It's Friday morning and I've a tiny hangover..
I went out to Johnnie Fox's pub last night, with Ma. The Elders were playing and as I hadn't seen them before and seeing as though it was their last night to play in Ireland before they go back to America, I didn't want to miss it. The lead singer of the band is Julies brother, so their whole family was there and it was a really good night.
I had acupuncture yesterday afternoon so I was kind of tired around dinnertime. Also I think that the hectic weekend might have been catching up with me yesterday. I hadn't felt so tired in a while. The acupuncture was really great and made me feel totally chilled-out but sleepy too. So to begin with I was kind of wary about going. But approaching it with the right frame of mind, was the only way to go about it. And that to me means, having no expectations, having no worries that I'll suddenly be upset, having no fear as to what I might drink and how it might make me feel and basically just living for the moment, taking each one as it comes (this was also how I got through the weekend so fine). And that's what I did and it was so great.
I wasn't feeling tired at all. I didn't have a party-food plan. I didn't tell myself how many glasses of wine I was allowed. Nothing like that. Beforehand I knew that I'd let myself have wine, I knew that if I didn't want anymore wine it wasn't because of not letting myself have any fun or that it wouldn't be for needing to restrict but that it would be purely because there's only so many glasses of wine I can stomach. There was a slight hesitation as to how I'd deal with listening to a live band, in such a small space with so many bodies all together. But I needn't have had any doubts that I wouldn't have been able for it, because I was.
It was a really good night and the music was brilliant. I had 3 glasses of wine and was slightly tipsy, but nothing major. There was such a great atmosphere and as I looked around I couldn't imagine that months ago I wouldn't have been able to deal with a night out like that. And it almost made me sad that not being strong enough to appreciate and enjoy the music, would have meant missing out on such a great thing. They were so great on stage and it was like the band and the crowd were one big family. They always tour around Ireland with their own fans, from America. So I suppose they do all know each other and you really could notice it. I could actually feel the love in the place and I was just so grateful for being able to be there and feel great about it. That fact alone, made it into a great night.
We were back home at around 1.30. The drive back, was so long (45 mins) and when you've had a little bit too much to drink, it doesn't do the stomach any good. But I wasn't sick and when I came home, I had to have a bowl of cereal. I needed something to soak up the alcohol to stop me from being sick. And it worked. I woke up this morning, and felt a groggy but not too bad. I didn't let the bowl of cereal I had last night, ruin my breakfast. I tried not to let the 3 glasses of wine make me feel like a bad person.
I have to admit that I could hear myself trying to convince myself of this. But as I'm sitting here writing it, I'm making it into less of an issue. Because I'm not a bad person for having had a good night. Thoughts that were trying to rule me, were saying that I now should drink gallons of green tea and water to compensate. But if I do, and I'm still eating, then isn't that fine? I found myself wanting to feel healthy again and to get back on track. But back on track of what? Of living without alcohol? Or of living healthily and rebuilding my strength? But surely last night was a part of the rebuilding? Didn't it prove that I can listen to live music without it wrecking my head? Doesn't it prove that life is getting back to normal and that everything is getting easier? So why do I want to get back on track again? I haven't gotten "off-track" so I shouldn't feel like I've done any harm to myself.
The point I'm trying to make is that after a night out, I don't have to feel bad. And just because I want to do myself a lot of good today, by getting fresh air, going for a walk, resting and eating nice foods, doesn't mean that I'm restricting. Because I'm not doing it for the wrong reasons. I'm doing what I want and it's therefore the right thing to do. Why am I making such a big deal about nothing?
The thing is, at the moment, I find myself analyzing lots of things I'm doing (especially since Monday), just to see if there is any reason for me to think that I'm going backwards instead of forwards. Maybe I'm looking for problems where there aren't any. Maybe, maybe, maybe.. Who knows..but analyzing it, only helps to a certain extent. Then I have to stop it before I go too far. So I'm going to stop right here because I now know that whatever I do today, is because I WANT to do it and I know that there aren't any other "forces" at work. So that's it for now.. It was a great night, I enjoyed myself so much and I'm feeling fine (and looking forward to lunch and need some fresh air)...
Friday, February 27, 2009
A dancing soul
Dancing the dance, with no where to go
There's no means to an end or no need to stop the flow
No where to run as you dance to the song
There's no forcing the feeling as you are where you belong
For one moment the music takes you away
And you dance that dance which are words you've longed to say
No rush, no haste, as a dance is only here
No approval or goal because your soul has no fear
To move or sway in whatever way you please
Living for that beat and motion as it comes to you with ease
The time will never take the music or vibe
As you dance that dance and have never felt so alive
Being present with a feeling as to movement is free
Your soul inside is laughing at the joy it brings to me
It takes away the space and time as life can suddenly stop
And it's the only motion that embraces everything you've got
So dance that dance and have no where to go
The soul is now alive and you'll happily let everyone know
Take on the flow that is a tresured gift
And synchronicity is the answer to always feel the lift..
There's no means to an end or no need to stop the flow
No where to run as you dance to the song
There's no forcing the feeling as you are where you belong
For one moment the music takes you away
And you dance that dance which are words you've longed to say
No rush, no haste, as a dance is only here
No approval or goal because your soul has no fear
To move or sway in whatever way you please
Living for that beat and motion as it comes to you with ease
The time will never take the music or vibe
As you dance that dance and have never felt so alive
Being present with a feeling as to movement is free
Your soul inside is laughing at the joy it brings to me
It takes away the space and time as life can suddenly stop
And it's the only motion that embraces everything you've got
So dance that dance and have no where to go
The soul is now alive and you'll happily let everyone know
Take on the flow that is a tresured gift
And synchronicity is the answer to always feel the lift..
Needed Needles
Last week, when I went to acupuncture, I got more needles stuck into me than I've ever had. Mr. Acupuncturist put some in my chest as well, to remove some of the heaviness and pressure that can get stuck from time to time. I had been feeling it quite a lot last week. But ever since then, I have only had 1 or 2 short moments, when that feeling arose on my heart. He warned me that I might get emotional, as some issues or past memories might come to the surface. He said not to fight it, but just to let them be. I'm not to look for anything, because if there's anything there it will present itself. This was last week Thursday. From Friday onwards it was all go go go. And I was feeling so good, I wasn't an emotional wreck and nothing seemed to be playing on my mind. First of all, when he warned me, I was wary that it might make the weekend harder than it was going to be. But I don't feel like it effected me, not in a bad way anyhow.
The only feeling I could probably relate to the treatment I had last week, was on Sunday night, when the most stressful day was over and the weekend was coming to an end, I lay in the strange bed (not feeling out of place) and could literally feel my heart lifting. I hadn't been drinking so I can't blame it on being tipsy.. But it was a weird sensation. I was almost floating and there wasn't a problem in my world, even whilst being surrounded by sorrow. My whole core just became so light and alive at the same time; almost numb but bubbling at the same time. It was so nice. Then every little noise that came from outside, shook my centre. It was like the extra life inside of me, that gets fed so much vitality as often as possible, was getting a kick up the backside, with every sound.
It's strange to put it into words, and maybe even selfish that I was feeling so fine, but everything was great. Maybe it was the effect of the treatment from Mr. Acupuncturist 3 days earlier. Maybe it was just a relief that everything had gone so well. Maybe it was me getting an extra boost. Maybe I was calming down and that's when I only became aware of this lighthearted feeling, which was a glorious one. It kept me awake for quite a while, because it was a little freaky..not that it mattered.
I've also been taking different herbs, for that feeling of having a heavy heart, and it could have helped lift it too. Sometimes it's hard to tell if it all makes a difference, because I don't know what it would be like if I wasn't taking the herbs or if I wasn't getting the treatment. That's the same with everything I suppose. But being open to taking all these feelings on board and wanting to get the most out of every little vibe, sensation or energy release probably helps a lot. If the mind is open to embracing all opportunities and possibilities that could present themselves, then I won't be scared or it won't shut down, with or without me wanting it to.
Todays treatment was longer than last weeks, but with less needles. We had a great chat and he said that he can actually see my confidence growing each week, as I come in. I told him about the feeling I had on Sunday night, and he said that it was down to the new herbs and the treatment of last week. But sometimes it wrecks my head because I don't know if it's really all me..the sense of fun that I have been feeling. Is it real? Would I have it if I wasn't having the acupuncture? I guess I'll never know. If the herbs and treatment are working to get my balance back in to my body and mind, and I become more and more myself, then surely it is real? Surely the acupuncture is mainly to speed things along and not make me into somebody I'm not? Surely I'm not a fake, and I won't fall and crumble once I stop going? Surely it's all natural?
Well, I do know that it does feel real and I don't feel like a fake. I also know that the herbs are natural and that acupuncture was one of the many things that has saved me. So for that, I can't really doubt that it could be making me into somebody I'm not. Because by just being, I know that nothing is forced. That's also something he said to me..just keep on "being" and everything will continue to fall into place. And he's right. "Being" seems to still be the key to good health and it really is the most used word in the English language, mainly in combination with other words, but using it as just one word, can be far more appealing at times.
The only feeling I could probably relate to the treatment I had last week, was on Sunday night, when the most stressful day was over and the weekend was coming to an end, I lay in the strange bed (not feeling out of place) and could literally feel my heart lifting. I hadn't been drinking so I can't blame it on being tipsy.. But it was a weird sensation. I was almost floating and there wasn't a problem in my world, even whilst being surrounded by sorrow. My whole core just became so light and alive at the same time; almost numb but bubbling at the same time. It was so nice. Then every little noise that came from outside, shook my centre. It was like the extra life inside of me, that gets fed so much vitality as often as possible, was getting a kick up the backside, with every sound.
It's strange to put it into words, and maybe even selfish that I was feeling so fine, but everything was great. Maybe it was the effect of the treatment from Mr. Acupuncturist 3 days earlier. Maybe it was just a relief that everything had gone so well. Maybe it was me getting an extra boost. Maybe I was calming down and that's when I only became aware of this lighthearted feeling, which was a glorious one. It kept me awake for quite a while, because it was a little freaky..not that it mattered.
I've also been taking different herbs, for that feeling of having a heavy heart, and it could have helped lift it too. Sometimes it's hard to tell if it all makes a difference, because I don't know what it would be like if I wasn't taking the herbs or if I wasn't getting the treatment. That's the same with everything I suppose. But being open to taking all these feelings on board and wanting to get the most out of every little vibe, sensation or energy release probably helps a lot. If the mind is open to embracing all opportunities and possibilities that could present themselves, then I won't be scared or it won't shut down, with or without me wanting it to.
Todays treatment was longer than last weeks, but with less needles. We had a great chat and he said that he can actually see my confidence growing each week, as I come in. I told him about the feeling I had on Sunday night, and he said that it was down to the new herbs and the treatment of last week. But sometimes it wrecks my head because I don't know if it's really all me..the sense of fun that I have been feeling. Is it real? Would I have it if I wasn't having the acupuncture? I guess I'll never know. If the herbs and treatment are working to get my balance back in to my body and mind, and I become more and more myself, then surely it is real? Surely the acupuncture is mainly to speed things along and not make me into somebody I'm not? Surely I'm not a fake, and I won't fall and crumble once I stop going? Surely it's all natural?
Well, I do know that it does feel real and I don't feel like a fake. I also know that the herbs are natural and that acupuncture was one of the many things that has saved me. So for that, I can't really doubt that it could be making me into somebody I'm not. Because by just being, I know that nothing is forced. That's also something he said to me..just keep on "being" and everything will continue to fall into place. And he's right. "Being" seems to still be the key to good health and it really is the most used word in the English language, mainly in combination with other words, but using it as just one word, can be far more appealing at times.
When to draw the line??
Thursday afternoon..
There is something that has been getting to me, or not so much getting to me, but not feeling right anymore. I realized it yesterday, when I was finished on my blog. I had used the name Anna a few times. Up until yesterday, it had been quite a while since I had used it. And I couldn't shake the feeling of it being not right anymore. I think I'm not supposed to be using the name Anna anymore.
I haven't used the name Fay for so long either. It would feel wrong to so as well at this moment in time. After yesterday it felt like I was backtracking, using that name. Weeks ago, when I was talking to Diann, she said that there still is something there that will try and control you. But it isn't just Anna. It's something larger. Something that doesn't only want to control my thoughts and feelings around food and weight. But it's more than that. Almost like a bigger thing than Anna (of which Anna is or was a part of) that basically wants to put me down in every aspect of my life because I don't deserve any of it. But that's a different issue..
The thing I'm getting at today, is that I can see the difference between the two. And seeing as though I can tell them apart, it seems almost wrong to say the name Anna. Why would I need to use it anyway? I haven't used the name Fay for months and I figure that I shouldn't pay more attention to that more "destructive" side of me than I do that "non-destructive" side of me. Even saying that Anna was destructive feels wrong. I don't really know..
I guess after this weekend, and the past weeks, I know I'm nearly there. I know for a fact that this chapter will soon be closing. And saying the name Anna makes me feel like I'm suddenly trying to hold on to her again.. Like I'm clinging on and that I'm afraid to make the last steps. When really I'm not sure if there are any last steps that need to be made.. It's the same when it comes to this blog. I'm so wary of ever stopping it.. Again, it's like I'm clinging on and afraid to let go. I don't know it that's good or bad, right or wrong. I'm waiting for somebody to tell me that I'm all cured. But nobody can ever know, only me.. I know that I never want to use the name Anna or Fay again, because I've merged the two different "persona's" into one person, who is me and who I'm happy with being. Somebody who is strong, positive, energized, full of life, full of love and full of eagerness to face any challenges life might throw my way.
If I say that it's over and it suddenly appears not to be, then I'm afraid I'll be in worse off place than I ever was. It could still go one way or the other I suppose. But if I don't take the risk, then I'll never know if I'm secure enough to deal with life all by my self.. There are a few examples.. this week I didn't have a session with Diann and I'm fine. I'll be going on Monday again. I'm not bursting at the seams, like I would used to be. So can I slowly break free from holding on to Diann, each and every week? But if I do that, and it turns out that I wasn't over it just yet, and I get muddled again, then I could be worse off. These are all "ifs" and "buts". For now though, not having a session this week is fine.
There's the question that Diann asked me last week, when I asked her if I was all better. She asked: "are you restricting yourself or are you enjoying food?". I'm not restricting and I'm definitely enjoying my food. So with this question in mind, I was thinking back over the eating I did at the weekend. I realized that everyone around me, with normal relationships with food, was amazed by the amounts we were having to eat (even Shellie, and she eats like a horse). All the younger ones were saying they were eating too much and they were saying they wouldn't be able to eat for days. We all agreed that having a few days of unhealthy food, won't harm us..even some of the older generation agreed with us. We all admitted that we were eating because it was put in front of us and because it would be rude to not eat it. We were all on the same wave-length, when it came to all this food.
I've concluded that eating food that isn't the same type or the same portions as you usually would eat, doesn't always make people feel good about themselves. If they are or aren't recovering from an eating disorder doesn't have to come into it. It's normal to not want to eat every type of food, regardless of how it's prepared, and feel good or bad about it. Wanting to eat a certain kind of food, is only normal. People who eat spuds all day every day, wouldn't be too happy eating a plate of rice.. It's the same difference. What am I trying to say with all this food-talk? Well, it's that I had the same thoughts as everyone else, at the weekend. There wasn't anything extra there, that would have usually been there months ago, like say for instance a feeling of non-deserving, guilt, bad thoughts. Or wanting to restrict, wanting to cry, wanting to run, wanting to hide.. Nothing of the kind. Just the same as everyone else. So food is really good for now. And getting through this weekend, and not needing a session with Diann, was huge..
And another thing that has showed me just how much I've changed in the past few months, is that admitting I'm not working at the moment and that it's not really bothering me. If I would have had to admit this to anybody I know from Oz, even 2 months ago, it would have effected my eating, my mood, my doing.. my everything. I remember saying to Shellie over the weekend that I'm not the same person I was, who she met in Oz. To lighten the mood we were talking and laughing at the things I used to do.. like jogging in 45degree heat, while everyone else sat around the pool, sunbathing and drinking beer. Little things like that, which I now can't imagine me doing.
I just don't know. I feel like I want to draw a line underneath it all, but might be getting slightly ahead of myself.. But everything is just so well for now.. One thing is for sure, I'm not going to stress about it anyhow. Diann has told me many times, that I'll know when it's time.. hummm.. we'll see I guess.
There is something that has been getting to me, or not so much getting to me, but not feeling right anymore. I realized it yesterday, when I was finished on my blog. I had used the name Anna a few times. Up until yesterday, it had been quite a while since I had used it. And I couldn't shake the feeling of it being not right anymore. I think I'm not supposed to be using the name Anna anymore.
I haven't used the name Fay for so long either. It would feel wrong to so as well at this moment in time. After yesterday it felt like I was backtracking, using that name. Weeks ago, when I was talking to Diann, she said that there still is something there that will try and control you. But it isn't just Anna. It's something larger. Something that doesn't only want to control my thoughts and feelings around food and weight. But it's more than that. Almost like a bigger thing than Anna (of which Anna is or was a part of) that basically wants to put me down in every aspect of my life because I don't deserve any of it. But that's a different issue..
The thing I'm getting at today, is that I can see the difference between the two. And seeing as though I can tell them apart, it seems almost wrong to say the name Anna. Why would I need to use it anyway? I haven't used the name Fay for months and I figure that I shouldn't pay more attention to that more "destructive" side of me than I do that "non-destructive" side of me. Even saying that Anna was destructive feels wrong. I don't really know..
I guess after this weekend, and the past weeks, I know I'm nearly there. I know for a fact that this chapter will soon be closing. And saying the name Anna makes me feel like I'm suddenly trying to hold on to her again.. Like I'm clinging on and that I'm afraid to make the last steps. When really I'm not sure if there are any last steps that need to be made.. It's the same when it comes to this blog. I'm so wary of ever stopping it.. Again, it's like I'm clinging on and afraid to let go. I don't know it that's good or bad, right or wrong. I'm waiting for somebody to tell me that I'm all cured. But nobody can ever know, only me.. I know that I never want to use the name Anna or Fay again, because I've merged the two different "persona's" into one person, who is me and who I'm happy with being. Somebody who is strong, positive, energized, full of life, full of love and full of eagerness to face any challenges life might throw my way.
If I say that it's over and it suddenly appears not to be, then I'm afraid I'll be in worse off place than I ever was. It could still go one way or the other I suppose. But if I don't take the risk, then I'll never know if I'm secure enough to deal with life all by my self.. There are a few examples.. this week I didn't have a session with Diann and I'm fine. I'll be going on Monday again. I'm not bursting at the seams, like I would used to be. So can I slowly break free from holding on to Diann, each and every week? But if I do that, and it turns out that I wasn't over it just yet, and I get muddled again, then I could be worse off. These are all "ifs" and "buts". For now though, not having a session this week is fine.
There's the question that Diann asked me last week, when I asked her if I was all better. She asked: "are you restricting yourself or are you enjoying food?". I'm not restricting and I'm definitely enjoying my food. So with this question in mind, I was thinking back over the eating I did at the weekend. I realized that everyone around me, with normal relationships with food, was amazed by the amounts we were having to eat (even Shellie, and she eats like a horse). All the younger ones were saying they were eating too much and they were saying they wouldn't be able to eat for days. We all agreed that having a few days of unhealthy food, won't harm us..even some of the older generation agreed with us. We all admitted that we were eating because it was put in front of us and because it would be rude to not eat it. We were all on the same wave-length, when it came to all this food.
I've concluded that eating food that isn't the same type or the same portions as you usually would eat, doesn't always make people feel good about themselves. If they are or aren't recovering from an eating disorder doesn't have to come into it. It's normal to not want to eat every type of food, regardless of how it's prepared, and feel good or bad about it. Wanting to eat a certain kind of food, is only normal. People who eat spuds all day every day, wouldn't be too happy eating a plate of rice.. It's the same difference. What am I trying to say with all this food-talk? Well, it's that I had the same thoughts as everyone else, at the weekend. There wasn't anything extra there, that would have usually been there months ago, like say for instance a feeling of non-deserving, guilt, bad thoughts. Or wanting to restrict, wanting to cry, wanting to run, wanting to hide.. Nothing of the kind. Just the same as everyone else. So food is really good for now. And getting through this weekend, and not needing a session with Diann, was huge..
And another thing that has showed me just how much I've changed in the past few months, is that admitting I'm not working at the moment and that it's not really bothering me. If I would have had to admit this to anybody I know from Oz, even 2 months ago, it would have effected my eating, my mood, my doing.. my everything. I remember saying to Shellie over the weekend that I'm not the same person I was, who she met in Oz. To lighten the mood we were talking and laughing at the things I used to do.. like jogging in 45degree heat, while everyone else sat around the pool, sunbathing and drinking beer. Little things like that, which I now can't imagine me doing.
I just don't know. I feel like I want to draw a line underneath it all, but might be getting slightly ahead of myself.. But everything is just so well for now.. One thing is for sure, I'm not going to stress about it anyhow. Diann has told me many times, that I'll know when it's time.. hummm.. we'll see I guess.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Remarks can never hurt
As I sit here, just back from my daily walk, thinking about how the weekend went and if, when or how things might have effected me, or triggered Anna in any way, then there are only 2 moments I can recall, where she made an effort to sneak in, even if it was through the "upstairs back window", without succeeding.
The first moment was on Saturday night, when we were in the pub. I was chatting to Shellie and Kate about work and travel..nothing really in particular. I had managed to keep the subject of each conversation with Kate, away from me and my daily "doings". After telling her in the car that I wasn't working and then managing to leave every other detail of my life at the moment, just hanging in the air, was good. But then she came back to subject and said.. "But Niamh, what do you do all day, if you don't work, you're not a lazy-bum are you?". That kind of threw me off.
Usually I would have tried to justify my doing-nothing-day-in-day-out to anybody who asks. And for a split second I felt worthless and a waste of space, for answering that I don't really do much. My exact answer was: "I really couldn't say, I do loads, but I don't really know what.." I knew deep down that I'm working hard everyday to get back on my feet again. Because right now, I'm only just getting my energy back and I love waking up every morning, to start another day in which I get a little stronger and put some of my new-found energy to work. But, seeing as though Kate doesn't really know what has been going on, it didn't feel right to sit there and justify my every waking hour to her, just for me to feel like she wouldn't be judging me or thinking that I'm lazy. For a few minutes I felt awful..because that's what I would usually feel like, for not working and of course she must think less of me for not doing anything.
I could see pretty clearly (even with a few glasses of wine) that it was only Anna doing what she used to do...which is making me feel like a slob for not being active or pushing myself. Usually I would have given in, and agreed with any thoughts that Kate might suddenly have of me (even though she never said that I was lazy or anything..but that's just me trying to think for her..which is impossible) or any of my old thoughts that would crop up.
The next day, her question did play on mind and it tried to muck me up and make me feel down, but I didn't give in. As I just said, I know what I've been doing all these months and I know that I'm not lazy and I know what's going on with me and that's more than enough. Justifying myself to anybody, is just a waste of time and energy. If she judges me for that, then so be it. If she did or not, I don't know. But, as I've been telling myself over and over again.. I'm independent from other peoples' opinions of me, be they good or bad. And hers doesn't matter to me either.
The second moment when my head started to feel slightly muddled, as Anna tried to make an entrance, was on Monday afternoon. On Sunday, after all the eating, I had been thinking about the next day and how all the food might make me want to restrict. So come Monday morning, I was hungry and had some cornflakes. At the airport I didn't get a chance to eat, but I wasn't hungry. Then I started to slightly freak-out that if I stopped eating for too many hours, that I could start to feel better about myself..which is where the compensating creeps in. But I figured if I wasn't hungry and the opportunity hadn't arisen for me to eat, then I wasn't in restraint.
But then in the car, driving down from the airport back to sunny old Arklow, Ma asked me about food. I was okay talking about it, so I filled her in on everything I'd eaten. But this is where the second moment suddenly hit me.. Ma said.. "God, you really did push the boat out".. Ouch.. that hurt. Up until then I hadn't felt bad for all the eating, but that remark made me feel like a pig. Because she was right, I had pushed the boat out and I had eaten too much. And to make matters worse, I had enjoyed it and didn't feel guilty at the time. Surely that must mean I was a bad person. How come I couldn't see that at the time and how come I needed a remark from Ma to make me see what I had done?
So, that did feel like a downer on the whole good-feeling I had been having about feeling fine with all the eating I'd done and the bad feelings that didn't come up. Well, not until that remark anyhow. I could nearly see it happening. The remark, triggering the bad thoughts. But I couldn't let it coax me into not having a proper dinner (which is what I would have usually done, after stuffing my face for 2 days). It could have easily gone in that direction. It would have been easier at that moment...
To deal with it however, I had to take a step back and ask myself over and over again, why did Ma say that "I had really pushed the boat out?" Did she think of me as being a pig? Did Ma think that I was going to be restricting myself whilst being away from home and finding myself in difficult circumstances? Did Ma just think that that amount of food is a lot for anyone..either with or without having had an eating disorder? Whatever the reason for this remark was, I didn't want to let it ruin my goodness. So I started to compare it to the remark that Kate made, about me not doing anything all day long.. From their perspective it's something that they wouldn't feel either comfortable with doing. Or they simply might not be able to either not work or stuff their face all day.. The amount I ate over the weekend, probably sounded like too much food for anybody. And hearing that I don't work, probably sounded like pure boredom to Kate and she wouldn't feel happy finding herself in my situation (even though she knows hardly nothing about it..).
These are all just presumptions though. I can never know for sure if that's why those remarks were made. But I do know that they stirred up some stuff inside and that usually they would have given me encouragement to get back to my old ways. Even if it were to be only be for a few hours. By either getting busy and frantic and stressed or cutting back on food temporarily. But I also figure that if it was only these 2 little things that tried to muck-up my head, then that really isn't anything to worry about. Because I've dealt with them now, and I've learnt from them.. I'm not a lazy person and I can eat whatever I like and not restrict myself.. No matter what remarks are made. All it takes is a moment to distance myself from the situation and see what exactly happened and that's where the clarity comes through and nothing gets muddled up.. it's all about boundaries again.. No remark can ever bring me down, not if I don't let it..
The first moment was on Saturday night, when we were in the pub. I was chatting to Shellie and Kate about work and travel..nothing really in particular. I had managed to keep the subject of each conversation with Kate, away from me and my daily "doings". After telling her in the car that I wasn't working and then managing to leave every other detail of my life at the moment, just hanging in the air, was good. But then she came back to subject and said.. "But Niamh, what do you do all day, if you don't work, you're not a lazy-bum are you?". That kind of threw me off.
Usually I would have tried to justify my doing-nothing-day-in-day-out to anybody who asks. And for a split second I felt worthless and a waste of space, for answering that I don't really do much. My exact answer was: "I really couldn't say, I do loads, but I don't really know what.." I knew deep down that I'm working hard everyday to get back on my feet again. Because right now, I'm only just getting my energy back and I love waking up every morning, to start another day in which I get a little stronger and put some of my new-found energy to work. But, seeing as though Kate doesn't really know what has been going on, it didn't feel right to sit there and justify my every waking hour to her, just for me to feel like she wouldn't be judging me or thinking that I'm lazy. For a few minutes I felt awful..because that's what I would usually feel like, for not working and of course she must think less of me for not doing anything.
I could see pretty clearly (even with a few glasses of wine) that it was only Anna doing what she used to do...which is making me feel like a slob for not being active or pushing myself. Usually I would have given in, and agreed with any thoughts that Kate might suddenly have of me (even though she never said that I was lazy or anything..but that's just me trying to think for her..which is impossible) or any of my old thoughts that would crop up.
The next day, her question did play on mind and it tried to muck me up and make me feel down, but I didn't give in. As I just said, I know what I've been doing all these months and I know that I'm not lazy and I know what's going on with me and that's more than enough. Justifying myself to anybody, is just a waste of time and energy. If she judges me for that, then so be it. If she did or not, I don't know. But, as I've been telling myself over and over again.. I'm independent from other peoples' opinions of me, be they good or bad. And hers doesn't matter to me either.
The second moment when my head started to feel slightly muddled, as Anna tried to make an entrance, was on Monday afternoon. On Sunday, after all the eating, I had been thinking about the next day and how all the food might make me want to restrict. So come Monday morning, I was hungry and had some cornflakes. At the airport I didn't get a chance to eat, but I wasn't hungry. Then I started to slightly freak-out that if I stopped eating for too many hours, that I could start to feel better about myself..which is where the compensating creeps in. But I figured if I wasn't hungry and the opportunity hadn't arisen for me to eat, then I wasn't in restraint.
But then in the car, driving down from the airport back to sunny old Arklow, Ma asked me about food. I was okay talking about it, so I filled her in on everything I'd eaten. But this is where the second moment suddenly hit me.. Ma said.. "God, you really did push the boat out".. Ouch.. that hurt. Up until then I hadn't felt bad for all the eating, but that remark made me feel like a pig. Because she was right, I had pushed the boat out and I had eaten too much. And to make matters worse, I had enjoyed it and didn't feel guilty at the time. Surely that must mean I was a bad person. How come I couldn't see that at the time and how come I needed a remark from Ma to make me see what I had done?
So, that did feel like a downer on the whole good-feeling I had been having about feeling fine with all the eating I'd done and the bad feelings that didn't come up. Well, not until that remark anyhow. I could nearly see it happening. The remark, triggering the bad thoughts. But I couldn't let it coax me into not having a proper dinner (which is what I would have usually done, after stuffing my face for 2 days). It could have easily gone in that direction. It would have been easier at that moment...
To deal with it however, I had to take a step back and ask myself over and over again, why did Ma say that "I had really pushed the boat out?" Did she think of me as being a pig? Did Ma think that I was going to be restricting myself whilst being away from home and finding myself in difficult circumstances? Did Ma just think that that amount of food is a lot for anyone..either with or without having had an eating disorder? Whatever the reason for this remark was, I didn't want to let it ruin my goodness. So I started to compare it to the remark that Kate made, about me not doing anything all day long.. From their perspective it's something that they wouldn't feel either comfortable with doing. Or they simply might not be able to either not work or stuff their face all day.. The amount I ate over the weekend, probably sounded like too much food for anybody. And hearing that I don't work, probably sounded like pure boredom to Kate and she wouldn't feel happy finding herself in my situation (even though she knows hardly nothing about it..).
These are all just presumptions though. I can never know for sure if that's why those remarks were made. But I do know that they stirred up some stuff inside and that usually they would have given me encouragement to get back to my old ways. Even if it were to be only be for a few hours. By either getting busy and frantic and stressed or cutting back on food temporarily. But I also figure that if it was only these 2 little things that tried to muck-up my head, then that really isn't anything to worry about. Because I've dealt with them now, and I've learnt from them.. I'm not a lazy person and I can eat whatever I like and not restrict myself.. No matter what remarks are made. All it takes is a moment to distance myself from the situation and see what exactly happened and that's where the clarity comes through and nothing gets muddled up.. it's all about boundaries again.. No remark can ever bring me down, not if I don't let it..
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
The long weekend - 5
I keep on thinking it and saying it, but everything went so well for me. For instance, keeping up the pace whilst going for a walk on Sunday afternoon, with all the women who were taking a break from serving up the grub, was fine. When they asked me to come along, I didn't even think twice about how far we were going or if I'd be able to keep up or if I might struggle. I just went off with the group, and Shellie and Kate stayed sitting on the couch, and ended up walking up this hill with the most beautiful scenery. We were gone for more than an hour, and I walked and talked to all these strangers, without worrying about anything. I spoke about Mickey to his mother and sister and only came to realize just how important it is to them, that we made an effort to come down. Jayne was telling me that Mickey had been gone for 2 and a half years before he died. They hadn't seen him for so long and the people he was with while he was traveling are like one of last links his family has got to Mickey's life, just before passing away. I never realized he'd been gone from home for so long. But I did know that he'd changed a lot when he was away traveling. Jayne was saying how Oz and the people he traveled with, brought out the best in him. Whereas before leaving Ireland, he wasn't doing too well for himself and he wasn't the person he was or he became while he was traveling and also just before he died. So I was happy for going down to meet his family and by doing so it showed his parents and family just how special he was. Also, if it helped his family in some small way, then it wasn't an effort at all for us to make our way down to see them over the weekend. It was the least Shellie, Kate and I could do.
We said goodbye yesterday morning and everyone was so loving. There were kisses and hugs and his mother was close to tears.. It was overwhelming. On the way back to the airport, I finally spoke to Shellie, very briefly, as to how important this weekend had been to me, not only in terms of saying a proper goodbye to Mickey, but also in terms of my recovery. I never used to word eating-disorder when I was talking to her over the weekend. It felt wrong to because I was feeling so good, eating so much and being so chirpy.. that I knew those words didn't need to pass my lips. Nobody would have known a thing about my past and that's fine. I don't look like I had an eating disorder. I don't act as if I have, I don't feel as if I have.. However I did feel that I needed to open up a little to her..she doesn't know any details about what has been happening, or how for months I had temporarily become a different person or how lifeless I had been throughout the whole ordeal. But she seemed to understand how it was a big step for me. She told me that over the months she could tell the difference in me, through my emails, even though I wouldn't never talk about the hard times I was going through. She said it's hard to imagine how I was or what I've been through because she only knows me to be the person I was in Oz and the person I was this weekend.
Over the whole 2 days, the two of us had hours and hours of chatting. Me and Kate however weren't really very close, we only met through Shellie so I didn't feel the need to go over old-times with her or to let her know anything any of my "stories". If we did, I made sure it was about her and that's not a difficult thing to accomplish when it comes to her, if you get my drift. But Shellie and me, probably covered every detail or every person we met, while we were traveling together. It was so much fun and it made me feel so alive again. I don't know where I got the energy from..but it came from somewhere and at one stage I was even more full of life than the them both, with my chatter and laughter. It was great. The nicest thing was to be around people my own age again AND people who understand exactly why or how things can go wrong, when you force yourself to lead a life that really isn't for you. Being totally on the same wave-length, was just so great and finally not needing to justify why I simply can't settle and need to travel, gave me a boost.
At around lunchtime yesterday, the 3 of us were dropped at the airport in Cork. Jayne dropped us off and Shellie and Kate got a 1o'clock flight and mine was at 2.30. I was feeling so fine, with how everything went. I had no regrets and no guilt. Saying goodbye wasn't too bad. I was just so happy to have seen them in the first place. We spoke about Mickey and his family and finally about how crazy life can be and how certain twists and turns led the 3 of us to meet up again, under such circumstances. The last time we said goodbye, was in Oz. This time we said goodbye, was in Cork. The next time we say goodbye, it could be anywhere. We'll never know how or when or where we'll be meeting again, but this weekend just proved how unpredictable life is, and that fate will always play a role when it comes to friends and paths crossing.. Or putting it more simply..we can never know what might happen in the future that will cause our lives to lead towards each other again..What a crazy world....
We said goodbye yesterday morning and everyone was so loving. There were kisses and hugs and his mother was close to tears.. It was overwhelming. On the way back to the airport, I finally spoke to Shellie, very briefly, as to how important this weekend had been to me, not only in terms of saying a proper goodbye to Mickey, but also in terms of my recovery. I never used to word eating-disorder when I was talking to her over the weekend. It felt wrong to because I was feeling so good, eating so much and being so chirpy.. that I knew those words didn't need to pass my lips. Nobody would have known a thing about my past and that's fine. I don't look like I had an eating disorder. I don't act as if I have, I don't feel as if I have.. However I did feel that I needed to open up a little to her..she doesn't know any details about what has been happening, or how for months I had temporarily become a different person or how lifeless I had been throughout the whole ordeal. But she seemed to understand how it was a big step for me. She told me that over the months she could tell the difference in me, through my emails, even though I wouldn't never talk about the hard times I was going through. She said it's hard to imagine how I was or what I've been through because she only knows me to be the person I was in Oz and the person I was this weekend.
Over the whole 2 days, the two of us had hours and hours of chatting. Me and Kate however weren't really very close, we only met through Shellie so I didn't feel the need to go over old-times with her or to let her know anything any of my "stories". If we did, I made sure it was about her and that's not a difficult thing to accomplish when it comes to her, if you get my drift. But Shellie and me, probably covered every detail or every person we met, while we were traveling together. It was so much fun and it made me feel so alive again. I don't know where I got the energy from..but it came from somewhere and at one stage I was even more full of life than the them both, with my chatter and laughter. It was great. The nicest thing was to be around people my own age again AND people who understand exactly why or how things can go wrong, when you force yourself to lead a life that really isn't for you. Being totally on the same wave-length, was just so great and finally not needing to justify why I simply can't settle and need to travel, gave me a boost.
At around lunchtime yesterday, the 3 of us were dropped at the airport in Cork. Jayne dropped us off and Shellie and Kate got a 1o'clock flight and mine was at 2.30. I was feeling so fine, with how everything went. I had no regrets and no guilt. Saying goodbye wasn't too bad. I was just so happy to have seen them in the first place. We spoke about Mickey and his family and finally about how crazy life can be and how certain twists and turns led the 3 of us to meet up again, under such circumstances. The last time we said goodbye, was in Oz. This time we said goodbye, was in Cork. The next time we say goodbye, it could be anywhere. We'll never know how or when or where we'll be meeting again, but this weekend just proved how unpredictable life is, and that fate will always play a role when it comes to friends and paths crossing.. Or putting it more simply..we can never know what might happen in the future that will cause our lives to lead towards each other again..What a crazy world....
The long weekend - 4
Over all, the weekend went better than I'd expected. There are so many different angles from which I can look at this weekend. Looking at it from my "traveling point of view" it was exactly what I needed. It gave me strength, it gave me a feeling of relief, it gave me a boost. Looking at it from a "grieving point of view" it gave me a chance to pay my respects and to see his death as being real. Two simple days, gave me so much. The time away from home, didn't need to end for me.. I would have easily stayed for longer or gone back to England with Shellie... It only gave me the drive I need and the buzz of traveling. I probably shouldn't be saying this but from my perspective, it was a "good" weekend. I was strong, I was eating everything, I was full of life and I didn't struggle at all.
So just to go over the food situation, that I was also majorly worried about.. During the week I had come up with a weekend food plan. I had it in the back of my mind, but I didn't really need it. Saturday for dinner, we all had spaghetti bolognese. Well, I've never eaten such a massive plate of pasta..ever.. It had been ages since I'd eaten pasta. Not for not liking it, but just because it's too stodgy.. But I ate it and enjoyed it. I couldn't finish the plate, but either could Kate.. and even she said that she was proud of herself for eating so much, and I agreed by saying that I was also proud of myself for getting through most of this mountain of spaghetti. And to top it off, we got a chocolate cupcake, which I also managed to fit in.. without guilt.. I was stuffed though, but that was fine. Sunday morning, I had a small bowl of cereal and a slice of toast. That was fine..no worries, nothing too big, no fry-ups, which I was delighted with.
At around 1 in the afternoon we started a 3-course-meal, when we were back at Mickeys house. Soup to start, really nice..then a plate of mashed potatoes, with some turkey, stuffing and veg. It was like a Christmas dinner but without the roast potatoes.. I enjoyed it all. And to top if all off, there was trifle. I couldn't move afterwards.. When I started the soup I wasn't really hungry (because of the massive dinner I'd had the night before), but I got through it all.. And didn't feel bad or disgusting afterwards. It didn't effect my mood, as I was cuddled up the couch, with all these bodies around me, all of us eating like there's no tomorrow. And then this old woman was amazed that I was polishing off my plate.. so cute.. and I just agreed with her and didn't feel like a pig for doing so!
At around 6 they started with more food.. sandwiches.. I could only fit in a half and that was me done for the day! (except for 2 biscuits at around 10 o'clock). I couldn't believe the mountains of food... All they wanted was for us to eat and eat and eat.. But for any person, there's only so much your stomach can handle. I even heard some of Mickey's cousins talking about the mountains of food that were being served and that they wouldn't be able to eat for days, for being fed so much in such a short space of time. But out in the country, in real "authentic" Ireland that's real typical I reckon..portions that frighten the life out of you and make you full just by taking one glance.. All they do be thinking is: Keep on feeding the visitors!!! The food might also make certain hard times or particular circumstances feel a little better..you could compare it to people always having a cup of tea, whenever something goes wrong. It's looked upon as curing pain or as solving a problem, if only for the time in which you drink it..that's why it's also always on tap..(well, it was on Sunday anyhow), just like the food was constantly being served.
Then on Monday morning, the friends we were staying with, were cooking a full Irish breakfast. But I didn't have any. I was happy to have some cornflakes. I wouldn't have been able to eat a lot anyhow after being so stuffed from the day before. I wasn't restricting myself as I wasn't tempted by the smell. So that was fine. I was fine and I'd gotten through all the food, without any drama's..
So just to go over the food situation, that I was also majorly worried about.. During the week I had come up with a weekend food plan. I had it in the back of my mind, but I didn't really need it. Saturday for dinner, we all had spaghetti bolognese. Well, I've never eaten such a massive plate of pasta..ever.. It had been ages since I'd eaten pasta. Not for not liking it, but just because it's too stodgy.. But I ate it and enjoyed it. I couldn't finish the plate, but either could Kate.. and even she said that she was proud of herself for eating so much, and I agreed by saying that I was also proud of myself for getting through most of this mountain of spaghetti. And to top it off, we got a chocolate cupcake, which I also managed to fit in.. without guilt.. I was stuffed though, but that was fine. Sunday morning, I had a small bowl of cereal and a slice of toast. That was fine..no worries, nothing too big, no fry-ups, which I was delighted with.
At around 1 in the afternoon we started a 3-course-meal, when we were back at Mickeys house. Soup to start, really nice..then a plate of mashed potatoes, with some turkey, stuffing and veg. It was like a Christmas dinner but without the roast potatoes.. I enjoyed it all. And to top if all off, there was trifle. I couldn't move afterwards.. When I started the soup I wasn't really hungry (because of the massive dinner I'd had the night before), but I got through it all.. And didn't feel bad or disgusting afterwards. It didn't effect my mood, as I was cuddled up the couch, with all these bodies around me, all of us eating like there's no tomorrow. And then this old woman was amazed that I was polishing off my plate.. so cute.. and I just agreed with her and didn't feel like a pig for doing so!
At around 6 they started with more food.. sandwiches.. I could only fit in a half and that was me done for the day! (except for 2 biscuits at around 10 o'clock). I couldn't believe the mountains of food... All they wanted was for us to eat and eat and eat.. But for any person, there's only so much your stomach can handle. I even heard some of Mickey's cousins talking about the mountains of food that were being served and that they wouldn't be able to eat for days, for being fed so much in such a short space of time. But out in the country, in real "authentic" Ireland that's real typical I reckon..portions that frighten the life out of you and make you full just by taking one glance.. All they do be thinking is: Keep on feeding the visitors!!! The food might also make certain hard times or particular circumstances feel a little better..you could compare it to people always having a cup of tea, whenever something goes wrong. It's looked upon as curing pain or as solving a problem, if only for the time in which you drink it..that's why it's also always on tap..(well, it was on Sunday anyhow), just like the food was constantly being served.
Then on Monday morning, the friends we were staying with, were cooking a full Irish breakfast. But I didn't have any. I was happy to have some cornflakes. I wouldn't have been able to eat a lot anyhow after being so stuffed from the day before. I wasn't restricting myself as I wasn't tempted by the smell. So that was fine. I was fine and I'd gotten through all the food, without any drama's..
The long weekend - 3
The 3 of us were staying with friends of Mickey's family. They also lived out in the middle of nowhere, up on top of a mountain, near Ballingarry. I had my own room, so that was pretty luxurious. We had dinner (I'll be going over the food, in a later post..) at Mickeys house and met his parents and some other family members. Everybody was so welcoming. They seemed so impressed and grateful that we made the effort to come down for Mickey's anniversary. At first I didn't really see what the big deal was, but the more the weekend progressed, the more I realized how much it meant to them all. We went to see Mickey's grave after dinner on Saturday evening and it was probably the hardest bit of the whole weekend.
A slightly bleak picture: Walking up to his grave, with the wind blowing and being surrounded by green hills with a little church behind us and the dark clouds above, I honestly felt like I was watching a movie being played. Especially because Kate and Shellie and I were "reunited" again, on the other side of the world, in totally unforeseen circumstances.. Between the time of walking from the car to his grave (2 minutes) I first had visions of our little family of 5 or the "famous five" -as we also liked to call ourselves-(Mickey, Kate, Shellie, me and Jodie who wasn't able to make it over from England this weekend) over in Oz, in the sun living the life and experiencing at least one high everyday, for weeks on end. There was so much laughter, light, colour, good humour and such a sense of freedom felt by all 5 of us, as we were embracing every moment of this precious life..and then a year and a half later, it had ended and the beauty of life was dampened as the sight of his grave confirmed something that we all knew but couldn't seem to see as being something that is reality.. Micheal Sparrow, died aged 24.. It was freaky and the words: "rest in peace" just made me feel sick to my stomach. The movie in my head had ended and his death was suddenly real. The adventures that we experienced together and that he experienced, as he continued to travel and us 4 girls had left Oz and were all "settling" back into life back here, seemed to lead to that moment as we stood there looking at his name written in stone. It was so sad.
His family were so strong and they clearly didn't want any moping around or sadness. So Saturday night we went out to the pub, with his Mam and aunties. We were with a big group and ended up staying out till after 1. I was pretty tired by that stage.. after the big night on Friday, the journey that morning, meeting so many new people throughout the whole day, all the chatting and talking in the evening and then 3 glasses of wine.. It was quite a lot in one day, but I really was fine.
Sunday was the biggest day probably. The one that we had all been dreading. We went to mass at half 10. The church was pretty full and it was hard hearing the priest talking about Mickey, as having passed away. Other than that, it was very impersonal. I know that could be the nature of catholic religion, but I thought it was such a pity. Mickey was such an amazing guy, but that wasn't mentioned once. The impact he made on the people he met, wasn't mentioned. All that was said was how much he was being missed and how the family were grieving. The service didn't do him justice at all. But that's a whole a different topic to analyze.. After mass the priest said a few words at the grave with people paying their respects. Then everyone gathered at his parents house shortly afterwards, where we sat until 12 that night before going back to their friends house, where our beds were waiting.
The day turned out really nice, if I'm honest. There wasn't too much sadness. For 12 hours, we were sitting in their sitting room, drinking and eating. It was lovely seeing the support that came from all angles and how the whole community pulled together to make the day as easy as possible on the people who were closest to him. There were around 50 people in the house. The men were in the sitting room, drinking whisky and watching football. The women were in the kitchen making the food and filling the glasses all day. Spirits were high even though you could see how all the neighbours and family members were doing their best to pull his parents and Jayne through, which made the day more bearable. And it worked really well. People were laughing and joking and being merry. Which is nice. It wasn't until late Sunday evening, when people started to leave, that his parents and sister started to slowly break down. That was so sad..
A slightly bleak picture: Walking up to his grave, with the wind blowing and being surrounded by green hills with a little church behind us and the dark clouds above, I honestly felt like I was watching a movie being played. Especially because Kate and Shellie and I were "reunited" again, on the other side of the world, in totally unforeseen circumstances.. Between the time of walking from the car to his grave (2 minutes) I first had visions of our little family of 5 or the "famous five" -as we also liked to call ourselves-(Mickey, Kate, Shellie, me and Jodie who wasn't able to make it over from England this weekend) over in Oz, in the sun living the life and experiencing at least one high everyday, for weeks on end. There was so much laughter, light, colour, good humour and such a sense of freedom felt by all 5 of us, as we were embracing every moment of this precious life..and then a year and a half later, it had ended and the beauty of life was dampened as the sight of his grave confirmed something that we all knew but couldn't seem to see as being something that is reality.. Micheal Sparrow, died aged 24.. It was freaky and the words: "rest in peace" just made me feel sick to my stomach. The movie in my head had ended and his death was suddenly real. The adventures that we experienced together and that he experienced, as he continued to travel and us 4 girls had left Oz and were all "settling" back into life back here, seemed to lead to that moment as we stood there looking at his name written in stone. It was so sad.
His family were so strong and they clearly didn't want any moping around or sadness. So Saturday night we went out to the pub, with his Mam and aunties. We were with a big group and ended up staying out till after 1. I was pretty tired by that stage.. after the big night on Friday, the journey that morning, meeting so many new people throughout the whole day, all the chatting and talking in the evening and then 3 glasses of wine.. It was quite a lot in one day, but I really was fine.
Sunday was the biggest day probably. The one that we had all been dreading. We went to mass at half 10. The church was pretty full and it was hard hearing the priest talking about Mickey, as having passed away. Other than that, it was very impersonal. I know that could be the nature of catholic religion, but I thought it was such a pity. Mickey was such an amazing guy, but that wasn't mentioned once. The impact he made on the people he met, wasn't mentioned. All that was said was how much he was being missed and how the family were grieving. The service didn't do him justice at all. But that's a whole a different topic to analyze.. After mass the priest said a few words at the grave with people paying their respects. Then everyone gathered at his parents house shortly afterwards, where we sat until 12 that night before going back to their friends house, where our beds were waiting.
The day turned out really nice, if I'm honest. There wasn't too much sadness. For 12 hours, we were sitting in their sitting room, drinking and eating. It was lovely seeing the support that came from all angles and how the whole community pulled together to make the day as easy as possible on the people who were closest to him. There were around 50 people in the house. The men were in the sitting room, drinking whisky and watching football. The women were in the kitchen making the food and filling the glasses all day. Spirits were high even though you could see how all the neighbours and family members were doing their best to pull his parents and Jayne through, which made the day more bearable. And it worked really well. People were laughing and joking and being merry. Which is nice. It wasn't until late Sunday evening, when people started to leave, that his parents and sister started to slowly break down. That was so sad..
The long weekend - 2
Saturday morning, came round very quickly. But I was okay. Just tired. I wasn't stressed though or worried or even excited. Throughout the "build-up" towards Saturday I became more and more convinced that I was able to get through the weekend and I was going to be fine. 2 days away from home, in unfamiliar surroundings with "unsafe" food, was going to be okay. I just grew more and more confident that I could do this, the nearer the weekend got. So that's probably what made me feel okay on Saturday morning. Every step of the journey, was just another moment. The car journey, the airport walk, the waiting for the flight and the flight itself.. they were all just little parts of the here and the now. Being nervous or anxious about food and people wasn't going to serve me, so I didn't see the point. I took it all in my stride.
It wasn't until the plane landed (after a 30 minute fight from Dublin to Cork), that I got excited because I was going to be seeing Shellie and Kate again. From the plane to the arrivals hall was only 5 minutes (such a small airport, it was so handy) and there they were waiting for me, Shellie, Kate and Jayne (Mickeys sister). Straight away it was like old times, seeing the girls. So great. I was excited and overwhelmed and relieved and happy to be there at that moment. Especially when I met Jayne. I'd heard so much about her. And she welcomed me with open arms. Looking at her, gave me such a fright though..Mickey and her look so much a like. I wasn't really prepared to be faced with the female version of him (even though she is 3 older).
The drive up to Ballingarry (a tiny little village where they live, out in the middle of nowhere, in county Tipperary), was an hour and a half. Me and Shellie were catching up on everything, as we were on the back seat together. I was kind of wary, whenever the subject came up about my life and the past months. I didn't know whether to talk about what I've been going through. Shellie knew about it but not to any extent and I'm still not sure if she told Kate or not. The moment I'd been dreading the most, was the question about me and what I'm doing for work and stuff. So Jayne asked if I've settled over here again, and I said that I hadn't. I didn't have a prepared "speech" about my life since I've gotten back from Oz. I knew what to say though.. I told her that I'd been in Holland for a while and things went wrong for me, so I came back to Ireland months ago to spend some time with my ma, brother and sister to get myself sorted out again, and I'm doing good again and that I hope to be travelling again soon. Then Kate asked I was working and I simply said that I wasn't. So I was delighted with myself! My very brief life-story had come together, I hadn't lied about anything and hadn't given away any details either. Everything was going to be fine..
The reason for me being fine with this question that I was so worried about during the week, was down to some advice I got. The person who asks a question wouldn't see the answer as being such an exposure or as big an issue as I would see it. Because it's the big deal I make of it myself and the meaning that's behind the question for me..not for the person who is asking the question. For them (or Jayne and Kate in this case) the answer isn't really a big biggie.. Twisting to answer I gave, to not reveal anything I didn't feel comfortable with, was the thing that made me feel comfortable at that moment... it's all about boundaries and interpretation. A little theory put into practise and it worked out fine. And another thing..it also shows that worrying about things, like I did, is just a waste of precious energy and time and doesn't help a bit!
.........
It wasn't until the plane landed (after a 30 minute fight from Dublin to Cork), that I got excited because I was going to be seeing Shellie and Kate again. From the plane to the arrivals hall was only 5 minutes (such a small airport, it was so handy) and there they were waiting for me, Shellie, Kate and Jayne (Mickeys sister). Straight away it was like old times, seeing the girls. So great. I was excited and overwhelmed and relieved and happy to be there at that moment. Especially when I met Jayne. I'd heard so much about her. And she welcomed me with open arms. Looking at her, gave me such a fright though..Mickey and her look so much a like. I wasn't really prepared to be faced with the female version of him (even though she is 3 older).
The drive up to Ballingarry (a tiny little village where they live, out in the middle of nowhere, in county Tipperary), was an hour and a half. Me and Shellie were catching up on everything, as we were on the back seat together. I was kind of wary, whenever the subject came up about my life and the past months. I didn't know whether to talk about what I've been going through. Shellie knew about it but not to any extent and I'm still not sure if she told Kate or not. The moment I'd been dreading the most, was the question about me and what I'm doing for work and stuff. So Jayne asked if I've settled over here again, and I said that I hadn't. I didn't have a prepared "speech" about my life since I've gotten back from Oz. I knew what to say though.. I told her that I'd been in Holland for a while and things went wrong for me, so I came back to Ireland months ago to spend some time with my ma, brother and sister to get myself sorted out again, and I'm doing good again and that I hope to be travelling again soon. Then Kate asked I was working and I simply said that I wasn't. So I was delighted with myself! My very brief life-story had come together, I hadn't lied about anything and hadn't given away any details either. Everything was going to be fine..
The reason for me being fine with this question that I was so worried about during the week, was down to some advice I got. The person who asks a question wouldn't see the answer as being such an exposure or as big an issue as I would see it. Because it's the big deal I make of it myself and the meaning that's behind the question for me..not for the person who is asking the question. For them (or Jayne and Kate in this case) the answer isn't really a big biggie.. Twisting to answer I gave, to not reveal anything I didn't feel comfortable with, was the thing that made me feel comfortable at that moment... it's all about boundaries and interpretation. A little theory put into practise and it worked out fine. And another thing..it also shows that worrying about things, like I did, is just a waste of precious energy and time and doesn't help a bit!
.........
The long weekend - 1
It's Tuesday afternoon. And I'm finally getting the chance to go through the past 4 days..in which I had a big night out and went to Tipperary for Mickeys anniversary. It's been nearly a week since I've been able to catch-up and so much has happened since Thursday. Not too sure where to start. Maybe just from the beginning.
Friday was a really good day. I wasn't worried about the weekend. I was due to go down to Tipperary on Saturday morning, early, but I refused to let it ruin my Friday, because Sandra and her mate Jennifer were over and I wanted to spend time with them. So I had decided to just go about things as they come up. I met up with Sandra and Jennifer on Friday afternoon. That was really "gezellig" and I was feeling so good. I was able to say that I was feeling good and I was fine to take compliments on board.
We went out on Friday night. I knew I had to be up at 7 the next morning, but that didn't really bother me. I hadn't put any limits on my hours of fun or my glasses of rose. I wasn't really planning on going wild either..but I was wanting to go with the flow. And that's what I did. It did turn out to be a big night and it was great! I only had 3 glasses of rose in total and then I was full up. I didn't want anymore and wouldn't have been able for more. I wasn't drunk, just a little tipsy, and I was having so much fun. I finally danced and danced, and didn't care for what was happening around me. Before I knew what was happening, it was 3 o'clock and we were in the taxi home. I wasn't majorly tired and didn't have any aches or pains. This was pretty big, seeing as though I haven't danced like that for so long. I wasn't feeling guilty, I wasn't restricting myself in any way and it was just all really great.
Throughout the day on Friday, I got so many compliments from everyone around and from old familiar faces, who I met while I was out. They didn't effect me any way at all. I was told I was looking great and doing so well, by quite a few people, but I didn't care. If anything it was good to hear and reassuring that it doesn't matter if I hear good or bad words as to how I'm looking, doing or coping. I was on such a high all night and was loving life so much, that nothing would have brought me up anymore than I already was or pulled me down either.
All this goodness, and knowing in the back of my mind that the next day I'd be needing my strength and energy in order to deal with what could come my way. But I was ceasing the moment, and Saturday was another day. Dancing like there's no tomorrow..so it's all for here and now. I'd deal with Saturday, when Saturday happened. Friday night, on the dance floor, there were no worries and nothing was going to ruin how high I was feeling. And it didn't. Just before going home, we went to the chippers. I contemplated having something, but really I wasn't in the mood for anything, so I wasn't restricting. I wasn't drunk (unlike the two mad hatters I was out with) so I didn't want greasy food, but I needed something sweet. When I got home I had 2 cereal bars, really sweet ones. And I didn't feel bad for having them. Maybe from all the dancing, I needed a boost, so there was no guilt. I went to bed, and was still buzzing (because I didn't have the alcohol in my system to knock me out) so I couldn't get to sleep. I ended up maybe having only 3 hours sleep, and I was up just after 7 the next morning.
................
Friday was a really good day. I wasn't worried about the weekend. I was due to go down to Tipperary on Saturday morning, early, but I refused to let it ruin my Friday, because Sandra and her mate Jennifer were over and I wanted to spend time with them. So I had decided to just go about things as they come up. I met up with Sandra and Jennifer on Friday afternoon. That was really "gezellig" and I was feeling so good. I was able to say that I was feeling good and I was fine to take compliments on board.
We went out on Friday night. I knew I had to be up at 7 the next morning, but that didn't really bother me. I hadn't put any limits on my hours of fun or my glasses of rose. I wasn't really planning on going wild either..but I was wanting to go with the flow. And that's what I did. It did turn out to be a big night and it was great! I only had 3 glasses of rose in total and then I was full up. I didn't want anymore and wouldn't have been able for more. I wasn't drunk, just a little tipsy, and I was having so much fun. I finally danced and danced, and didn't care for what was happening around me. Before I knew what was happening, it was 3 o'clock and we were in the taxi home. I wasn't majorly tired and didn't have any aches or pains. This was pretty big, seeing as though I haven't danced like that for so long. I wasn't feeling guilty, I wasn't restricting myself in any way and it was just all really great.
Throughout the day on Friday, I got so many compliments from everyone around and from old familiar faces, who I met while I was out. They didn't effect me any way at all. I was told I was looking great and doing so well, by quite a few people, but I didn't care. If anything it was good to hear and reassuring that it doesn't matter if I hear good or bad words as to how I'm looking, doing or coping. I was on such a high all night and was loving life so much, that nothing would have brought me up anymore than I already was or pulled me down either.
All this goodness, and knowing in the back of my mind that the next day I'd be needing my strength and energy in order to deal with what could come my way. But I was ceasing the moment, and Saturday was another day. Dancing like there's no tomorrow..so it's all for here and now. I'd deal with Saturday, when Saturday happened. Friday night, on the dance floor, there were no worries and nothing was going to ruin how high I was feeling. And it didn't. Just before going home, we went to the chippers. I contemplated having something, but really I wasn't in the mood for anything, so I wasn't restricting. I wasn't drunk (unlike the two mad hatters I was out with) so I didn't want greasy food, but I needed something sweet. When I got home I had 2 cereal bars, really sweet ones. And I didn't feel bad for having them. Maybe from all the dancing, I needed a boost, so there was no guilt. I went to bed, and was still buzzing (because I didn't have the alcohol in my system to knock me out) so I couldn't get to sleep. I ended up maybe having only 3 hours sleep, and I was up just after 7 the next morning.
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