Slow and Steady Saves my Face

What a crazy crazy crazy week. Much of that a good thing, though.

People are coming out of the woodwork in droves. Droves I tell you! From friends who were otherwise occupied for some time to folks that I had no longer considered friends. I've been weighing my options and responses carefully and answering slowly.

One I am still blocking. Protective measures had to be made. There are only so many times I will tolerate some things. I want to be "nice" and I want to rescue (people, animals, relationships, anything) but I can't and won't anymore.

One I am cautiously reconnecting. We'll see where coffee goes.

One I am simply opening the door. Come in, don't come in. It's up to you. You reached out but I'll believe it when I see it. At least I'm not vulnerable there.

On a different note...

I'm proud of myself!! I did decide to drink some last night but I did not get "wasted" and even though there was a cute guy who seemed perhaps interested and who drove me most of the way home (I was going from Brooklyn to Manhattan after all. If he'd driven me any further we'd be in the water, but I wasn't about to ask a perfect stranger to make that trek at 4 in the morning) I didn't kiss him. Not at all! Not a smooch. I gave him a thank-you hug. See? I can be appropriate. Once in a while.

That's the thing. I'm challenging myself to be appropriate, not just for propriety's sake, but for my own ultimate health and happiness. In every arena. Taking anything slow ain't easy for me.

Twitch

You ever get that thing where your eyelid twitches like crazy for no freaking good reason? Well all day today, my lower lip has been doing that. The left side. Maybe I'm getting palsy or something. It's kind of awesome. I stared at it for like two minutes in my pocket mirror. Yep, there it goes.

You may be asking yourself: "THIS is how she comes back after like a month of no posts at all?" The answer is yes. So suck it.

Gobbledy Achoo

God laughs at me or karma bites me in the ass or something. The very day I bragged that I hadn't been sick in a couple of years...yeah, I gots a cold. The whole coughing, stuffy head thing. No fever (thank goodness). Robitussin has become my friend. I might need to run out for another bottle shortly. But then that would entail braving the cold and I'm not too keen on that foray.

During therapy last week, well, almost at the end of the session, which is wholly appropriate for me, I asked the real question: What's going on with me? Of course it took me almost the whole session to get there. Asking the right question at the right time isn't one of my skills. Well, sometimes it is, but not when it pertains to me.

So, what's going on with me? I don't know. Nothing bad...nothing good...nothing much happening...but not stagnation. I don't know. It's been chalked up to my "Saturn Returns" or merely the trapeze of transition, but that seems a titch glib. Although, maybe that's just it. Maybe there isn't really anything. It's just transition.

Okay, then. Transition sucks. I need a road map or something. I'm tired of trying to navigate blindfolded.

Someone want to loan me a housekeeper for a weekend?

Four On The Floor

I rehired one of my old trainers.

I've gone through 5 a half trainers in the last 5 years. Number two I was with for over two years. I only stopped with him because his schedule changed. Number one was the guy I was working out with when I hurt my back and ended up needing surgery, so that's understandable. Number three went batshit crazy. Number five was just a strange dude. He made working out...not fun anymore. That's no good. And the "half"? Well, I only worked out with him a couple times. He seemed to think we were on a more committed basis than we really were. I told him from the beginning that I was going to test out a few people, and I wasn't committing to him. He's a sweet guy, just not what I'm looking for when I go to the gym.

So why did I rehire number four? First and foremost, he's a good trainer. And I had fun with him...WHEN things worked. When they didn't, well, let's just say we could clash. But I was thinking about that today as I found I had run out of trainers to try at my gym. I recognized that he and I never clashed until "douchebag" entered the picture. Douchebag (or DB for short, as I will now refer to him) planted all these niggling little thoughts in my head that led to greater and greater dissatisfaction with number four. Cuz DB was a fucking MASTER at that. The guy is a genius at mental manipulation. Seriously fucking good.

So let's see how it goes with "four" this time around. I think we'll do just fine. There's kind of a sibling vibe there, and I think we both had enough of our time outs.

Cool Kudos

Someone I've never met before (but who also got certified through IIN) sent me this message:

Hi Trish,
Just wanted to say hello, and tell you I looked at your website, and woweee, young beautiful woman, you have done some major changes in your life.
What a challenge and struggle, I am sure.
I am very impressed with your website, and all you have done.
My sincere congratulations to you. It never ceases to amaze me the struggles people overcome and the brilliant work that follows.
As a long time health care Registered Nurse in every walk of health care, I say, indeed it is a pleasure and welcome event to have you in the wellness arena.
Thanks for your solid and strong efforts toward change, for the many lives you have changed and the many more to come.

Wowzers, yeah?

Yeah. That was pretty cool. Between that and the kudos I got form a client earlier today, my inspiration is ticking along nicely. It's easier to cope with a reduced client schedule and light workshop signup when the people I do reach appreciate my efforts like this.

It's easy to get swept up, isn't it? So easy to drown in the tasks of the day. It's so easy to think only about the problems that need solving, rather than celebrating what has already been accomplished.

Let that be a reminder to you. You aren't going to sprain your shoulder by patting yourself on the back once in a while. It's allowed and well deserved.

No More ED Body, No More ED Brain

There just wasn't a picture good enough to go with this post.

I'm kind of in awe.

Of myself.

Here's the thing: Even with all the physical, emotional, spiritual work I've done...there was a part (a big part) of me that thought I'd never get here. And even though one of my "specialties" with my clients is working with people with eating disorder and body image issues...I never thought I could love my body like I was trying to teach them to love theirs.

But something amazing happened. Sometime in the last few months, I learned to love my body. I think it even happened more rapidly than that. It's as if I finally got to the point where I was just sick and tired of hating my body.

It's so easy (and so subtle and insidious) to pick yourself apart. How many times have you looked in the mirror at yourself and narrowed your focus on to that one little part (or more than one little part) that you just can't stand. You poke it and prod it and look at it from all different angles, just sending hate-rays at your own flesh. I caught myself doing that about a month and a half ago...and I paused. I asked myself "what the hell are you doing?" It wasn't a mean or angry question. I asked it with an air of love, actually. So much the same way that I lifted myself from eating disorder by telling myself that I didn't have to believe that any more, I turned my body-hate around by changing the language I used with myself.

But that sounds so ridiculously simple! If I had heard that a year or two ago, I would have shrugged it off with a "yeah, I know I know". So what was the edge? What was the hinge? What was the button or the spark or the whatever whatever that suddenly made a difference? I wish I knew!

I think time was a huge factor. Timing and time. At the right time, and not rushed. I also think I finally hit my "what will it take" moment. I got to that point where I just wasn't willing to take it any more. All of me was ready for it.

I hope I can find a way to share this with my clients. But they have to be ready for it.

HBO Is A Mirror Too

The other day I watched this HBO special on women recovering from eating disorder. They were all staying at Renfrew, a hardcore recovery center. Whoo boy. None of the women profiled in the special were successful. You know how they do those "this is Shelly three months later" thing? All of them relapsed. All of them. They even showed one puking the very night she got released.

I could so relate.

It was a strange position to be in. I was watching the insanity--knowing it was insanity--but also knowing, somehow, that it made sense too. A mind that has never been in the obsessive loop of eating disorder must hear the gook spewing from those girls and...just...NOT relate in any way. I know it sounds wack-a-doodle. But I get it.

And even though I'm not in that "place" any more, boy was that triggering. It made me wonder if I could ever relapse. In every or any capacity. I wonder if I could ever go back to eating the way I ate long ago or to being as unhealthy as I was in so very many ways. I used to think it was impossible to return to such behavior, because now I just "know too much". But I don't know. I think there's always a chance. That does scare me. I don't ever want to be that person again. I hope that if it comes to that--if I am tempted or find myself falling into the old patterns--I hope that I will turn to my newer tools; that I will open my bag of tricks and choose something different.

Blah Blah Me Me Me

Hmm...some update-y thingies:

So my granma's out of the loony bin. I asked my mom if she was lucid and sane now and she answered "as much as she ever was". Hee.

I was blessed with a free ticket to a Krishna Das private concert. Freaking awesome. And kinda coolio that last weekend was a Guns N' Roses concert and this week it's kirtans. Neat-o.

My phone is going bonkers coo-coo cocopuffs. A couple weeks ago it erased my calendar. The other day it erased all my contact numbers. Now it is having trouble syncing at all. Mercury goes out of retrograde November 17th. November 17th.......

Surge-urge-ury is coming up. I'm excited and scared and nervous and happy and sad and curious and lots of stuff. I'm not good at asking for help and I'm going to need a lot of it. I know my friends love me and will do what they can, but I also know I'm going to have to rely on them more than I think they realize. I'm not going to be able to vacuum or do laundry or change the litter box or pack my suitcase for Christmas or anyfing. I'm afraid that I'm going to be left to my own devices too much. It's a very "alone" feeling. Not lonely exactly. Alone. That's what happens when you go through something major like this and don't have family around or a mate. Since I was teeny tiny I've always said "All by mine self". Well, I can't do this by mine self. Hardly at all. There's also this thing that because this is an elective surgery and not a "have to", I feel almost like I don't have a right to ask for help. Like, if it were open heart surgery or something I had to had to had to have, then I could ask for help. But because it is what it is and it isn't necessary for survival, then I can't.

Then there is the matter of Thanksgiving. And my lack of plans. Something always turns up, but this time it hasn't. Kind of strange. I hope I'm okay if nothing occurs. I mean, I think I will be, but I don't want to start feeling sorry for myself or something stoopidly lame like that. That whole "feeling sorry for myself" thing is boring. Bo-ring.

I've been signing a handful of new clients lately which is cool cool cool. Makes me quite aware that I need to continue doing workshops and teleclasses and such. Perhaps more frequently. Maybe while I'm recovering I'll do some planning/prep on that front. I'll have to fill my time with something, right? More than Netflix, that is.

Alrighty. Tha's that for now.

Goo Goo Grandma

This is really tough. My Grandma is in a psych ward. Her surgery a few weeks ago did not go well and her mind has somewhat snapped.

I spoke with her a couple days ago. At least this time she (sort of) knew who I was. But it was her 80th birthday, and she was complaining that she doesn't like where she is now because they only have stuff for "old people". Ain't that a kicker? But the reason I got off the phone was that she kept talking about wanting to jump out the window and die. I just can't (won't) listen to that.

If only this were unusual for her. It's just her normal personality...a little "enhanced".

Am I upset for her? For myself? For my mom? Unknown.

It's An Update

Oh my God, two posts in one day? Is the world gonna' implode?

Yay. This is what I do when I'm sick of working and want to take a break, but don't want to leave my computer for fear I won't get motivated to return and continue chugging along.

I promised updates. Updates updates... *sigh* It's been...full lately.

I've been leading the fall cleanse this week. It has been an amazingly rewarding experience (as always) but it's also a lot of pressure. And of course I want to do it "right" and "great" and whatever whatever. But in addition to supporting all the people going through the cleanse (who can't or won't limit their support needs to the email group and have been sending personal emails and needing phone calls and such), a couple friends are going through a lot right now too. A lot a lot. Big a lot. So, many hours have been spent there too. I'm glad to be able to be there for people, I truly am. But I'm feeling quite alone right now. A few of my support structure - for various and sundry reasons - are not available to me right now. Overloaded themselves or simply absent, I'm unable to call them with my needs. Coupled with my increasing distance from my family (much needed, of course)...well, let's just say I'm very well aware that I am on my own.

I decided I needed to get back on coffee after 5 days without it. Day two sans caffeine was a BITCH. But my lightheadedness and near-blackouts came back when I was off the java. I think that the caffeine was keeping my blood pressure elevated to *normal* levels. Yay for the drug in a mug!

Good things on the career front: So many people are interested in doing the cleanse that I'm running it again in November. Plus, it's New! and Improved! Yippee. AND I have a new niche market I want to pursue. Not sure how to pursue them yet, but I'm puttin' it out there in the universe: I want to be the holistic counselor and Reiki practitioner that rock musicians turn to. I want to be called out to tour buses and have tattooed and leather-clad dudes laying on my massage table. I want to rock out at the shows and help them collect healthier snacks for backstage. How freaking AWESOME would that be? I'm puttin' it out there puttin' it out there puttin' it out there....

The weather on Halloween is supposed to be nice. Yay! Wasn't looking forward to freezing my ta-tas off. Not before slice and dice, ya?

Found myself lingering at the gym the other day. Bleah. What the fuck is up with THAT? I must like picking my own wounds, huh? No surprise I guess. Sometimes I annoy myself.

I'm also putting out in the universe that I need to find a freaking apartment!!! People are now becoming very drawn to my abode, but I can't find one that fits me. Eep! I gotsta'.

Kay, I'm not interested in writing about myself anymore. Ciao kiddies.

Countdown!

Countdown to slice and dice! December 5th is a mere 49 days away.

I realized I missed my own sixth month. October 11th was seven months.

Rockin.

This is Fun

Secret evil growing things.

Hospital Shit

Grandma's in the hospital again.

I realized today that I hadn't told anyone that. It's actually pretty serious. She has a bleeding ulcer and apparently is quite out of her mind. She keeps saying that she's ready to die and she just wants to let go. She's talking to people who aren't there and she's imagining the hell out of things.

Wish I could say that behavior was unusual.

Okay, that's exaggerating. It is unusual. But the woman has gone delirious before. Unfortunately, she's the worst kind of hypochondriac...sometimes she's right. You know "The Boy Who Cried Wolf"? It's like that, only it's been going on for almost eighty years. I've long since abandoned sympathy.

That, of course, makes me feel like a total shit. I wish I could care. I wish I could muster the concern and consideration that "should" be "normal" for a granddaughter to feel for her grandmother. I've just run out, I think.

But this is actually a real ailment this time, right? It isn't one of her imagined illnesses designed solely to garner attention and favor. Here's the thing, though: it didn't have to get to this. So many of her real physical dilemmas have been caused by her mind creating the manifestation in her body. In addition, if she's just seek medical attention at the first or even second sign of symptoms, so much of what has become deadly serious would have been nothing more than minor.

So I do care and I am thinking about her and all that. But I don't feel like I care as much as I'm supposed to. Whatever that means. Seems to be a theme though. Back when my uncle was dying, I believed I wasn't concerned enough over him too. I guess that shows more what my mother has drilled into me as the standards of love rather than what is natural for me. Yay guilt.

Two! Two! Two Posts In One!

FIRST BIT:

I have such a hard time taking nutritional/wellness advice from overweight speakers or those who just don't look like they walk their talk. Is this my prejudice or a natural human response?

Not entirely in keeping with the previous statement and question, but an extension of the contemplation: I know I have built-in "fatty" hate simply because I used to be so overweight. You'd think it would make me more tolerant or accepting or even pitying. I think one day I will be. At least I'm inching towards being able to feel pity (here we go again with the confusion between pity and love).

Here's my current theory on this: I spent so much time and energy when I was fat (and arguably now as well) HATING myself that I've transferred some of that vitriolic energy to ghostly representations of my former self.

If you're hugely fat, you remind me too much of the person I once was, and I hate you.

Not literally or logically or even consciously. But if I'm to take a long hard honest look, I have to admit the resentment is present.

Everyone is a mirror. Everyone and everything. When you don't like what you see in the mirror, it's easier to blame the silvered glass. It's stupid and misplaced, but it's human. Often I want to change the reflection, but I can't, can I? Serenity prayer and all that.

SECOND BIT:

I haven't been in a relationship in a very long time. Yeah, I had a brief boyfriend/girlfriend thing a few months ago, but it was VERY brief and, well, not altogether "real" I suppose.

So this I've known.

But something new I realized yesterday morning.

I was talking with some ladies about my tremendous weight loss and the inherent identity crisis (or realignment) involved. When the body gets thin, sometimes the mind stays fat. It's progressing slowly, but I still think like a fat person. I still think as if I am a fat person. I still think I AM a fat person. I relate with people accordingly. I don't know how to BE with men (in general) or God forbid in a relationship.

Upshot: I haven't been in a relationship since the weight loss and I don't think the two facts are unrelated.

Good Schtuff

Today was BLOODY FANTASTIC.

I finally found the right combination of how to make my school weekends work. Especially the Sundays, which are loooooong. I went to bed at the right time, got enough sleep, had the right kind of breakfast, sat in a great area, and surrounded myself with positive, motivated people.

I even danced at the stretchy break.

I took some risks and they PAID OFF.

I made myself visible and connected with some amazing people.

So, yeah. Good day.

Hee.

Get Ready For Some Anger

I am so angry. I am so furious I want to fucking choke that motherfucker.

I have fantasies of slapping him across the face. I want to shake and throttle him until he UNDERSTANDS. He needs a fucking wake up call.

He needs to know that even if it's okay, IT'S NOT FUCKING OKAY.

Disrespect is too small a word. Why the fuck do we keep making excuses for his sorry ass? He's not "developmentally challenged", he doesn't DESERVE the justifications we make for him. He's so fucked up.

I can't believe I even remotely considered not being angry with him because, well, he's so messed up he just doesn't know any better and I can't possibly hold him to the same standards I would hold a "normal person" to.

FUCK THAT SHIT.

Hexmas

Again again again.

Christmas fucked my shit up.

That's okay though. It happens. Shit happens. Family happens. Screaming babies happens. Perfectionist parents happens. Strange relatives happens.

Seriously. I'm a little pissed off, a little disappointed. But I'm really feeling okay with things.

Is that the wine typing?

That's okay too.

Merry merry.

Shoot me Up

I have hyperhidrosis. Oh no! I'm dying!

No.

Hyperhidrosis means that I have overactive sweat glands, specifically in my hands and feet. They DRIP sweat. It's gross. And it makes it really hard to type or write (the paper gets smudgy and wrinkled) or do yoga or shake hands or lots of those things.

And there aren't any good treatments! There are topical thingies that are basically super duper anti-perspirents. They don't work so well for me. Or there's these elctro-shock tanks that you can put your hands and feet in for like an hour a day and it sends electric currents through you and might help. But it's really painful and time consuming. Or there's this surgery where they cut a nerve in your neck. But that results in compensatory sweating, which means that suddenly your ASS sweats like crazy. Thaaaaaat's not cool.

There is one other treatment, and that's the one I do. Every six months or so, I get over 150 injections in the palms of my hands and bottoms of my feet of BOTOX. It's not 100% effective, it's really expensive, it doesn't last much longer than the six months, it's toxic, and it HURTS LIKE HELL.

I mean...think of it. THINK of it. When have you had shots IN THE PALMS OF YOUR HANDS? The worst, though, are the ones on the bottom of my big toe. Owwww.

So why all this shpiel? I'm doing it again Monday at 2 PM. Anyone wanna' come watch?

Counting Days Again

I fucked up.

Day Zero.

Presented Without Commentary

• My ex's dad died yesterday and I'm going to the viewing tomorrow. I've never seen a dead body in person before.
• A woman at the energy workshop tonight was so fucking fidgety and annoying I visualized her head popping off like a giant zit.
• My cellphone is practically glued to my hands because I'm waiting to hear about my uncle "any minute now".
• A most amazing friend stayed with me to help me get through the night of death calls.
• I did something very unhealthy this morning.
• I got another replacement iPod today and this one works (yay!) and the guy helping me was lots of fun.
• For the first time practically EVER, I forgot my pack of multi-colored pens today. I haven't been a day without them almost since I got them. A couple are running low on ink. I use the pink one disproportionately often.
• I did something somewhat unhealthy an hour ago.
• H&M had a really awesome black scarf that was super cheap. It's cozy and I want to hug it.
• I feel squishy and fuzzy right now and I keep spacing out.

No analysis.