It makes me wonder how I keep from goin' under

[rachg82]

My scale has randomly stopped working. If I were the type to believe in signs--which I partially am sometimes, a little, not really, but don't tell anyone, shh--I'd think this means God/the universe/the Furies (What? They can't play too? Maybe The Fates were busy) want me to cut the bullshit with all the weight obsession/food fuckery I've been up to. I managed to easily fit into an old pair of size 8 jeans yesterday (I started this year at a 14/16), and was all "Woo!", so it would (if hypothetically possible) kinda make sense for some type of cosmic force to take that moment to slap me upside the head & be all, "Sit your punk-ass down. Don't you 'woo' me."

On the other hand, my rational side is much stronger than my spiritual side, so of course I know the actual answer is more likely "the scale's battery died, dude. Also, it was a cheap K-mart scale. Simmah down." Nevertheless, it is a good opportunity to pretend it's a sign & throw it out, maybe waiting a while before I buy a new one. Y'know, like until I'm consistently eating more than once a day & not being insane about the whole thing. It's not like I can't go back to how things started at the beginning of this year--eating sensibly, walking, all that jazz--which is where the weight loss actually BEGAN anyway, except back then it was in a healthy way. I don't need a scale for that. I can still tell if my clothes are fitting differently without looking at numbers, even though the loss of the compulsive-weight-checking does make me nervous. But maybe that's a good thing. I think I need to force myself to give it up for a while right now. My thoughts on the matter are just too irrational at the moment to be trusted.

You know what really drives me mental, though? Fucking BMI index still says I'm overweight. Just barely, but still. Four feet ten inches tall, 128.6 pounds, STILL OVERWEIGHT. Fuck off, BMI. I'm eating as often as the typical rural Ethiopian over here. I hate you & I hate your face. (which you do not have, but just go with it. It sounds right)

I don't want to be a cliche though, you know? I mean, really. This just pisses me off. I don't even want to admit what's going on. Like I want to pretend it's due to the depression, or lack of appetite from my medication (which wouldn't fully make sense as, despite its appetite-suppressing abilities, I've been on it all year & I ate more until recently), or. . .Hell, who knows. But I am the type of person who keeps things under control. Not a drama queen, not a stupid girl who starves herself to lose weight, not someone who can't stop doing something bad when I need to. So if that's all true, what the fuck am I doing? And why haven't I stopped yet? It's a little bit like my early twenties all over again. Like I've had a bit of a breakdown & don't totally understand myself anymore. It's very disconcerting.

I just want to go ahead & snap out of it now. Like, literally, snap my fingers & say, "All right. That was that! Let's move on." As Brennan would say in my fic: no muss, no fuss. Wipe my hands clean of it, grab a tissue for my issue, and just GET IT TOGETHER. God. Unfortunately, life doesn't really work that way. There are letters between A and Z. Lots, in fact. Can't just skip 'em.

Just for the record, though? I am determined to get over this shit. I bought Reese's Puffs cereal at the store last night. I'm sure that's not in any type of therapy book, but hey. I know sumpta is sending me Belgian chocolates, so I plan on eating those, nibbling on cereal, and telling my brain to go frak itself. Eventually, things have to right themselves again. Chocolate cures all, right? (Plus, considering it was one of my favorite cereals when I was a size ZERO, back in the day? C'mon. This is exactly what I mean. It's like my brain has gone all nutso, thinking I'm not allowed to eat/be a normal person in order to lose weight or be healthy. THAT'S NOT TRUE. STOP BEING SUCH A HATER, SELF. God, if anything, the weight loss has only slowed since eating less, seeing as my body is probably freaking out & holding on to every bit of food it gets. You'd think that would TELL A GIRL SOMETHIN'.<--i.e. cut the craaaaap)

But, here's the thing: sometimes? It does work. That's what gets you. Or at least it seems to work. It's hard to tell. At the very least, you feel super in control & your emotions are totally dulled, and dozens of other things I won't get into like questioning whether you need food/are bad if you eat a certain amount/don't deserve it/are stronger if you can go without/etc. Either way. It's still not good. I know. And it needs to stop.

It's just funny that after years of nagging those around me to stop dieting, this is where I'd find myself. Though I suppose it's not really that funny, considering how prone I always was to it underneath it all; I just never let anyone see. Typical.

Oh well. I stopped myself at 11 years old from compulsive OCD habits without any help--I feel pretty confident I can move beyond this now. I'm a tough cookie (no pun intended).


I keep having the most vivid dreams lately. Last night, I dreamt I was in a room with an African civet cat, except for some reason it was all black like a panther or jaguar (which is sort of strangely noteworthy, based on my spirit animal supposedly being either of those. Remember that shaman-led meditation thingie from my women's studies class back in the day? Wacky goodtimes). I got too close to it & it attacked me. 5brokenfingers was suddenly there (way to hijack my subconscious, Dani!) & was all "Oh, I love civet cats! The trick is to leave them alone. Just let it be." So I spent the rest of the time sort of just waltzing around it, shadowing its movements all Tai Chi-style, and it worked. It was still clearly a wild animal, but y'know, no more claws up in my grill, so that was cool.

The symbolism is pretty obvious. Sometimes, you've got to coexist with your emotions (i.e. let them do their thing vs. try to grab onto/control them)--even when they feel wild--or they will frak you up all the more. Also: don't piss off a metaphorical spirit animal. It will shrink itself into a civet cat and attack your face.

It's hard for me, I admit. Three big reasons:

1. My mom. I don't want to be like her. I never have. A bipolar drug addict who never gave a crap how her emotions/actions affected others. Couldn't control herself worth a damn. You can't imagine the scenes she used to cause in public.

2. My dad. If tears showed up in your eyes, the result was either a scoff & an "oh, God, you're gonna cry now?" or a finger in the face and an immediate, "Stop crying or I'll give you something to cry about." And trust me, he meant it.

3. Myself. As I've mentioned before, I have a very, very strong internal locus of control. So much so that I don't even like mentioning my mom or dad there, because it makes it look like I'm using them as an excuse for my own problems, when in fact they simply played a role. They're not to blame. I would prefer now to NOT need to feel anything about the past or have problems relating to it. That whole "the past is past; the present is up to you" deal, y'know? But sometimes it's not that simple. And beating yourself up for it doesn't really do any good. Pretending you have no emotions about it doesn't do any good. The black cat is there, whether I like it or not. As usual, it seems I've been falling into the "all-or-nothing" thinking error, haven't I? I need to find a middle-ground again. Having emotions & being affected by the past doesn't equal being a victim/playing the blame game, no matter what I've been taught. Because really, that's not me. Right? Just like the insults they've laid on me all this time weren't right. I'm not stupid, I'm not heartless, I'm not any of those things. But it's okay that hearing all that over & over again hurt me. It's okay. I don't have to insult myself for being hurt by that ON TOP of everything else.

Anyway. I just wanted to get that out. I think it's important, especially as the memories continue pouring out. Today, the night when my sister was being choked in the living room came back to me, and I finally was able to remember the police taking my stepdad away after. I still don't remember anything from the days following the event, but it's a lot better than my sister, who doesn't even remember that night at all. When I brought it up to her earlier this year, she burst into tears, saying she only vaguely remembered "something" about it happening but couldn't remember anything specifically. That's just really, really not normal. She was 14 at the time. Of course, knowing her back then? She might've been high, but STILL. Still.

Oy. Family. WHY.


Seeing as I need to start bustin' a move on cleaning & what-not (before dradiscontact arrives on Thursday), I figured I'd just share the rest of the poetry I found now, in one fell swoop. It's only a few anyway.

For the sake of being tidy, we're gonna go in chronological order. First up is a poem I found from when I was thirteen. It's complete crap of course, but it made me tear up because of what it represents. Just a kid, yo. Just a sad kid who wanted to be happy. I owe it to her to make it right, now that I have the chance.

(I won't be editing any of these for errors, btw. It just wouldn't be right.)

---

In her dream she was beautiful,
and in her dream she was laughing.
Through the dark forest she was
walking through it was dark, but
she smiled and giggled.
Because she had a secret
all her own. . .
At the end of the path she
was walking on, all there
was, was light.

In her dream she was not sad
or afraid.

She kept a happy little secret
close to her heart. . .
At the end of the path she was
walking on, there were friends
waiting for her with open arms.

In her dream she was alone.
Lined along the path there were
people laughing at her and
pointing. But she was strong.
And kept on walking. And in her
dream she was happy, because when she
reached the end of the path there
were blue skies and birds singing
and water flowing along a small creek,
and friends all around. The sun was
out and a breeze blowing. And in
her dream she was not shy or
self-conscious. And skipped along
to meet new friends knowing they
loved her. . .

And in her dream everything
was good. When people said she was
pretty, she believed them.

In her dream, she was filled with joy
because she knew when she awoke
she would be alright and everything
would be good.

And in her dream she was beautiful.

---

Second up, this one was written in 1996, when I was 14. Also total crap, but also very, very telling. And, to be fair, not TOTAL crap for a 14 year old.

---

Well, daddy sure likes to dance.
And he sure likes that
dancin beat.
It drums and zings and keeps
a pace, and keeps that smile
on his face.
And me? I'm just
a dancin girl.
My music sways
and blows, and, oh,
boy, that rain flows. And, boy,
does that rain come down hard.

And he sure likes them paper dolls.
Lifeless eyes are a whole lot
easier than questioning ones.
They hold no memories.
They jerk and dance their
twinkle toes to that beat.
That dancin beat.
But soon, soon that
rain flowin, well, it
beats down too hard.
It breaks through and
the music takes on a new
pace. The dolls fly away
and the dancing is paused.

Well, daddy sure liked his beat
and he sure liked them paper dolls.
And he can buy new paper dolls,
and turn his music back on.
Cuz rain comes and goes you know.
But one thing changes with that
ebb and flow.
It dances people right out the door.

But I've got new music,
and I like my beat.
And you know what?

I don't like lifeless eyes.
And I don't like them paper dolls.
But I sure like dancing. . .

---

And, finally, the last two. Both of these were written right around the same time (February to March of 1998, when I was sixteen), so I'll just share them together.

---

Moving by too quickly. . .
my brain is fogged by so many thoughts.
too much. . .
I just can't feel quick enough.
It's not enough.
I am desperate for fullness, for completeness.
Empty sensations rip at my soul,
and I don't have the time or the
strength to rip back.
But I ride on.
Painfully tired, I dig my heels in on the horse's side,
go a little faster now. . .
Maybe, maybe I can
outride it, outrun it,
outthink and outfeel it!
I can go over it all!
Nothing can stop me now,
I'm riding on.
Wind whippin at my face. . .
Tears and laughter mix.
It's a liquid all its own
this life.
I take a little sip. . .
But my throat's not big
enough, and I always choke.
I lose it.
I lose everything.
God, I am crying for you!
This is too much.
The ride is so fast, and
I don't know how to slow down. . .
But I ride on.
Gotta move on. Gotta keep going.
To make it better.
Where did this ride start?
Where does it end?
Why??
I don't remember being asked
if I wanted this ride. . .
Images fly by at the speed of life.
No time to grieve their passing,
these sensations, maybe
I never had them in the first place.
What if the ride gets too rocky?
Can I get off?
Do I want to?
Is there a choice? Do I want one?
If I'm thrown off, will you
catch me? Will you try?
Are you there?
My pain and joy interlace.
I am innocence.
I am trying.
An angel with no wings.
I will get my wings.
No more riding,
I will fly.
Fly high.
My smiles will outshine the
stars. Angels will look down
with pride. I will fly so fast
that life won't be able to catch me.
Maybe I'll miss it, this ride.
Will you miss me?
Will you remember me?
Is there anyone who will care when
my wings fly me away?
Will they take my hand and join me?
Will they weep for me, when my
memory is all that is left of me?
When this strong soul is a pile of
dust, will my horse ride on without me?
I leave these jumbled ponderings
for all those who ride too fast. I leave
my memory with you, my fellow
confused angels, do with it as you
wish.
Gotta ride on now. . .
A little faster now. . .
I am reaching the
speed of life. . .
Will you join me?

---

Sound feeds us.
Fills our souls.
Floating through the days
every moment has a note.
An ongoing orcheastra
being composed by an
unknown source.
And we are its instruments.
I'm plucking my strings,
just for the excitement of it.
We all dance to our own beat,
but we can't help tapping our feet
to the sounds around us.
It's human nature
you know.

Life's music is felt absolute.
Everywhere you turn. You feel it
pumping through your veins. Your
muscles tense to the tune. It's chaotic,
but wonderful. The songs of the
past add weight to it now, and
the future is felt in the anticipation
within every lilting voice.
It's an eternal system that never
misses a beat. Turning and twirling;
the traffic of life has a quick
tempo.

Silence is non-existent. Even
the quietest voice adds
to the sound that reaches all ears.
Don't hold in your song.
What would the music be without
every individual play of the
note? Open your mouth and
let out a scream. Wave your arms
and wring your hands, twist
your body, writhe your soul,
and move those feet. Get
your song in there boys and girls!
There's no beginning or end in this
eclectic concert. No concern for
missed notes or off-key choruses.
Just keep singing.
See what comes out.

Even the Earth has a part to play.
You can feel it in her belly.
Tangle your limbs in her green and
feel its dew run through your hair.
Its drops of moisture on your skin;
you lay down and look up. . .
towering trees above, thunderous
silence is accompanied by the
occasional chirping of her birds. Sun
streaks and cloud streaks and water
singing. Bathe in it. Open your mouth
and sing with it. Reach for your
bow and play your strings.
Join in on the music.
Feel it tingle through you,
from the top of your head
to the tips of your toes.

Music really is the universal language.
Words are of no importance when
compared to the essence of their
tempo and texture. Actions are
shadowed by the feeling in pursuing them.
I'm singing my song, feel the beat.
Open your heart and sing back to me.
I'll hear you.
I'll pluck my string for you.
We can listen to the song together.

---

Aaaaaand SCENE. Heh. Oh, memory-lane wandering. Good times, no?

Seriously though, looking back like this sometimes is actually helpful for me. That sixteen year old girl who wrote "Silence is non-existent. Even the quietest voice adds to the sound that reaches all ears"? Was not a "bitch" or "clueless" or anything else. And she deserves a chance at happiness as an adult. Living, not dead. I just have to keep hanging in there, as long as I can, as impossible as it frequently seems.


For my Vid of the Day, I'm gonna share an old hip-hop fave of mine. One of the reasons I'm drawn to rap so much is because it so often is all about suffering and perseverance. It represents the underdog, the survivor, the imperfect fighter who just wants to be HAPPY & is still a little touchy & defensive from a lifetime of pain. It's no coincidence that they rap about death so much--half the time, I believe a lot of them *wish* they were dead (Biggie does after all have a song titled Suicidal Thoughts. Hello). Between my upbringing, with my own history of depression & being surrounded by insanity & addiction, and some of the kids I knew growing up, I can relate, despite not coming even remotely close to growing up in the projects. (my childhood influences were random, income-wise. My dad had money, my grandparents had money, and I lived in an apartment that was decent enough because of child support. But I had friends in my same complex on welfare and government food while also having friends up the road who owned their own man-made lakes. RANDOM. When my bf Kim--the heroin-addicted one--moved to the east side, I became friends with her friend Sara, who was in the 13 street gang--she wasn't hispanic, but she was Sioux Indian & that was close enough for that area--& who intentionally got pregnant at 14 so she could ease out of the lifestyle without being killed, and so she could "have someone to love [her]." Bear in mind this was after knowing another girl at twelve who was pregnant for her third time--she'd already had one miscarriage & an abortion--with her 19 yr old boyfriend, and her mom didn't even care. So, yes. I was exposed to a lot, despite living in the 'burbs. Pop music sometimes just doesn't cut it. After knowing girls like that, you understand that Brenda's Got a Baby isn't exaggerating.

Anyway, enough blathering. On with the song.

"Psych | What's Been In My Mind (Series Tribute)" (Watch on YouTube)

Comments

[5brokenfingers.livejournal.com]

Really funny considering I was looking at a bunch of videos of big cats as pets... servals and caracals specifically though. :P

[rachg82.livejournal.com]

Get out of my head, woman!

(I suppose this means I'll end up dreaming about Tony Danza riding a narwhal tonight, huh?)

[5brokenfingers.livejournal.com]

Yes, please report back to me ASAP.

I dreamed about tigers last night, but they were wild ones, in my backyard. Raccoons were trying to chase them off, too.

[rachg82.livejournal.com]

Hahaha, of course you did. I dream about animals CONSTANTLY, btw. Is that a recurring theme for you too?

Last night I dreamt I was at a carnival, trying to convince a serial killer not to kill me. Also, I somehow ended up walking topless through a basketball court in the rain & was trying to avoid flying balls. PAGING FREUD.

[5brokenfingers.livejournal.com]

"PAGING FREUD" That made me actually laugh out loud, hahaha!

Yes I constantly dream about animals, sometimes they are angry, sometimes they are dead or injured and it's sad, otherwise they're just around. But considering how obsessed I am with animals, I never found it very surprising.

[rachg82.livejournal.com]

Gorillas at the playground & elephants in a parking garage<--WTF's that all about? Is my brain like some secret conservationist or something, trying to gather all the wild animals in one place?

[sumpta.livejournal.com]

Re: food. I recognize a lot of myself in what you wrote about doing the wrong thing, knowing it, but somehow not being able to change it. I used to be thin, constantly fighting against the 'underweight' BMI verdict. I could eat whatever I wanted, and boy, did I ever. I was past 18 before I began developing female forms. Go figure what an awkward teen I made. Over the past few years I've slowly been gaining weight and only now it's beginning to dawn on me how much I actually did rely on that "I can eat whatever I want and still wear a size 0" given. I foolishly saw it as a part of my identity. Okay, so I frequently nearly burst out in tears of frustration in a fitting room because the smallest size trousers still were too large, but still, people were jealous of my size.

At the moment, I'm smack down in the middle of normal BMI weight and I just don't know what to do with myself. The smaller sizes don't fit anymore, at all. I'm still eating a lot per meal and have daily doses of chocolate (because man, I LOVE food, I really do), but I'm also eating less meals a day - I know this is wrong and will actually make me gain more weight, but somehow my brain doesn't manage to communicate this to the rest of my body. My efforts to change my eating pattern (several small meals a day, for instance) usually only last a week or so. In the mean time I'm going to the gym and I somehow have this weird hope that I'll kick my metabolism back into overdrive, even though I've already been going consistently for 1,5 years now without losing weight. It's odd. I am probably in the form of my life now, but I still seem to be unequipped to deal with this different body, while rationally, it's oh so easy.

Tl;dr - weight issues, I have them and it's not even clear to me why.

[rachg82.livejournal.com]

Definitely not Tl;dr. It was actually comforting to read & I appreciate you sharing it. I especially relate to what you said about your experiences as a size zero. I was short (as I am now) and skinny, and I walked around not feeling like a woman (I only partially do now)--I felt like a girl--and it frustrated me that I couldn't find pants that were small enough, but I was proud that I could sit down & eat at McDonalds without caring, munch down an entire frozen pizza, and like you felt that was part of my identity. Even then, I'd still sometimes restrict my eating or obsessively check my weight, and I wasn't even fully happy about my body while skinny (I hated my thighs, I hated how small my breasts were, etc), but after being a chubby kid, it made me feel accomplished.

Now, it's so hard not to want to get back to that, by any means necessary. Logic vs. emotion, you know? I think that's what it's largely about: wanting control, wanting to feel like I can swiftly accomplish something in a strict, non-messy, non-emotional way. Just get the job done, no screwing around. I don't want to go back to the slow route that might not even get me to the finish line at all. I just want to put my blinders on & GET IT DONE.

Not sure if you can relate to that mentality at all, but yeah. Anyway, thanks so much for sharing. It kind of helped to hear your perspective, and look back on where some of my stuff started so I could realize a lot of this is about wanting to get back the body I had when I was 19, which might not be realistic.

[sumpta.livejournal.com]

Yup, I can relate big time. I too seem to get caught in this logic of "it doesn't matter how I lose the weight, I just want a few kg gone anyway, so can't I just get rid of them by whatever means and then *poof* issue gone? It's not like I really need to diet anyway, I am not that person."

Oh, irony: I saw a roommate struggle with her weight in the past and thought she was a complete fool because she skipped meals, or ate meals consisting of just rice. And then dove into the snack closet an hour later. All I could think was: seriously? How can you not see the trap you're setting for yourself?

I guess it does all go back to those first body issues. The hyperawareness of those early years doesn't go away, and there are always faults to be found or even invented.

[rachg82.livejournal.com]

I guess it does all go back to those first body issues

That's really such a good point. I still wasn't happy with my appearance then, I still had issues with food/diet/body image--all of it was there. It's so hard to remember that. I mean, when I was bigger, I *thought* I'd remember it, because I honestly didn't think I would feel the need to get skinny again when I started losing weight. I thought I would just lose some weight, get healthy, but wouldn't become a crazy person about it. I looked back at how thin I'd been in the past and how, even then, I wasn't pleased with my body, and I said, "damn, I don't even really care that much that I'm fat right now. In comparison, I should be fine if I just lose twenty pounds." But once the weight started dropping, my mindset became more & more extreme. Finding a middle-ground is not easy. Especially since in reality? Before I started losing weight again, I DID care that I was bigger. I just wasn't admitting it. I avoided even looking in mirrors if I didn't have to. I simply wasn't obsessing about it, that's all.

[keenai.livejournal.com]

Is it possible the cat also represents the memories? Or your family?

[rachg82.livejournal.com]

Very. A lot of my emotions right now have to do with my memories/family anyway, so they sort of go hand in hand. Good point, keen.

Also, my sister does have a black cat (named Midnight).