For weeks I've been trying to ignore to decent into the dark past of my history with food. I was personally vindicated when the therapist I'm seeing wouldn't exactly classify me as anorexic. I've just been saying that all along.... I'm not anorexic but apparently, there is a "label" for me. It's called "Eating Disorder NOS (not otherwise specified)". LOVE IT. Why do I love it? Because it is vague. It has no meaning to me. NOS? If it's NOS then it really doesn't exist. There isn't a name for it. So, if there isn't a name for it, then I clearly don't have a problem..... awesome. Issue solved.
But not so fast. In the midst of all this new drama and depression in my life I thought buying a more accurate scale would be a fantastic idea. Um, eating disorders 101--- don't weigh yourself. Not only do I weigh myself in the morning, but I weigh myself every time I go to the bathroom to see if it gets more accurate. Well, my handy dandy super accurate fucking scale had me gain a pound. GAIN. FROM WHAT? There was no possible way I could be gaining weight. I put barely anything into my mouth.
So from there, I needed a plan. I needed to lose the pound (I have to point out that in the .00001% of my rational mind, I know it's just water weight). Plan A wasn't working so I moved on to Plan B--- which was to purge it out. I'm so over the whole vomiting thing--- mostly because I vomit almost all the time from my anxiety. Laxatives have always worked in the past for me so that was my first way to go. Everyone needs a good cleaning. Normal dose is 2, so of course, I take 8.
Where does that leave me? SICK. My stomach feels like it's been punched. But, even though I know I shouldn't, I tell my husband. That went well.... and I don't mean that sarcastically, it did go well. He didn't get upset. Actually he had very little reaction so that's good (but not surprising). I know this is really a bottom. I mean, 8 laxatives? What the fuck was I thinking? I'm all set with that and plan to throw out the laxatives. Feeling this sick right now isn't worth the good, if any, it was suppose to do.
The interesting part to me is this blog started as way to deal with my mom's Cancer diagnosis.... so how did I get here?
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Thursday, April 14, 2011
What an Only Craves
Only children are very easy to stereotype and I can say that 99.9% of it is true. We're all the same. The more I meet, the more I see it. I refuse to list the littany of problems people thing we have. I know we're weird. I've been told that by some of my dearest closest friends. It's true-- we are weird. There are variations of what we share as characteristics but there is one thing we all crave: ALONE TIME.
Growing up in a household without chaos of siblings, you become accustomed to a certain calmness. I grew up in an extreme case. My dad believed children should be seen and not heard--- which I thought was fine. But some of my fondest memories are sitting in my room with a book and not a peep in the house. Or as I grew older, having the house to myself. College was a difficult transitiion for me because I actually, for the first time ever, had to share a room and was around people ALL THE TIME. There was no alone time-- unless I went out for random escapes--- which I did.
Alone time is more than just a time to decompress. It's a necessity to my survival. I was able to experience it more before my daughter came along. I miss those Saturday afternoons when my husband was at work and it would be the middle of February and I'd be curled up in a blanket watching movies and taking naps. Ahhhh...... Heavan. I wouldn't change my Saturdays now but I miss those days.
I have no issue going to the movies alone, eating alone, being alone-- for a period of time. As a mom, my only me time is when I lock the bathroom door and take a long bath. Sometimes my favorite time of the day, as brief as it may be is when my daughter is in her crib and my husband isn't home yet. It may only be 20 minutes but it's 20 minutes of QUIET uninterrupted me time.
As an only, I didn't have to share my time with anyone if I didn't want to.... My mom would tell you that I complained about being bored-- all the time. I guess that's accurate but there were those moments of pure bliss when I'd be on my bed, reading a Sweet Valley High book from beginning to end, and NO one interrupted me. Now adays, I get excited when my husband takes the baby out for a little one on one time. Because I have the house to myself. Again, I don't think people who aren't onlies can relte to this on the same level. We crave it like we crave air.
I still get my quiet alone time.... it's just few and far between but, it's cherished more now. Some day, my daughter will be grown up and I'll think back to this, and be sad because I'll miss her being around all the time. That being said, I'm sure my mom is pretty happy that I'm grown, out of the house and she doesn't have to deal with me and my neurosis on a daily basis. Alone time can work in the opposite for me, especialy lately but I think I'm at a point where alone time is what I need to get my head straight.
It's amazing to think how fucked up I really am. I wonder how many onlies think they are fucked up. I'm ok with being fucked up though. I have one child and she's going to be the same way--- probably. I'm not maladjusted.... nor do I live in a state of denial. I chose to live in a world of alternate reality. In that world, the sky is always sunny, Donnie Wahlberg is just there (no purpose necessary) and I have lots of quiet time. Is that really so bad?
Growing up in a household without chaos of siblings, you become accustomed to a certain calmness. I grew up in an extreme case. My dad believed children should be seen and not heard--- which I thought was fine. But some of my fondest memories are sitting in my room with a book and not a peep in the house. Or as I grew older, having the house to myself. College was a difficult transitiion for me because I actually, for the first time ever, had to share a room and was around people ALL THE TIME. There was no alone time-- unless I went out for random escapes--- which I did.
Alone time is more than just a time to decompress. It's a necessity to my survival. I was able to experience it more before my daughter came along. I miss those Saturday afternoons when my husband was at work and it would be the middle of February and I'd be curled up in a blanket watching movies and taking naps. Ahhhh...... Heavan. I wouldn't change my Saturdays now but I miss those days.
I have no issue going to the movies alone, eating alone, being alone-- for a period of time. As a mom, my only me time is when I lock the bathroom door and take a long bath. Sometimes my favorite time of the day, as brief as it may be is when my daughter is in her crib and my husband isn't home yet. It may only be 20 minutes but it's 20 minutes of QUIET uninterrupted me time.
As an only, I didn't have to share my time with anyone if I didn't want to.... My mom would tell you that I complained about being bored-- all the time. I guess that's accurate but there were those moments of pure bliss when I'd be on my bed, reading a Sweet Valley High book from beginning to end, and NO one interrupted me. Now adays, I get excited when my husband takes the baby out for a little one on one time. Because I have the house to myself. Again, I don't think people who aren't onlies can relte to this on the same level. We crave it like we crave air.
I still get my quiet alone time.... it's just few and far between but, it's cherished more now. Some day, my daughter will be grown up and I'll think back to this, and be sad because I'll miss her being around all the time. That being said, I'm sure my mom is pretty happy that I'm grown, out of the house and she doesn't have to deal with me and my neurosis on a daily basis. Alone time can work in the opposite for me, especialy lately but I think I'm at a point where alone time is what I need to get my head straight.
It's amazing to think how fucked up I really am. I wonder how many onlies think they are fucked up. I'm ok with being fucked up though. I have one child and she's going to be the same way--- probably. I'm not maladjusted.... nor do I live in a state of denial. I chose to live in a world of alternate reality. In that world, the sky is always sunny, Donnie Wahlberg is just there (no purpose necessary) and I have lots of quiet time. Is that really so bad?
The Point of No Return
There isn't anyone out there who sees themselves the way others see them. For a long time, I would look in the mirror and still see a chubby teenager. I've dealt with it and play tricks (it's amazing what tilting a mirror can do) on my mind. I know the difference between overweight, average and underweight. There are all three variations of that in my family and circle of friends. I will always classify myself as overweight-- but again, it's an issue that I don't is ever "fixed" but more "kept under control."
Control in an A Type Only Child is definitely a weakness. We take it to extremes-- more so than A Types with siblings. There is a self imposed (at least in my case) pressure to be the best. All my parents ever asked of me was to be the best me I could be. That's not an extreme request by any means, but to me, or someone like me, it's a tall order to fill. Here I am still NOT eating. I've lost about 22 lbs and people are noticing--- but my mom hasn't noticed, still. I find that to be interesting because I don't see her often but I guess to her I've always been small... But now I'm almost as small as I was when I was first diagnosed with having an eating disorder ( I still refuse to call myself anorexic since there are no bones sticking out). Oh and FYI, at 5'1" I should weight between 105-118 lbs. I weigh more than that, not by much but I still fall in the normal range of my BMI--- all that combined means, I am NOT anorexic.
here's the problem: Now I can't eat. It's physically difficult to get food down. This is new to me..... My first time around with this, I never had trouble eating, I just didn't eat. Now, I can't. I started keeping a diary of what I was eating and when so I could remember the last time I ate. That didn't work out well because there are days I don't eat so I would forget to write it down. So, I'm faced with this dilemma: how do I start eating again?
The answer should be simple but, I don't want to eat. Not interested in food at all. I'm back into a size 2-- and it's been a long time since that happened. I like being a 2. I don't know why I give a shit but I do. This control over my eating started as my way to cope with the stress but now it's spiraling out of control. My Type A is sneaking in and I'm challenging myself.... Can I get to 115? Can I get to 110? When will I stop? I feel weak, I feel tired but honestly, I'm too fucking depressed to care.
Sadly, on paper I have a great life. Beautiful daughter, wonderful husband, terrific family and friends, great job and even the material things are there. But somewhere, somehow, the switch went off and I lost my mind. The possibility of a Leave of Absence from work has been hanging over my head since December.... but then I think, people have stress every day and work. How lame of me to go out of work for being stressed, right?
My husband has given up out of frustration, my friends are concerned and my co-workers are telling me that I'm "withering away." Right now, I feel as though I am in the middle of a hurricane, hanging on to a branch for dear life. I wish it was easy to just eat, but each day, it gets harder and harder. When and if my mom realizes what's going on, she's going to be pissed for several reasons:
1. She's been sick all these months on a feeding tube and couldn't eat but here I am choosing not to eat when that's all she wanted ( I thought about saying I'm on a hunger strike in support of her-- that when she can eat I will eat, you know, like solidarity.... but then rethought that plan since it sounded, um, unrealistic.)
2.She's still not feeling well herself and this isn't something she is going to want to deal with now-- and I can't blame her. Although there has been a push to tell her, and threats by my husband, I still can't lay this on her.
3. She's going to yell at me--- she's Italian and I'm an only so she talks to me like I'm 12 still..... then she'll tell me I'm acting 12 and to cut it out. Then I'll get a speech on what a bad example I'm setting for my daughter (statistically she is genetically predisposed to this so it's my job to make sure she is never triggered).
I fear telling her. I really do. I know it don't want it to be me..... At this point, I'm fine with her finding out with me in a hospital. I'm not doing this because I think I'm fat. Could I have lost those last 5-10 pregnancy lbs, sure. I bought an elliptical and was committed to it. Then I had my own version of a nervous breakdown. I don't blame anyone but myself. I kept my emotions inside for 9 months and only let them out on this blog.... so I'm not surprised that I relapsed. This time is different though.... I don't know if I am going to be able to stop.
Control in an A Type Only Child is definitely a weakness. We take it to extremes-- more so than A Types with siblings. There is a self imposed (at least in my case) pressure to be the best. All my parents ever asked of me was to be the best me I could be. That's not an extreme request by any means, but to me, or someone like me, it's a tall order to fill. Here I am still NOT eating. I've lost about 22 lbs and people are noticing--- but my mom hasn't noticed, still. I find that to be interesting because I don't see her often but I guess to her I've always been small... But now I'm almost as small as I was when I was first diagnosed with having an eating disorder ( I still refuse to call myself anorexic since there are no bones sticking out). Oh and FYI, at 5'1" I should weight between 105-118 lbs. I weigh more than that, not by much but I still fall in the normal range of my BMI--- all that combined means, I am NOT anorexic.
here's the problem: Now I can't eat. It's physically difficult to get food down. This is new to me..... My first time around with this, I never had trouble eating, I just didn't eat. Now, I can't. I started keeping a diary of what I was eating and when so I could remember the last time I ate. That didn't work out well because there are days I don't eat so I would forget to write it down. So, I'm faced with this dilemma: how do I start eating again?
The answer should be simple but, I don't want to eat. Not interested in food at all. I'm back into a size 2-- and it's been a long time since that happened. I like being a 2. I don't know why I give a shit but I do. This control over my eating started as my way to cope with the stress but now it's spiraling out of control. My Type A is sneaking in and I'm challenging myself.... Can I get to 115? Can I get to 110? When will I stop? I feel weak, I feel tired but honestly, I'm too fucking depressed to care.
Sadly, on paper I have a great life. Beautiful daughter, wonderful husband, terrific family and friends, great job and even the material things are there. But somewhere, somehow, the switch went off and I lost my mind. The possibility of a Leave of Absence from work has been hanging over my head since December.... but then I think, people have stress every day and work. How lame of me to go out of work for being stressed, right?
My husband has given up out of frustration, my friends are concerned and my co-workers are telling me that I'm "withering away." Right now, I feel as though I am in the middle of a hurricane, hanging on to a branch for dear life. I wish it was easy to just eat, but each day, it gets harder and harder. When and if my mom realizes what's going on, she's going to be pissed for several reasons:
1. She's been sick all these months on a feeding tube and couldn't eat but here I am choosing not to eat when that's all she wanted ( I thought about saying I'm on a hunger strike in support of her-- that when she can eat I will eat, you know, like solidarity.... but then rethought that plan since it sounded, um, unrealistic.)
2.She's still not feeling well herself and this isn't something she is going to want to deal with now-- and I can't blame her. Although there has been a push to tell her, and threats by my husband, I still can't lay this on her.
3. She's going to yell at me--- she's Italian and I'm an only so she talks to me like I'm 12 still..... then she'll tell me I'm acting 12 and to cut it out. Then I'll get a speech on what a bad example I'm setting for my daughter (statistically she is genetically predisposed to this so it's my job to make sure she is never triggered).
I fear telling her. I really do. I know it don't want it to be me..... At this point, I'm fine with her finding out with me in a hospital. I'm not doing this because I think I'm fat. Could I have lost those last 5-10 pregnancy lbs, sure. I bought an elliptical and was committed to it. Then I had my own version of a nervous breakdown. I don't blame anyone but myself. I kept my emotions inside for 9 months and only let them out on this blog.... so I'm not surprised that I relapsed. This time is different though.... I don't know if I am going to be able to stop.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
My Dirty Little Secret
It's become clear to me that I've sunk into a deep hole of depression.... After 9 months of being an emotional punching bag, I think it's finally caught up to me. I've talked about this before, I love my mom more than just about anything.... but I realize now, she's in denial. Deep denial. She either truly doesn't recall the hurtful things she's said to me or the ways in which she guilted me, or she wants to pretend they never happened. I'm pretty fucked up after this whole experience-- because it was a lot to handle as a person who a) already lost one parent and b) has a severe fear of death and anxiety. I can finally say that my mom is feeling better. For months I wished for my old mom back and I think we're almost there. But what about the collateral damage? How do we handle that? I guess I made excuses--- good ones too-- for what she would do or say. She wasn't feeling well-- actually, it was beyond not feeling well. She was the sickest she had ever been in her life. So I tried to be strong and get through. Yet, I tend to dwell on what happened, which is my fault.
I dwell on some of the most hurtful things she has ever said to me. For those who know my mom would never believe she is capable of saying anything hurtful, especially to me.I am her world and in my heart I know that.... but some of what she said will impact me forever. Although my husband and her husband would say, that she didn't mean it I still wondered why she said it.... where did it come from? But on occasion, I've tried to bring it up and she says its all in the past. OK. That's fine. I can work those issues out in the multitude of therapy sessions I'm now in, including: two types of one on one counseling, marriage counseling and possible outpatient treatment at a mental hospital. Because, well, I've hit rock bottom. I know I have because I've relapsed. I've lied when I said I don't have a coping skill, because I do. Everyone has something they use to cope--- everyone resorts to something that makes them feel they are in control. Control of the bad feelings, the depression, the anxiety, the despair....
As with any addict, there is always a possibility of relapsing. It's called hitting bottom. And I'm here. I've had a dirty little secret for years--- to which I still deny. Anorexia Nervosa is defined as "People who have anorexia have an intense fear of gaining weight. They severely limit the amount of food they eat and can become dangerously thin." Is that me? Nope. Not at all. But AN has also been defined as this: "A person with anorexia may also feel the only control they have in their lives is in the area of food and weight. If they can't control what is happening around them, they can control their weight. Each morning the number on the scale will determine whether or not they have succeeded or failed in their goal for thinness. They feel powerful and in control when they can make themselves lose weight. Sometimes focusing on calories and losing weight is their way of blocking out feelings and emotions. For them, it's easier to diet then it is to deal with their problems directly. " Is that me? Yup.
So, depending on what you choose to believe, I'm an anorexic. I don't fit the first profile at all. I also don't think I'm sick. Yet, I'm not eating. As of today, I have lost 19 pounds. It started off slowly but I think the relapse really occurred in February. Countless people have noticed the weight loss-- that is except for my mom. But in all fairness, I hide it pretty well when I'm around here. I've become an expert at hiding my feelings around my mom since July. She has enough to worry about and I don't see the need to bring her into the loop now. Obviously, the last time I dealt with an "eating disorder" was in college. I started as bulimic when my dad got sick (with a little push from a family relative on my college weight gain) and then once he died, I guess anorexia (I still disagree) set in... I went through treatment. Friends thought it was diet pills or just me looking for attention.... Maks me wonder if they ever knew me at all. But, I suffered for my addiction. My stomach is fucked up. Mostly from taking 20 laxatives at a time but I really did a number on myself. Eventually, I stopped.
I remember clearly I was out shopping with my best friend, Lilijohnson (who I've mentioned in earlier blogs), and I kept trying on clothes that were zeros and twos and telling her that I looked fat. For the first time in all our years of friendship, she got MAD. I mean, MAD and looked at me and went off. That was a turning point. I don't think that's what stopped it, but it made an impact. That was 11 years ago.
Now, I can't eat. Even when I try, I get sick. I feel tired all the time but I also feel in control. Control of my life. For months, everyone said to me "Stop worrying about things that are out of your control." So I did. Then I found something in my control. And here I am 19 pounds later. At 5'1", it's a noticeable difference. But I don't look sick and I don't feel sick so I don't think I am sick. My friends know what's going on. I don't hide my not eating. At first I said, I'm stressed out and there isn't enough room in my stomach for food with all the knots-- which was true. But it's moved beyond that now. My husband is worried all the time and I hate myself for it. I'm worried too-- mostly because I don't want nor do I think I need help. I cry alot..... my husband has been carrying this around by himself for months now and it makes me sad. He's an amazing man. He's willing to go to the moon and back for me on a moment's notice and I'm hurting him. He tells me he's watching me kill myself. That hurts. I wish it were enough to make me stop though....
The biggest obstacle now? I've seen results and I feel good about the way I look. I haven't been this thin since before I got married. So how do I stop? I don't know. Do I tell my mom to get support? I don't think that's a good idea. She's trying to get better. I feel terrible guilt for the little I've told her about the depression I have going on because I don't want her to not worry about me. She shouldn't have to worry about me--- because I'm almost 36 years old. But apparently emotionally I'm 16.
As my husband says, baby steps. And I guess that's all I can do right now.... My problem is I don't want to stop. So, I keep this secret to myself. I know I am the only one that can fix it, but deep down, I think I want someone to fix me without asking for help.
I dwell on some of the most hurtful things she has ever said to me. For those who know my mom would never believe she is capable of saying anything hurtful, especially to me.I am her world and in my heart I know that.... but some of what she said will impact me forever. Although my husband and her husband would say, that she didn't mean it I still wondered why she said it.... where did it come from? But on occasion, I've tried to bring it up and she says its all in the past. OK. That's fine. I can work those issues out in the multitude of therapy sessions I'm now in, including: two types of one on one counseling, marriage counseling and possible outpatient treatment at a mental hospital. Because, well, I've hit rock bottom. I know I have because I've relapsed. I've lied when I said I don't have a coping skill, because I do. Everyone has something they use to cope--- everyone resorts to something that makes them feel they are in control. Control of the bad feelings, the depression, the anxiety, the despair....
As with any addict, there is always a possibility of relapsing. It's called hitting bottom. And I'm here. I've had a dirty little secret for years--- to which I still deny. Anorexia Nervosa is defined as "People who have anorexia have an intense fear of gaining weight. They severely limit the amount of food they eat and can become dangerously thin." Is that me? Nope. Not at all. But AN has also been defined as this: "A person with anorexia may also feel the only control they have in their lives is in the area of food and weight. If they can't control what is happening around them, they can control their weight. Each morning the number on the scale will determine whether or not they have succeeded or failed in their goal for thinness. They feel powerful and in control when they can make themselves lose weight. Sometimes focusing on calories and losing weight is their way of blocking out feelings and emotions. For them, it's easier to diet then it is to deal with their problems directly. " Is that me? Yup.
So, depending on what you choose to believe, I'm an anorexic. I don't fit the first profile at all. I also don't think I'm sick. Yet, I'm not eating. As of today, I have lost 19 pounds. It started off slowly but I think the relapse really occurred in February. Countless people have noticed the weight loss-- that is except for my mom. But in all fairness, I hide it pretty well when I'm around here. I've become an expert at hiding my feelings around my mom since July. She has enough to worry about and I don't see the need to bring her into the loop now. Obviously, the last time I dealt with an "eating disorder" was in college. I started as bulimic when my dad got sick (with a little push from a family relative on my college weight gain) and then once he died, I guess anorexia (I still disagree) set in... I went through treatment. Friends thought it was diet pills or just me looking for attention.... Maks me wonder if they ever knew me at all. But, I suffered for my addiction. My stomach is fucked up. Mostly from taking 20 laxatives at a time but I really did a number on myself. Eventually, I stopped.
I remember clearly I was out shopping with my best friend, Lilijohnson (who I've mentioned in earlier blogs), and I kept trying on clothes that were zeros and twos and telling her that I looked fat. For the first time in all our years of friendship, she got MAD. I mean, MAD and looked at me and went off. That was a turning point. I don't think that's what stopped it, but it made an impact. That was 11 years ago.
Now, I can't eat. Even when I try, I get sick. I feel tired all the time but I also feel in control. Control of my life. For months, everyone said to me "Stop worrying about things that are out of your control." So I did. Then I found something in my control. And here I am 19 pounds later. At 5'1", it's a noticeable difference. But I don't look sick and I don't feel sick so I don't think I am sick. My friends know what's going on. I don't hide my not eating. At first I said, I'm stressed out and there isn't enough room in my stomach for food with all the knots-- which was true. But it's moved beyond that now. My husband is worried all the time and I hate myself for it. I'm worried too-- mostly because I don't want nor do I think I need help. I cry alot..... my husband has been carrying this around by himself for months now and it makes me sad. He's an amazing man. He's willing to go to the moon and back for me on a moment's notice and I'm hurting him. He tells me he's watching me kill myself. That hurts. I wish it were enough to make me stop though....
The biggest obstacle now? I've seen results and I feel good about the way I look. I haven't been this thin since before I got married. So how do I stop? I don't know. Do I tell my mom to get support? I don't think that's a good idea. She's trying to get better. I feel terrible guilt for the little I've told her about the depression I have going on because I don't want her to not worry about me. She shouldn't have to worry about me--- because I'm almost 36 years old. But apparently emotionally I'm 16.
As my husband says, baby steps. And I guess that's all I can do right now.... My problem is I don't want to stop. So, I keep this secret to myself. I know I am the only one that can fix it, but deep down, I think I want someone to fix me without asking for help.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
When Harry Met Sally.....
Nothing gives me more enjoyment than being suggested a blog topic. Recently, I've had a few friends go through a traumatic experience- "The Best Friend Breakup." I am a survivor of this..... going on 8 years now. In order to share my thoughts on the process, I need to share my story. Hopefully it's easy to follow because there are still those around me who don't get it. Since I NEVER use names on this blog, I will refer to my ex-best friend as "Douche Bag"-- or just DB for short.
DB and I met in high school. He sat directly behind me in homeroom and it was an instant bond of freshman friendship. Over the course of 4 years we were pretty much known as one person (ie- like "Bennifer"). You didn't see one without the other-- if you did, it was very rarely. By the time college came around, we decided to go to the same school and requested to live in the same dorm on the same floor. He was, what I thought, the best friend a girl could ever have. Then WWIII took place the end of Freshman year and we ceased speaking until my father passed, senior year of college. Things took a turn at that point.....
While we had the services for my dad, DB was somewhere out of the country. When he returned, he called my mom and wanted to pay his respects. That night, which i still remember vividly, changed how we saw each other. We grew, we matured, and then before we knew it, we fell in "love." The love part didn't last very long. We were in a legitimate relationship for almost 2 years out of the 15 years of friendship we had. After he broke up with me, I struggled with jealousy issues/loss but we maintained a friendship. Over time, contrary to what DB would say, I moved on and was satisfied with our friendship.
It was during this time- over a 5 year period, we began to drift apart. It was painful. I would come home from nights out with him, whether at dinner or a movie, feeling like a big fat pile of shit. He would make comments, in a joking way, but they cut like a knife. He was quick. He knew what buttons to push. At first I thought little of it but it started to happen more and more. Then I realized I was becoming a nasty bitch back. We had some good times in between but, there wasn't enough to sustain the friendship.
I remember the day clearly, sitting in my kitchen, which he helped me paint. Discussing that this friendship had run it's course and the feeling was surprisingly mutual. At the time, he was on the verge of proposing and I was dating someone. We had no room in each other's life. It was a sad day. I cried and cried and cried.
Fast forward 8 years. Do I miss him? Absolutely but I miss the person he was, the times we had. Not what he became. Breaking up a friendship is like breaking up a relationship. There's a grieving process you go through. I've helped several people go through this... You need to be sad first but now, here I am older and wiser. I see what real friendships are. There has been a friend in my life for 25 years. I know she will be there for another 25. We've had ups and downs but she accepts me with ALL my faults. And vice versa. She loves me unconditionally--- that never happened with DB. I found myself constantly doing things to please him. She doesn't live in the same state as me, has a pretty important high executive job, 2 kids and a husband--- but I still feel a priority in her life. Do I hear from her every day? no, but whats most important is when I DO need her, she's there-- without hesitation, without judgment, without complaints.
DB is he opposite of her. In every way possible. I see clearly now what a good friend is, what a best friend is. Looking back, DB was none of those things. I always said he loved the way he looked in my eyes. I inflated his ego-- without anything in return. When you realize that someone makes you feel bad, especially a friend, at our age why would you keep them around? True friendship is a partnership like a marriage. You need to be able to count on your friends the way they can count on you.
I still don't have the closure I need with DB, who I still see occasionally. He acts mature and decides to look at me and ignore me--- which is a perfect testament of what he really is. His wife looks at me, smiles and I can tell that it's awkward for her too. I often wonder if I'll get closure. If you were to ask me what that consists of, I don't think I could tell you. I do know that I'd love to hear "I'm sorry for being a douche" but that's never going to happen. I don't want there to be any misconceptions--- I was pretty rotten and regret saying many things. On a scale of 1-10, I was at a 7 and he was a 9. We could battle better than the women on The View.
In the end, my life is better without him. Turns out, most of my friends didn't like him. My husband would have hands down hated him... And I can't think of anything good about him being in my life. Like I said, towards the end, it was all about him and never, ever about me (although if you tracked DB down, he'd disagree). We had a lot of good times-- and I'll never forget them but most of all, I'll never forget all the times he MADE me cry. Who needs that?
Point of Interest: DB is an only child.
DB and I met in high school. He sat directly behind me in homeroom and it was an instant bond of freshman friendship. Over the course of 4 years we were pretty much known as one person (ie- like "Bennifer"). You didn't see one without the other-- if you did, it was very rarely. By the time college came around, we decided to go to the same school and requested to live in the same dorm on the same floor. He was, what I thought, the best friend a girl could ever have. Then WWIII took place the end of Freshman year and we ceased speaking until my father passed, senior year of college. Things took a turn at that point.....
While we had the services for my dad, DB was somewhere out of the country. When he returned, he called my mom and wanted to pay his respects. That night, which i still remember vividly, changed how we saw each other. We grew, we matured, and then before we knew it, we fell in "love." The love part didn't last very long. We were in a legitimate relationship for almost 2 years out of the 15 years of friendship we had. After he broke up with me, I struggled with jealousy issues/loss but we maintained a friendship. Over time, contrary to what DB would say, I moved on and was satisfied with our friendship.
It was during this time- over a 5 year period, we began to drift apart. It was painful. I would come home from nights out with him, whether at dinner or a movie, feeling like a big fat pile of shit. He would make comments, in a joking way, but they cut like a knife. He was quick. He knew what buttons to push. At first I thought little of it but it started to happen more and more. Then I realized I was becoming a nasty bitch back. We had some good times in between but, there wasn't enough to sustain the friendship.
I remember the day clearly, sitting in my kitchen, which he helped me paint. Discussing that this friendship had run it's course and the feeling was surprisingly mutual. At the time, he was on the verge of proposing and I was dating someone. We had no room in each other's life. It was a sad day. I cried and cried and cried.
Fast forward 8 years. Do I miss him? Absolutely but I miss the person he was, the times we had. Not what he became. Breaking up a friendship is like breaking up a relationship. There's a grieving process you go through. I've helped several people go through this... You need to be sad first but now, here I am older and wiser. I see what real friendships are. There has been a friend in my life for 25 years. I know she will be there for another 25. We've had ups and downs but she accepts me with ALL my faults. And vice versa. She loves me unconditionally--- that never happened with DB. I found myself constantly doing things to please him. She doesn't live in the same state as me, has a pretty important high executive job, 2 kids and a husband--- but I still feel a priority in her life. Do I hear from her every day? no, but whats most important is when I DO need her, she's there-- without hesitation, without judgment, without complaints.
DB is he opposite of her. In every way possible. I see clearly now what a good friend is, what a best friend is. Looking back, DB was none of those things. I always said he loved the way he looked in my eyes. I inflated his ego-- without anything in return. When you realize that someone makes you feel bad, especially a friend, at our age why would you keep them around? True friendship is a partnership like a marriage. You need to be able to count on your friends the way they can count on you.
I still don't have the closure I need with DB, who I still see occasionally. He acts mature and decides to look at me and ignore me--- which is a perfect testament of what he really is. His wife looks at me, smiles and I can tell that it's awkward for her too. I often wonder if I'll get closure. If you were to ask me what that consists of, I don't think I could tell you. I do know that I'd love to hear "I'm sorry for being a douche" but that's never going to happen. I don't want there to be any misconceptions--- I was pretty rotten and regret saying many things. On a scale of 1-10, I was at a 7 and he was a 9. We could battle better than the women on The View.
In the end, my life is better without him. Turns out, most of my friends didn't like him. My husband would have hands down hated him... And I can't think of anything good about him being in my life. Like I said, towards the end, it was all about him and never, ever about me (although if you tracked DB down, he'd disagree). We had a lot of good times-- and I'll never forget them but most of all, I'll never forget all the times he MADE me cry. Who needs that?
Point of Interest: DB is an only child.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Only Child Debate
Things in my life I shouldn't have to explain: my obsession with Louboutins, my fascination with Donnie Wahlberg and why I only want ONE child. Normally, I would tell people to go fuck themselves (on the inside) when I get that "look" from someone who hears that my husband and I have one and we're done. People tend to you look at you in one of two ways.
First, you get that look of, "wow-- that's selfish of you." Or, my favorite, that look of, "awwww...." like they've just been told I have a terminal disease. In both instances, I have the go fuck yourself response building on the inside. It usually takes every strength I have to control my tongue muscles from saying it. When it really bad, and we're in mixed company, my husband says our secret word (muskrat) and I know to keep my mouth shut.
I recently was faced again with this topic of absolutely no one's business. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind answering the legitimate question, "do you two plan on having any more kids?" It's the spew of diarrhea that comes out of people's mouths after I say no that pisses me off. There are many things that are personal decisions- like religion or politics. Why is this any different? I can't tell you how irritating it is to hear the following sentence: "I know that you only have one but let me tell why I think you should have more...." Go fuck yourself.
Against my better judgment, I've decided to explain, once and for all why only one. I think the best way to do it is in the form of a David Letterman Top Ten List. So, without further ado....
THE TOP TEN REASONS WHY WE ARE ONLY HAVING ONE CHILD
10. Fertility treatments suck and they're painful
9. Kids are really, really expensive
8. We have a healthy baby, why test fate?
7. I got a girl first time out
6. Only children are proven to be smarter (a prominent Texas psychologist did a study and found the following: "(Onlies) tend to score slightly higher in verbal ability, go farther in school and have a little bit higher self-esteem, and a lot of this just has to do with more parent involvement and uninterrupted time with adults.”)
5. I was an only child, and loved it. Husband had siblings and hated it.
4. We are able to give her 100% of our focus and attention
3. I'm not emotionally stable enough to handle the anxiety of two children (my account is red flagged at CVS pharmacy I'm sure).
2. Being a mom, I have already given up a great deal of my life (which I was happy to do)
.....and the number one reason why we are having only one child
THAT'S WHAT WE WANT
It frustrating to say the least. I still tend to live my life as though I am 25. My husband and I go out every Saturday night to dinner whether with friends or alone. Other moms judge that and think it's selfish, well, I think they're ignorant. My husband and I need time together. Everyone said our lives would change when we got married--- but that wasn't a true statement. Our lives changed when our daughter was born. We realized it was important to spend a night out together. Yeah, it's only dinner and I'm still in bed by 11 but I was able to have time alone. I truly believe having another child would impede on this... as a matter of fact, I know it would. It's harder to find a sitter for multiple kids than one.
I've struggled with this myself before. I was open to having a second child.... but my husband wasn't. When I said that to someone recently, they said to stop taking the Pill and not tell. Hmmmm... that's not really the key to a successful marriage but OK, thanks for that. I have a lot of love to give but my heart explodes for this little girl. I don't know how I could love another this much -- although I know parents do.
Instead of people questioning our position on having another child.... I wish they could sit back and see a truly happy family filled with a great deal of love.
First, you get that look of, "wow-- that's selfish of you." Or, my favorite, that look of, "awwww...." like they've just been told I have a terminal disease. In both instances, I have the go fuck yourself response building on the inside. It usually takes every strength I have to control my tongue muscles from saying it. When it really bad, and we're in mixed company, my husband says our secret word (muskrat) and I know to keep my mouth shut.
I recently was faced again with this topic of absolutely no one's business. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind answering the legitimate question, "do you two plan on having any more kids?" It's the spew of diarrhea that comes out of people's mouths after I say no that pisses me off. There are many things that are personal decisions- like religion or politics. Why is this any different? I can't tell you how irritating it is to hear the following sentence: "I know that you only have one but let me tell why I think you should have more...." Go fuck yourself.
Against my better judgment, I've decided to explain, once and for all why only one. I think the best way to do it is in the form of a David Letterman Top Ten List. So, without further ado....
THE TOP TEN REASONS WHY WE ARE ONLY HAVING ONE CHILD
10. Fertility treatments suck and they're painful
9. Kids are really, really expensive
8. We have a healthy baby, why test fate?
7. I got a girl first time out
6. Only children are proven to be smarter (a prominent Texas psychologist did a study and found the following: "(Onlies) tend to score slightly higher in verbal ability, go farther in school and have a little bit higher self-esteem, and a lot of this just has to do with more parent involvement and uninterrupted time with adults.”)
5. I was an only child, and loved it. Husband had siblings and hated it.
4. We are able to give her 100% of our focus and attention
3. I'm not emotionally stable enough to handle the anxiety of two children (my account is red flagged at CVS pharmacy I'm sure).
2. Being a mom, I have already given up a great deal of my life (which I was happy to do)
.....and the number one reason why we are having only one child
THAT'S WHAT WE WANT
It frustrating to say the least. I still tend to live my life as though I am 25. My husband and I go out every Saturday night to dinner whether with friends or alone. Other moms judge that and think it's selfish, well, I think they're ignorant. My husband and I need time together. Everyone said our lives would change when we got married--- but that wasn't a true statement. Our lives changed when our daughter was born. We realized it was important to spend a night out together. Yeah, it's only dinner and I'm still in bed by 11 but I was able to have time alone. I truly believe having another child would impede on this... as a matter of fact, I know it would. It's harder to find a sitter for multiple kids than one.
I've struggled with this myself before. I was open to having a second child.... but my husband wasn't. When I said that to someone recently, they said to stop taking the Pill and not tell. Hmmmm... that's not really the key to a successful marriage but OK, thanks for that. I have a lot of love to give but my heart explodes for this little girl. I don't know how I could love another this much -- although I know parents do.
Instead of people questioning our position on having another child.... I wish they could sit back and see a truly happy family filled with a great deal of love.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Recovery in 3 Acts: Act 3: Surrender
I sit here with tears streaming down my face, yet again.... Mom is back in the hospital due to possible dehydration and constant nausea. This is another set back to her having the feeding tube removed. Surgery appeared to be successful for about two weeks.... and I hesitated to blog about the amazing turn around she was experiencing. Why? Because I knew it was too good to be fucking true. As I try to remain positive for those around me (at least on the outside), I'm not (on the inside). I worry 23 hours a day... the other hour is spent trying to sleep. Every time she gets sick, I get a sinking feeling in my stomach that the Cancer has spread. It's the elephant in the room-- because no one will truly speak of it. When I ask, if the surgeons/GI doctors/etc are concerned, the response is brushed off quickly. Staying positive is important, but being realistic is healthier. Again, my only experience with Cancer has been negative - essentially until my mom's diagnosis. It is important to note that the last surgery and the on-going medical issues she's having are not Cancer related, as far as we know. They stem from digestive issues which could possible be a side affect of the initial surgery to remove the tumor, but there has been no evidence to say Cancer has spread and could be causing these problems.
I heard that early detection equals a 95% success rate- it's a category that I think my mom falls into. I can believe that at times.... but mostly, I worry. I worry about Cancer and I worry about my mom dying and I worry about how I will go on if I lose her. I've said this before, I am still emotionally dependent on her and I think that it may be a co-dependency--- probably 70/30 in my favor. But I can't go on like this in my life. My happiness may not depend on my mom, but it affects me emotionally. There's no way to un-do a way of life that has been going for 36 years strong.
My past time consists of watching endless reality shows on addiction.... It's a fascination (as an aside, I fear that I will be Janice Dickinson in 20 years based on her recent involvement with Celebrity Rehab) of mine but I have learned something from it. I've learned that you must surrender to the addiction in order to move forward and get well. Essentially, I need to surrender to my mom's illness. Its imperative I surrender to my anxiety and allow myself to enjoy life.
Clearly it's not healthy to NOT want to get out of bed. I don't want to just sleep my life away.... I want to just lay in bed. I don't want to go to work. I don't want to answer the phone. I have stopped emailing. contrary to what my husband thinks, I've avoided any social networking... The commercials for depression describe me and I know it. I take enough meds that if I start taking anymore, the FDA may flag my CVS computer profile. My acting hasn't been very convincing because once again, information (as minor as it may be) is starting to be withheld from for fear that I may freak out. I can't help but laugh at that because honestly, I freak out over everything. EVERYTHING in my life is a crisis to some degree or another. Ironically, what my family/friends don't understand is the withholding of information only increases my anxiety because I am always second guessing them about whether or not they are disseminating all the information to me.
Really my only hope at this point is to surrender. When I write my feelings out like this and read them back, even I say, "wow, what a selfish brat." I'm not the one who is physically sick and dealing with feeling like shit on a daily basis, yet my anxiety takes control over me. It's time for ME to recover.... and surrender myself. If only I had a volume button to turn down the noise in my head.
I heard that early detection equals a 95% success rate- it's a category that I think my mom falls into. I can believe that at times.... but mostly, I worry. I worry about Cancer and I worry about my mom dying and I worry about how I will go on if I lose her. I've said this before, I am still emotionally dependent on her and I think that it may be a co-dependency--- probably 70/30 in my favor. But I can't go on like this in my life. My happiness may not depend on my mom, but it affects me emotionally. There's no way to un-do a way of life that has been going for 36 years strong.
My past time consists of watching endless reality shows on addiction.... It's a fascination (as an aside, I fear that I will be Janice Dickinson in 20 years based on her recent involvement with Celebrity Rehab) of mine but I have learned something from it. I've learned that you must surrender to the addiction in order to move forward and get well. Essentially, I need to surrender to my mom's illness. Its imperative I surrender to my anxiety and allow myself to enjoy life.
Clearly it's not healthy to NOT want to get out of bed. I don't want to just sleep my life away.... I want to just lay in bed. I don't want to go to work. I don't want to answer the phone. I have stopped emailing. contrary to what my husband thinks, I've avoided any social networking... The commercials for depression describe me and I know it. I take enough meds that if I start taking anymore, the FDA may flag my CVS computer profile. My acting hasn't been very convincing because once again, information (as minor as it may be) is starting to be withheld from for fear that I may freak out. I can't help but laugh at that because honestly, I freak out over everything. EVERYTHING in my life is a crisis to some degree or another. Ironically, what my family/friends don't understand is the withholding of information only increases my anxiety because I am always second guessing them about whether or not they are disseminating all the information to me.
Really my only hope at this point is to surrender. When I write my feelings out like this and read them back, even I say, "wow, what a selfish brat." I'm not the one who is physically sick and dealing with feeling like shit on a daily basis, yet my anxiety takes control over me. It's time for ME to recover.... and surrender myself. If only I had a volume button to turn down the noise in my head.
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