off limits/off the grid

I began writing about ED this morning, which is something I never do. I joke! I kid! I think that's pretty much all I do! I write write write and think think think and talk talk talk about ED ED ED. Well, screw that. I need a break from him/her/it sometimes, you know? I am an obsessive creature by nature, so it's only natural that now I am becoming obsessed with recovery. I feel like I can DO IT ALL in, like, a day. Doesn't happen that way. A single sandwich won't save me, but a steady stream of them will. Not an actual stream of sandwiches. It's not as if you go out to a stream in a meadow with your fishing pole on a lazy summer afternoon and catch yourself some wild sandwiches. Although you COULD because anything is possible!!! Anything is possible except for recovering from a decades-long eating disorder in a 24-hour period.

So I think I need to create pockets of time when I am not allowed to talk about or even really think about recovery. Or my eating disorder. Or anything related to it. In other words, let's attend to some of your other interests and hobbies, Meg, shall we? We shall. And I know I say that I don't know what my interests or hobbies are without ED in the picture, but that's not entirely true. I do. It's just that I've neglected so much while feeling so lost within my illness.

And here I am! Writing about how I'm not going to write about Edward B. Dickhole. The B stands for Bitchwad. Edward Bitchwad Dickhole. That's who he is. But now that I've gotten that out of the way, time for me to play. Play with my mind, my words, YOUR MIND (but not your words -- your words are your own). I should also play in the sand. And the ocean. Ohhhhh how I want to live by the ocean.

Will you let me live with you by the ocean? Who are you, by the way? Have I met you? Do I need to meet you? Maybe I'm better off alone and in a desert with a surfboard. I would love to throw away (whoops! I meant recycle! donate!) all that I own aside from some of my hats and letters and tea kettle and go build myself a yurt. Like, I might need some help from a yurt expert, but for the most part I want to construct the structure by myself. I can only imagine how much pride I'd have after completing my yurt. Yurt Pride. Hey, it doesn't even have to be a yurt. Don't yurts get kinda moldy by the coast? How about I build my beautiful, intellectual, brave soul a cabin? I will wear a stovepipe hat while hammering nails into logs or whatever it is you do in order to build a cabin. What do you do? What do I do? What should we do and should we do it together? Are you still with me?

Okay, so we've (I've) established that I'd very much like to establish my independence by building myself a HOUSE. Uh... Maybe I'm getting carried away. But I DID successfully put up drywall one summer in an art museum. I used a drill and everything! But mostly I just mopped. Yeah, let's have Meghan go mop the floor while we put up these walls. Fine by me. I'm not much for putting up walls these days anyway.

Wow. I really am an amazing person. I am thrilled that I am finally beginning to realize this.

Speaking of realizations, I just realized that I haven't made my tea yet this morning. GOOD LORD and it's almost NOON. I better start boiling the water while I sit outside under a hydrogen and helium ball and look over my yurt/cabin/Earthship blueprints.

Kiss kiss. You are so pretty. <3