Today is our one year anniversary. One year together, sharing laughs, squabbles and tears. One year to become stronger, and weaker, and happier. I love you, Maxamillion. I still wonder how our paths ever crossed, while remaining fantastically grateful that they did.
Happy birthday, sweetheart.
Happy One-Year-ish Day.
G
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Saturday, April 20, 2013
Strange Letters
You don't know me and I don't know you. I don't know the particulars of the situation or what personal demons have taken hold of you. This lack of knowledge doesn't blunt my anger.
You don't deserve what you've been given. You were the one who brought light to her eyes; I was the one who encouraged her to bask in it. We're both guilty, but I at least acted out of love. Can you say the same?
You don't deserve her. She is kind; she is honest; she is more genuine than anyone you'll meet in this life or the next. Behind the walls she's built, there is vulnerability. You took advantage of that, and I'm disinclined to forgive you.
Second chances are rare. If you want one with me (and why would you, except that knowing you're the object of someone's passionate disgust must rankle), choose your next step carefully. I will not suffer by ensuring that you know exactly what you are. It's a testament to her gentle nature that she'll defend you to me - I do the same for the one who puts light in my eyes. Lovers forgive insults easily; friends are less kind.
Perhaps the particulars would compound my rage; perhaps they would temper it with sadness, or understanding, or regret. But know this, and know it well: I am patient. I am strong. And I defend what matters to me. She matters to me. You, I couldn't care less about.
Hurt her again, and I will end you. If you doubt me, ask what kept ten years worth of bullies at bay. Ask what brought me through suffering and hell. Ask if I can be made to do something against my will. Doubt me then. I dare you.
You don't deserve what you've been given. I understand well enough that shields can become prisons; in the end, it's her decision how to proceed.
She wouldn't have opened to you without a reason. I listened to her grapple with accepting you. I don't know if it's stupidity or arrogance or fear that had you turning her away; I don't really care. You did. In your stupidity or arrogance or fear you struck a blow that will leave a scar.
Fortunately for you, her soul is bright enough to absorb it.
WG
You don't deserve what you've been given. You were the one who brought light to her eyes; I was the one who encouraged her to bask in it. We're both guilty, but I at least acted out of love. Can you say the same?
You don't deserve her. She is kind; she is honest; she is more genuine than anyone you'll meet in this life or the next. Behind the walls she's built, there is vulnerability. You took advantage of that, and I'm disinclined to forgive you.
Second chances are rare. If you want one with me (and why would you, except that knowing you're the object of someone's passionate disgust must rankle), choose your next step carefully. I will not suffer by ensuring that you know exactly what you are. It's a testament to her gentle nature that she'll defend you to me - I do the same for the one who puts light in my eyes. Lovers forgive insults easily; friends are less kind.
Perhaps the particulars would compound my rage; perhaps they would temper it with sadness, or understanding, or regret. But know this, and know it well: I am patient. I am strong. And I defend what matters to me. She matters to me. You, I couldn't care less about.
Hurt her again, and I will end you. If you doubt me, ask what kept ten years worth of bullies at bay. Ask what brought me through suffering and hell. Ask if I can be made to do something against my will. Doubt me then. I dare you.
You don't deserve what you've been given. I understand well enough that shields can become prisons; in the end, it's her decision how to proceed.
She wouldn't have opened to you without a reason. I listened to her grapple with accepting you. I don't know if it's stupidity or arrogance or fear that had you turning her away; I don't really care. You did. In your stupidity or arrogance or fear you struck a blow that will leave a scar.
Fortunately for you, her soul is bright enough to absorb it.
WG
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Holiday Paradox
It is a truth universally acknowledged that I am not very productive in spring or autumn. Perhaps it comes from being perpetually on an academic schedule; perhaps it is simply that I enjoy spring and autumn weather more than the rest of the year. Whatever the reason, I am disinclined to acquiesce to the requests of professors, professionals and other deadline-makers.
Being a student abroad has its perks, one of which is that I am on a semi-permanent holiday. It is highly convenient to be able to wander up to the shops and browse for an hour or two in the middle of the day, for no reason other than I want to wander. I go to bookshops and smell the books. I go to fancy boutiques and try on ball gowns. I go to expensive shoe stores and pretend to be fabulously wealthy as I parade around in Italian leather heels. Then I go back to Uni and write a bibliography while eating lollies.
It's a good life. Even if I'm not very productive.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that sunny autumn days are a blessing. Especially in Dunedin, where the weather in winter takes on a distinctly Scottish tone.
Today is a sunny autumn day, and I am not being productive. This weekend's forecast seems even less so, but, as I am about to go on a holiday during my holiday, I should probably get some work done.
Have a few New Zealand pictures, while I'm at it. It's been a while.
Bisous
WolfGrrl
Being a student abroad has its perks, one of which is that I am on a semi-permanent holiday. It is highly convenient to be able to wander up to the shops and browse for an hour or two in the middle of the day, for no reason other than I want to wander. I go to bookshops and smell the books. I go to fancy boutiques and try on ball gowns. I go to expensive shoe stores and pretend to be fabulously wealthy as I parade around in Italian leather heels. Then I go back to Uni and write a bibliography while eating lollies.
It's a good life. Even if I'm not very productive.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that sunny autumn days are a blessing. Especially in Dunedin, where the weather in winter takes on a distinctly Scottish tone.
Today is a sunny autumn day, and I am not being productive. This weekend's forecast seems even less so, but, as I am about to go on a holiday during my holiday, I should probably get some work done.
Have a few New Zealand pictures, while I'm at it. It's been a while.
Bisous
WolfGrrl
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Today I Learned
Today I learned that the daughter of a family friend has anorexia. Readers with a passing acquaintance of myself will know that I, too, have faced this demon. My immediate response to the news was a crack in my heart - even the anonymous girls I see around campus tug at me when I cross their paths. To have this happen to someone I know - to a girl I watched grow up - is particularly wrenching.
There's so much I want to say, both to her and her family. There's so little I know about their situation. I only know about myself, and my situation.
I want to say that anorexics are intelligent people frightened of themselves and the world.
I want to say that anorexia is a way of breaking the familial bond, of asserting independence.
I want to say that screaming, and crying, and yelling and endlessly driving in the car will help...over time.
Anorexia is not a cancer; it doesn't grow in the flesh. Anorexia is the result of a fearful mind mastering imperfect matter. Anorexics seek perfection in the world and take out their disappointment on themselves. Anorexia is a hatred of self and others - but mostly self. It is a demand for space, acknowledgement, and agency.
I write these words because they seem honest. They might not be. I'll acknowledge that; my own experience has begun to fade, with time and love and therapy easing the scars back into some semblance of smooth skin. But, I cannot forget that I lived this nightmare and worse, that I forced others to live it with me.
We do not intend to hurt and deny the ones that love us. We simply cannot see anything beyond our own self-loathing. I dislike metaphors that paint cancer or horrific accidents as an opportunity for personal growth (an excess of positivity isn't in my nature) but, in some cases - certainly my own - I think the metaphor is justified. I changed as a result of my anorexia. I learned what kind of person I am under the social mask. It was unpleasant, often brutal, but change isn't pleasant. Change isn't easy. For some of us, for those of us intelligent enough to see the vast scope of possibility, the only way we can handle change is by turning it into a monster we can fight.
Anorexia is both monster and fight: it is the product of a terrified mind trying to establish boundaries. Anorexia is about control; it is about development; it is about personal understanding.
Until I am the one loving someone seemingly bent on destroying herself, I cannot tell you the other side of this story. What I can do is offer advice, little things that will help make the anorexic seem rational and human and perhaps lessen - or soften - the overall experience.
Avoid adjectives. Ethereal, fey, elegant, pretty, slender - avoid confirming adjectives as you'd avoid offensive ones. They stick in the mind and fester, providing the disease with impetus.
Listen to the screams. Highly intelligent, highly controlled individuals do not let themselves go easily. When they do, it's because the pressure has become unbearable. They will be relieved; they will feel exhausted afterwards. A quiet, consistent presence will be most beneficial, despite the blank, emotionless, or physically ill response. Listen without judgment. This is hard. Being judged is harder.
Acknowledge defeat, but don't give in to it. Every morning is a victory and a new beginning. Every meal is a battle between two sets of scales. The scale of desire will always weigh more. The only way to recover is to want to recover.
The only way to recover is to want to recover. Think of what a confession by torture is worth. Now think of what being forced into recovery is worth to the anorexic. She must do the work, suffer the guilt and the pain and the fury. She must choose to change.
Learn to let go. This one is probably the hardest for both parties. Personal understanding comes from destruction as much as growth; mistakes must be made, consequences must be felt. Anorexia is learning how painful and fruitless the pursuit of perfection truly is. I had to learn that I am more than my body. My mother had to learn that she can't fight all my battles.
Get help early, and choose that help well. Trust the person you choose to know their job, to know the signs, and to make the hard decisions. They are there to help. They will be your sanctuary and your drill sergeant, but in the end they will help you find the straight road again.
I think, in some ways, we do this to ourselves in order to shed a stubborn skin. People who are resistant to change require an enormous incentive to accept it - this incentive changes constantly, a process that slowly teaches the individual to let go of absolutes and embrace reality. In the beginning, my incentive was to lose weight, to get in shape. Then the incentive was to prove to my mother that I ate a certain number of calories. Then it became the maintenance of a routine. Eventually, I lost control of my routine as my body circumvented the demands of my mind. No one chooses to starve; it's something our bodies do in response to environmental alterations. One can choose to restrict food intake or increase activity, but starvation is a natural response.
I spent a lot of time avoiding thinking about anorexia. I spent a lot of time trying to go backwards, to be the person who counted every goldfish and saw every lump of flesh, real or imagined. I made the mistake of thinking this was happiness. At the time, it might have been, but it pales in comparison to what I have learned and experienced since.
Humans are durable because they are stubborn. We do not want to die. No one wants to die. We do not want to acknowledge change, so we subsume that fear in others. You can't panic about the future if your sole focus is the number of calories in that steak, or the number of hours you ran, or the number of pounds the scale registered.
I am making this up as I go. It's midnight, and I am balancing three separate worlds in my head and on the tips of my fingers. One is the world I remember. Two is the world of what I've learned. Three is the world as it is right now, right here in my bed in a house in the most beautiful country on earth.
I guess my last words are just to...remember what anorexia is and is not. It's not a punishment; it is a way of handling change. It's not an invitation to Death; it is a way of altering perspectives.
Hold onto hope. If hope is impossible...well, I hope that you're stubborn enough to always hope.
Wanting to recover is the hardest part. The rest is a dangerous, beautiful routine.
WolfGrrl
There's so much I want to say, both to her and her family. There's so little I know about their situation. I only know about myself, and my situation.
I want to say that anorexics are intelligent people frightened of themselves and the world.
I want to say that anorexia is a way of breaking the familial bond, of asserting independence.
I want to say that screaming, and crying, and yelling and endlessly driving in the car will help...over time.
Anorexia is not a cancer; it doesn't grow in the flesh. Anorexia is the result of a fearful mind mastering imperfect matter. Anorexics seek perfection in the world and take out their disappointment on themselves. Anorexia is a hatred of self and others - but mostly self. It is a demand for space, acknowledgement, and agency.
I write these words because they seem honest. They might not be. I'll acknowledge that; my own experience has begun to fade, with time and love and therapy easing the scars back into some semblance of smooth skin. But, I cannot forget that I lived this nightmare and worse, that I forced others to live it with me.
We do not intend to hurt and deny the ones that love us. We simply cannot see anything beyond our own self-loathing. I dislike metaphors that paint cancer or horrific accidents as an opportunity for personal growth (an excess of positivity isn't in my nature) but, in some cases - certainly my own - I think the metaphor is justified. I changed as a result of my anorexia. I learned what kind of person I am under the social mask. It was unpleasant, often brutal, but change isn't pleasant. Change isn't easy. For some of us, for those of us intelligent enough to see the vast scope of possibility, the only way we can handle change is by turning it into a monster we can fight.
Anorexia is both monster and fight: it is the product of a terrified mind trying to establish boundaries. Anorexia is about control; it is about development; it is about personal understanding.
Until I am the one loving someone seemingly bent on destroying herself, I cannot tell you the other side of this story. What I can do is offer advice, little things that will help make the anorexic seem rational and human and perhaps lessen - or soften - the overall experience.
Avoid adjectives. Ethereal, fey, elegant, pretty, slender - avoid confirming adjectives as you'd avoid offensive ones. They stick in the mind and fester, providing the disease with impetus.
Listen to the screams. Highly intelligent, highly controlled individuals do not let themselves go easily. When they do, it's because the pressure has become unbearable. They will be relieved; they will feel exhausted afterwards. A quiet, consistent presence will be most beneficial, despite the blank, emotionless, or physically ill response. Listen without judgment. This is hard. Being judged is harder.
Acknowledge defeat, but don't give in to it. Every morning is a victory and a new beginning. Every meal is a battle between two sets of scales. The scale of desire will always weigh more. The only way to recover is to want to recover.
The only way to recover is to want to recover. Think of what a confession by torture is worth. Now think of what being forced into recovery is worth to the anorexic. She must do the work, suffer the guilt and the pain and the fury. She must choose to change.
Learn to let go. This one is probably the hardest for both parties. Personal understanding comes from destruction as much as growth; mistakes must be made, consequences must be felt. Anorexia is learning how painful and fruitless the pursuit of perfection truly is. I had to learn that I am more than my body. My mother had to learn that she can't fight all my battles.
Get help early, and choose that help well. Trust the person you choose to know their job, to know the signs, and to make the hard decisions. They are there to help. They will be your sanctuary and your drill sergeant, but in the end they will help you find the straight road again.
I think, in some ways, we do this to ourselves in order to shed a stubborn skin. People who are resistant to change require an enormous incentive to accept it - this incentive changes constantly, a process that slowly teaches the individual to let go of absolutes and embrace reality. In the beginning, my incentive was to lose weight, to get in shape. Then the incentive was to prove to my mother that I ate a certain number of calories. Then it became the maintenance of a routine. Eventually, I lost control of my routine as my body circumvented the demands of my mind. No one chooses to starve; it's something our bodies do in response to environmental alterations. One can choose to restrict food intake or increase activity, but starvation is a natural response.
I spent a lot of time avoiding thinking about anorexia. I spent a lot of time trying to go backwards, to be the person who counted every goldfish and saw every lump of flesh, real or imagined. I made the mistake of thinking this was happiness. At the time, it might have been, but it pales in comparison to what I have learned and experienced since.
Humans are durable because they are stubborn. We do not want to die. No one wants to die. We do not want to acknowledge change, so we subsume that fear in others. You can't panic about the future if your sole focus is the number of calories in that steak, or the number of hours you ran, or the number of pounds the scale registered.
I am making this up as I go. It's midnight, and I am balancing three separate worlds in my head and on the tips of my fingers. One is the world I remember. Two is the world of what I've learned. Three is the world as it is right now, right here in my bed in a house in the most beautiful country on earth.
I guess my last words are just to...remember what anorexia is and is not. It's not a punishment; it is a way of handling change. It's not an invitation to Death; it is a way of altering perspectives.
Hold onto hope. If hope is impossible...well, I hope that you're stubborn enough to always hope.
Wanting to recover is the hardest part. The rest is a dangerous, beautiful routine.
WolfGrrl
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Monday, April 8, 2013
Winter is Coming
Mmm chippies. Otherwise known as fries. They are quite delicious, and it's been a while since I've had any. I think, as I go out to do some shopping in preparation for a birthday celebration, that I'll grab some chips and have an early dinner. Nothing like fish to keep you warm and happy. (And so smart!)
I don't feel smarter, but that's not important. My friends at home as posting poolside pictures while I struggle through the rain and cold weather. At least the sun is out now, though the temperature continues to drop by the hour. Winter has come, evidently.
A shout out here to my darling daddy, whose birthday was earlier this week, and to my boyfriend, whose birthday is later this month. How nice to have both loves in one month (at least I have a prayer of remembering them, haha).
I'm looking forward to the next few weeks, history paper aside. It'll be wonderful to see the boyfriend in Wellington, and I have a month and a half of school left! Yay! How did that happen?
It'll be his turn soon. It makes me very happy to hear my friends at home beg me to bring him with me when I return. I love that they accept him, and want to get to know him better. You're loved, sweetheart, by lots of people the world over.
Tootles!
WolfGrrl
I don't feel smarter, but that's not important. My friends at home as posting poolside pictures while I struggle through the rain and cold weather. At least the sun is out now, though the temperature continues to drop by the hour. Winter has come, evidently.
A shout out here to my darling daddy, whose birthday was earlier this week, and to my boyfriend, whose birthday is later this month. How nice to have both loves in one month (at least I have a prayer of remembering them, haha).
I'm looking forward to the next few weeks, history paper aside. It'll be wonderful to see the boyfriend in Wellington, and I have a month and a half of school left! Yay! How did that happen?
It'll be his turn soon. It makes me very happy to hear my friends at home beg me to bring him with me when I return. I love that they accept him, and want to get to know him better. You're loved, sweetheart, by lots of people the world over.
Tootles!
WolfGrrl
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Exes and O's
It's a rather gray day to be thinking about exes and o's.
I suppose I shouldn't get annoyed when comments from an ex-friend or my ex-boyfriend filter through on Facebook, but it does annoy me. Still, these people are X-ed out of my life for a reason. I don't like remembering them, because it forces me to remember thoughts, moods and actions I want to forget. I've always been a forgetter rather than a keeper - it's easier for me to forget than it is to forgive.
As for the o's... I'm missing chocolate cheerios a lot. And we had a flat-bonding experience this morning that involved visiting a sex shop, something most eighteen year olds in the States do on or around their birthday. I think you can all ponder what I meant with my little pun.
WolfGrrl
I suppose I shouldn't get annoyed when comments from an ex-friend or my ex-boyfriend filter through on Facebook, but it does annoy me. Still, these people are X-ed out of my life for a reason. I don't like remembering them, because it forces me to remember thoughts, moods and actions I want to forget. I've always been a forgetter rather than a keeper - it's easier for me to forget than it is to forgive.
As for the o's... I'm missing chocolate cheerios a lot. And we had a flat-bonding experience this morning that involved visiting a sex shop, something most eighteen year olds in the States do on or around their birthday. I think you can all ponder what I meant with my little pun.
WolfGrrl
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Big and Small
Since I feel that my day was productive, let's list the accomplishments and see if it's true.
1. I am now employed at the SPCA.
2. I finished 75% of the homework for next week's classes.
3. I wrote my intro, thesis, and a vague outline for my History essay.
4. I talked to my daddy for his birthday.
5. I talked to my boyfriend.
6. I ate a FULL-SIZED bowl of pasta with sauce, veges and noms.
7. I cycled 38 kms at the gym.
8. I took my too-small clothes to the Salvation Army.
9. I bought more chocolate, for a rainy day.
10. I registered for fall classes.
11. I cleaned my room.
Feels like a productive day. Now, to reward myself with a movie. What to pick, what to pick...
WolfGrrl
1. I am now employed at the SPCA.
2. I finished 75% of the homework for next week's classes.
3. I wrote my intro, thesis, and a vague outline for my History essay.
4. I talked to my daddy for his birthday.
5. I talked to my boyfriend.
6. I ate a FULL-SIZED bowl of pasta with sauce, veges and noms.
7. I cycled 38 kms at the gym.
8. I took my too-small clothes to the Salvation Army.
9. I bought more chocolate, for a rainy day.
10. I registered for fall classes.
11. I cleaned my room.
Feels like a productive day. Now, to reward myself with a movie. What to pick, what to pick...
WolfGrrl
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