Here's the piece I wrote on anorexia. I feel embarrassed and very naked, but, I don't know, writing and sharing it also makes me feel validated. I'm saying that this happened to me; I'm admitting it as much to myself as I am to the world. Also, this is the first time I've ever really written to an audience (aside from this or my old livejournal days, or the occasional blog I intend to be for public consumption and then have to frantically try to remove all traces of it from the public because I can't not be so personal), so it's really interesting and awesome getting feedback on my writing. It makes me feel confident in myself, and I feel part of something bigger than myself when people can relate. I used to long for the feeling of being a part of something bigger than me.
I wrote in my paper journal this morning that not drinking has become a part of my life, but I still don't feel like it's part of me, yet. I'm still hanging on to that thread of hope that I can one day drink like a normal person. Last night my roommate asked if our neighbor and bff could come over with a bottle of wine, and I had to say no, because I love wine, and I really wanted some the second the form of a wine bottle entered my thoughts. I salivated. And I thought about the ritual that I participated in 4-7 nights a week for 12 years, the process of feeling my feelings and anxiety slowly fade away into the background of drunkenness. I learned how to drink just enough that I was happy and sleepy. I've never been a binge drinker in the sense that I did crazy things (except for in my late teens and early 20s,) or vomited or anything. I just kept myself comfortably numb.
Thich Nhat Hanh says something about hope that's made me think a lot recently: "When I think deeply about the nature of hope, I see something tragic. Since we cling to our hope in the future, we do not focus our energies and capabilities on the present moment... Hope becomes a kind of obstacle. If you can refrain from hoping, you can bring yourself entirely into the present moment and discover the joy that is already here." I think this is an amazing observation. And it reminds me about my expectations (which are related to my perfectionism) and how I want to live a life without expectations, how I just want to be able to accept things the way they are, at the time they are. This time in my life is about learning to live in the present. I've lived in the past, and I obsess about the future and what it will bring and what I hope it will and will not bring, in a silly attempt to exert control over outcomes. But that's not possible. I especially want to learn not to place expectations on other people, especially when my expectations aren't in tune with what they are capable of or who they are. If I love somebody, I want to accept them unconditionally, unless they really threaten my well-being.
And I can't hope that one day I'll be able to drink like a normal person. That's already setting myself up for failure because it places a future expectation on myself, and if I love myself, I want to accept myself unconditionally, unless I am really threatening my own well-being. I have to accept myself in the now, and only in the now, because the future me with my future abilities doesn't exist yet. As of now, I cannot drink like a normal person, no matter how deceptively my brain urges me to believe I can. Not right now. Not in the present.
I've been thinking about my last relationship, and the one before it. And yeah, there were some things that weren't my fault in them, things I couldn't control, but I've been so unfair to people, and I've been equally unfair to myself. That is not how people love each other. I should have relished their individuality and been more conscious of why I loved them in the first place. I wrote my most recent ex last night, thanking them for being them, essentially. Because they made me see so much beauty in the world that I had forgotten about. I got so upset about them not returning texts fast enough or paying enough attention to me when I should have trusted that they were out doing amazing things and trying to make the world a better place for everybody, myself included. And I let myself get caught up in the anxiety I was creating within myself by feeding my own insecurities healthy chunks of meat instead of remembering how seeing them erased all those feelings of insecurity and fear. To quote Dune: "Fear is the mind-killer."
I fool myself into thinking that I am incredibly self-aware, and then I realize that I've been wrong about myself all along. I guess that's part of growing and rebuilding myself. This is the biggest personal endeavor I have ever taken on, rebuilding myself. I have to go back to where I started while trying to to hold onto things I learned along the way. Because I did grow during the time I was drinking, a lot, but now I have an opportunity to thrive.
Anyway. Now to quote Gummo: "Life is beautiful. Without it, we'd be dead."
I wrote in my paper journal this morning that not drinking has become a part of my life, but I still don't feel like it's part of me, yet. I'm still hanging on to that thread of hope that I can one day drink like a normal person. Last night my roommate asked if our neighbor and bff could come over with a bottle of wine, and I had to say no, because I love wine, and I really wanted some the second the form of a wine bottle entered my thoughts. I salivated. And I thought about the ritual that I participated in 4-7 nights a week for 12 years, the process of feeling my feelings and anxiety slowly fade away into the background of drunkenness. I learned how to drink just enough that I was happy and sleepy. I've never been a binge drinker in the sense that I did crazy things (except for in my late teens and early 20s,) or vomited or anything. I just kept myself comfortably numb.
Thich Nhat Hanh says something about hope that's made me think a lot recently: "When I think deeply about the nature of hope, I see something tragic. Since we cling to our hope in the future, we do not focus our energies and capabilities on the present moment... Hope becomes a kind of obstacle. If you can refrain from hoping, you can bring yourself entirely into the present moment and discover the joy that is already here." I think this is an amazing observation. And it reminds me about my expectations (which are related to my perfectionism) and how I want to live a life without expectations, how I just want to be able to accept things the way they are, at the time they are. This time in my life is about learning to live in the present. I've lived in the past, and I obsess about the future and what it will bring and what I hope it will and will not bring, in a silly attempt to exert control over outcomes. But that's not possible. I especially want to learn not to place expectations on other people, especially when my expectations aren't in tune with what they are capable of or who they are. If I love somebody, I want to accept them unconditionally, unless they really threaten my well-being.
And I can't hope that one day I'll be able to drink like a normal person. That's already setting myself up for failure because it places a future expectation on myself, and if I love myself, I want to accept myself unconditionally, unless I am really threatening my own well-being. I have to accept myself in the now, and only in the now, because the future me with my future abilities doesn't exist yet. As of now, I cannot drink like a normal person, no matter how deceptively my brain urges me to believe I can. Not right now. Not in the present.
I've been thinking about my last relationship, and the one before it. And yeah, there were some things that weren't my fault in them, things I couldn't control, but I've been so unfair to people, and I've been equally unfair to myself. That is not how people love each other. I should have relished their individuality and been more conscious of why I loved them in the first place. I wrote my most recent ex last night, thanking them for being them, essentially. Because they made me see so much beauty in the world that I had forgotten about. I got so upset about them not returning texts fast enough or paying enough attention to me when I should have trusted that they were out doing amazing things and trying to make the world a better place for everybody, myself included. And I let myself get caught up in the anxiety I was creating within myself by feeding my own insecurities healthy chunks of meat instead of remembering how seeing them erased all those feelings of insecurity and fear. To quote Dune: "Fear is the mind-killer."
I fool myself into thinking that I am incredibly self-aware, and then I realize that I've been wrong about myself all along. I guess that's part of growing and rebuilding myself. This is the biggest personal endeavor I have ever taken on, rebuilding myself. I have to go back to where I started while trying to to hold onto things I learned along the way. Because I did grow during the time I was drinking, a lot, but now I have an opportunity to thrive.
Anyway. Now to quote Gummo: "Life is beautiful. Without it, we'd be dead."
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