Not Doing Enough

I slept most of the day away, the weekend in fact.  And I’m still tired.

I really should have been reading.  I need to finish this book for my literature class.  And write a paper for Thursday.

I’m trying really hard not to feel guilty about sleeping.  My body obviously needed it, otherwise I wouldn’t have slept at all or for that long.  It’s just really hard not to feel guilty when I know I’m capable of doing so much more.

Yes, I work and go to school.  But it’s only two classes.  I should be able to handle this.  There are some people who work and take three or four classes.  Now, that’s stressful. I don’t even have a high stress job.

I should have been cleaning my apartment because my mom is coming to visit next weekend.  I’m sure she’ll find something to complain about the state of my apartment.  It’s just hard when I feel like I’m doing the best I can, but I know I can do better.  And this will just be reinforced by my mother.

I want to do more.  I need to do more.  Then I won’t be stuck in my head so much.

I need that escape.

Until Next Time

Time sure flew by fast.

I was up at 4:30am this morning to make sure my dad and grandmother made it out the door to their flight this morning.  I am sad to see them go.  Yes, it might have been a bit crowded to have 4 adults in a 1 bedroom apartment, but I’m going to miss having them there.  For the past two weeks, someone was home and to talk to.  It was comforting.  Not to mention that my grandmother helped me out so much.  We would cook and clean together and I got to listen to her stories.

I can’t wait to see her again at Christmas.  I know time will fly just as fast.

To My Wonderful Grandmother!

My beautiful grandmother is 93 today!  She is an amazing pillar of strength and beauty.  She has loved me as if I were her own child.  She taught me how to love unconditionally.  I saw her be strong and wanted to be strong like her.  I still do.  She know how to do so much.  I wish I had half as much talent.  I say a big Happy Birthday! to my beautiful grandmother.  I hope I can make your day as special as you’ve made my life.  I love you!

Father’s Day

My dad is my hero.  He taught me so many things; he continues to teach me things.  When I was younger he told me fabulous stories of his youth and of what the world had/has to offer.  My dad was the one who took me to my first ballet class.  He pushed for music classes and for me to learn foreign languages.  I wouldn’t know half of what I do if it weren’t for him.  Thank you to my wonderful dad!  Happy Father’s Day!!!

And Sometimes it Doesn’t

I love my grandmother to death.  I really do.  She can do no wrong in my eyes.  But I’m starting to realize she has had a bigger impact on my life than I had originally thought.  Of course she influenced my growing up.  I’m not saying that.  I guess, it’s more along the lines of the eating disorder.

In all my years of therapy and treatment, I never really could figure out why my eating disorder started.  There was the naturally anxious child that I was and the trauma.  And I was probably predisposed to have an eating disorder, but I think my grandmother had more to do with it that I ever cared to realize before.  (I hate how therapy can encourage you to make connections where you never had before.)

My grandmother is going on about how she needs to lose weight.  She’s always been a slender woman, but I can remember her saying that she weighed too much.  She was always a healthy eater.  I love fruits and veggies because of her.  But I can see how it’s slightly disordered.  She’s tiny right now, but still thinks she needs to lose weight.  I don’t understand how she could think that because she’s basically bones now.

As a grandmother, she always asks if I’m eating okay.  And I tell her yes, as to not make her worry.  Both her and my dad have mentioned my weight.  And how I was the biggest (translation: fattest) I’ve ever been at my wedding.  My grandmother always asks if I’ve lost weight; that I need to be healthy.  Then last night, she asked what I ate.  I told her and she asked me why I wasn’t losing weight.  How can I tell her that I’ve screwed up my body so much that I just can’t unless it’s drastic?

I want to make her happy.  I would love to lose this excess weight, not only for me, but her.

I wish I didn’t have these thoughts in my head.

The Power of “I”

My sister-in-law has an incredible talent.

She has the ability to turn any topic of conversation around and make it about her.  Even topics that she has no clue about.  She’ll as specific questions to be able to share her knowledge, without really looking to see if perhaps someone else might have a different opinion.  And if you do, by chance, have a different opinion, instead of listening and possibly contemplating, you get, “Let’s just agree to disagree,” said very quickly and dismissively.  Usually, this person has no idea they do it and those around them are used to it and don’t stop them.

Now, I’m not saying that being proud of your accomplishments or who you are is wrong.  Not in the least.  And sometimes, for someone who is shy like me, I like that I’m not the center of attention.  I’ll enjoy a bit of quiet observation.  However, I do get tired of hearing only your opinion and I sometimes don’t care about the drama you create.

At an event I attended the other night, I ended up at the same table as another person like this.  Although, I think I was partially annoyed because she was several years younger than I, yet spoke like she thought she was the oldest (and wisest) at our table.  I know I may look young, but please, I don’t look that young either.  I just couldn’t believe the stories and questions coming out of her mouth.  One led right into another led into another, led into a “profound” experience she had.  If you’re looking for recognition, I’m not going to give it to you like that.

There is a time and place for everything.

We are a product and reflection of our parents.  I was showered with so much attention, I didn’t always tell them about every A in school or compliment or accomplishment because I didn’t want to be in the spotlight.  I got a lot of attention in school (for a while, but that’s a different story) because I was able to pick things up quickly and responsible.  I didn’t want any more of it.  I still don’t.

We are also a product and reflection of our society.  The generation right after mine is when the “Let-me-give-you-a-trophy-for-properly-blowing-your-nose,” started.  Everything you do isn’t important to the whole world.  And it shouldn’t matter if it isn’t.  But you don’t need to hold up a neon arrow pointing it out either, to give you the accolades you’ve become accustomed to.

It’s My Responibility

Me: I want to do something irresponsible and crazy, just once.

Husband: Why? You’re always so responsible.

Yeah.  Exactly my point.  I’ve always been the responsible one.  I just want one day off.  I want to do something without thinking about the consequences.  Just one time.

And something about this really struck a chord in therapy yesterday.  The only reason I can tell is because I started planning my binge (and subsequent purge) the minute I left her office.  Well, that and the fact that I’m starting to tear up and get anxious now.

When I was in sixth grade, my class went to science camp.  I liked science (still do), but I was anxious about being away from my family for a week.  I had never been away from all of them for that long.  Neither had a lot of kids in my class.  As we were getting ready to board the bus, I remember hearing a friends mom say, “I’m so glad your daughter is going because she’s always so responsible.”  Then my parents repeated the comment after I got back.  Yeah, well… hmph.

As an even younger child, I knew which parent to go to when I needed something.  I’ve always known that if I got to my dad first and alone, I could usually get what I needed.  Now, I’m not talking about toys, or anything materialistic.  Just other things that I needed–a break, change of scenery, specific attention, etc.  I knew if I got him on my side, we had a fighting chance against my mom.  It was hard for her rationale to go up against the both of us.

  • I got out of a bad middle school situation.
  • I got to switch high schools.
  • I was able to pursue my passion.
  • I moved across the country.
  • My anxiety isn’t hidden.

All because I went to my dad first.  But even then, I carefully chose my words and what exactly I  could reveal to him.  I didn’t want him to worry too much or be too rash.  Or too proud.  But there are things I haven’t told my dad.  I hid things that I thought were too “scary.”  And I don’t think I ever will tell him.  It’s not that I don’t think he wouldn’t believe me, but I have a huge amount of guilt and shame surrounding these issues and they’re hard to talk about it the first place.  When my grandfather (his dad) passed away, he told me I was the only thing to bring happiness into the household.  I don’t want that responsibility.  I don’t want that pressure.

I understand logically that I’m not responsible for others’ feelings, but I can’t help but feel that I am.  Up to a point.  But even that point is a variable of each situation.

While my husband was out of work, he made me financially responsible for our household.  He said he wasn’t going to, but he did.  I didn’t want that responsibility, but I got it.  Go me!

If no one else is going to be responsible enough to do it, then give it to me.  I’ll do it.

Renfrew isn’t the greatest eating disorder treatment program.  It’s not the worst.  It just is the one my insurance would cover.  I have a very intricate relationship with the ‘frew.  I’ve done the evening program and the day program at various times.  Most haven’t ended well.  And I’m still struggling.  My therapist believes this is because ‘frew and I aren’t a good fit and there are better programs out there.

I feel like I constantly hear, from professionals and those with eating disorders, that I can only get out of treatment what I put into it.  I understand that, but what if I’m giving it my all, but it’s not enough?  Then what?  Is it still my fault?  Is it my fault at all?  I definitely feel like it is.

Oh, I didn’t ask for what I needed?  Well, I didn’t ask because I’m not too sure what it is that I need.  And although I may have read so many books on eating disorders, you are the professional and specific program that is supposed to help me figure that out.  But remember that one time when I did speak up and did and said what I needed to?  Then you asked me to leave.  So just as long as I’m asking/giving the “right” things, then I’m doing better in recovery.  Did you ever stop to think that maybe I’ve always said and done the “right” things and now I need to do the opposite?  No?  Why not?  Because you can’t cater specifically to one person?  Hmmm…  Your website says you offer individualized treatment…

I obviously didn’t try hard enough.  I got myself into this mess, so I should be able to get myself out.

I am responsible for my feelings and my actions.

End of story.

And I want to do something irresponsible.