skin

Hi! I'm back. I was only gone for a few days, but boy oh boy, in those few days I saw and experienced some things no woman, man, child, or exceptionally intelligent dolphin should ever have to see or experience. But they should write about it. That doesn't make sense and it is also not true. I did not see or experience anything remotely fascinating, horrifying, awe-inspiring, or transcendent over the past 48 hours or so. EXCEPT... Except I did see not one, not two, not even three, but four -- FOUR -- hawks flying around above my head in an empty park. An almost empty park. There was some man in black doing jumping jack under a pavilion and an older woman in neon orange sneakers speed walking, but other than those two possible figments of my imagination, the park was reserved for just me and my hawks. Yep, just me and my hawks, livin' life out on the open range, whittling knives with knives, whistling slowly, quietly, and mysteriously for hours on end. Yes, the life of a hawk family in the 21st century. What a world. What a lonely, desolate world.

So I have not a lot to report other than Spiritual Hawk Moment. My eating has been meh. The thrill of getting a second chance after a very very very boring (and expensive) ER visit has worn off and the reality of recovery is setting in. The reality = gaining weight, feeling bloated all the time, being constipated or having diarrhea, dealing with emotions that have been starved for, well, decades. That's a long time. That's a long time to be disconnected from both your body and your soul. Hmmm. So what was I exactly for those 20 or so years? A wandering, unknowingly hungry skin bag? Sounds about right.

But recovery is still my goal. I am not giving up, I am just not exactly on cloud 9 anymore. I'd say I'm more on a cloud 4 or something. Clouds. Clouds clouds clouds clouds. Now I am distracted by the thought of clouds and how incredible they look right now (and all of the time). I guess you could say that clouds have clouded my mind and opened my heart and have, not surprisingly, made me antsy to get outside and wander. But this time around I'm not a wandering, unknowingly hungry skin bag. I may still be a little unknowingly hungry, but at least there's a soul to stuff inside that skin bag -- and the skin is no longer purplish, ashen, cold. I feel more vibrant, balanced, whole -- and those things alone are worth all the temporary digestion problems. Plus, there's always Pepto and prune juice.

I may share too much. Oh well. <3

chance

Today is just as rainy as yesterday, if not more so, but for whatever reason my mood is up uP UP. Probably because I LOVE THE RAIN??? Might that have something to do with my sunny disposition? Cloudy days are sunny days for this girl. For this chick. For this strong, capable, powerful woman. Did I wax philosophical on the subject of power a few days ago? I might have. Might, probably, maybe, sorta, forever and ever: Meghan's words of choice. Whatever. I ain't tryin' to be no Hemingway here. Thank god. Hemingway can rot in hell. Okay, so I like his Nick Adams stories a bunch. And I would probably (probably! there's that word again!) wear the hell out of cable-knit sweaters, but bull fighting and four marriages plus endless mistresses? Psssh. So no, I'm not trying to write to win any awards. Just your undying love and devotion. Oh, and to also release whatever's been buildin' up in that old brain of mine.

Here's what's been building up: I want to take chances. I want to be stupid and follow my intuition, which turns out to be not stupid in the slightest. In fact, it's the wisest. I want to roam around and find my tribe. I want to reconnect with my body and remove any negative programming that has made me believe "powerful" and "strong" are naughty words. They are not. They are what I strive to be (or strive to realize that I already am). I strive. I want to grasp onto the energy that comes from striving, from longing, and use it rather than extinguish it. I do not want to fear energy or inspiration or that spark which drives me to create. I should celebrate these desires. I should celebrate the messiness inside that's eager to come out. I want to take chances.

I also want to work for Greenpeace maybe? Or, like, the REI in Seattle, which is hella huge and has a small forest, waterfalls, and a special bike path. THIS IS A STORE WITH A FREAKIN' FOREST. Plus, Seattle's minimum wage is $15, which probably wouldn't matter cuz Seattle is $$$. I don't even want to live in Seattle, so I don't know why I keep writing about it. Unless Seattle has an inclusive off-the-grid yurt community with a cat sanctuary??? If so, I'll pack my bags now.

Things are good. My last post may have been a tad on the melancholy side, which is fine. Recovery isn't a walk in the REI forest. It's not supposed to be. But it is supposed to be continued. And I will continue to continue. I will keep getting up and eating and reminding myself of all the chances I can take now that I am becoming stronger, calmer, more connected.

xoxo

safe

This bitch is back! Kind of. It has been somewhat difficult for me to write lately solely due to the fact that I have about a thousand million billion other things on my mind and just as many things on my to do list. To do lists are crap, right? Okay, maybe not crap. But they sure do serve as a perfect reminder that I never get anything done. (This could be easily be solved by not adding so many items on my to do list. So let me add "simplify to do list" to my to do list. Do do do la la la slowly going insane no wait rapidly going insane la la la do do do.)

Patience patience patience. Repeat. I need to practice the utmost patience with myself, especially right now. It has only been a little over a week since I was in the little, cold emergency room. It has only been a little over a week since I stopped taking these little pills that are hugely addictive and highly destructive. I feel like the steps I have taken since then are too little to count, but if only I would gain some perspective, I'd see how far I have already come.

Speaking of gaining... Sigh. This is one of the hardest parts of recovery -- gaining weight. It is one of the hardest and probably the most necessary. It's necessary for the obvious reason of, well, it'll keep you alive. But it is also necessary because it will allow your brain to start functioning properly again, causing all of the other necessary steps (working through emotional junk! responding to life events! becoming a functioning, thriving member of society!) in recovery to be taken without so much grief and struggle. Still. Still it is not at all a piece of cake. Pun? Because that piece of cake is like summiting Everest.

And doesn't that seem kind of lame and a bit selfish? Eating a piece of delicious cake shouldn't be compared to climbing Earth's highest mountain. But why shouldn't it? It's not the cake. It's not the flour, the sugar, the eggs, the butter. It's the release of the control which kept you safe for so long. Safe? Yes, as well as unsafe. The control I had over food and my body gave me the safety of numbness. If I didn't have to feel emotions, if I didn't have to confront failures and fears, if I could live in delusion from day to day, I was safe. Temporarily.

The illusion of safety is not a life, though. It is cold. There is no warmth that comes from the blood, flesh, and sweat of everyday experiences. It is just... sad. I don't want to stay stuck in that no man's land. I must constantly remind myself that this flood of emotions I am currently experiencing is, in fact, a good thing. Exhausting, sure, but necessary if I ever want to recover.

And I want to recover. I think. I want to get to the point where I do not second guess my desire to recover. I want to get to the point where I embrace the fear, the unknown, the messiness of life rather than shutting off and shutting down. Open up, Meg. Open open open.

define

SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER SUMMER!!! I can't handle it, I love it so much. Yeah yeah yeah, I dislike the dweebs playing baseball at the park by my house and sure, I want all of the fireworks and carnivals to go straight to the depths of hell, but warm weather and sunshine and the smell of sweaty skin? I'll take it. All of it. I'm starting to stress myself out with how enthusiastic I am about summer. I hate summer.

PSYCH I LOVE IT. You know what else I love? Self-reflection, introspection, therapy sessions. I do not love these things at first, but once the knots start unraveling and I begin traveling into the subconscious mind, things get weird. And I like weird things. Things get weird as well as better, however I define "better." And how do I define "better"? I guess, in short, I define "better" as being connected. Connected to my body, connected to my mind, connected to my spirituality and heart and soul, however I define "soul." And how do I define "soul"? Just kidding. I won't go on defining words until the cows come home. Define home. Define define. Dee is fine. Dee is fine because she finally defined her life and finds meaning in the meaning of words or in other words in the defining of words. I am so great.

Geez, I meant to spend this time diving deep into the subject of archetypes. I wanted to write about all of the intense insights I was having yesterday, about how I struggle with the feelings of power and powerlessness, how I search for both strength and safety in almost every facet of my life, how I trick myself into thinking love is conditional. I will still write about these things if you want me to! Wait. Do I want to? See, there's another thing I do -- I fail to check in with myself to see what I need, what I desire. Instead of attending to my inner-self, I please please please others to the point of frustration and depletion. Well, time to focus on abundance. Time to connect with my own path, my own self. And then, eventually, time to disconnect and abandon the self. Doesn't make sense, does it? No, it doesn't, at least not to the rational mind. Which is perfect. Some things need to not make sense.

I am so freakin' hungry. Time to nourish myself in more ways than one. At last, at last.

around

It's been almost a week since I came back to life. Spiritually speaking. And emotionally. And probably even a bit physically. I was hanging by a thread there, folks. To put it mildly, I was an absolute mess. A shell of a girl! Not even a girl, but a zombie! A zombie shell on the lookout for blood! Wait, so wouldn't that make me a vampire? I do not desire human flesh, just decent human blood cells. So I guess that would just make me anemic. Anyway! Life! I'm back!

But I still struggle. Immensely. I naively thought, "Gee whiz! This painfully long and entirely surreal emergency room visit just cured my eating disorder! And my addiction to prescription stimulants! And every other malady! Right on, radical, hang loose, spread those wings, cross those legs, cut your hair, get a job!" Turns out it's not that simple. It's not that easy. It is, in fact, the hardest thing you'll ever have to do -- "it" being recovery, "it" being surviving, "it" being giving yourself a chance over and over and over again, no matter how many times you fall and fail and forget you're worth it. Cuz guess what, babydolls? You're all worth it. And I'm all worth it. And I have been all along. And all it took was me nearly losing my life/soul to figure this out. That's all.

I am too PUMPED UP to continue sitting here and writing! Life has opened up again and I actually have interests and things I want to hear and read and learn and do. It is, frankly, quite bizarre! And quite beautiful. And I need to quit beginning so many of my sentences with "and." And I'll deal with that later. Right now I want to deal with a deck, specifically my deck. By "deal" I mean sit on it and soak in the sun while I thank my lucky stars I'm still around.

Love.

wake

You know what's been fun lately? To eat food. And to not be a bitch. And to feel 1,000,000% less restless. Well, for the most part. I'll probably always be restless. It's just in my bones. The restlessness tends to cease, however, when I'm -- YOU GUESSED IT -- outside. How'd you know that? Oh, only because I mention it in every single post.

I also mention my eating disorder in every single post. Or a least I have been lately. It might become redundant, but I hope it can also be helpful for others. I know it is for me. (I REALLY hope it isn't triggering for anyone. If it is, please please please let me know. And stop reading it right now. I'm serious. And I love you! I'm sorry!)

I feel as though I have been asleep for well over 31 years. Wait! I'm only 31! Or am I? Sometimes I feel like I'm 99, other times I feel like I'm a baby. I currently feel like I'm a baby. A mature, wise baby, but a baby nonetheless. A baby because I am just now discovering, well, discovering the world for what feels like the first time. The trees are new, the sky is new, the food -- all food -- is new. How did I miss these things before? And for so long? Music, by the way, is absolutely magical. Van Morrison made me cry yesterday. So did Paul Simon. Hell, a cloud made me cry yesterday. All of these tears are grateful tears. All of these tears mean I'm not a robot anymore because water = short circuiting and I did not, thankfully, short circuit yesterday.

So that was yesterday. What about today? Well, today is windy. And good again. I'm more tired today for whatever reason, but I am learning to be okay with that. I don't have to overstimulate myself in order to have a nice day. In fact, overstimulation usually means I'll have a panic-attack-holy-hell-help-me kind of a day. I don't want those days anymore. I want to let my body and mind be whatever my body and mind naturally are. I want to let go of trying to control every last second of each day. I want to shrug my shoulders and say "oh well" as often as I need to while not fretting over this or that or wishing for everything to be opposite of what it is. I want to simply be, mothereffers. Just be, just do it, just slam that Rockstar and snort that line of coke. JOKE! Coke is a joke, no bueno. Unless you're in Vegas. But then again, if you do coke in Vegas you will miss out on the buffets. And I no longer want to miss out on any buffets.

Alright, well, lunch. Now! Or soon. Sooner rather than later. Starving myself has lost it's appeal. For the most part. I want to, you know, live. And to live I must partake in life. And food is life. And and and forever.

Take care. I mean it.

recover

Well, my goodness. What a week it has been, amirite?!?! But more importantly -- amialive?!?! Turns out I am. Turns out I am more than alive. I am thriving, or at least on the verge of thriving. I am determined to thrive, not just barely survive. I am also determined to not rhyme throughout this entire post. Why not? Rhymes are just fine sometimes, even the slant rhymes.

I should pause and take time to write in depth about what happened yesterday, the events leading up to it, the aftermath, etc. And I will. Just not now. Now I want to let the wind mess with my hair. Now I want to listen to music while I walk to the library, looking for my hawk along the way. Have I mentioned I have a hawk friend? More like a hawk soulmate. I sincerely believe this hawk watches over me. I love the little dude. Or dudette. Who knows? I haven't checked between the legs. Yet. Anyway, I want to do all of the things I haven't let myself do for...ever? Forever? Like, living and being spontaneous and gentle with myself. What radical actions, I know! Pat. On. The. Back. And a hug. And a high five. A million high fives. A million high fives will take time, sure, but I've got it. I'm no longer rushing around, missing out on everything. I'm here. Finally.

So I will be back. I want to write about what I ate this morning. I want to share with you my process, my struggles, my setbacks, my successes. I want to be as transparent and as open as possible. Never hesitate to ask me something, to tell me anything, to voice concern or shower me with praise. PRAISE ME! I AM YOUR MAYOR! I am not your mayor -- that is just a little joke I have going on over at the Twitter. I love Twitter. So much. And I love food, as it turns out. SOOOO so so much. And finally finally big deep sigh of relief finally I love myself.