
The three of us boarded the tender to Half Moon Cay equip with our foam fingers. Mine, blaring I heart Donnie. GF#1 couldn't decide so she hearted Joe on one side and Jordan on the other. GF#2 fully supported Jon as being her Number One. #2 insisted we do foam fingers while shopping for door decorating accoutrement at Michael's--- this would turn out later to be the best idea she's ever had in the 23 years I've known her. My best idea ever? Renting floaties for the day and watching the concert from the ocean. ...which we did. Foam fingers and all.
After cooking in the sun for HOURS we watched the concert. I was hoping Donnie would take his shirt off but remained satisfied with him, dressed all in white again, with his shirt unbuttoned. Happiness. The show was short--- I'm guessing half way through they also realized what a fucking stupid idea this was. After the performance, we hopped a tender excited to shower and get ready for pajama night. This was a big night for me and Donnie. It was the season finale of Blue Bloods and the Lido Deck was going to broadcast it live. GF#1 and #2 were amazing and sat waiting for 3 hours so I could have a good seat. At least what I thought would be a good seat.
I was definitely ready for bed dressed in my Old Navy pajama pants and my Team Wahlberg t-shirt after sitting in the hot sun all day. I needed a boost. Turns out my old friend, Bahama Mama was there to help me out. Before the show premiered I sucked down 2.5 of them. I was feeling pretty good and ready to P-A-R-T-Y. Woot!
At 10 pm, you could hear a pin drop in a crowd of 2500 people. We were all focused on the huge LCD screen watching a SUPER BIG MOVIE SIZE Donnie in the season finale of everyone's favorite show. (As a side note, I did call my husband earlier in the day to make sure he taped this for me "just in case" I was distracted from watching). During commercial breaks, Donnie told cute anecdotes and made jokes during the show.... About half way through the show, he said he wanted to sit on his VIP couch with someone to watch the rest of the show and were there any volunteers?
At this moment, the seas parted..... angels began to sing... and I raised my foam finger emblazoned with I Heart Donnie in glitter glue only to hear, "You with the hand!" as he pointed to little old me. Me? Me? You want to sit with me? I'm not sure how I got up to the couch-- I believe I floated on a sparkling cloud..... and before I knew it, I was sitting on this white couch with Donnie Wahlberg. I think he picked another fan too. I don't know. That part is inconsequential.
GF#1 and #2 anxiously asked me what happened and what we discussed when I finally descended from my throne. I told them everything. How he offered me Grey Goose and Cranberry (his drink of choice when its not Red Bull) or something to eat, perhaps some of his guacamole and tortilla chips? I declined both telling him he'd already given me more than I could ask for-- insert kiss #1 on my neck. He's a messy little eater and I needed to help place the napkin on his lap. I held his microphone and he put his arm around me. I patiently waited for a commercial to talk to him and pretended to watch the show while playing out a conversation in my head. I told him thank you-- thank you for all that you do, for all he gives and that he goes above and beyond-- insert kiss #2 on my neck as he whispered thank you into my ear. *sigh*
Bahama Mama did me wrong that night as she fully kicked in when I was on the couch, but that gave me to courage to chit chat. I asked him when he sleeps--- because honestly, I don't think the man ever sleeps. He smiled and said, "On the plane." He was off for more food and once again offered me a cocktail..... Sadly all good things come to an end. The credits rolled and my moment was over. I thanked him again-- got one of those huge Donnie bear hugs which he is so famous for- insert kiss on the check and kiss #3 on my neck. He smelled just as amazing as always--- I believe I've said it before, his scent must be close to that of God's.......
I was full on drunk from those 2.5 Bahama Mamas by the time the Lido Deck party started. The guys were dressed in togas. See through togas and it was very, very windy that night. At this time, I would like to thank those girls who were close enough to get pictures of what happened when the wind blew. I partied hard with the crew and beat back the beat with my foam finger while trying to unsuccessfully pimp out GF#1. Ugh, again, this is why I shouldn't drink hard alcohol. I staggered back to the room sometime in the wee hours with #2. Again, we lost #1 early on.... it was ok though. I was on a high. Nothing was going to top this right? What else could possibly happen with Donnie? But, I was on The Destiny and there was more in store for me........
Cruise 2011: Day 1 (80's Night)
In order to be a REAL NKOTB fan, you have to accept the fact you will be standing in lines. Long-ass lines which go on for miles and last for hours. Although the Doorman of the hotel asked if we were with the cruise, and was about to put us in the same van as the guys and their crew, GF#1 and #2 convinced me it was "wrong" to hop in the van. I should mention here that all the New Kids stayed at our hotel and I didn't once go banging on every door of the hotel to find Donnie. I believe I should be applauded on my responsible and civil behavior. But I digress.... The three of us hopped into a cab and off we went to the Port of Miami to board the Destiny. Upon arrival we encountered the first of many of those lines..... but admittedly we were highly entertained at the sights, um, er, fans....
Once inside, I found myself trying to get past the lines faster by attempting to flirt with Johnny, Donnie's seemingly useless assistant (I never did figure out what he did- what I do know is he never came through with his promise once he saw our cabin door. A promise to fulfill Operation Get D-Dub in here.). I was unsuccessful but we passed the time texting and using the Internet before it was gone from us for 5 days. Although I was excited, the excitement STILL had not hit me. I was just not feeling it and began to get anxious. Why wasn't I excited like I was last year? I had my girls with me and we were meeting up with more but yet, something still wasn't there.
At 5:00, a horn sounded and as we pulled out of port, the DJ got louder and I heard a voice. A magical voice. A smooth sexy voice asking me (well 2500 of us) if we were ready to party. Then, dressed all in white like an angel he appeared---- DONNIE. It was then the excitement began and I realized what was missing. We danced and danced as the boat pulled out of port knowing this was just the beginning of a long night.
It was 80's night and the guys were doing their version of Nickelodeon's Double Dare. We were grouped in the later show, purposely, because we knew the guys would be drunk. And for any past cruisers, we all know how fun Drunk Jon is.... Drunk Joe being a close second.... but for my first time, I saw Drunk Donnie. My love grew even more as my heart doubled in size. Once the game show started, hilarity ensued and I believe the phrase "hash tag justsayin" had earned its spot as the inside joke for the rest of the cruise.
The was so much to take in and I laughed harder than I had in a long time.... For me, two moments stand out. First, when asked the question "What is the Pleasure Pit?" Jon knew the answer immediately. Second, was one of the physical challenges. Watching Donnie suck M&M's through a straw does something to a girl. Funny line here? Jordan Knight, "Let Jon do it. He can suck a watermelon through a hose." Even funnier line? Jon Knight, "Do you get extra points if you suck one with a nut?" But the best line, Donnie Wahlberg, "I'm a little shocked at how good I was at sucking on the straw." (insert gay innuendo at Jon here).
Although our sides hurt from laughing so hard, we ran to the Lido Deck where we knew the real party was going to start. The DJ pumped up 80's music and we danced in anticipation of our boys arrival to the party. They were dressed in original costumes from the Hangin' Tough tour-- complete with ripped jeans. This came in handy because as assisted in passing Donnie through the crowd as he body surfed, I was able to stick my hands in the holes and grab his butt. Then rub it. I didn't think anything was going to compare to that moment but little did I know what was in store.... We lost GF#1 early on but #2 and I danced into the wee hours singing along to "Lucky Star" and "Sweet Child o'Mine" before stumbling back to our room at 4 am........
Once inside, I found myself trying to get past the lines faster by attempting to flirt with Johnny, Donnie's seemingly useless assistant (I never did figure out what he did- what I do know is he never came through with his promise once he saw our cabin door. A promise to fulfill Operation Get D-Dub in here.). I was unsuccessful but we passed the time texting and using the Internet before it was gone from us for 5 days. Although I was excited, the excitement STILL had not hit me. I was just not feeling it and began to get anxious. Why wasn't I excited like I was last year? I had my girls with me and we were meeting up with more but yet, something still wasn't there.
At 5:00, a horn sounded and as we pulled out of port, the DJ got louder and I heard a voice. A magical voice. A smooth sexy voice asking me (well 2500 of us) if we were ready to party. Then, dressed all in white like an angel he appeared---- DONNIE. It was then the excitement began and I realized what was missing. We danced and danced as the boat pulled out of port knowing this was just the beginning of a long night.
It was 80's night and the guys were doing their version of Nickelodeon's Double Dare. We were grouped in the later show, purposely, because we knew the guys would be drunk. And for any past cruisers, we all know how fun Drunk Jon is.... Drunk Joe being a close second.... but for my first time, I saw Drunk Donnie. My love grew even more as my heart doubled in size. Once the game show started, hilarity ensued and I believe the phrase "hash tag justsayin" had earned its spot as the inside joke for the rest of the cruise.
The was so much to take in and I laughed harder than I had in a long time.... For me, two moments stand out. First, when asked the question "What is the Pleasure Pit?" Jon knew the answer immediately. Second, was one of the physical challenges. Watching Donnie suck M&M's through a straw does something to a girl. Funny line here? Jordan Knight, "Let Jon do it. He can suck a watermelon through a hose." Even funnier line? Jon Knight, "Do you get extra points if you suck one with a nut?" But the best line, Donnie Wahlberg, "I'm a little shocked at how good I was at sucking on the straw." (insert gay innuendo at Jon here).
Although our sides hurt from laughing so hard, we ran to the Lido Deck where we knew the real party was going to start. The DJ pumped up 80's music and we danced in anticipation of our boys arrival to the party. They were dressed in original costumes from the Hangin' Tough tour-- complete with ripped jeans. This came in handy because as assisted in passing Donnie through the crowd as he body surfed, I was able to stick my hands in the holes and grab his butt. Then rub it. I didn't think anything was going to compare to that moment but little did I know what was in store.... We lost GF#1 early on but #2 and I danced into the wee hours singing along to "Lucky Star" and "Sweet Child o'Mine" before stumbling back to our room at 4 am........
Cruise 2011: pre-cruise
Since August 2010, I have been counting down the days to this moment. The moment where I board a plane to Ft. Lauderdale, on my way to spend 5 days on the open seas with Danny, Donnie, Jordan, Joe and Jon. Yeah, that's right -- The New Kids on the Block. I even had an app on my iPhone which counted down the months, day, hours, minutes and seconds until the cruise. Come on, clearly, I am not going to miss an opportunity where Donnie would be stranded on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic with me. There are so many moments to share and they won't fit in one blog. I'll try not to turn this into the "Twilight" saga---- but no promises.
Bright and early Wednesday morning, girl friend #1 (we'll call her GF#1) boarded a plane to Ft. Lauderdale. We were leaving cold temperatures to go to beautiful Miami. My carry on was packed with the essentials: iPad, passport and xanax. I was ready to go. Hell, I was ready to go in January. So GF#1 and I boarded the plane to our "Destiny." Mission Get Donnie Wahlberg in my cabin was in effect (later it would be used as door them to lure him in......)
We arrive in Miami to the news the hotel had "taken the liberty" of upgrading us to a suite. Although the room was not ready, we were free to sit by the pool. She and I barely were in the elevator before we started pulling out our bathing suits. Sitting by the pool, we awaited for the third musketeer to arrive (we'll call her GF#2). I couldn't believe I was finally here and I soaked up the sun feeling happier than I had in months. GF#2 eventually arrived and our room was available..... We dropped our bags off and ran back to the pool. The sun had moved so we found new lounge chairs. As we sat there sipping mojitos and snacking on hummus, GF#2 turns to GF#1 and I only to say, "Um, is that Jordan Knight?" #1 and I turned to look, then looked at each other, then looked again only to say "Oh My God." Well, the texting, tweeting and facebooking began.
I brilliantly decided that we should send over a cocktail on us in lieu of running across the roof top pool and screaming to get his attention. Moments later, I look up again, turn to GF#2 and say, "Ah, Jon Knight is there too." #2 froze--- He is HER favorite. I give her credit--- she maintained composure and we sent him a drink as well. Obviously, if this was Donnie, I would have done the running and screaming part but that's just me. The three of us sat, pretending to read and not notice the boys were still there yet we were all breathlessly anticipating for one of them to come over and thank us.
Finally, our moment had arrived. Jordan Knight came over, sat down and chatted with us for a good half hour. I was able to talk to him as though he wasn't Jordan Knight but just a really hot guy at a pool. To be honest, it wasn't the first time any of us had met him but it was the first time we spent any quality sober time with him. GF#2 and I have maintained the belief that Jordan was the douche in the group. I am happy to say, that perception is destroyed. He was as sweet as he was shy. When we asked (ahem, I ASKED) to take pictures, he was more than gracious about it. Before he walked away, he gave us all hugs and told us to have a blast on the cruise. Sadly, Jon never came over to say thank you. His mother surely raised him better but I love Jon too so I can't say anything bad.
We continued on this high for a few hours over cocktails and dinner only to rush to our room like 6 year old little girls on Christmas Eve awaiting Santa's arrival. We just couldn't get to sleep fast enough and have Day 1 arrive. We also knew it was going to be the ONLY good night's sleep we'd get. So there we were all snuggled in our beds with visions of New Kids dancing in our heads...... not knowing what would lie ahead on The Destiny.
Bright and early Wednesday morning, girl friend #1 (we'll call her GF#1) boarded a plane to Ft. Lauderdale. We were leaving cold temperatures to go to beautiful Miami. My carry on was packed with the essentials: iPad, passport and xanax. I was ready to go. Hell, I was ready to go in January. So GF#1 and I boarded the plane to our "Destiny." Mission Get Donnie Wahlberg in my cabin was in effect (later it would be used as door them to lure him in......)
We arrive in Miami to the news the hotel had "taken the liberty" of upgrading us to a suite. Although the room was not ready, we were free to sit by the pool. She and I barely were in the elevator before we started pulling out our bathing suits. Sitting by the pool, we awaited for the third musketeer to arrive (we'll call her GF#2). I couldn't believe I was finally here and I soaked up the sun feeling happier than I had in months. GF#2 eventually arrived and our room was available..... We dropped our bags off and ran back to the pool. The sun had moved so we found new lounge chairs. As we sat there sipping mojitos and snacking on hummus, GF#2 turns to GF#1 and I only to say, "Um, is that Jordan Knight?" #1 and I turned to look, then looked at each other, then looked again only to say "Oh My God." Well, the texting, tweeting and facebooking began.
I brilliantly decided that we should send over a cocktail on us in lieu of running across the roof top pool and screaming to get his attention. Moments later, I look up again, turn to GF#2 and say, "Ah, Jon Knight is there too." #2 froze--- He is HER favorite. I give her credit--- she maintained composure and we sent him a drink as well. Obviously, if this was Donnie, I would have done the running and screaming part but that's just me. The three of us sat, pretending to read and not notice the boys were still there yet we were all breathlessly anticipating for one of them to come over and thank us.
Finally, our moment had arrived. Jordan Knight came over, sat down and chatted with us for a good half hour. I was able to talk to him as though he wasn't Jordan Knight but just a really hot guy at a pool. To be honest, it wasn't the first time any of us had met him but it was the first time we spent any quality sober time with him. GF#2 and I have maintained the belief that Jordan was the douche in the group. I am happy to say, that perception is destroyed. He was as sweet as he was shy. When we asked (ahem, I ASKED) to take pictures, he was more than gracious about it. Before he walked away, he gave us all hugs and told us to have a blast on the cruise. Sadly, Jon never came over to say thank you. His mother surely raised him better but I love Jon too so I can't say anything bad.
We continued on this high for a few hours over cocktails and dinner only to rush to our room like 6 year old little girls on Christmas Eve awaiting Santa's arrival. We just couldn't get to sleep fast enough and have Day 1 arrive. We also knew it was going to be the ONLY good night's sleep we'd get. So there we were all snuggled in our beds with visions of New Kids dancing in our heads...... not knowing what would lie ahead on The Destiny.
Where Do I Belong?
Dr. Phil always says, "Would you rather be happy or would you rather be right?" It's a pretty simple question but the answer can be so complex depending on the situation. From as far back as I can remember I wanted to be a lawyer. I was convinced this was the career for me. Luckily, I was young which kept me focused on a goal from a young age. I knew I was going to college. I knew my major. I knew I was going to law school. I knew I was going to be top prosecutor. What I didn't know was I wouldn't be able to pass the Bar Exam.
I didn't simply give up after I failed. I tried again. And at the behest of those around me, I tried again even though I didn't want to do it. Although I never passed, I stayed in the field of law and decided that if I couldn't be lawyer, I could be an excellent paralegal. Up until recently, I would say I've had a successful career. When I tell people what I do and where I work, there is always a look of "wow, how exciting" on their faces. The reality is, it's not exciting. This isn't the career for me so now, I'm going to start to work on being happy instead of being right.
Right now, my current employment pays very well and is flexible with my being a mom-- that's what keeps me there. I used to say that I'll stay here as long as they let me but after examining what could be causing some of the anxiety and misery in my life, I realized that my job was a piece of the pie. I don't HATE my job but I also don't LIKE my job. Being in the legal profession isn't where I belong at all. I've known that for some time but haven't done anything about it. Instead, I was thankful for having a well paying job in the current economy.
As a result, I think I became resentful. Especially towards my husband. He loves his job. Although I've discussed that his job is all consuming and his priorities are fucked up, he's still happy doing what he does. He has a sense of knowing the job doesn't control him, but he controls the job. Clearly, I need to work on not allowing the little things at work get to me. We all do that but I really am in the wrong career and it definitely affects my happiness. I want to be happy in all areas of my life-- and that's possible. I see that now. I control my happiness. I don't want to be right anymore, I want to be happy.
Where will this take me? I have no idea. Am I ever going to be a buyer for Bloomingdale's? No. Is that really my dream job? I don't think so. For the time being, I'll continue to work on being excellent in the position I'm at now but this isn't forever. It's just for now. There were times I loved the jobs that I had, and you could tell because I was happy. Alternatively, I've had jobs that made me want to slit my throat and it affected everyone around me. Right now I don't fall into either category. My hope is to find my niche someday soon. I'm open to the possibilities out there and if it means I have to start from the bottom again, it's ok because I would rather be happy than be right.
I didn't simply give up after I failed. I tried again. And at the behest of those around me, I tried again even though I didn't want to do it. Although I never passed, I stayed in the field of law and decided that if I couldn't be lawyer, I could be an excellent paralegal. Up until recently, I would say I've had a successful career. When I tell people what I do and where I work, there is always a look of "wow, how exciting" on their faces. The reality is, it's not exciting. This isn't the career for me so now, I'm going to start to work on being happy instead of being right.
Right now, my current employment pays very well and is flexible with my being a mom-- that's what keeps me there. I used to say that I'll stay here as long as they let me but after examining what could be causing some of the anxiety and misery in my life, I realized that my job was a piece of the pie. I don't HATE my job but I also don't LIKE my job. Being in the legal profession isn't where I belong at all. I've known that for some time but haven't done anything about it. Instead, I was thankful for having a well paying job in the current economy.
As a result, I think I became resentful. Especially towards my husband. He loves his job. Although I've discussed that his job is all consuming and his priorities are fucked up, he's still happy doing what he does. He has a sense of knowing the job doesn't control him, but he controls the job. Clearly, I need to work on not allowing the little things at work get to me. We all do that but I really am in the wrong career and it definitely affects my happiness. I want to be happy in all areas of my life-- and that's possible. I see that now. I control my happiness. I don't want to be right anymore, I want to be happy.
Where will this take me? I have no idea. Am I ever going to be a buyer for Bloomingdale's? No. Is that really my dream job? I don't think so. For the time being, I'll continue to work on being excellent in the position I'm at now but this isn't forever. It's just for now. There were times I loved the jobs that I had, and you could tell because I was happy. Alternatively, I've had jobs that made me want to slit my throat and it affected everyone around me. Right now I don't fall into either category. My hope is to find my niche someday soon. I'm open to the possibilities out there and if it means I have to start from the bottom again, it's ok because I would rather be happy than be right.
Road to Sanity: Day Five
I made it through. A week in an outpatient program at a psychiatric hospital and I made it through. I couldn't believe I was even there but I walked out having gained so much. For the first time in 35 years, I feel like I am starting my life. While I was there, I realized that I don't have the life that I have... but I am the only person who can change it. Am I happy being married to my husband? Absolutely. Am I happy being a mom? She is my pride and joy. But, am I happy with the people in my life? The job I have? The career I chose? ....well, let's just say there are going to be many changes.
The motto I live by is Radical Acceptance. I may not like the reality sometimes but I need to accept it. I've have radically accepted a great deal but I still have a ways to go. Mostly I need to work on the death of my father (as a side note, it will be 14 years this Sunday he'll be gone-- FML). It wasn't until I was in the program that I realized I stuffed so much anger and sadness down which led to not accepting he's gone. The good news is, I'm in therapy so I can start to work on that. My goal is to have accepted the fact that he is gone by his 15 year anniversary.
While I was digging through all these emotions, I realized that there are people in my life that may need to go. I received more support from some of the women in my group (some old enough to be my mom and some young enough to be a little sister) than I did from some of my "friends." Not everyone knows what to say or what to do with a friend who is anorexic. I can appreciate that.... to a point. But ignoring I have a problem or being honest in a negative way, isn't going to help me. I need to start to re-evaluate, one by one, who can remain in my close circle. I have a feeling it's going to get small.
The women in my group taught me just as much as the professionals. Ironically, I didn't think I would even grow close to these women but there is an unspoken bond. Their own personal wisdom helped me. It does help speaking with people who have similar issues. It creates a closeness but we all have to remember to set a boundary-- if not, we'll trigger one another. Hopefully we will all be successful in conquering our problems but there is only so much leaning we can do on one another. Ironically, the reason most of us were in the program was because we took on other's people's problems to solve.
I wish the program was inpatient for a longer period of time. I think I could have benefited from learning more but I am continuing with a six month program that meets once a week. It's sort of like leaving Celeb Rehab and going into Sober House. I wasn't going to participate but, last minute I decided it would be the best for me. Dr. Drew would be so proud of my after care program I'm sure. I recommend this program to anyone who isn't happy.... who isn't living the life they want to live... who lack to coping skills to deal.....
I don't know where I loss the sense of control I had over my life and my happiness in the past year, but it doesn't matter. Mom getting sick was a catalyst. What I mean by that is, a great deal of sadness and anxiety had been shoved down over the years but it reached a pinnacle until Mom got sick. Reality began to set in and without my knowing, set the ball rolling for an emotional explosion. I foolishly thought I beat anorexia years ago. It never goes away. It will always be there but I have accepted (radically of course) anorexia as part of who I am. Can I use better coping skills now? Yes. Will I? I'm trying to work on it every day.
Some in my life don't see the change but I know my truth. I've found my happy again. I'm a new person. A 2.0 version of my old self. I am excited about the changes to come and look forward to work on dealing with dad not being here anymore or eliminating friendships which aren't beneficial to me.
I think Mary J.Blige summed it up the best: No More Drama.
The motto I live by is Radical Acceptance. I may not like the reality sometimes but I need to accept it. I've have radically accepted a great deal but I still have a ways to go. Mostly I need to work on the death of my father (as a side note, it will be 14 years this Sunday he'll be gone-- FML). It wasn't until I was in the program that I realized I stuffed so much anger and sadness down which led to not accepting he's gone. The good news is, I'm in therapy so I can start to work on that. My goal is to have accepted the fact that he is gone by his 15 year anniversary.
While I was digging through all these emotions, I realized that there are people in my life that may need to go. I received more support from some of the women in my group (some old enough to be my mom and some young enough to be a little sister) than I did from some of my "friends." Not everyone knows what to say or what to do with a friend who is anorexic. I can appreciate that.... to a point. But ignoring I have a problem or being honest in a negative way, isn't going to help me. I need to start to re-evaluate, one by one, who can remain in my close circle. I have a feeling it's going to get small.
The women in my group taught me just as much as the professionals. Ironically, I didn't think I would even grow close to these women but there is an unspoken bond. Their own personal wisdom helped me. It does help speaking with people who have similar issues. It creates a closeness but we all have to remember to set a boundary-- if not, we'll trigger one another. Hopefully we will all be successful in conquering our problems but there is only so much leaning we can do on one another. Ironically, the reason most of us were in the program was because we took on other's people's problems to solve.
I wish the program was inpatient for a longer period of time. I think I could have benefited from learning more but I am continuing with a six month program that meets once a week. It's sort of like leaving Celeb Rehab and going into Sober House. I wasn't going to participate but, last minute I decided it would be the best for me. Dr. Drew would be so proud of my after care program I'm sure. I recommend this program to anyone who isn't happy.... who isn't living the life they want to live... who lack to coping skills to deal.....
I don't know where I loss the sense of control I had over my life and my happiness in the past year, but it doesn't matter. Mom getting sick was a catalyst. What I mean by that is, a great deal of sadness and anxiety had been shoved down over the years but it reached a pinnacle until Mom got sick. Reality began to set in and without my knowing, set the ball rolling for an emotional explosion. I foolishly thought I beat anorexia years ago. It never goes away. It will always be there but I have accepted (radically of course) anorexia as part of who I am. Can I use better coping skills now? Yes. Will I? I'm trying to work on it every day.
Some in my life don't see the change but I know my truth. I've found my happy again. I'm a new person. A 2.0 version of my old self. I am excited about the changes to come and look forward to work on dealing with dad not being here anymore or eliminating friendships which aren't beneficial to me.
I think Mary J.Blige summed it up the best: No More Drama.
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