City Dweller

Wednesday I went into the city. And suddenly, things became clear. It was this unreal, out-of-body experience I probably couldn't recreate if I tried. So let me walk you through it. (Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times. ;)

Wednesday morning, I rolled over in bed, frustrated as hell because I couldn't sleep. My stomach was hurting, and my head felt like it weighed about a hundred pounds. I woke up crying, not because of D's house, or really anything by itself, but just having an episode of sorts. I was having ridiculous nightmares and tossing and turning for about three hours, and it was just beyond the point of rationality.

I texted D, who have many fine qualities, and she came to my room and just let me cry and talk about everything that is driving me crazy. The fact that I didn't have my check (and therefore was behind on my bills), the fact that going back to school seems like such a difficult decision (when I thought it would be straightforward), the annoyance at just not being able to sleep, and my confusion on when I should go back to work.

After about a half hour, I calmed down, and laid back down, popped my headphones on, and fell asleep to Yo-Yo Ma, mildly high on sleeping pills. Legal, I assure you. Even OTC.

That brings me to my trek into the city. I woke up around 10am. Given that I had only fallen asleep around 5am, and then still woke up with a headache, plus a stuffy nose and nausea, it was only adequate that the muggy, cloudy day matched my mood.

By 12, I was tired again and the bus was at 2:20pm, so I went back to my bedroom for some quiet time. This time, the kids stayed in the living room, and I got to sleep until 1:45, when I packed my backpack with everything I needed.

Down to my last $2, I checked my only credit card on a whim and found out I would not, as I previous thought, have to go 7 hours without eating because I had no money and D doesn't have transportable (a word?) food. So into the city I went, only panicking once because I couldn't remember if I had read the bus schedule right.

I watched the third shift workers asleep on the bus with quiet amusement and found myself thinking about all the positive things I love about my job. Even though there are times when I'm bored at work, I get to wear clothes I love, I work with great people, it's not difficult or physically exhausting, and my most basic duties include a computer, a telephone, coffee, and smiling. Things I love, really. {=

As the bus pulled into the stop, it dawned on me that, no matter what my ailments, I really couldn't handle another three or four weeks of boredom and unproductivity at D's house. I need to go back to work, but when? And are my priorities straight? Or am I just being impatient and jumping on the first opportunity for entertainment? Do I just miss the paycheck?

So I put it to the back of my mind, telling myself I would write about it later, and dwell on it then. I refused to contact my boss and check out my options before I started thinking them through on my own.

In the city, I decided to take the early bus to my journaling group, so I could log computer time, and write my own journaling thoughts before I delved into the, soemtimes whimsical, prompts I faced with them. I wanted thinking space.

I still had an hour to kill, so I went to the library. I got books they had put on held for me. I went to my favorite Greek restaurant and got a gyro. And I went to this little coffee shop and got an iced coffee. Basically, I spent some time with my own brain.

By the time the bus came, and I got to my journaling group's meeting place, I was ready to stop thinking and start writing. Here is what I came up with:

I miss my job. The people, the paycheck, the schedule, the business, and the positivity.

I miss feeling productive and social. When I work, my alone time is more valuable, and I actually feel accomplished when I get things done in a day because I had to work within a schedule.

Sitting at home is putting me in a claustrophobic funk.

And:

I am afraid I will lose my job if I stay away too long.

I am worried that I will be bored and frustrated when I go back, and that has helped me rationalize staying out of work, instead of just talking to my boss about gaining some more responsibility. I recognize that I was only there two months, but she saw me as valuable enough to give me the time off. And I should see myself as valuable enough to speak up for my own learning curve.

Finally:

I want to be back at work for my birthday. I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow, and I should get an all clear on being able to go back to work. Unlike a lot of people I know, I actually love working on my birthday. I feel special all day, and I get to be social.

My birthday is next Tuesday, so I want to be back on Monday, if my boss is okay with that. I don't think D will be okay with it, because she thinks I need more time to rest and destress. But not working is even more stressful than working, by far.

Okay, I think this is probably the longest post I've put up so far. And I know I've babbled a bit... Just let me know what you think about my decision, okay?

Skinny

I picked the name of this post for two reasons. One - I just finished a book called Skinny (by Diana Spechler) and I'm going to talk about it. Especially because I am a reviewer for a blog called The Readers Cafe, and I will be reviewing the book in further detail there. And two - I listened to a podcast this morning called "Live. Love. Eat." And the woman who was a guest on the show talked about Overeaters Anonymous. A subject I am currently researching. This post, I have a theme.

The book, Skinny, was fantastic. It's about a woman named Gray who, after her father's death, goes to a fat camp to serve as a counselor in search of the truth about her father's past. Throughout the book, all I could think about was the temptation this woman was facing, temptations to settle for less than the best in her life, to do something illicit, to bury her father's secrets, and of course, the temptation to eat.

Obsessive-calorie-counter-turned-compulsive-eater, Gray is a character with real-life flaws that I'm sure many women can relate to. She rationalizes her flaws until she is forced to confront them, on a symbolic rainy day in the midst of chaos at camp. Soon after, the story takes an about face that even I, cynical reader and astute "guesser of plots" that I may be, didn't see coming.

Why do I tell you all this? Because, readers, I am having my rainy debut. That's what the apologizing to ex-friends was all about, and an idea of solidarity behind writing in this blog. I needed something authentic and consistent to push me through the next year. And you're a part of that.

Of course, I am also telling you about this book because I too, like many women I know, actually, am an emotional eater. I tried for a long time to deny it, because when I'm sad or angry I am no where near food, especially now. Now you'll find me writing in my burn journal (which should be burned if I should die an untimely death - mom) or going for a walk. The last time I was in hysterics, the only thing on my mind was to get out of the house and blow off steam before my razor sharp angry tongue unleashed itself on some poor soul. But food? Not even a whisp of a thought in my head in the moment.

And then I caught myself eating when I was honestly just bored. I looked down at the Bugle bag, and thought, "Why am I eating these? They aren't good enough to be munching on right now, when I'm not even hungry." So I stopped, and I owned my disordered eating. Gray and I have that in common, because I've caught myself in fight or flight mode, where I felt like I ate enough for it to be my last supper and I was worried about whether I would eat again. Like, ever. It's this panic that you can't even begin to control, and you feel like you just need to store food for winter or something crazy.

A lot of people don't understand that feeling at all. The can just eat when they're hungry, or not eat when they're not hungry. They don't see food and start thinking they are hungry after they just had dinner a few moments prior. But I deal with that all the time.

Which brings me to Live. Love. Eat.

A podcast about loving yourself, the first guest speaker (and only session I've listened to thus far) was a woman who is a member of Overeaters Anonymous (OA). There is a chapter near my house, and I've considered it, given my recent awareness of disordered eating. The coolest thing about OA is that the people in it don't all look the same. It's not AA where people are all recovering from the same addiction with different symptoms, or NA where the source is different and the withdrawal is the same. No. OA has people of all different sizes, because disordered eating comes in different forms with different symptoms and different signs and different outcomes. Two bulimic women could be complete opposites, one thin and one fat, but yet they are both bulimic.

In high school, I struggled with even more aggressive disordered eating. Diet pills, purging, binging, and starving were all part of my cycle, and I never lost weight for the long haul. Instead, I kept the weight on, and added more. Add in some lovely mental health drugs, and you've got weight gain that could make a sane person lose it. Her sanity, not the weight.

So OA is sort of a welcoming environment to me. It is regimented, with the twelve steps and all, but the part that scares me isn't the commitment or the program. It's the "believe in a higher power" bit. Yes, all the twelve step programs, OA, NA, AA, etc, have a higher power. But listening to the podcast, I found out that OA doesn't define the higher power as God, or Buddha, or whomever else you might want to call out to in your prayers. It doesn't even have to be a higher power in a spiritual sense, but rather it can be the fact that you are loved, as something bigger, and thus more powerful, than your disordered eating.

So maybe next Monday, ironically around lunchtime, you will hear about my venture into my first OA meeting. I know it's anonymous, but I'm not ashamed of my emotional eating anymore. I'd rather be honest with you, reader. Because in the end there is only one higher power who'll be judging me, and it's not you, or you, or you.