I can't put it down. I can't seem to walk away. I know I should, everything in me is screaming that this is not going to get better. That, fundamentally, there is a lack of respect for my feelings, there is a lack of prioritizing me first.
But all I want is to be closer. I want to crawl inside you and sleep inside your chest so I can feel your heart beating. I want to crush you, I want to kiss you, I want you to want me, I want you to fuck me- honestly, passionately, brutally, bruising me. I want you to claim me and never let me go. I want your purple handprints on my body so I have some confirmation of your presence when I leave for work or you leave. I want to cleanse you with my body and my love so that the last person under you wasn't her. I want to claim you. I want to erase what you did.
But I can't. I'm on fire, torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer. I can't think, I can't breathe, I can't tell if I'm crying or gasping because I feel your hand on my back as if it burns down to my bones and I want you but I don't because I'm picturing you and her and she's awful and I want you to shed your skin like a snake so I don't have to touch any part of you that she's touched. I want you to touch me and never stop; I want you to never touch me again.
And I'm hurt, so hurt, but you've always been my comfort. I want you to hold me and tell me this was just a nightmare and it wasn't real and you love me so much, how could you ever do that to me?
I can't cry. I can't scream and swear. It's like my emotions have been running high this whole time and now that you've told me the worst someone turned the dial back down. Is that because it can't get worse? Do I have no more anxiety because it's over? What I was dreading already happened?
Now the only thing amped up is desire. I don't get it, I don't understand it. But it's there. I feel like I hyper-sexual being right now when I should be a mopey awful mess. Is there a term for this? Is this normal?
Is everyone going to judge me for staying when I was packed up and ready to leave?
Showing posts with label habits. Show all posts
Showing posts with label habits. Show all posts
Aug 25, 2016
Dec 21, 2012
About Me
10 Things you never wanted to know about me, but now you do:
1. I love dreamcatchers. Have since I was a toddler and was given one for my room. I have a bunch of different kinds from different tribes. My grandma has a lot of tribal jewelry and helped build schools on two reservations, so I think her love for NA culture has been passed down.
2. I used to contemplate school for graphic design. Eventually I decided not to go and went to school for theater instead. Like I'm using that a lot.
3. Nail polish makes me feel like my nails are suffocating. After two days I have to take it off.
4. Nestle chocolate chips. Love them. Just a few can improve my mood for the whole day.
5. I write songs on my phone. Don't do anything with them afterward, but it's a good creative outlet.
6. I try to sew really great, incredible things, because how hard can it be to follow a pattern? Really hard, you guys. It always looks terrible.
7. My favorite perfume of all time had cartoon characters on the bottle. My bad. It smelled delicious, though. The same with linen spray. (Yes, I'm the kind of girl who uses linen spray. It's not just for old ladies, okay? Everyone likes to smell fluffy clouds and cupcakes when they lay down to sleep.)
8. I own a lot of zebra print shoes. Not sure how this came about. It sort of just happened.
9. I've never had a bedroom where the walls weren't white. Ever. Painting them a color is so foreign to me. It almost feels forbidden. But I still want to do it, you know, in all that spare time I have.
10. I like to wear vests. They make me feel a little bit like a lumberjack. I enjoy that feeling.
1. I love dreamcatchers. Have since I was a toddler and was given one for my room. I have a bunch of different kinds from different tribes. My grandma has a lot of tribal jewelry and helped build schools on two reservations, so I think her love for NA culture has been passed down.
2. I used to contemplate school for graphic design. Eventually I decided not to go and went to school for theater instead. Like I'm using that a lot.
3. Nail polish makes me feel like my nails are suffocating. After two days I have to take it off.
4. Nestle chocolate chips. Love them. Just a few can improve my mood for the whole day.
5. I write songs on my phone. Don't do anything with them afterward, but it's a good creative outlet.
6. I try to sew really great, incredible things, because how hard can it be to follow a pattern? Really hard, you guys. It always looks terrible.
7. My favorite perfume of all time had cartoon characters on the bottle. My bad. It smelled delicious, though. The same with linen spray. (Yes, I'm the kind of girl who uses linen spray. It's not just for old ladies, okay? Everyone likes to smell fluffy clouds and cupcakes when they lay down to sleep.)
8. I own a lot of zebra print shoes. Not sure how this came about. It sort of just happened.
9. I've never had a bedroom where the walls weren't white. Ever. Painting them a color is so foreign to me. It almost feels forbidden. But I still want to do it, you know, in all that spare time I have.
Dec 12, 2012
Screaming
I want to talk honestly. On four different websites this past week, the topic of anorexia has come up, and I've tried to throw my two cents in because hey, I've been there for a good part of my life. Instead of opening any sort of dialogue, I feel like I've been ignored, condescended to, and viewed as a fuck up all because of my anorexia. Now I just feel like I'm screaming at the top of my lungs and no one is listening. Good thing I have a blog :/
Let's start with the myths: 1. I'm fat-phobic. My anorexia didn't start because I wanted to be thin, and that's true of more than half of people with eating disorders. 2. I wasn't raised with loving parents. My family always told me I was pretty. In fact, they built up my self-confidence and independence so much that I consider myself to be a fairly vain person. I've mentioned this before. I love how I look. I love my eyes and my nose and my smile and my laugh and how smart and funny I am. Not an issue. 3. I need attention. No one in my personal life ever found out about my anorexia except for my drama teacher, so I think the attention thing is out. 4. It's a phase. I started food refusal in high school and I've been out for years. My life has stabilized, I'm more comfortable with myself and my paradigms and my world, but I still struggle with my anorexia.
One of the reasons I stopped eating was because my dad has a neurological disease. He regressed and started behaving like a raging alcoholic by the time I was seven (sweet one minute and would smack you the next) and morphed into a toddler by the time I was 19, and he actively pushed to instill in me this phobia that I was going to inherit his disease. My mother tried to keep me away from him as much as possible, and it's because of her and my other family members that I am so self-assured. But, this fear ate at me, and I felt helpless, powerless against my fate. I began failing out of school, falling into depression, writing poems about death and perfect suicides.
Then, I started restricting and refusing food and everything changed. Not eating gave me something else to think about, because hunger was always on my mind, and all my other worries went out the window. I finally had absolute control over something - over myself and my body and my fate. I finally felt free. I finally felt amazing. The depression stopped, my grades picked up, I was more social and exercising all the time.
It only takes a few days of me not eating to have a positive effect on my emotional climate, which is why it's so hard for me not to go back. It allows me to not worry about anything. It allows me to be in control. It's not that way for everyone with an eating disorder, but it's not just about looking thin. There's always something under the surface, so please don't brush it off like someone needs to be told they're pretty twice a day and their anorexia will clear up. It's hurtful and offensive, and eating disorders are about so much more than that.
Let's start with the myths: 1. I'm fat-phobic. My anorexia didn't start because I wanted to be thin, and that's true of more than half of people with eating disorders. 2. I wasn't raised with loving parents. My family always told me I was pretty. In fact, they built up my self-confidence and independence so much that I consider myself to be a fairly vain person. I've mentioned this before. I love how I look. I love my eyes and my nose and my smile and my laugh and how smart and funny I am. Not an issue. 3. I need attention. No one in my personal life ever found out about my anorexia except for my drama teacher, so I think the attention thing is out. 4. It's a phase. I started food refusal in high school and I've been out for years. My life has stabilized, I'm more comfortable with myself and my paradigms and my world, but I still struggle with my anorexia.
One of the reasons I stopped eating was because my dad has a neurological disease. He regressed and started behaving like a raging alcoholic by the time I was seven (sweet one minute and would smack you the next) and morphed into a toddler by the time I was 19, and he actively pushed to instill in me this phobia that I was going to inherit his disease. My mother tried to keep me away from him as much as possible, and it's because of her and my other family members that I am so self-assured. But, this fear ate at me, and I felt helpless, powerless against my fate. I began failing out of school, falling into depression, writing poems about death and perfect suicides.
Then, I started restricting and refusing food and everything changed. Not eating gave me something else to think about, because hunger was always on my mind, and all my other worries went out the window. I finally had absolute control over something - over myself and my body and my fate. I finally felt free. I finally felt amazing. The depression stopped, my grades picked up, I was more social and exercising all the time.
It only takes a few days of me not eating to have a positive effect on my emotional climate, which is why it's so hard for me not to go back. It allows me to not worry about anything. It allows me to be in control. It's not that way for everyone with an eating disorder, but it's not just about looking thin. There's always something under the surface, so please don't brush it off like someone needs to be told they're pretty twice a day and their anorexia will clear up. It's hurtful and offensive, and eating disorders are about so much more than that.
Dec 6, 2012
Bra Strap Thing
I can always tell when it's December because of the bra strap thing. You know, when your body is changing and your boobs are shrinking and all of the sudden you have to tighten all of your bra straps because they keep falling off your shoulders and it's really annoying? October-January is the time of year when I start losing weight automatically. I don't get much sleep, there's not much time to eat, and I'm running around working overtime at two jobs and stressing out. Packing on the pounds during the holidays has never been an issue for me.
It's also the time of year that people take lots of pictures. I'm going to admit, I take lots of pictures of myself and like having my picture taken. I think I'm pretty. I got complimented a lot as a kid and now I'm vain. Sorry, it's a flaw :)
When I was going through my serious bouts of anorexia, I used to keep picture logs (from what I've learned after-the-fact this seems to be fairly common). Instead of weighing myself obsessively, I would take pictures, measuring how small I could whittle my waistline. I have hundreds of these pictures I can't seem to trash.
However, no matter how much weight I lost, the bra strap thing would happen, but my hips never seemed to shrink in proportion.
This is me at 108 pounds, a size one, still with some serious hips compared to the rest of me. I don't know what it is about my body, but that's just how it works for me. For an anorexic, it was seriously frustrating.
So, despite all the pictures being taken this holiday season, I have to make the conscious decision to not begin this unhealthy behavior again. It's one thing to lose a little weight because there's hardly time to eat and I'm so active, but it's another to actively seek out anorexic behavior. This is the time of year when my battle gets harder. I will fight.
But man, I still miss fitting into size zero jeans.
It's also the time of year that people take lots of pictures. I'm going to admit, I take lots of pictures of myself and like having my picture taken. I think I'm pretty. I got complimented a lot as a kid and now I'm vain. Sorry, it's a flaw :)
When I was going through my serious bouts of anorexia, I used to keep picture logs (from what I've learned after-the-fact this seems to be fairly common). Instead of weighing myself obsessively, I would take pictures, measuring how small I could whittle my waistline. I have hundreds of these pictures I can't seem to trash.
 |
| Size 1/3, unhealthily. Eating less than 300 calories a day. Hips are still huge. |
 |
| Hips down to size small/x-small. Unhealthy. X-small pants are loose, sweater falling off shoulders. Arms too thin. |
This is me at 108 pounds, a size one, still with some serious hips compared to the rest of me. I don't know what it is about my body, but that's just how it works for me. For an anorexic, it was seriously frustrating.
 |
| One year later. Less than 90 lbs. Pile of clothes are because nothing fits. Boobs are nonexistent. Pants are children's size. Sweatshirt is x-small and is far too big. A few months after this, I began eating again. |
But man, I still miss fitting into size zero jeans.
Dec 1, 2012
Biphobia
This is going to be uncomfortable no matter what, just because of the topic. I read this paper recently on feminist lesbians and the proclivity of thought that lesbians and lesbian relationships are "morally pure" compared to the "deviant bisexual." It was very condescending toward bisexuals in general, and it made me uncomfortable.
I'm not bisexual. I dated boys until I realized that gross feeling wasn't normal. I date, love and am attracted to women exclusively, so I can really only understand the lesbian point of view. I understand being wary and unsettled when it comes to dating a bisexual woman but I think this comes from my own insecurities rather than anything she does. (With exception to the Redhead.)
Is biphobia okay? Is biphobia okay from a group of individuals who have been discriminated against for our gender identity and/or sexual orientation? I admit, it's hard for me to understand how the bisexual orientation works. It's hard for me not to feel threatened by it, or to feel like in a bisexual world I will never be enough. But should that keep me from calling it a legitimate orientation? No. Should that allow me to condescend to those who believe that gender plays no part in attraction or love? No. Should it allow me to call bisexuals "greedy" or "indecisive?" Absolutely not. But I've heard it all said.
It's sort of like how some butches and femmes I meet condescend to me because I'm just "middle of the road." Like, I'm not good enough because I haven't picked a side and don't know where I fit in their dynamic. I'm not "lesbian enough." Bisexual people don't feel "lesbian enough" or "gay enough" or "straight enough" and they shouldn't have to.
It's time we stop being so exclusive and let the bisexuals in, because a lady who likes other ladies is awesome, and if there are boys here and there, so what? If you want to judge her because she's crazy, that's a totally different story. I mean, c'mon, we judge cray-cray lesbians all the time :)
Update: It has just been brought to my attention that I wrote about Biphobia years ago. How interesting to see the difference/similarities in my posts.
I'm not bisexual. I dated boys until I realized that gross feeling wasn't normal. I date, love and am attracted to women exclusively, so I can really only understand the lesbian point of view. I understand being wary and unsettled when it comes to dating a bisexual woman but I think this comes from my own insecurities rather than anything she does. (With exception to the Redhead.)
Is biphobia okay? Is biphobia okay from a group of individuals who have been discriminated against for our gender identity and/or sexual orientation? I admit, it's hard for me to understand how the bisexual orientation works. It's hard for me not to feel threatened by it, or to feel like in a bisexual world I will never be enough. But should that keep me from calling it a legitimate orientation? No. Should that allow me to condescend to those who believe that gender plays no part in attraction or love? No. Should it allow me to call bisexuals "greedy" or "indecisive?" Absolutely not. But I've heard it all said.
It's sort of like how some butches and femmes I meet condescend to me because I'm just "middle of the road." Like, I'm not good enough because I haven't picked a side and don't know where I fit in their dynamic. I'm not "lesbian enough." Bisexual people don't feel "lesbian enough" or "gay enough" or "straight enough" and they shouldn't have to.
It's time we stop being so exclusive and let the bisexuals in, because a lady who likes other ladies is awesome, and if there are boys here and there, so what? If you want to judge her because she's crazy, that's a totally different story. I mean, c'mon, we judge cray-cray lesbians all the time :)
Update: It has just been brought to my attention that I wrote about Biphobia years ago. How interesting to see the difference/similarities in my posts.
Nov 21, 2012
Day 30 Mirrors
30 Day Letter Challenge
Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror
Not a happy one. Sorry.
Babe,
What the hell are you doing? You're spilling out you're whole life into a computer screen and hoping to find what from it? Redemption? Realization? Friends? Love? Community? You have two jobs. You spend all your time taking care of other people, making sure others are safe, comforted, pushed to succeed. What the hell are you doing about yourself?
When was the last time you went on a date? When was the last time you stopped dreaming about great girls and went out to find one you connect with? You're lonely, idiot. You're throwing words into a fiber optic stream to connect with people you share some common ground with, but it doesn't make up for the fact that you're best friend moved away and the redhead is no longer in the picture.
How often do you look at me and tell me that we're not going to do this anymore? That we're going to live the life we want? That we're going to move away and spend our nights in bars with live bands and learn new music and new instruments and go to art galleries and lounge in the grass and fallen leaves listening to the rain with a cup of hot chocolate and maybe perform again? That we're going to work one job with actual hours where you punch a time clock and know your schedule weeks in advance? How often have we said we're going to get the hell out of California?
And we're talking about this again, now, knowing that it's not going to happen soon. This pep talk is doing nothing. Tomorrow you'll see the family and take care of everyone and everything and hear your sister talk about her due date and of course you'll need to be there to help with the other kids and there are so many things which need your attention so you'll stay here, trapped, for who knows how long.
You rescue everyone but yourself. I know you won't do it, but I wish you would.
-30 Day Challenge Complete-
Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror
Not a happy one. Sorry.
Babe,
What the hell are you doing? You're spilling out you're whole life into a computer screen and hoping to find what from it? Redemption? Realization? Friends? Love? Community? You have two jobs. You spend all your time taking care of other people, making sure others are safe, comforted, pushed to succeed. What the hell are you doing about yourself?
When was the last time you went on a date? When was the last time you stopped dreaming about great girls and went out to find one you connect with? You're lonely, idiot. You're throwing words into a fiber optic stream to connect with people you share some common ground with, but it doesn't make up for the fact that you're best friend moved away and the redhead is no longer in the picture.
How often do you look at me and tell me that we're not going to do this anymore? That we're going to live the life we want? That we're going to move away and spend our nights in bars with live bands and learn new music and new instruments and go to art galleries and lounge in the grass and fallen leaves listening to the rain with a cup of hot chocolate and maybe perform again? That we're going to work one job with actual hours where you punch a time clock and know your schedule weeks in advance? How often have we said we're going to get the hell out of California?
And we're talking about this again, now, knowing that it's not going to happen soon. This pep talk is doing nothing. Tomorrow you'll see the family and take care of everyone and everything and hear your sister talk about her due date and of course you'll need to be there to help with the other kids and there are so many things which need your attention so you'll stay here, trapped, for who knows how long.
You rescue everyone but yourself. I know you won't do it, but I wish you would.
-30 Day Challenge Complete-
Nov 20, 2012
Day 29 Love/Fear
30 Day Letter Challenge
Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but are too afraid to
First post from the new computer! Can I get a cheer?
Love and fear coincide more often than you might think. I'm afraid to disappoint my friends, my colleagues, my boss, my family, my girlfriends. I like when people like me, so much that you might call it a fatal flaw. So, when people set me on a pedestal, I try very hard to stay up there instead of letting myself tumble down.
I have so many sides to my personality, like everyone does, but most only see two or three. I suppose that by reading my blog you see more of me. You see when I get pissed and want to fight, the moments where I break down and want to cry, my huge ego and my complete insecurities, my gangster moments, and my need to fix the world. You see how I want to believe there is good in everyone, how little I guard myself against people, and yet how I constantly guard myself by not letting anyone in.
I suppose I tell everything to you, like I would a diary, considering you're almost as quiet. I don't mind the lurking readers - I know what it's like to read and connect and feel like you're not alone and someone else is going through all this crap. It's why I started a blog in the first place. It's just interesting that you all across the interwebs, who have never met me, probably know me better than my best friends. In a way, that's horribly sad, but in another way, I guess it's to be expected.
Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but are too afraid to
First post from the new computer! Can I get a cheer?
Love and fear coincide more often than you might think. I'm afraid to disappoint my friends, my colleagues, my boss, my family, my girlfriends. I like when people like me, so much that you might call it a fatal flaw. So, when people set me on a pedestal, I try very hard to stay up there instead of letting myself tumble down.
I have so many sides to my personality, like everyone does, but most only see two or three. I suppose that by reading my blog you see more of me. You see when I get pissed and want to fight, the moments where I break down and want to cry, my huge ego and my complete insecurities, my gangster moments, and my need to fix the world. You see how I want to believe there is good in everyone, how little I guard myself against people, and yet how I constantly guard myself by not letting anyone in.
I suppose I tell everything to you, like I would a diary, considering you're almost as quiet. I don't mind the lurking readers - I know what it's like to read and connect and feel like you're not alone and someone else is going through all this crap. It's why I started a blog in the first place. It's just interesting that you all across the interwebs, who have never met me, probably know me better than my best friends. In a way, that's horribly sad, but in another way, I guess it's to be expected.
Nov 17, 2012
26 Pinky Promise
30 Day Letter Challenge
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
I made a girl pinky promise to do her English homework the other night, but I wasn't promising anything.
I promised someone that we'd die together. I think I was eight or nine at the time, and I couldn't imagine living alone. A car accident, we decided, so that we couldn't grow old and die in a hospital room that smelled like bleach and hurt our ears with high pitched machines humming.
I pinky swore to my childhood best friend that we'd be best friends forever. I promised Ladybug we'd never lie to each other. I pinky promised my grandfather that if he stopped smoking I'd clean up the shop, every day. She moved away, I've never outright told Ladybug I'm gay (I'm terrified), and my grandfather quit smoking for the rest of his life but I only kept my promise for a few months.
I think I do better when I don't involve pinkies.
Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to
I made a girl pinky promise to do her English homework the other night, but I wasn't promising anything.
I promised someone that we'd die together. I think I was eight or nine at the time, and I couldn't imagine living alone. A car accident, we decided, so that we couldn't grow old and die in a hospital room that smelled like bleach and hurt our ears with high pitched machines humming.
I pinky swore to my childhood best friend that we'd be best friends forever. I promised Ladybug we'd never lie to each other. I pinky promised my grandfather that if he stopped smoking I'd clean up the shop, every day. She moved away, I've never outright told Ladybug I'm gay (I'm terrified), and my grandfather quit smoking for the rest of his life but I only kept my promise for a few months.
I think I do better when I don't involve pinkies.
Nov 9, 2012
Day 18 Better Me
30 Day Letter Challenge
Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be
The person I wish I could be or the person I wish I would be? I wish I could be a professional volleyball player, but I'm super short, have a sports injury to one knee and didn't start playing volleyball until junior high. I also wish I could be a violinist, but I've never picked up a violin, can't afford one and I'm pretty sure you have to start before you are five.
But the person I wish I would be, that's totally different. I wish I was more passionate and pushed myself to do the things I enjoy as a career. Whether it's singing, writing, theater, driving, photography, I think life would be easier if I truly loved what I do to earn to money for myself and my family. I wish I would be a better person, a more social person, a nicer person, a more forgiving and tolerant person.
I wish I would go to school to be a racecar driver because I would be really good at that.
These are all things I can change about myself. These are all things I can push myself to be if I really want to, if I have the motivation. But when I work 14-20 hour days and I'm exhausted when I come home and tired when I wake up, I just don't have the time or energy. I guess I could stop writing, but then I would just go crazy, and nobody wants that :)
Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be
The person I wish I could be or the person I wish I would be? I wish I could be a professional volleyball player, but I'm super short, have a sports injury to one knee and didn't start playing volleyball until junior high. I also wish I could be a violinist, but I've never picked up a violin, can't afford one and I'm pretty sure you have to start before you are five.
But the person I wish I would be, that's totally different. I wish I was more passionate and pushed myself to do the things I enjoy as a career. Whether it's singing, writing, theater, driving, photography, I think life would be easier if I truly loved what I do to earn to money for myself and my family. I wish I would be a better person, a more social person, a nicer person, a more forgiving and tolerant person.
I wish I would go to school to be a racecar driver because I would be really good at that.
These are all things I can change about myself. These are all things I can push myself to be if I really want to, if I have the motivation. But when I work 14-20 hour days and I'm exhausted when I come home and tired when I wake up, I just don't have the time or energy. I guess I could stop writing, but then I would just go crazy, and nobody wants that :)
Ladybug Update
I finally got an update from Ladybug (backstory:
cousin I grew up with as my little brother). He's got some time off for
the Christmas holiday, but I'm not going to be able to see him because I'm
working. There's family driving down, and I want to join them, so badly, but
it's the most critical time of the year and I can't just take time off.
He's changed so much over the last few months, somehow even taller. He seems to have grown into his dress uniform, so he looks more like a true Marine than a kid playing dress up :) He's grown quite handsome and I know I'm going to have to beat people off of him and make sure whoever gets him deserves him. I wish I could post one of the pictures I've gotten, as he carries this James Dean vibe I can't describe to you unless you see it, but I'm not going to out him on my blog. Main point is, he's safe and I'm so happy for that.
He's having fun with friends, but being responsible, and enjoying the stuff he's working on. I'm glad I know what's going on with him, but I still miss him. Hopefully he can get some time off in the spring and I'll get to see him.
Nov 6, 2012
Visits
As you may know, I've been visiting with my best friend who is very liberal, socially progressive, tolerant - the first person who told me it was okay when I came out. And she's not voting Obama. In fact, she's not voting at all.
I already voted and I believe it's a secret ballot and I'm not going to tell you in detail what I did and didn't vote for, but it's pretty obvious I'm pro-Obama and at the very least anti-Romney and completely terrified of what will happen if he becomes the president. So, urging people to vote on the candidate of their choice has been fairly important to me. I never talked to her about it, never pushed her because she is so smart and I just assumed it was a no brainer. Of course if you're an informed citizen you would vote, right?
Apparently, wrong. It's hard for me to comprehend. Especially since so many of the people I follow on twitter are zealous about voting and knowing the issues. Social media caused me to be very well informed as I cast my ballot this year. I just can't believe that bright, informed people in demographics where rights and privileges are at stake would sit this one out.
I already voted and I believe it's a secret ballot and I'm not going to tell you in detail what I did and didn't vote for, but it's pretty obvious I'm pro-Obama and at the very least anti-Romney and completely terrified of what will happen if he becomes the president. So, urging people to vote on the candidate of their choice has been fairly important to me. I never talked to her about it, never pushed her because she is so smart and I just assumed it was a no brainer. Of course if you're an informed citizen you would vote, right?
Apparently, wrong. It's hard for me to comprehend. Especially since so many of the people I follow on twitter are zealous about voting and knowing the issues. Social media caused me to be very well informed as I cast my ballot this year. I just can't believe that bright, informed people in demographics where rights and privileges are at stake would sit this one out.
Oct 28, 2012
Baggage
I just want to start out by saying that this is not a cry for help. This is communicating.
Everyone has their own baggage, whether it's mental illness, criminal records, bad dating history, abuse, violence, drinking, drugs, addictions of any other sort, or whatever else. When you have an eating disorder, like all other baggage, it never goes away. It's not like one day you wake up and you can eat everything and anything and in the back of your head you're not thinking of all the calories adding up in big piles.
This is my baggage. It's not so much baggage for other people because it's really an internal awareness. Do I eat junk food? Yes. Do I eat and not feel guilty? Yes. But I've come a long way since I was really sick in high school, and for some people it's a very daily struggle. I still drink at least fourteen glasses of water a day - it's a habit I haven't been able to break.
I haven't been eating much lately. At first I think it was time management, I've been working two jobs and trying to get things done, and when I finally have time to eat it's been four hours since I was first hungry and I can barely choke down a granola bar without feeling sick.
I've been doing it for a while now, so the idea of eating a whole meal makes me nauseous. I don't think it's my eating disorder talking. It doesn't feel like forcing myself not to eat by drinking ice water and looking at pro-ana posters. I feel physically ill. That's not to say that those feelings couldn't stem from something psychological in nature, which is why I was getting worried again. There were four days over this past week that I only had an energy bar (bagel type thing with nuts and fruit) or a granola bar over the whole day, which is not normal eating behavior.
Today, though, was my first full day off since last Sunday, and it felt so good! I moved some stuff, cleaned some stuff, moved some more stuff, and climbed around in the rafters to repair some stuff. All in all, I got a lot of things done, and worked up an appetite!
So, I made flautas for dinner! Yes, flautas! You know, those delicious things made from flour tortillas with meat or tofu (chicken, in my case) sauce, cheese, sour cream, guacamole, lettuce, and salsa? Which means today I had breakfast and a full dinner, which eases some of my worry. I try to be good, I try to be healthy, so I need to make sure to stop and take time to eat, no matter how many jobs I'm trying to do.
Everyone has their own baggage, whether it's mental illness, criminal records, bad dating history, abuse, violence, drinking, drugs, addictions of any other sort, or whatever else. When you have an eating disorder, like all other baggage, it never goes away. It's not like one day you wake up and you can eat everything and anything and in the back of your head you're not thinking of all the calories adding up in big piles.
This is my baggage. It's not so much baggage for other people because it's really an internal awareness. Do I eat junk food? Yes. Do I eat and not feel guilty? Yes. But I've come a long way since I was really sick in high school, and for some people it's a very daily struggle. I still drink at least fourteen glasses of water a day - it's a habit I haven't been able to break.
I haven't been eating much lately. At first I think it was time management, I've been working two jobs and trying to get things done, and when I finally have time to eat it's been four hours since I was first hungry and I can barely choke down a granola bar without feeling sick.
I've been doing it for a while now, so the idea of eating a whole meal makes me nauseous. I don't think it's my eating disorder talking. It doesn't feel like forcing myself not to eat by drinking ice water and looking at pro-ana posters. I feel physically ill. That's not to say that those feelings couldn't stem from something psychological in nature, which is why I was getting worried again. There were four days over this past week that I only had an energy bar (bagel type thing with nuts and fruit) or a granola bar over the whole day, which is not normal eating behavior.
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| Stuff I moved |
So, I made flautas for dinner! Yes, flautas! You know, those delicious things made from flour tortillas with meat or tofu (chicken, in my case) sauce, cheese, sour cream, guacamole, lettuce, and salsa? Which means today I had breakfast and a full dinner, which eases some of my worry. I try to be good, I try to be healthy, so I need to make sure to stop and take time to eat, no matter how many jobs I'm trying to do.
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| Stuff I found, but not at my house. |
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| I found a very old Rainbow Brite doll tucked in a cabinet full of other dolls, also not at my house! |
Oct 25, 2012
TeganAndSara
If you follow me on twitter, you know I have a great love for the ABC hit show #Nashville.They cover some beautiful songs on that show, and it has struck such a chord in me that I dragged my guitar out of its dusty corner.
I haven't played the guitar in months. Almost four months, actually, so when I picked up my trusty Layla today (when I was a kid I thought the song Lola, by the Kinks L-O-L-A Lola was L-A-Y-L-A Layla and it was my favorite song), I expected certain things to come back. Maybe the last song I learned to play or Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
What came rushing back instead was the first song I ever learned to play - the whole reason I bought my guitar in the first place. Every card carrying lesbian worth her weight in vinyl albums released in the 2000s knows the lyrics to this song:
What a weird thing to come back to me. It doesn't apply to my life anymore, so I guess it's time to practice and learn a new song :)
Also, this makes me remember when I looked to Tegan and Sara for hair advice. Never again.
I haven't played the guitar in months. Almost four months, actually, so when I picked up my trusty Layla today (when I was a kid I thought the song Lola, by the Kinks L-O-L-A Lola was L-A-Y-L-A Layla and it was my favorite song), I expected certain things to come back. Maybe the last song I learned to play or Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
What came rushing back instead was the first song I ever learned to play - the whole reason I bought my guitar in the first place. Every card carrying lesbian worth her weight in vinyl albums released in the 2000s knows the lyrics to this song:
What a weird thing to come back to me. It doesn't apply to my life anymore, so I guess it's time to practice and learn a new song :)
Also, this makes me remember when I looked to Tegan and Sara for hair advice. Never again.
Oct 23, 2012
Day 1- Redux BFF
I started the 30 Day Letter Challenge two years ago and never completed it. This bugs me- a lot.
So I'm starting over- I mean, it's been two years. Should I link to the letters I wrote in 2010? I will for this one because you can't answer me before I post this...
Day 1- Your Best Friend
Luckily, my best friend hasn't changed :)
Two years and it's been you and me, babe, through thick and thin. 2011 seemed like the time of our lives :) I got over a lot of stuff, you dumped your jerk boyfriend, and we just spent time together, having fun, being ourselves, learning, growing, laughing.
I love that we can go days, weeks, months, not saying one word, and then I can text you a picture of the most random thing in the world and all of the sudden we are on the same wavelength again. You know exactly what I'm thinking, what I'm trying to say and you say it better than me.
Our relationship works out so well because every time I say "I really miss you," you know I'm saying I love you, and every time I say, "I could so go for one of your homemade cupcakes!" you know I mean everything is falling apart and I wish you were here so I could talk to you.
Because I don't talk. I'm a failure when it comes to communicating (Remember Avoidance?) I try and I try to work on it, but sometimes things eat at me from the inside out and I can't share them with anyone, even you. But when we talk about how upsetting the last episode of "Grey's Anatomy" was, you know that I'm spilling my guts about everything I just can't say.
I'll never tell you all this, chica, but I don't need to. You already know it.
-Tabs
So I'm starting over- I mean, it's been two years. Should I link to the letters I wrote in 2010? I will for this one because you can't answer me before I post this...
Day 1- Your Best Friend
Luckily, my best friend hasn't changed :)
Two years and it's been you and me, babe, through thick and thin. 2011 seemed like the time of our lives :) I got over a lot of stuff, you dumped your jerk boyfriend, and we just spent time together, having fun, being ourselves, learning, growing, laughing.
I love that we can go days, weeks, months, not saying one word, and then I can text you a picture of the most random thing in the world and all of the sudden we are on the same wavelength again. You know exactly what I'm thinking, what I'm trying to say and you say it better than me.
Our relationship works out so well because every time I say "I really miss you," you know I'm saying I love you, and every time I say, "I could so go for one of your homemade cupcakes!" you know I mean everything is falling apart and I wish you were here so I could talk to you.
Because I don't talk. I'm a failure when it comes to communicating (Remember Avoidance?) I try and I try to work on it, but sometimes things eat at me from the inside out and I can't share them with anyone, even you. But when we talk about how upsetting the last episode of "Grey's Anatomy" was, you know that I'm spilling my guts about everything I just can't say.
I'll never tell you all this, chica, but I don't need to. You already know it.
-Tabs
Oct 6, 2012
Don't Touch
It's long, so if you want to skip to the end, the last three paragraphs are my favorite. I'll bold it for you :)
Recently I wrote about Sexual Objectification and this, that, and the why-fors of appreciating and abhorring it. Whenever I write a post the subject seems to stick in my head for a time, and then suddenly life seems to revolve around it.
All week I have been hyper-aware of my personal space. While I like my physical traits to be appreciated, I don't enjoy being touched by people I don't know well. Handshakes, hugs, and pats on the back are fine, but lingering contact with strangers/brief acquaintances unnerves me.
Whenever I know someone will be touching me in a professional context (masseuse, chiropractor, doctor, gym trainer, etc) I shower and shave in the few hours before I go. Feeling fresh, wet, and clean is very important in those meetings. It makes me feel like I'm courteous and hygienic, and helps reassure me that particular setting will be strictly professional.
Whether this is normal behavior or this is because I have had problems with molestation in the past (ex-boyfriend and prior) is somewhat irrelevant considering I don't find the behavior harmful. I don't go ballistic if I can't shower in the hour before I have to go to the doctor- it's just a general guideline. Although I wonder how many other people do the same thing.
When I'm with friends, family, and romantic partners, touching is wonderful- warm embraces, lingering brushes, harsh hits, surprising grabs. I'm not on the defensive when I know who is around me and all sorts of touching is great.
So, when I was at the gym the other day, my trainer (who is a woman because, yeah, I admit I'm just more comfortable with that) called over the big-boss-man to ask for help working out this jumping muscle issue I was having. He put his hand full on my pelvis between my hipbones (God, his hand was large, like a baseball mitt) and it felt far too close to my vulva, even though it probably wasn't.
He was just measuring something because he calculated a few things and moved his hand around, and then he pressed into a particular spot on my upper thigh. Wouldn't you know, the tiny muscle in my lower leg stopped twitching immediately! That part was kind of cool. However, the fact that this guy that I didn't really know (I had talked to him a few times before and he seemed nice) was all up in my private business kind of freaked me out.
It reminded me of my first year in college, before I came out, when girls would grab at my boobs or other body parts at parties. There was one girl who would constantly sit on my lap and slip her bra off underneath her tank while hovering her breasts in front of my face (at multiple parties) all as an act to get guys to pay attention to her. (I didn't mind her so much as she never groped me, just sort of got into my personal space) There was this unspoken rule that we were all girls and our bodies were all communal property. If it enticed a guy into a bedroom for one of them it was even better. But gay or not, it's not any more okay for a random girl to grope me than it is for a guy. If I don't like you, if I don't know you, it's an unwanted advance.
Sometimes I can meet a person and get comfortable with him/her/z in less than five minutes. Other times it takes weeks, months, years, and occasionally I never get comfortable with that person. Some people have a vibe that I can never quite get over. Some strangers never feel like strangers, and some people I've known my whole life still give me the creeps.
The point is: my breasts, my body, is my property, and the ability to touch it is not a right you are entitled to, it's a permission I give you. It's a trust I bestow you with.
Don't abuse it.
Oct 1, 2012
Lez Get Real
Okay, I want to talk about something that I'm not sure many people talk about, mostly because it's a little uncomfortable.
Do you go the restroom in groups?
Seriously. The whole taking-other-people-with-me-to-pee thing is sometimes necessary to avoid becoming a social outcast, but I have never felt comfortable with it. The whole idea of someone being able to hear every move I make in a stall half an inch from someone else is a little creepy.
When I was ten my best friend liked to come into the bathroom with me (like the ones in our houses) and would fiddle around in front of the mirror while I tried my hardest to ignore the fact that she was there and simultaneously keep her talking so she couldn't hear me pee.
Those were some of the most uncomfortable moments of my life. But I loved her in the way only best friends can (the sleep in the same bed for three weeks straight, borrow clothes so you wouldn't have to go home, and cry when your parents ripped you apart after a month and forced you to sleep alone in your own bed type of love) so I let her do whatever she wanted.
However, I still get bladder shy when I feel like someone is listening in. Is this normal? Men's public restrooms have urinals, no stalls necessary! They just whip it out like "whatever" and it's fine, but if I feel like someone is within 30 feet all urge to pee just dissipates.
So lately whenever I visit my mom, I've noticed she'll linger outside the door of the bathroom when I'm inside. She'll answer a text message or write a note or talk to herself or god-knows-what else, but I feel like I'm on Vomit Watch 2012.
Never mind that I've never enjoyed throwing up and my issues with anorexia are totally different than bulimia, but I feel as if she's purposefully keeping an ear out for me. Which, naturally, makes it hard to find time to pee! I don't care if she's my mother, I still have this weird aversion.
Am I nuts? Is she really just there by chance? Is she coming from a good and helpful place? (I don't doubt this one at all.)
More importantly, do you feel this way? Or do you invite your friends into the bathroom with you and one person straightens her hair while you pee? It's not about being naked. I don't care if friends are in the room while I shower- it's the privacy of the act that I wish to keep intact.
P.S. Someone explain full parameters of NSFW- is it only sexual, or is it stuff like this? Because I'm never sure but I thought I should give fair warning if you don't want your boss to know you're reading about some girl's insecurities about being in the restroom with other people.
Do you go the restroom in groups?
Seriously. The whole taking-other-people-with-me-to-pee thing is sometimes necessary to avoid becoming a social outcast, but I have never felt comfortable with it. The whole idea of someone being able to hear every move I make in a stall half an inch from someone else is a little creepy.
When I was ten my best friend liked to come into the bathroom with me (like the ones in our houses) and would fiddle around in front of the mirror while I tried my hardest to ignore the fact that she was there and simultaneously keep her talking so she couldn't hear me pee.
Those were some of the most uncomfortable moments of my life. But I loved her in the way only best friends can (the sleep in the same bed for three weeks straight, borrow clothes so you wouldn't have to go home, and cry when your parents ripped you apart after a month and forced you to sleep alone in your own bed type of love) so I let her do whatever she wanted.
However, I still get bladder shy when I feel like someone is listening in. Is this normal? Men's public restrooms have urinals, no stalls necessary! They just whip it out like "whatever" and it's fine, but if I feel like someone is within 30 feet all urge to pee just dissipates.
So lately whenever I visit my mom, I've noticed she'll linger outside the door of the bathroom when I'm inside. She'll answer a text message or write a note or talk to herself or god-knows-what else, but I feel like I'm on Vomit Watch 2012.
Never mind that I've never enjoyed throwing up and my issues with anorexia are totally different than bulimia, but I feel as if she's purposefully keeping an ear out for me. Which, naturally, makes it hard to find time to pee! I don't care if she's my mother, I still have this weird aversion.
Am I nuts? Is she really just there by chance? Is she coming from a good and helpful place? (I don't doubt this one at all.)
More importantly, do you feel this way? Or do you invite your friends into the bathroom with you and one person straightens her hair while you pee? It's not about being naked. I don't care if friends are in the room while I shower- it's the privacy of the act that I wish to keep intact.
P.S. Someone explain full parameters of NSFW- is it only sexual, or is it stuff like this? Because I'm never sure but I thought I should give fair warning if you don't want your boss to know you're reading about some girl's insecurities about being in the restroom with other people.
Sep 29, 2012
Sexual Objectification: Part 1
I like to be sexually objectified. Except that I don't. Not in what that term really means. Have you ever looked it up?
Objectification: depersonalization - representing a human being as a physical thing deprived of personal qualities or individuality;
I even found this from a Stanford article:
Objectification is a notion central to feminist theory. It can be roughly defined as the seeing and/or treating a person, usually a woman, as an object. In this entry, the focus is primarily on sexual objectification, objectification occurring in the sexual realm. Martha Nussbaum (1995, 257) has identified seven features that are involved in the idea of treating a person as an object:
Point being: I don't like the depersonalization aspect of objectification. I love that I am an intelligent, opinionated, respectful, witty woman. I love when people recognize those qualities in me, and I don't want those qualities to be lost or pushed aside so I am viewed purely as an object to be used for sexual gratification. I refuse to be treated "as if I lack the capacity to speak."
But I do want those wonderful qualities of mine to step into the background occasionally. I find it thrilling, arousing, to have all thoughts of how sweet or smart I am fly out the window because of an all consuming sexual desire. Perhaps this is because I have always felt pretty, not sexy. Perhaps it is because I have always felt body conscious. But there is something about when someone turns to me with that heat in the eyes that makes me tingle all over.
Even when I'm not attracted to that person, I'll find myself doing little things to keep up the crush. I'll dress nicer, keep up my makeup, make an effort. My smiles are a little slower, my eyes a little warmer, my blouse a little more low cut.
Is it teasing? Is it wrong? Am I not supposed to do it? I've never really seen the problem in looking my best. As long as I'm not flirting I don't feel like I'm leading anyone on. I'm careful to not give the wrong impression, careful to not say anything that would be interpreted as interested in a date, but I'm a flirtatious person by normally, so I have to cut back and I can't say I've never accidentally slipped. What do you think? Is the body language too much? Am I being unfair to the other person?
Am I, in turn, objectifying/using someone else as he/she/z sexualizes me, in order to boost my own self esteem? Do you think this is a better or worse form of objectification? Do you enjoy when your body is sexualized by strangers, acquaintances, your partner? Or do you prefer that your mental attributes be your sexiest qualities?
Objectification: depersonalization - representing a human being as a physical thing deprived of personal qualities or individuality;
I even found this from a Stanford article:
Objectification is a notion central to feminist theory. It can be roughly defined as the seeing and/or treating a person, usually a woman, as an object. In this entry, the focus is primarily on sexual objectification, objectification occurring in the sexual realm. Martha Nussbaum (1995, 257) has identified seven features that are involved in the idea of treating a person as an object:
- instrumentality: the treatment of a person as a tool for the objectifier's purposes;
- denial of autonomy: the treatment of a person as lacking in autonomy and self-determination;
- inertness: the treatment of a person as lacking in agency, and perhaps also in activity;
- fungibility: the treatment of a person as interchangeable with other objects;
- violability: the treatment of a person as lacking in boundary-integrity;
- ownership: the treatment of a person as something that is owned by another (can be bought or sold);
- denial of subjectivity: the treatment of a person as something whose experiences and feelings (if any) need not be taken into account.
- reduction to body: the treatment of a person as identified with their body, or body parts;
- reduction to appearance: the treatment of a person primarily in terms of how they look, or how they appear to the senses;
- silencing: the treatment of a person as if they are silent, lacking the capacity to speak.
Point being: I don't like the depersonalization aspect of objectification. I love that I am an intelligent, opinionated, respectful, witty woman. I love when people recognize those qualities in me, and I don't want those qualities to be lost or pushed aside so I am viewed purely as an object to be used for sexual gratification. I refuse to be treated "as if I lack the capacity to speak."
But I do want those wonderful qualities of mine to step into the background occasionally. I find it thrilling, arousing, to have all thoughts of how sweet or smart I am fly out the window because of an all consuming sexual desire. Perhaps this is because I have always felt pretty, not sexy. Perhaps it is because I have always felt body conscious. But there is something about when someone turns to me with that heat in the eyes that makes me tingle all over.
Even when I'm not attracted to that person, I'll find myself doing little things to keep up the crush. I'll dress nicer, keep up my makeup, make an effort. My smiles are a little slower, my eyes a little warmer, my blouse a little more low cut.
Is it teasing? Is it wrong? Am I not supposed to do it? I've never really seen the problem in looking my best. As long as I'm not flirting I don't feel like I'm leading anyone on. I'm careful to not give the wrong impression, careful to not say anything that would be interpreted as interested in a date, but I'm a flirtatious person by normally, so I have to cut back and I can't say I've never accidentally slipped. What do you think? Is the body language too much? Am I being unfair to the other person?
Am I, in turn, objectifying/using someone else as he/she/z sexualizes me, in order to boost my own self esteem? Do you think this is a better or worse form of objectification? Do you enjoy when your body is sexualized by strangers, acquaintances, your partner? Or do you prefer that your mental attributes be your sexiest qualities?
Feb 22, 2010
Bitter/Compassion
I used to be the most compassionate person that people knew. An old lady trying to water her flowers would bring out the best in me. I would offer to help her, strike up a conversation, and spend the afternoon looking at old photo albums of her with her late husband.
Where did I go? Somewhere along the lines of jesting about being bitter and jokingly telling people to suck it up, I lost all of my compassion. Has my life gotten so bad that I really think everyone's life is easier, or have I had the strength to stand alone and think of other people as weak? Or am I jealous that other people are used to having support systems while I have stood alone since kindergarten? Or do I just not respect anyone anymore?
My life is not that bad. It's not ideal, but whose is? So why have I become this bitter old hag? My god, I'm barely an adult. I've barely made it past puberty and being a teenager. How did I become this angry, cranky, awful old lady who wears all black and lives in the shady looking house on the corner surrounded by 72 black cats?
I can't go around telling people that they are weak if they cry. I can't tell people that it's not okay to lean on anyone else or be emotionally needy for 5 minutes. That's really not okay (as I am beginning to see).
Maybe somewhere along the way my hatred for emotionally clingy women got to me, and now I take it out on everyone. Maybe I tried to rescue too many people who shattered me over and over again. Maybe I got tired of being the one everyone leaned on for support. Maybe I was upset that I am always the rock of the family, and I am not allowed to lean on any of my family members in return. Maybe too many people invited me to their pity parties and took advantage of my compassion. Maybe too many people asked it of me, whereas I feel most compassionate for those who do not seek pity. Maybe it's that too many people are fake, and I only want to see truth.
Point is, I have to find that little girl that can't resist mending someone's broken heart.
I'm going to blame the tears here on lack of sleep and emotional overload. And who is here to see me shed them? The interwebs. Who will hold me as I cry myself to sleep? My own arms.
Maybe if I can find that compassion again I'll let someone lean on me, and maybe she hold me as I fall asleep.
Where did I go? Somewhere along the lines of jesting about being bitter and jokingly telling people to suck it up, I lost all of my compassion. Has my life gotten so bad that I really think everyone's life is easier, or have I had the strength to stand alone and think of other people as weak? Or am I jealous that other people are used to having support systems while I have stood alone since kindergarten? Or do I just not respect anyone anymore?
My life is not that bad. It's not ideal, but whose is? So why have I become this bitter old hag? My god, I'm barely an adult. I've barely made it past puberty and being a teenager. How did I become this angry, cranky, awful old lady who wears all black and lives in the shady looking house on the corner surrounded by 72 black cats?
I can't go around telling people that they are weak if they cry. I can't tell people that it's not okay to lean on anyone else or be emotionally needy for 5 minutes. That's really not okay (as I am beginning to see).
Maybe somewhere along the way my hatred for emotionally clingy women got to me, and now I take it out on everyone. Maybe I tried to rescue too many people who shattered me over and over again. Maybe I got tired of being the one everyone leaned on for support. Maybe I was upset that I am always the rock of the family, and I am not allowed to lean on any of my family members in return. Maybe too many people invited me to their pity parties and took advantage of my compassion. Maybe too many people asked it of me, whereas I feel most compassionate for those who do not seek pity. Maybe it's that too many people are fake, and I only want to see truth.
Point is, I have to find that little girl that can't resist mending someone's broken heart.
I'm going to blame the tears here on lack of sleep and emotional overload. And who is here to see me shed them? The interwebs. Who will hold me as I cry myself to sleep? My own arms.
Maybe if I can find that compassion again I'll let someone lean on me, and maybe she hold me as I fall asleep.
Jan 5, 2010
Coda/Parents
Mr. Sexsmith wrote a post which got me thinking, and alphafemme wrote a response that moved something inside of me. She mentioned CoDa. It's a funny name, and I didn't know it existed. Co-Dependent. Which, I think it's safe to say that I'm not really a co-dependent, but I do have a few CoDa tendencies and habits that I think I need to break.
I do the gesture thing a lot. I buy my friends dinner, I bought all the pots and pans for my last house instead of letting all the roommates pitch in. I stay in harmful relationships too long, take sex instead of love, use sex to gain approval, believe others incapable of taking care of themselves. I take on all the responsibility in a situation and then collapse under it's weight. Over this last week, I've seen exactly where I get this behavior from, and that is my mother. She is definitely a Co-dependent, and she needs help.
Here's where I get lost. Is it the CoDa in me that wants to take on the weight of getting her some help, or is it the daughter in me? When does being a loving, caring person cross over into the unhealthy danger zone of CoDa? How am I supposed to recognize when those boundaries are crossed?
Nothing on the love-life at the moment; still sorting out all my thoughts. Also nothing on the road trip so far, as, well, maybe just because I'm lazy with that one :P
On the flip side, Happy New Year!
I do the gesture thing a lot. I buy my friends dinner, I bought all the pots and pans for my last house instead of letting all the roommates pitch in. I stay in harmful relationships too long, take sex instead of love, use sex to gain approval, believe others incapable of taking care of themselves. I take on all the responsibility in a situation and then collapse under it's weight. Over this last week, I've seen exactly where I get this behavior from, and that is my mother. She is definitely a Co-dependent, and she needs help.
Here's where I get lost. Is it the CoDa in me that wants to take on the weight of getting her some help, or is it the daughter in me? When does being a loving, caring person cross over into the unhealthy danger zone of CoDa? How am I supposed to recognize when those boundaries are crossed?
Nothing on the love-life at the moment; still sorting out all my thoughts. Also nothing on the road trip so far, as, well, maybe just because I'm lazy with that one :P
On the flip side, Happy New Year!
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