Being a bit cheeky, I nabbed my flatmate's copy of 'The Lovely Bones' off the shelves and ended up spending my evening trying not to leave any evidence of my reading on her virgin book. This is hard. As a serial book-bending, corner folder, I am instinctually driven to ruin paper. I like to feel I'm able to leave my mark on the reading experience, even if that means a bit of my dinner makes its way between the pages.
Anyway, I'm getting off the point. It's not often anymore I get literally lost in reading. It vaguely happened over Christmas when I read Sarah Waters' 'The Little Stranger', though this was hampered by my acute awareness of silence at the boyfriend's parents (I'm a bit scared of silence - blame growing up in a TV-permanently-on house). But this book hit me in my heart, mind and soul, and took me out of myself and into the mind of Susie Salmon; the book's unfortunate heroine.
Given the uncomfortableness with which reading a book half-open brings, I bought my own copy today to consume over the weekend. I took extra pleasure in flattening it out and making the spine wrinkle on my lunch hour. Folding the first corner it, too, was satisfying. And it's mine. I like having my own things. Even books.
I realised how useful books can be in taking you out of yourself. They can help you to forget about your worries, and step into someone else's head for a little while.
For me, it doesn't matter if that head is in a dark place - I shall indeed read 'The Road' despite it's bleakness (the movie stuck with me and I can't quite let it go yet). I adore exploring their dark corners, drawing parallels with mine and lavishing in their differences, like a forbidden treat.
Nor does it matter if it's a very light place; an air-head of a book, so to speak. I fell a little bit more in love with Bex; the heroine of Sophie Kinsella's Shopaholic series that I guiltily stole from my sister's shelf over a period of time. My favourite book thus far is Sarah Waters' 'Tipping the Velvet'; not exactly air-head, but so far removed from my life I draw little parallels with it. But its opening paragraph - describing the Whistable oysters - never fails to draw shivers of excitement down my spine. I can climb inside Nan's head and hide out a little while.
It's the being in the moment, despite not in my moment, but in that of a character. It's leaving my own worries to the side for the moment, to wonder at those of others'. It's forgetting to watch Katie Price's latest debacles because I'm wanting to get to know Susie Salmon.
Friday 26 February 2010
Dark moments
I can think of two particular moments in my life in which I felt truly and utterly hopeless:
Later, I realised my behaviour was probably erratic and off-putting to those around me, who couldn't - or didn't want to - understand.
I knew I needed help, so came all the way back to England to see a doctor here, who would understand me (language issues). He was awful. He told me I "wasn't thin, but wasn't fat" and not to worry. I had spilled my guts out to this man - this stranger who scared me as it was ( a nurse set me off on my road to losing weight - another story) - and he threw it back at me. May as well have spat on me and finished the job off, really.
One day, upon returning abroad, I think I'd had a row with the ex-best friend on the way to/from school. I remember waiting alone for the train, edging closer to the side of the platform. I wanted to jump. I wanted it all to end. I was just afraid of hurting the people I loved, and afraid, I guess, that even if I did jump, it wouldn't end. Scary.
Whilst I have had many dark moments since, these stand out for me as most poignant. I learnt that controlling food didn't help me control my life, and the dark bits in it. And I learnt that even at the bleakest times, we are never really alone. I've never been so far gone since, and I hope never to be again. So I guess what I'm saying is shit happens. The dark times come, and most often, they fade a little and you carry on. Sometimes all you can do is carry on and hope the bright times come. And when they do, you really, REALLY see them.
Occasion One: Realising thin doesn't equal happy
I can't remember exactly where it was, but around Christmas 2004 I had a sinking, gut-wrenching, heart-breaking realisation that I was thin. And still unhappy. In one of the rare snap-shot moments I had of seeing myself more or less as I was - at that point, a very thin, sad-looking girl - it came to me: I was thin and not happy. Thinness didn't bring the happiness it promised. I wasn't any prettier; I wasn't any cleverer; my problems were still there. 'Sinking feeling' doesn't describe it. It is one of the scariest, most hopeless times of my life. Not long after, I gave up. And the bingeing began.
Occasion Two: Standing on the edge
I was living in a foreign country as part of my university degree and Occasion One had occured a month or two earlier. My memories of this time are dark. I lived in a self-contained bedsit student room, made of stone. My first night there, I slept in a scratchy brown blanket and cried. The time was full of half-conscious moments. I struggled to make friends because I so wanted to be alone, yet was so desperate for someone to care I did things that make my toes crawl now; so degrading. I lost my best friend at the time, who seemed to turn against me. People stopped talking to me and I didn't know why. I was lonely, exhausted and bingeing on chocolate and cakes (nutella straight out the jar) because I didn't know what foods I'd like and was starving still from my anorexic year.Later, I realised my behaviour was probably erratic and off-putting to those around me, who couldn't - or didn't want to - understand.
I knew I needed help, so came all the way back to England to see a doctor here, who would understand me (language issues). He was awful. He told me I "wasn't thin, but wasn't fat" and not to worry. I had spilled my guts out to this man - this stranger who scared me as it was ( a nurse set me off on my road to losing weight - another story) - and he threw it back at me. May as well have spat on me and finished the job off, really.
One day, upon returning abroad, I think I'd had a row with the ex-best friend on the way to/from school. I remember waiting alone for the train, edging closer to the side of the platform. I wanted to jump. I wanted it all to end. I was just afraid of hurting the people I loved, and afraid, I guess, that even if I did jump, it wouldn't end. Scary.
Whilst I have had many dark moments since, these stand out for me as most poignant. I learnt that controlling food didn't help me control my life, and the dark bits in it. And I learnt that even at the bleakest times, we are never really alone. I've never been so far gone since, and I hope never to be again. So I guess what I'm saying is shit happens. The dark times come, and most often, they fade a little and you carry on. Sometimes all you can do is carry on and hope the bright times come. And when they do, you really, REALLY see them.
Thursday 25 February 2010
Slowing down...
My random thought for this afternoon is one of slowing down.
I've spent the past few days in a sort of boredom-fuelled haze, anxiously trying to find things to do or get menial tasks completed. In this mindset, food and eating become the centre of my universe. It's the nice bit around which the rest of my day unfolds.
Upon starting my current job, I moved away from my childhood home for what (I am determined) will be the last time. In learning my job, I was kept relatively busy and I can't remember much focus being upon food specifically. I lost up to a stone in the space of a few months as the anxious eating I had been doing living with the family no longer occurred. I could fit into my post-anorexia, binge eating clothes that I've been in for the past 3 years and avoid the heart-wrenching pain of having to buy yet larger clothes yet again. And all without thinking about food. Excellent stuff. Well done.
Now I'm fully established in my work-time position, the inevitable boredom has crept in. I took my current position knowing I'm overqualified and that I'd grow weary of it, but the money and opportunity to be with the person I love in the place that's now home took priority. I find myself thinking about and turning to food more often as a source of consolation; a past-time to make the day go quicker and a marker of time.
Career-wise, I don't know what I want to do with my life. I keep putting pressure on myself to hurry up and decide, resulting in a stressed-out feeling in my chest. Why? Because I feel I ought to, given the amount of time and money invested in my education; because I know I'm better than the job I'm in now; because I feel like I'm behind in this Game of Life.
I spoke to a really wise person from my dance class last night. I've never spoken to her before, but she made me realise that the world won't end because I'm not achieving what I think I ought just yet. That life isn't about a job - it's about the things you put round it. And that slowing it all down a bit might just be what the doctor ordered.
Today, I've panicked a bit less. I've searched a bit less frantically across the Tinterweb. I feel a bit less fuzzy.
There were reasons why I'm doing what I am right now:
I've spent the past few days in a sort of boredom-fuelled haze, anxiously trying to find things to do or get menial tasks completed. In this mindset, food and eating become the centre of my universe. It's the nice bit around which the rest of my day unfolds.
Upon starting my current job, I moved away from my childhood home for what (I am determined) will be the last time. In learning my job, I was kept relatively busy and I can't remember much focus being upon food specifically. I lost up to a stone in the space of a few months as the anxious eating I had been doing living with the family no longer occurred. I could fit into my post-anorexia, binge eating clothes that I've been in for the past 3 years and avoid the heart-wrenching pain of having to buy yet larger clothes yet again. And all without thinking about food. Excellent stuff. Well done.
Now I'm fully established in my work-time position, the inevitable boredom has crept in. I took my current position knowing I'm overqualified and that I'd grow weary of it, but the money and opportunity to be with the person I love in the place that's now home took priority. I find myself thinking about and turning to food more often as a source of consolation; a past-time to make the day go quicker and a marker of time.
Career-wise, I don't know what I want to do with my life. I keep putting pressure on myself to hurry up and decide, resulting in a stressed-out feeling in my chest. Why? Because I feel I ought to, given the amount of time and money invested in my education; because I know I'm better than the job I'm in now; because I feel like I'm behind in this Game of Life.
I spoke to a really wise person from my dance class last night. I've never spoken to her before, but she made me realise that the world won't end because I'm not achieving what I think I ought just yet. That life isn't about a job - it's about the things you put round it. And that slowing it all down a bit might just be what the doctor ordered.
Today, I've panicked a bit less. I've searched a bit less frantically across the Tinterweb. I feel a bit less fuzzy.
There were reasons why I'm doing what I am right now:
- I need money and it's a recession
- I thought helping others would be meaningful, even if the work itself wasn't all that hard
- I need time to get better from my eating problems
- I need time for me in general to work things out
- I wanted to be able to see my boyfriend more often
- I wanted to be independent and free
As it stands, I'm kind of doing a bit of all these things. I'm not fully there yet, but I'm walking the path. Slowly. And maybe that's the right pace for me.
Making a start...
Having spent some time reading other people's blogs, I'm eventually making a start on my own. (Observation: This sentence smacks of listening to other people before making my own decisions, but then that's a whole other topic.)
It seems like I'm making a lot of starts at the moment, so perhaps there is something in the 'spring clean' phenomenon; it seems like I'm spring-cleaning my life. Plus I'm learning a lot about myself, that I was only partially aware of before:
First, there's a new flat on the horizon. I haven't been in my current flat all that long (six months - since the start of my current job), but my flatmate is moving forth with her life and thus me with mine. Realising that I don't enjoy spending much time alone, I've sought out (and found) a place with friendly inhabitants - ones that want to make friends with the people they live with, as opposed to just co-existing.
My current flatmate is really nice; just not there all that often. I thought I'd like a flat to myself, but it hasn't really felt like mine, given that it is full of someone else's things. So it's felt pretty empty, and the time I spend alone in it is mostly time spent very aware of the loneliness.
This seems to 'make space' or 'allow' for fairly regular episodes of binge eating. (I'd say I'm probably classed as someone with binge eating disorder of some type or another, though I'm not that keen on the eating disorder categorisation thing.) Generally, this is where I eat too much comfort food (ironically, creating the most uncomfortable feeling); get some sort of pay-off from feeling full (what I reckon is probably not feeling empty and being aware of my body); and then go to bed feeling a bit rubbish, probably texting the people that love me and worrying them, too.
Lesson 1: Loneliness is not good for me. Spending time with other people is and so that's what I will do.
Secondly, and probably the biggest new start I've made is my pre-and-post Christmas, I've-had-enough-of-this reaching out for help with said binge eating. I didn't always binge; it's a result of a 5 or maybe closer to 6-year relationship with eating problems (to be discussed in other posts). But yeah, I've got to a point where I really do want to change, and feel I'm in the best position to do this.
I have the support of an amazing man; one whom I can't quite believe I deserve to call my boyfriend, but nevertheless, he is and is also my best friend. My family support me and so do a couple of friends whom I am lucky enough to know and have in my life. And a special cat or two who bring warm fuzzles into my life (and occasional bite marks)! Brilliant,eh?
But at the end of the day, it's about me doing this for me; getting to know (and like) myself again; and putting the graft in.
What I've done so far:
So yeah... big changes happening for me right now. Will keep you posted on how it goes.
It seems like I'm making a lot of starts at the moment, so perhaps there is something in the 'spring clean' phenomenon; it seems like I'm spring-cleaning my life. Plus I'm learning a lot about myself, that I was only partially aware of before:
First, there's a new flat on the horizon. I haven't been in my current flat all that long (six months - since the start of my current job), but my flatmate is moving forth with her life and thus me with mine. Realising that I don't enjoy spending much time alone, I've sought out (and found) a place with friendly inhabitants - ones that want to make friends with the people they live with, as opposed to just co-existing.
My current flatmate is really nice; just not there all that often. I thought I'd like a flat to myself, but it hasn't really felt like mine, given that it is full of someone else's things. So it's felt pretty empty, and the time I spend alone in it is mostly time spent very aware of the loneliness.
This seems to 'make space' or 'allow' for fairly regular episodes of binge eating. (I'd say I'm probably classed as someone with binge eating disorder of some type or another, though I'm not that keen on the eating disorder categorisation thing.) Generally, this is where I eat too much comfort food (ironically, creating the most uncomfortable feeling); get some sort of pay-off from feeling full (what I reckon is probably not feeling empty and being aware of my body); and then go to bed feeling a bit rubbish, probably texting the people that love me and worrying them, too.
Lesson 1: Loneliness is not good for me. Spending time with other people is and so that's what I will do.
Secondly, and probably the biggest new start I've made is my pre-and-post Christmas, I've-had-enough-of-this reaching out for help with said binge eating. I didn't always binge; it's a result of a 5 or maybe closer to 6-year relationship with eating problems (to be discussed in other posts). But yeah, I've got to a point where I really do want to change, and feel I'm in the best position to do this.
I have the support of an amazing man; one whom I can't quite believe I deserve to call my boyfriend, but nevertheless, he is and is also my best friend. My family support me and so do a couple of friends whom I am lucky enough to know and have in my life. And a special cat or two who bring warm fuzzles into my life (and occasional bite marks)! Brilliant,eh?
But at the end of the day, it's about me doing this for me; getting to know (and like) myself again; and putting the graft in.
What I've done so far:
- Contacted a local eating disorder group and attended an assessment;
- Been to an eating disorder support group;
- Asked for counselling at work;
- Attended a counselling session (didn't work out - another story(;
- Read three self-help books, all of which have some great suggestions and points I'm trialling every day)
- Kept two diaries: one with general stuff in and one for food and feelings;
- Started ballet;
- Booked myself on a self-esteem, eating-related course;
- Been open about this with the people close to me.
- Find the right counsellor for me to support me in making changes;
- Think about going to ask for GP support (fear of doctors generally keeping me from this right now);
- Keep trying to make changes and move forward from this.
So yeah... big changes happening for me right now. Will keep you posted on how it goes.
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