My Final "Fuck You"

It's been two years since I left my last relationship. I can honestly say that as of last year, I thought I had gotten past the point of ever thinking about him, of letting him involve himself in my thoughts.

And then I got into a relationship with a man who is the exact opposite (read not an asshole and completely respectful and amazing... and not above tying me up and fucking me) of my ex. I have loved every day of the last almost year that I have spent around my boyfriend. And every day, it blows my mind when I realize how comfortable I can be in my own home- there is no yelling, no blaming, no door slamming. We don't argue- we disagree from time to time but we talk about it like humans and come to a compromise; he doesn't threaten to leave, push me, shove me. I never feel stressed or anxious, sick to my stomach, because of him.

Now, I look at photos from that time- photos of us in "happy" times, and what I see is two people acting happy. Now, as part of a happy partnership, I realize that we were the awkward couple for our friends to be around- the ones they hesitated to invite because they knew we'd be at each one another's throats the whole evening.

And now, from time to time, I find myself getting a little angry about how long I let myself be treated the way I was. Don't get me wrong- I don't regret and wouldn't change anything. I learned so much about myself and I am the person I am because of that six years. But I have to say my last piece here, so I can let it go.

So fuck you, you are mean and sad. You are not a man, you're just an unhappy dude. I am sorry I enabled you for six years; I really thought you would change. Part of it is my fault for allowing you to treat me the way you did, I realize this. Fuck you for taking advantage of me at my lowest time, for manipulating me into staying and loving you with everything I had when you didn't love me with anything you had. Fuck you for the lies, the cheating, the stringing me along. Fuck you for keeping me for support when I am convinced you didn't even like me.

I hope you are happy, dude. I honestly, truly do. Part of me is pissed because you replaced me so quickly and so finally. Another part of me is grateful for your new girl because she relieved me of my duties as your caretaker- finally someone else was there to take the inevitable 2am suicide threats that came every time I tried to walk away from you. But still, I really hope you treat her better than you ever treated me. I hope that you actually like her, respect her, love her; I am not convinced you are capable of any of those things, but I would love to be wrong.

Good-bye, and fuck you.

2013 Brag

For the first time in my life, I don't have the need to prove myself to anyone.

With that said, here is my shameless brag. I got recruited for an executive position within a prestige cosmetics brand. The VP of sales flew to St. Louis to single-handedly rescue me from the hell that is my current work situation. He offered me a salary and bonus opportunity that I couldn't refuse; offered to pay for me to move; offered me a chance to live in my favorite city with my favorite amenity- lakes.

I'm moving to Minneapolis!!!!!!

Brief Reflection on the Last Year

Despite my best effort at mindfulness and staying present, I find myself reflecting on the past year.

Considering where I was a year ago, I think the ability to be present at all is a considerable achievement.  It took everything I had and then took what I didn't have to pretend to be OK for all of 2011 and in November I couldn't even pretend anymore. I took a medical leave and went in to an intensive outpatient program at OSU's psych hospital. Finally dealing with the horrors of the year was the best thing I could have done for myself.

Last December was a blur- not working at holiday time is an incredible freedom for someone like me who lives in Retail Hell. I went to the hospital every morning, left at noon, took a long nap and then wrote, or listened to music, or went on a walk with my friends. I learned to stop beating myself up when I wanted to take a long nap, or do nothing, or avoid everyone; I learned to accept that that's what I wanted and who fucking cares if anyone thinks I ought to be doing something else?

It's a glorious gift to finally be able to let go of abuse, death, grief, avoidance, pretending to be ok, pretending to be normal and perfect and lovely regardless of losing everything I had worked for and having to build a brand new life and how do you do that when you're 27 and depressed, lost, bulimic and miserable in general? How do you learn to just accept that what was was and move on? I have an answer now, and here it is: lots and lots of therapy.  (I also learned to accept it if I want to write the run on sentence of all run on sentences. You need to get over it now, too).

I took a 10 day, impromptu trip to see my closest friend and soul-mate in San Francisco. I did a lot of nothing on that trip- it was exactly what I needed. Ten days- Christmas Eve to New Years Day- of good company, rest, hiking through the redwood forest that Mitch lives in, bad movies, loud music, sunshine and fresh, crisp, perfect air. Throw in sunset on the beach on Christmas Eve and nothing could have been a better choice for me.

This year has been amazing. I followed my time at OSU with an intensive outpatient program at OSU's eating disorder center. I learned to eat and how to not binge, I continued working on my breathing and meditating and I felt normal being around others with all varieties of eating disorders. I finally learned to stop hiding things and ask for support.

I met a guy who I told from the beginning not to ask me out to eat, that I'm bulimic and recovering and that going out to eat gives me anxiety and is generally not enjoyable for me. I found that I can say this to people- take it or leave it, and the world doesn't end because I'm not perfect. I learned that it's ok to require support and understanding from people that I meet, and how my dating anxiety was infinitely better when I did this, and dating was actually fun!

I had my mid-year freak out and I got over it. I'm in the middle of my end-of-year travel anxiety freak out, but I'm making a few plans and I know I'll get over this, too. I'm still experiencing a small anxiety attack once a day or so about living with someone again, but I know that it doesn't have to be permanent and to stop worrying about the future and just enjoy now. Now, now, now.

So I've spent my day reflecting and I love that the decisions I have made- good or not so good- have made me who I am. Because I am kind of perfect (and not perfect in the way that I was pretending to be before. Now, for real, I really am).

Post Holiday Recap

Thanksgiving 2012 Summary

Parents visited.
Sister made dinner.
Dinner was good.
I still hate eating with my family.
Family still refuses to acknowledge Bulimia.
Cried a little at dinner because I miss my Grandma.
Wanted to cry a lot but didn't because of company... Still feeling it pent up inside of me.
Agitated because of pent-up emotion.
Went to 2nd dinner at Dylan & Josh's.
2nd dinner was wine and peanut butter pie.
2nd dinner won the prize.
Worked black Friday.
Did not kill anyone, yay.
Colored & cut Mom's hair, it looks good.
Told Mom that my ED is getting bad again.
Told Mom I am looking for a treatment facility here.
Mom said nothing.
Later, in kitchen, Mom complained about how many calories are in pizza she was eating.
Told her not to talk like that in my kitchen, don't want that juju in my kitchen.
Later still, in kitchen again, Mom complained about how much weight she needs to lose.
Told Mom to please not talk to me about that.
Mom kind of annoyed, but stopped.
Mom still doesn't ask me about myself.
Am feeling pretty depressed in general.
Need to get back on my meal plan, have been off since July.
Made promise to myself to call ED Treatment Center here in StL on Monday.
Going to bed to avoid ED telling me to eat.
Hoping when I wake up, ED will tell me to eat breakfast and not restrict.
Doubtful.

Some Notes about St. Louis

I've not written in a hot minute, moving is awful, so is trying to adjust five cats to a new surrounding (and new siblings), and my new job is exhausting. So, I think it's fair to start out with some observations about my new city.

1) People here can not fucking drive. I mean- CAN. NOT. DRIVE. Speed up, slow down, speed up, slow down, slow down even more, get into the left lane, speed up as I try to pass you on the right, match my speed so I can't get around. Stop at yield signs, take 5 minutes to go at a stop sign, go 15 miles under the speed limit at all times. 

2) The radio is terrible. Your station choices are the following: Shitty pop, country, Christian, ghetto and Christmas. Good luck.

3) St. Louis is kind of neat. In a, I could live here for a couple of years max and do things once and get it out of my system and then move to Minneapolis and live happily ever after kind of way.

4) Finally, my biggest complaint: People here are really unattractive. Seriously, even the people who try really hard still miss by a mile.

I do like it here, though. I've got a big company recruiting me out of Minneapolis, so it's been hard to tell them no (several times... and they're still coming here next week to meet with me in person), but I can actually see living here for a bit.

Friend and I live in a great location, close to the highways, across the street from Forest Park, groceries, bars and cafes and restaurants, but very quiet. We're getting settled and making our house a nice little home. It's been really pleasant other than the few moments of panic and flashing back to past experiences here and there.

To his credit, Friend is amazing. He doesn't get upset when I get defensive because he asked me if I was done with my water bottle, so he could throw it away. He understands that my immediate reaction to defend myself and cover my ass is directly related to the way I was treated for 6 years. Despite my best efforts, things have come together, for now, and I'm enjoying every second as it happens. I think my therapist would be so proud!

holy fucking shit.

For the first time since spring I can’t eat, can’t breathe, I’m losing my grip; getting ready for the end of the world. I know it’s happening; I felt it start.

...I’m anxious that I haven’t been eating my meal plan.
...I’m anxious that I am moving 7 hours away to a city I never thought I’d live in.
...I’m anxious about taking on a new job.
...I’m anxious because I ended up in a relationship despite my best efforts.
                I’m anxious that I am really happy.
                I’m worried because I’m in love with him.
...I’m worried that he thinks I’m better and I’m not.
...I'm worried that I think I'm better and I'm not.

...I’m anxious that I can’t stay present.
...I’m stressed because I need to find a place to live, find the money to make this happen, rent a truck, pack my shit, relocate my three cats and stress them out.

I can’t eat. I don’t eat. Is this relapsing? My best guess is yes, this is always how it starts. Who do I tell? How do I say “I’m not well, I’m not better anymore?”

I turned off the TV that I rarely watch anyway because of a commercial with plastic food in it. I’ve barely eaten today but what little I have threatened to come back up. My body image has been pretty positive, especially lately, so this is not supposed to happen, right?

Why is it that my reaction to very stressful situations is to stop eating? To stop doing one of the few things that I need in order to sustain my life, to nurture not only my body, but my mind as well. 

And of course, whenever Ed comes knocking, old habits rear their ugly heads. Restricting and binging doesn’t apply only to my nutritional habits in this sense. I ordered a new coat today.  The coat is perfect for what I predict is coming: Binging, restricting, more binging and weight gain. It’s sort of homeless-looking; truly, I look like a bag lady in it and it’s glorious. 

I left work an hour early. I’m nauseated, I’m sore, I’m short of breath, I’m beat down.

I’m finally ready to admit that I am not better, I still need support. I still need counseling and people who get it. I need my people to not act like this doesn’t exist; like it was just a phase. It wasn’t, isn’t, will never be just a phase I went through. I was getting better, so much better; I had started to believe maybe it was just something that wasn’t really serious. Is this how it works? Did Ed trick me into thinking I was cured so he could manipulate me again?

Of course, it’s Friday night and I can’t call to make an appointment at The Center. Will I be feeling like I’ve hit the bottom on Monday and make the call? Or will I tell myself that I caught myself just in time, just before I hit the bottom- grasping a ledge and telling myself that I can climb back up and do it on my own?

Deuces, Ohio!

I’m trying to figure out how my parents have not asked me about my recovery for months. Like, I’m relatively convinced that my parents never believed that I am actually sick. They don’t think I’m really not well; despite attending family night at The Center and attending a family counseling session with my counselor.

In regards to support, my biggest fan Lovie left for Texas two months ago and I’ve been doing surprisingly well. I spent a week or two (or maybe three) in full panic mode because I was still here. After a bit, I stopped actively looking for jobs outside of Ohio. I decided to chill out, accept where I am and stay through the end of the year and then resume my search.

I didn’t think I was running. No matter what Lovie said, I swore I was ready. And it really felt like I was ready, until a month or so ago I knew I was ready. I thought I didn’t give a fuck what people thought before, but then I realized the other day- fuck them! This is my home, too. I refuse to let the chance that I see someone I don’t know keep me from living in it.)

It’s funny how things start to come together when you relax, let go and just be. I have been feeling really content; my pieces are falling into place. I have a great apartment, a job that I don’t love but is pretty fun, easy and pays well, and three awesome cats. (Ok ok, I have way more than that- family that is close, so many amazing, amazing friends to take care of me when I need it.)

So I unpacked the boxes I had packed in my hurry to make some major changes happen. I reorganized my closet, cleaned up the mess my apartment had become, allowed myself to get closer to friends I had started to cut off. I even continued to see Friend and learn that I can meet someone who I genuinely like and want to see on a regular basis. And, to my shock and horror and despite everything I’ve learned and every self-sabotage I tried-I’ve gotten quite attached to him. So attached, in fact, that I think we may become roommates soon; roommates who sleep together, of course, but just roommates.

And I’ve just gotten unpacked, re-settled, content and present when a job opportunity was presented to me. I think the reason I am sure it’s the right choice is because I really thought hard- hesitated, even- before I got excited about the city it was in, the job and the perks of the job. I interviewed and completely dropped the bomb; just something about it instantly felt like I fucked it up. I spent a week feeling that familiar failure, another opportunity that I really thought would be great gone. But I was wrong! Today, I went in for my second interview and nailed it; I will be getting a job offer in the next few days. I can’t wait to get to know my new city and continue my path to getting where I ultimately belong in my industry.

I have to move by November 1, so I guess it’s a good thing I hadn’t had time to get rid of the boxes I unpacked, since I’m going to be loading everything right back up!