Friday, August 24, 2007

Baby kicking my way to anger...

Well, I kickboxed yesterday.

It's really hard for me to use the moves to emote anger during class. There are mirrors everywhere so whenever I kick or punch, it looks like I'm hitting myself.

And for once in my life, I don't want to hurt me.

Shocker. I know.

So after class, I found a corner in the upstairs aerobics room without mirrors (and away from the glass wall that looks down upon those in the fitness center) and shadow-boxed.

And felt a tiny nibbling of emotion.

So, I imagined Tom standing against the wall (in 2D) and I kicked. Punched. Repeated.

For a good five minutes, I wailed at the imaginary picture of Tom. I saw my crescent kicks hit near his chin, my side kicks connect near his solar plexus, my punches near his chest.

And felt the nibbling turn into niggling.

And stopped. It felt wrong. It felt weird. I was uncomfortable.

So I stretched, enjoying the feel of my body as the muscles lengthened and relaxed. And practiced my handstands against the wall (pole class move - but there is no pole in the fitness center, so I use the wall instead.) I gloried in the strength of my abs as I controlled my legs up to the wall and let them move one at a time away from the wall and back again before coming down, gracefully.

I was gentle with myself.

All in all, I think it was a good first attempt. I know the anger is there, I just need to slowly work my way past the discomfort.

I just need more practice. Maybe when the fitness center is completely empty and I can vocalize my grunts and shouts...

Oh, and I tried kicking the punching bag. Uhm, bad idea when no one is holding it still and the bag was not positioned in the center of the hole in the drop-ceiling... Luckily, I wasn't directly underneath the fine powder snow fall, or it would have looked like I have dandruff!

Anger is such an unnatural feeling for me. Okay, so maybe unnatural is the wrong word. Uncomfortable is better, but doesn't get to the intensity of the feeling I have when I try to get in touch with anger.

"I'm a lover, not a fighter."

I often think that describes me well, except that lovers often get angry. Lovers are human, too, after all.

I'm proud of myself for realizing when I had enough. For being gentle with myself afterwards - luxuriating in my body. It was almost as if I was letting my body know that I'm not trying to hurt it. Like I was reassuring the little Jeanne inside that the anger isn't meant for her. That I will protect her and keep her safe. That I understand that she is innocent. She didn't do anything wrong. She doesn't deserve punishment - in any form, be it restricting, stuffing, or nasty insults.

Maybe that's why I felt the need to go shopping for a new outfit for my dance class that very night (after I nourished myself with dinner. At which, I'm also proud to say, I veered from my safe foods and tried a new sandwich.) A little bit of pampering to show me that I'm proud of me.

Make no mistake though, guilt still finds its way into my life. After my dance class, I had a snack - I wasn't ravenous, but knew that it was a long time til morning and I danced hard that night.

And I immediately wished I hadn't eaten. My stomach hurt. I wanted to get rid of it (not that I know how to do that, despite the numerous times I had tried in the past.) So I distracted myself, found safety and comfort and love in my husband's arms.

And today, after working out with my trainer, I've been eating almost continuously. It still scares me - this trusting my body, intuitive eating thing. So I furiously wrote down everything that I've eaten and everything that I planned to... And then stopped before I finished the list. And crumpled up the paper. Threw it away.

I don't need to do that anymore. I can be okay with feeling uncomfortable with my emotions. I can trust myself. I can feel pride with my accomplishments (and yesterday, I had a few what with attempting to channel my anger and then nourishing my whole self (body and soul) afterwards.)

[Deep breath]

I'm okay.

Thursday, August 23, 2007

Apple's faux pas

While I've been digging into myself these past few weeks, Apple came out with a new slogan to market the new iMac.

I wasn't going to post anything about it, but today, I came across this post at Apple Gazette. I read through some of the comments and got angry. Michael (the author) as well as many of the commenters believed that the Alliance for Eating Disorders Awareness went too far in its press release about the influence of Apple's slogan on those with or having the potential to have an eating disorder. "I have to say that I’m a little disgusted by these people," Michael writes.

I left this comment:

True - this one ad may not push a person on the very precarious border of an eating disorder over the edge.

The problem is in our society - where people are obsessed with weight and appearances. With this slogan, Apple is reinforcing the culture's message that one must be thin to be accepted and beautiful, powerful and desired.

And that is where the danger lies. Not just to those genetically predisposed for eating disorders, but for everyone. For all the children who grow up believing that they must look a certain way, be a certain size to belong, to be accepted, to be loved.

That IS dangerous.

I, for one, do not think the AEDA overreacted or were being hypersensitive. I see them (AEDA and NEDA and all the other associations who are trying to change the world for the better) as standing up to a society gone mad. Where normal is equating size with worth.

I am glad that Apple has taken this seriously. I applaud them for changing the iMac's slogan to "All-in-one."

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Sometimes the sun rises at sunset

I feel better.

I figured out that part of my depression came from more than just the conversation with my brother and the future conversation with my parents.

Tonight, I spoke my fears (about another event unrelated to the abuse) out loud to my husband. And not only that, I actually cried in front of him. Before he cried. And I didn't stop myself.

Okay, these probably don't seem real kudos-worthy, but for me they are HUGE steps.

Usually, I only cry when someone else cries first, and then only for a few seconds before tamping them down and "getting a hold of myself."

And this was the very first time that I talked to anyone (aside from my T), about my fears - as I was feeling the fear.

And the most amazing part of all this for me is that I didn't give into my desire to binge the last few days. And while I stayed away from mega sweets (because those are my entry into binge mode foods,) I didn't restrict either - I didn't skip lunch or breakfast or snacks.
I didn't use my ED to cope. I felt the depression, allowed myself to scratch through to the fear underneath, and then exposed it to the light of day by telling my husband.

And he was incredibly supportive and understanding and wonderful!

And while I am still depressed (as everyone has reassured me that it is expected after all I've been dealing with (and continue to work on,) I feel better.

I almost feel ready to try facing my anger (at my brother, Tom.) Tomorrow, I'm taking a kickboxing class at work. And they have just installed a punching bag in the fitness center at work. If I get into the class, maybe I'll linger for a few minutes and work on my anger at the bag...

Thank you so much everyone - really, I don't know how I would get through this without all of your encouragement and support, love and friendship. You all are amazing people. Thank you!

Gloomy, both in and out

According to American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition (2006 by Houghton Mifflin Company,) To depress means "to lower in spirits."

I am depressed.

My sleep is back to normal - which for me means being woken every now and then by my son or nature. I still dream weird and wacky dreams, but at least I feel like I've slept.

But I'm still tired. I'm still down. I'm still...


That horrible, awful word.

That terrible, horrible feeling.

When I'd rather be curled up at home, preferrably in my bed, and dozing in and out of dreams. Trying to let whatever it is that is bothering me surface, swirl, become illuminated. And perhaps fit nicely into other pieces of the puzzle that is my mind.

But alas. I have no time for such meditations... no matter how beneficial they might be. At least, I don't have time right now. (I'm on a short break at work, before I dive back into the mess on my desk.)

So I compartmentalize once more. I put my feelings into a box - not to get rid of them. Not this time. Now it is more of a place holder, to be retrieved when I have more time.

But I never seem to have more time, do I? Until I'm overwhelmed to paralysis and non-function that I make time.

The urge to stuff (binge) is so strong today. And the gloomy weather isn't helping.

So I take lots of deep breaths.

And try my damnedest not to obsess about food.

I wrote this post yesterday - just never published it.

The same is true today though.

I hate that I feel so glum. And yet, I don't want to put on a false-happy face. I won't do that anymore. Not for anyone.

So I sit with these glum feelings, and feel quite morose and melancholy.

Maybe later, I'll give myself some time...