Stuck in a Rut with a capital R!

Oh where oh where to even begin?? I am surprised I even remembered my user name and password to sign in here. It's been awhile, and I am feeling it. My thoughts are swirling, my head is spinning, my fingers are hitting the backspace key more than usual.


Life needs to slow down...


Does it ever, though? Those of you who have been around a few more years than me, can you honestly tell me that life does, indeed, slow down? Somehow I doubt it. I am desperate for a second to breathe, a second to laugh, a second to stop.


I left you readers on a cliff-hanger last week, right in the middle of the Big Move. The good news is that I have successfully moved on from Have-To to Want-To. The painting, cleaning, and packing (and even unpacking) is behind me, and now comes the task of putting the final lovely touches on my new home. It's coming together, and minus a few things, I am good to go. At the end of the day, I want to go home, which is really nice. I am loving the solitude, the quiet, the lack of expectations. Even though my former roomie was pretty chill, there was still the pressure of doing the dishes every second night and making sure the communal living space was top-notch. And not that I didn't enjoy that clean lifestyle, because I did and do, but now I can just kind of relax about it.


A very dear friend of mine from work and I have this thing going where we strive to avoid the word 'perfect'. Just yesterday we came up with an imaginary jar, and each time the word 'perfect' is uttered, we have to put in an imaginary 5cents. It's helping. Such a simple thing as that imaginary jar is having more influence in my life than any self-help book or counseling appointment has so far. I am tired of perfect, whatever that might be, and it is no longer a part of my life. My new house isn't and never will be perfect, much like my holistic self, and I am okay with that.


I promised you guys before, during, and after pictures of the past 2 weeks, which will come into fruition soon, hopefully. My beloved Mac was left accidentally in my Gramma's car last week. When I first discovered it was missing, I totally thought I would die without it and seriously considered driving all the way to White Rock to get it. But then I realized I hardly ever make the time to travel there to visit my own family, and it would be dumb to do that for a piece of machinery, so I left well enough alone. Much to my amazement, I have not yet died from lack of Internet (or cable for that matter), nor do I feel I am about to. Imagine, that, hey? The break has been nice.


On another note, I now have my bunny! Her name is Eden, and as we get to know each other I am realizing more and more how my aversion to animals was, in fact, just a bad attitude problem. She is a pet, yes, but she is like a little person too, with a personality and the ability to make me want to come home at the end of the day. I think having her is going to be really, really good for me. Pictures of her to come! Two other friends have gotten bunnies this week, too, so we will have like a sad little playgroup or something. : )
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And that Rut I was talking about? Well, I know for a fact that I am not the only one feeling that way. It's like I have forgotten how to take care of myself. I am down, I am not feeling the greatest, I am waiting for each day to end. And that is not how life should look.
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So...let's take our vitamins (Flintstones chewables rock!). Let's go for a walk, even if it is raining. Let's go to bed on time. Let's think of 3 good reasons to get out of bed in the morning. Let's be real with each other. Let's tell Perfect to go to hell. Let's breathe deeper.

Ahh....I am feeling better already. Time to start the uphill trek once again, my friends. I have had enough with the downhill. Have you?

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~C~

High

I have given a lot of attention to some pretty painful aspects of my struggle in these past few weeks of my web-log adventure. Come to think of it, are there even any non-painful aspects? I have been thinking about you readers lately, thinking about those of you who understand all too well the battle that defines bulimia, and thinking of those of you who have never really gone down that road before. I have been thinking that you might be thinking, " How in the world does one get so lost in the depths of insecurity that they would resort to such stupid coping mechanisms?". Is that what you are thinking? Are you wondering how so many of us, ladies and gentlemen alike, have found ourselves knelt over toilets, plastic bags, bowls, bushes, whatever, just to dispose of the darkness we have felt? My friends, I am not here to endorse this strange and confusing behavior. I am not here to tell you that it is acceptable or fun or right. I am, however, going to tell you that it was my escape, and as twisted as this sounds, bulimia was my happy place. It gave me control, it gave me power, it gave me hope. Hope? Really? I wish there was a word better suited to what I am trying to say...I guess what I mean is that when I made a bad decision, nutritionally or otherwise, I had such a physical and tangible way to let go of the stress I was feeling, and I felt hope. I felt happy. I felt high.

I tried really hard to find a good definition of the word "high" to share with you, and was amused to find that Google could only come up with High-Definition televisions and cable. But I did find an interesting article on Wikipidia that talks about intoxication, and this is what The Man has to say: "Effects [of intoxication] may include an altered state of consciousness, euphoria, feelings of well-being, relaxation or stress reduction, increased appreciation of humor, music or art, joviality, metacognition and introspection, enhanced recollection (episodic memory), increased sensuality, increased awareness of sensation, creative or philosophical thinking, disruption of linear memory and paranoia or anxiety." Hmm...sounds about right to me! I used to pride myself on the fact that I have never taken drugs and I am nothing but a light-weight, social enjoyer-of-Bud-Light-Lime, but despite my lack of narcotic experience, I still bring a lot to the discussion table on how "nice" it is to feel high. I remember smiling. I remember feeling happy. I remember those few precious moments after an episode where I really, truly believed that I had it all figured it out. And havent we all been there?

The point here is, those years were a mix of my most awesome adventures and experiences (hello, world!) as well as my most destructive behavior. It is hard for me sometimes to separate those memories, but each choice I made, the good and the disastrous, are a part of who I'm meant to be. I felt high whenever I strapped myself into the seat of a moving aircraft. I felt high whenever I threw up. I felt high when I felt someone reach out to me, and I felt high when I reached back. I remember feeling immune to addiction, and have learned the hard way that none of us actually are. But I have also learned abundantly more from my addiction than any text book, any professor, any Discovery Channel program ever could. And at the end of the day, I am thankful for it. For the tools that have helped me learn the true meaning of empathy...for the beautiful people who walked me through.

There's always gonna be another mountain.

I'm always gonna wanna make it move.

Always gonna be an uphill battle.

Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose.

Ain't about how fast I get there.

Ain't about what's waiting on the other side.

It's the climb.