Fearless Love

Since I’ve for a lot of the last few weeks been on my own so much I’ve had the luxury of doing a lot of thinking. I’m not totally content with the way things are. I’m fighting my mind to eat every meal; the anxiety is so strong and I hate that I can see people notice (even just a little); my body is bruised and exhausted. BUT I’m still standing. I’ve turned up at work every shift, no matter what; I’ve worked extra to cover others who are sick (which technically I could say I was); I’ve tidied my house and made changes to my meal plan. I feel somewhat comfortable, if not a little sad and confused still.

I think that’s acceptable considering I am recovering from an eating disorder, still adjusting to Prozac and my best friend and partner is currently absent from my life. Over the past year or so I’ve avoided Melissa Etheridge has been a little scarce in my playlist. I hate Lies and have always been a painfully ernest and honest type. But Lies are part and parcel of an eating disorder. Especially if you want to avoid (or so you think) hurting people. You say you’re fine; you’re eating; you haven’t lost weight. To compensate, starvation brings about a floaty almost manic state where you have lots of energy; then you crash; then repeat. Running, not Fearless

Last week I pulled out Melissa Etheridge on my Ipod. I’ve loved the song Fearless Love since I first heard it. I saw Melissa Etheridge perform this song in concert and I saw her courage and creativity and how she sang to the crowd and to each and every person in that audience individually. From three rows from the back I saw something shameless and thought of her motions as something I wanted to embody more of. But things got tough after that and after trying and trying to find a way around my fears, I fell back down the rabbit hole and found A-Rex again.

I became trapped and since then I’ve tangled myself more and more into this and now everything has fallen apart. I’ve vaguely wondered if this is some kind of breakdown, but although things have been hard I’m far from broken. I’m still trying new things. Not all of them work, but I keep trying. I work with some of the most Bad-Arse people for not being floored by life and be damned if they’ll beat me at that. I’m not Fearless yet and far from am there with my eating or knowing how things will emerge with Simon but I have hope. I also know that whatever the outcomes are I’m no good at giving in so chances are I’ll keep trying. Maybe I’ll be fearless one day

Too Old For Heroes?

Once upon a time I was told that I was not like other people; and given the idea that being someone other than me was better. And so I shaped myself on people I thought were doing better than me Seemingly. I know now they had their own problems and flaws, but at the time it seemed like a great idea Over time I’ve come to see the flaws in that The lies even, that being someone else would be better. Sometimes I can even see someone else who looks up to me. I do have people I admire though and take quite a lot of what I learn from them. They’re an eclectic bunch. Judi Dench: Who not only is bad-arse enough to tell people to “Go fuck themselves” (when need be)- but finds the time and has the skill to cross stitch her insults into handy gifts from them

This, according to Google Search is one such of these genuine, honest articles aforementioned

Christina Scabbia who at the great height of 160cm has survived over twenty years blood, sweat, tears, travel and more fronting her own heavy metal band and has no fear sharing her opinions and affections A young woman I work with who, while weighing about as much as a medium size Labrador (and having more seizures than your average dog) still has the fortitude to give so much cheek and love to those around her 7 of 9 (of the Star(Trek) Ship Voyager… there are many others.

But I don’t want to be them. I realise that comparing my life and achievements to them is a pointless exercise because doubtless if I stood on stage and tried to command an audience of thousands; tried to handle a mix of seizures and valium and still came out on top to eat my favourite fish and chip lunch before crashing (etc) I might well fail- because this is not my life. Maybe if I was given the opportunity after working up to it I could manage, but I am getting more and more comfortable being me. And for that matter would these people be able to deal with the marvelous medley of ninja fighting, trips, bumps and smiles (and that’s often before breakfast) that is my life?

I’m still not all there, but I realise that I don’t need to write requiems, paint world class paintings or win the Nobel Peace Prize to be a worthwhile person. I don’t know if I’m too old to look up to people but I get the idea that people are supposed to work together and learn from each other. I’m quite entitled to see a dress style I like on someone else and try it out or enjoy a song someone else listens to. But I am still me and I don’t want to be anyone else despite the shit going on in my life right now. Quite frankly, I have enough problems of my own. I don’t want to fall into problems I didn’t know someone else was struggling. I am me- and most days getting better at that.

Wish I had the nail-art talent to rock this

I love this song and think it well describes well how I feel right now. I hope I can keep fighting, but quite frankly I don’t really know how to give in https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-msutN_OkU4

White Oleander

This tattoo isn’t mine. Strange as it is, and as much as I love work and feel songs, people, artworks to be intrinsic to myself; as much as through starving and scratching myself over the year I’ve used my body to communicate, I will never make it a canvas that way

I’ve built and rebuilt myself so many times

Stitch

Unpick

Rebuild.

Tonight I’m watching White Oleander. I’ve loved this movie since I first saw it. I understand Astrid, the main character.

I wonder if I mold myself on others to fit?

Or if I am just a phoenix; taking what I need and rebuilding myself from rubble

I wonder if that’s always a bad thing. I used to feel lost and look for people to be like. I felt bad and wrong so it fitted that other people would be better than ‘me’ who could never fit in. I wonder if I couldn’t because it was true- that I was defective- or because I was told I wouldn’t.

Simon is struggling to complete his honours…. I want to help but that help is choking him. I just want to be beside him. I worry that if he does this without me we might never fit together in the same way- perhaps not at all. I worry about that in myself- that I might not all fit back together, but at the same time I’m wondering what- if anything to discard .

If I should just let things grow over naturally.

If I can or should accept this ‘separation’ from Simon

I wonder if he can learn to ‘trust’ the new me that’s not so different. We still value the same things. I’ve been thinking lately of a ballerina picture I bought home from school when I must have been five or six. I remember asking my mother to cut it out, but when she did I remember being terrified of her throwing the pieces from the edges away. I was terrified. I couldn’t say why then, but I knew. I feared we had made a mistake that maybe I could fix if I glued it all back together. If there had ever been a mistake.

I think of Astrid’s suitcases in the end; the ‘terrible countries’. I have them, but if I cut them off it would be a lie. And I don’t want to lose everything. The bones of strange cities which have grown and stunted but refused to be stopped from reaching towards the light. I think there will always be a distance between me and others- as there will be a distance for them when they reach to me. I think this is normal, but I don’t think we are totally Alone.

If I had to pick a song for this piece it would be Kamelot, The Human Stain. There is sadness, but there is hope. Loneliness, but we will always reach out. I can’t discard the suitcases, or bones of my past to move on like I know Simon wants to for him. But I know there will be a healing; I hope there will because I want to get it right this time

Waiting for the Sun

It feels hard to know where I am right now. I have been a lot worse, but I have always gone through with life and I guess that’s how I find myself here. It’s very lonely… I remember this feeling from just before Simon and I got together and a little before we started talking more. But it’s worse because I know what I don’t have. I was talking with a friend from work who said that while I struggle with depression I am not a sad person. I guess she is right although I remember a time before I learned to hide that and the sadness I DID feel Not being connected with so many wonderful people Not having known I could graduate from university; get my drivers license Not having lived independently, or having someone who loves me for all of me. Or working, or… Not feeling like a complete person I guess sometimes I still feel like something is missing. Right now I know that is Simon, but sometimes I do still have that doubt that I will be able to do what I want to do. I think I forget that in so many ways I still am. I want more, but nothing star-studded. I can feel happy with an ordinary life but now that I’ve had Simon, whether we can fix things or not I don’t think I can feel content with this loneliness. I hope we can fix things. The song that describes how I feel in this moment is a moment of now-ness, but also describes waiting for the coming dawn. I love this time of day, but I always feel happier when the first light begins to come in. I hope Simon will join me with them but know whether he does or not I can still find hope https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ypgRyw5Imo

Paradise Lost

I don’t know how to find the words. So many memories and feelings. So much I want to say but not say I wish I could tell you with my body It feels obscene to try; it’s too much Today I feel so lonely and empty. It feels like I’ve failed and i want to tear it out I’d curl up in your arms and be happy for every second you let me stay. How can I say how I feel when I’m exhausted from working 11 hours; when I’ve followed my meal plan plus treats and still made sure I had my supplement drink even though it makes me want to break into a million tiny pieces; when the prozac is only just starting to work; when my best friend and a piece of myself cannot feel love for me because I hurt them, but I can’t tell them that it was all because I thought he deserved more. I hate myself for being so inadequate in how I can say this. I feel lost and I only hope I’ll find the angel from my song again and from more than that. I’m trying hard to rebuild and remember how to live. I feel so frustrated with my body for being so slow. I know it’s ugly and I’m anxious to be more than this but all the same terrified of getting there and what I’ll be if I do. I’m trying to keep fighting but feel so lost when part of me is missing. Simon…. I’m trying to be realistic but even thinking that our friendship will never be again makes everything disappear I love and miss you I’m no angel; I never was Just me I only hope I can find you again I’m sorry

Solitaire

For months as I’ve tried and failed to fight and fight and fight For Simon- and myself (more now than before) For the people who will have me as a part of their lives Against A-Rex (my eating disorder cum imaginary friend) To be I’ve felt such a huge, lonely emptiness in me which I tried to fill by starving; and cutting off the people I love because it hurts me more deeply (and is so fundamentally against anything I believe is right) to hurt any other person. I’ve created this loneliness, but it shocks me to find that it has come true… In truth the main loneliness come from losing my connectedness with Simon and from fighting with peanut butter, hospital supplement drinks and willpower against this desperate urge to go back to what I know. Or get even smaller because if I get small enough I will have to cut back so much of my life and the things and people I care about that I won’t care anymore. However, I’ve also discovered over the years that I fail at giving in, meaning somehow and with something I need to find a way to keep going. It’s harder now that I feel so out of reach and having let myself experience love, acceptance, friendship in a way I had never allowed before I feel lonelier. I guess that’s why I feel this urgent calling to get out of HERE

I don’t know how yet though

Start Swimming

I remember music and poetry being in my life for as long as I can remember- dancing to folk songs on my parents record player; singing in the car with my sister and mother; listening to poems from Whinnie the Pooh, and writing my own first words in the style years later. Writing became a refuge and later, music became a looking glass in which to see my own experiences. Most days I’ll have at least one song running in my head as something of a theme to what is going on. I listen to quite a range- heavy metal, folk, classical, pop, rock- just about anything (and I sing along). Today that song is Delain: Start Swimming. I have often listened to this song; daydreaming about changes I need to make, rather than run from. Lately the need for that has become more urgent. I’ve dug myself into rather a large hole. Anxiety and depression have lapped at the edges of my life for as long as life has been mine, but over the last few years they have become more of a flood than a puddle. And to cope I’ve sought solace in anorexia. Lots of things have brought me here, but mostly fear. Delain in their song talk about running, rather than moving through life gently by swimming. I’m doing that. I’m terrified my relationship will end and the person I love most will not want me to be a part of my life because four years ago when he asked me to marry him I worried I wouldn’t be enough; I’m frightened that the people who bring so much love into my life through work will be hurt and lost when my workplace (and the only workplace I have not been seen as less) changes with the introduction of the government’s NDIS scheme and that I will not have the courage or skills to fight for them in a workplace where their wellbeing might matter less than money; I want to get my Masters in Social Work so that if this does happen I’ll be able to fight for the people I love working with and will also be more able to move in my job- I’d love to go back to Africa and travel Europe and mosey through metal festival season; I’d love to find a house I can have my garden and Simon can write. I’d love to know that Simon still wants to be with me, and get married; I’d love to adopt a child, or maybe have my own…. But for now I am stuck in this endless battle. I wake up in fear because I am in one bed and Simon in another… then I have to eat breakfast; then I might have a panic attack but still have to go to work, get the shopping, pay my bills- insert any daily activity. I want to be past this to “close my eyes and start swimming”. One day it will happen, but for now. With my meal plan; my colouring in book and 36 Derwent set (I just realised they’ve been with me more than half my life); my pets to make me smile; my friends; my guys I support at work who remind me that everything is still possible…. I want spring to come so that I can get out in my garden; I want to stop feeling so ugly and bony, yet BIG enough to be too conspicuous; I want energy to run, and play soccer and LIVE. I want to not be scared and for Simon to know that I love him. I guess I want a lot and the water is cold. Still, I need to start swimming