Day 351

8PM:

At the end of August, I decided that it would be helpful to re-gig the August Greatist Challenge, continue it for the months to come as loving, supportive inspiration to my wife on her journey of recovery.  In October, it was less a day-to-day set of lines to structure.  It became more of an “open in case of emergency” situation.  Having a shitty day?  Check out the Greatist calendar and breathe five times.  Work using you like a punching bag?  Check out the Greatist calendar and name five things that make you happy right now.

Well, work has treated me like a punching bag for the last (insert what-I-wish-could-be-a-hyperbolic statement HERE [but it won’t be hyperbolic until there is care to remember that I am volunteering for the benefit of the school on a Saturday and that I asked for their blessing in stretching my professional limits for the benefit of my professional development]) and my back appears to be completely fucked either by lack-of-outlet stress or by working out to compensate for the stress, so I looked at the calendar and here are five things that make me happy right now:

#1: I am able to gloat about my grandfather, about the connection that he and I have right now.

#2: I have the means to be a little bit stupid.  And the universe knows it will make me happy, so it went from 10% to 40% to 50%.  Not making it any less stupid mind you, but somehow increasing the right-ness of it.  In setting the stage ever-so-snuggly, the universe made it fit ever-so-snuggly.  I can’t wait.

#3: As a supplement, being in the spirit of happy, of giving, of loving and caring (even for an hour), the parts of my brain that often go unused (because of the whole frosty workplace element), kicked into overdrive.  It gave me a way to combine #1 and #2 that will be beautiful, amazing and loving.  I can’t wait.

#4: Work sucks.  To escape, I went to my brother/sister/mother-in-law’s house after work today.  I was greeted at the door by my nephew, who’s initial reaction was to ask, “Are you staying for a visit?”  I did.  I didn’t because there were some ulterior motives.  I didn’t because there were political gains to be made.  I did because he enjoys the fact that I talk with him, at a level that is him, within his lines and colours, within his vivid.  I did because he enjoys that I read to him, and yes, he and I get impatient, but it is beautiful that he wants to know and learn and be immersed in something.  I did because he and I created love and amazing and beauty in that, because I get lost in that every time, because I got lost in that today.

#5: Work sucks.  To escape, I went to my brother/sister/mother-in-law’s house after work today.  I was greeted at the door by my nephew… no, this is not a repeat.  This deserves its own spot.  In sitting with my nephew, listening to him extolling the various Clash of Clans minutiae, my niece comes along.  Dressed as a beautiful princess (are there any other types at the age of two?), she found her nook = good lord, does she ever act like my wife (even her nose mirrors the cuteness of my love’s scratching and “stop iiiiiiiiiiiittttttttttt” [AN ASIDE: I LOVE IT!!!])!  Not only that, the loving side of this beautiful 831-day-old took her Mickey and Minnie dolls, made sure they were holding hands, snuggled them up to me, made sure they were holding hands, closed my arms around the three of them, made sure they were holding hands and found herself immersed in the comfy, began falling asleep.  I got to notice that.  I got to get lost in that.

#6 (because it’s been one of those mind-fuck days/weeks/fortnights/months/semesters): Even if the blackest parts of me don’t believe it (or the not-so-black parts of which the eating disordered, controlling blackness still has a hold), I can pass on the wisdom of my experiences to the next generation.  Even if the blackness-soaked parts of me scream differently, I can prevent further blackness, further destruction, further disordered thinking, further body dysmorphia and anorexic masochism, further self-hatred through the wisdom gained after being blackened…

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This means nothing

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This means everything

 

 

Day 350

7:15PM:

I do not regret that I find my value in people.  I find value and purpose in people, in others.  It means I get really fucking hurt, that I feel it to my core, in my nerves, throughout my circuitry.  Every time someone asks, “How are you?” and isn’t there for the answer, they take a part of me with them.  I am not necessarily surprised when I turn around as I am saddened by the loss of another part of my happy.

But in finding value and purpose in others not only gives me the reason to be Don, but the strength to do so as well, because it also means that I am not alone…

#1

can-stock-photo_csp18136716 “How’d it go today? (I figure you knocked it out of the park)… Good post-observation meeting?”

 

“And that’s why you’re awesome.  A lot of good comments.  And now I have some wisdom to share with you!”

can-stock-photo_csp18136716 “:).  I knew you would knock it out of the park.”

 

 

#2

 “You ok?”

“Unappreciated.  Not under, but un.  You know how it is here.”

 “Sorry a lot are feeling that way” (for an English teacher, not that grammatically correct when it comes to text messaging! – but I digress).

“Fuck ’em.  I know everything you do and all you do for that place and the support you give.  You were more thoughtful in your one phone call yesterday than most people there have been all week.”

 “Thanks friend”

 

#3

 “When a lot becomes too much I’m happy you’re by my side.  I can feel scared and at points hopeless, just for a second.  Because I know you’re there.”

“And that’s why it will never be too much.  Because foreverever together beats it every time.  Foreverever reclaimed.  I love you.”

 

 

 

Day 348

2:30PM:

Tired, beat down, worn out.

Don’t want to burden the evaluation process on anyone else, don’t want to burden the sleep on my wife, don’t want to be in oblivion like this though.

Not even sure I know what tools to use right now.  The hours of solace are fuzzy, not enough, not managing the pain.

I might be stronger, braver, wiser, more full of love and care.  But when the blackness shouts, making me blurry, making the spiders scurry in my brain, caking my soul with cobwebs…  When the blackness shouts and there’s no one to hear (or listen for or remember) my screams, I need this.  I hurt, that’s why I have to use those tools.

Remember the beautiful:

“Just because an animal is large, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want kindness; however big Tigger seems to be, remember that he wants as much kindness as Roo.”

— Roo, Pooh’s Little Instruction Book, inspired by A. A. Milne

Day 347

12PM:

Aaaah, the things the uninitiated don’t know…

The eating disorders you inadvertently cause.  The selfconsciousness you unknowingly perpetuate.

No lunch for the vegan.  Lunch for the vegetarian, lunch for the halal, lunch for the allergic, lunch for the picky (no tomatoes?).  But no lunch for me…

All I got was an “oh?!?”

You even asked about dietary preferences and I took the chance with a small breakfast.  I hoped for the best and was unprepared.  Stupid me.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t the mistake that got me, it was the reaction.  I could have brushed it off, had you not brushed me off.

But you don’t know the blackness, you’ve never seen the underside.  That is how you could give it power.  Inadvertently.  But that’s because I’m expendable, isn’t it?

Restaurant industry might be transient, but so are teachers in schools.  I’m expendable; if you treat me as such, it will empower my black bits.  But I will also act expendable.  Want to use me up?  Want to treat me as a cog?  See the blackness you will spawn.

Oh yeah, and the topic of the day was Mental Health and Well-being.  You think I am mentally healthy and well?

Day 346

6:30PM:

Reading some MindBodyGreen articles.  This one, “An Open Letter To Anyone With An Eating Disorder,” stuck:

2. You will get through this.

An eating disorder is not something you have to struggle with your entire life. Some days, it can feel as if you’ll never make it to the other side. I certainly felt this way. However, with lots of counseling, yoga, self-­awareness, and re­defining my beliefs, I did just that. From start to finish, it took me almost four years. For some, it takes much less time, for some, much more. Be patient with your healing process.

3. But once you struggle with an eating disorder, it’s unlikely it will leave you forever.

When talking to a chemical abuse counselor for a paper I was writing in graduate school, she explained that eating disorders are the hardest addictions as you have to eat to survive. You don’t have to drink, do drugs, shop, or gamble to survive. But you do have to eat. Several times a day. This means that even if you overcome your disorder, controlling thoughts about food may linger in the back of your mind. That’s OK.

I have a healthy relationship with food these days, but occasionally I will overanalyze my food choices, eat too much uncontrollably, or obsess about exercising. It is a normal part of who I am, and I have accepted that.”

Always in recovery, never recovered.

Never slowing down, never rusting.

I didn’t eat breakfast until 1PM today.  It happens sometimes.  Sometimes my way gets in the better of my will.

This is one day.  This is not everyday.

Day 345

6:30PM:

I cannot even trust myself with my judgment about Grilled Yam Soup.  My first reaction was that this would be great!  A second later, my second reaction was to question it.  “Ooooh, that looks good” VS. where does that come from: the calorie-less brothiness or my actual soul?

Am I missing a part of my heart?  Or have I fractured/fragmented/frazzled/fractioned/frayed so much that because this reaction felt like it came from my head (my thoughts, my perception), it is somehow less?  Do I need to expect something more visceral?  Is the ME version of ME more visceral or does the ME version of ME that if it comes from my head, then it comes from me!?!

I think about it thirdly, as I like the idea of Grilled Yam Soup.  I like the idea of coming home to it, taking it to school, putting it in boxes and being able to focus on enjoying every morsel.  But I cannot trust the why – I question the why.  I am so disjointed/disassociated/disgusted/dismayed that I cannot hear the voice fairly.  Or is it that I am so tired (no synonyms for that one; maybe just FUCKING tired), that I cannot hear it, that my soul and desired do not have the loudness that they should?  To bring it back to this recovery stage, stress is bogging down my soul?

Extrapolating from there: let’s say it is about the brothiness.  Maybe I just prefer quantity.  Maybe (in terms of my wife’s recovery), I am a finisher.  I can avoid the mistake by finding comfort in this.  The first stage though, is about dealing with the stress that’s bogging down my soul…