A dramaqueen if ever there was one..2

Never in a million years would I have thought just what I'd get out of this blog. I would never have believed anybody, if they had told me a year ago, just how much having an eating disorder and recovering from it, would give me. It's given me more than I could ever have wished for. An insight that is more valuable than anything. I want this to become my life. By "this" I mean writing. Maybe I'm in the middle of it. Maybe it's the transformation I was talking about, that is still secretly taking place. But being in the middle of it, is always the most difficult place to be whilst trying to spot the things that are taking place around you. Is that it? Who knows? I don't.

All I know is that the feelings that came up yesterday when I sat with Diann and said that I have to stop blogging, were excruciating. There was that familiar pressure in my chest again -which I have started to see as a warning sign that I'm going against what feels good and right- and I actually cried. I can't believe myself sometimes. Diann said it's like a restriction of a different form. If something feels so bad, for me to actually cry about it, then why would I follow it through.. This just brings me back to the rule-book I've got for myself. That's the reason why. I'm feeling so great, and that's why it shocked me so much, to feel so awful when not blogging. I didn't want to cry anymore. I didn't think there was anything else to shed tears over. I'm happy, I feel healthy, I feel on top of the world. But still, going against what feels so good, can make anybody sad. As well, the fact that the only one who is putting myself through this small pain, by stealing something so precious, is myself. Punishing myself for no reason. That's something to be sad about. Another thing, is the realization, of feeling so great and being back on my feet but that there's still a part of me wanting to bring myself down..again. After everything I've been through I'm still not willing to give myself a break. All brought on by my mental rule-book. Well, you know what?? I'll be throwing that book out the window any day now..

I guess the thing that has been wrecking my head is that if this blog isn't about an eating disorder, then it shouldn't be about anything. I've gone over this subject so many times in my head and I've written about it so often too that it's more than likely getting boring. But repeating what I just wrote.. if this blog isn't about an eating disorder, then it shouldn't be about anything. That's like me saying that without an eating disorder I'm nothing. I've nothing more to give, once I'm recovered..that's what I'm saying. It's something that I once thought was true..that the eating disorder is me and it will be forever. That me and the illness are one and the same. But I know enough now, to know that it isn't true. It's like me trying to convince myself that all I can do all day long, is go over and over the past months and analyze the eating disorder until I'm blue in the face, and then it stops. But it doesn't. Convincing myself of this fact; just using the word "convincing", tells me that I know it's not true. I'm well aware that I've got so much more to give than just my recovery put into 100.000.000.000 words. I know full well how capable I am of transforming this from one chapter to another.

Yesterday I finally said something else, that has been going around in my head for months and it felt so liberating. For a while, I wasn't sure if I was just being silly or if I was thinking too far ahead or making this into something that it's not. But I told Diann that I wanted to publish this blog. I need to get it "out there". I have to. It's this massive urge that I just can't ignore anymore. But I put it to the back of my mind, because I thought it might be too soon. But too soon for what? I have no idea. Instantly Diann and Ma encouraged the idea. They were so supportive, which was all I needed to hear. The thing is, I've never wanted feed-back about what I write. I've never read back over any of it (which is probably why I can make so may spelling mistakes..) so I don't know what it's like to read. That's why I thought I was making this blog into something it's not.. a story, a tale, a non-fictional drama written by someone who was a muddled-up mess for the main part of it and therefore not worthy of being put "out there" for others to learn from it.

Another excuse that I found to stop me from wanting to try publish it, was the fact that there are thousands of books on eating disorders. Diann said that that's not the point. If my story manages to reach 3 or 4 others, from which they can draw any kind of inspiration, whilst recovering from anorexia, a different eating disorder or an addiction or different mental illness, then that's 3 or 4 people that are been given extra help. They could use it in whatever way they wish and get from it whatever they please.. The fact of the matter is that it will be used to it's full potential, rather than sitting on a website, tucked away and to which not many people have access to.

If I could get it to the hands of those who are in need, and help them, then these past 9 months have been even more valuable than I thought. I guess hearing feed-back yesterday from Diann, and especially from Ma, was all I needed. I wasn't looking for approval. But to hear, from somebody who means the world to you, just how meaningful the writing is, is worth it's weight in gold. But then again, isn't it always advised to NOT take compliments from loved-ones too seriously, because they would never say that it's not as a good as it could be, or not as good you might have led yourself to believe. An objective opinion, from an outsider, is always the safest way to go. But that's a different subject.. I guess all I have to say on the subject, for now, is that it would be a dream come true for me to be able to get this "out there". It's what I've been wanting, for only a short time. But the intensity of this desire is so big that it feels like it's never NOT been a part of me. To take up just a tiny piece of space on a bookshelf in the bookshop..whow.. Just 2 or 3cm is all I'd love and for somebody to pick it up, somebody who needs it, and to feel better and somewhat stronger for reading it. I know having goals and wanting to achieve things in life, isn't always as constructive as can be, but having a book with my name on it, is one of them.

To make that possible, I reckon, for now, I've chosen the right direction. What direction is that? Traveling. There's not stability, in the line of work. That means I'll be flexible enough to write, I'll have the time and I'll have the right surroudings. I'll be able to always, or for however long I want, be in tune with myself. The right climate, fresh air and a balanced lifestyle with both hustle and bustle, stillness and calm that will both give inspiration, wisdom and potential is always accessible. It wouldn't feel right for me to not follow my next step through, because of what it has to offer and because of what I've come to realize and because I've now found something that I simply don't want to live without. No matter how dramatic that might sound.. I can't care, and I think by now, everyone who knows me, can safely say that I can be over the top at the best of times, with emotional drama, wild imaginations and dreams that are only real in the dreams they are dreamt. So there you have it.. What more can I say on the subject? Probably a great deal, but the main thing is that my rule-book has gone and I'll see how I feel as the weeks progress. I'll see where this road is going to lead me for now.. I'll go with it and refuse to get stuck in the mud.

A dramaqueen if ever there was one..1

Signing-in this morning, on this blog and on the set-up page it said: last published post was on the 12th of March. It always says when I wrote my last piece, and usually the fact that it was 5 days ago would have given me the worst feeling in the world. But today, it didn't strike a cord. I am deliberately forgetting what my rule-book, that I've set for myself, says. Because the only one who is checking in to see if I'm abiding by these so-called rules, is me. Why? For no reason. Maybe to be harsh, maybe so I can feel like a failure if I don't act according to these rule that are no where to be found in print, but only in thoughts. So have the rules changed? No, but I have had to loosen-up and realize that nobody is policing what I write and how often I write. But this is what I led myself to believe. Why? Because living without it this blog, didn't seem possible. Is it possible now? I still don't believe it is.

Another rule that I had set for myself, was to cut down on the blogging and to slowly distance myself from this chapter of my life. I want to desperately to close it all down, to wrap it up nice and neatly in a box, and to store it away. I want for it to always be an important part of my life and to dip into for future reference, but in the psychological sense.. By this I mean, to think back to what this blog gave me, to what I felt whilst creating it and to how I honoured myself as it made everything in my life make sense. But the rule of distancing myself from it, is something I can't seem to abide by. Not yet, not now. It makes me feel awful to leave it behind. Not because I can't cut loose from the eating disorder. Not because I still want it be to me. Not because I'm grieving. But simply because this is all I want to do, for now. I don't want my life to be without writing. And if this blog is still giving me what I need for now, then why should I let it go? Just because I want to label everything by ending one chapter to starting another.

But there will never be a day, when I wake up to find myself transformed. Therefore I will never feel the desire to stop blogging, to stop analyzing, to stop being aware, to stop sharing and to stop growing. It's not like the flick of a switch. So I can't expect it ever to feel right, even though I've found myself waiting for the time to feel right. But it never will be, because it will always feel wrong. I'll never to be able to pinpoint the date, when I woke/wake up and I was/am different or better or healed or recovered or transformed. I simply can't. Because a transformation isn't instant. It's gradual. It takes time and adaptation. If it's natural it won't be sudden. If it's flowing, it won't be drastic. If it's drastic, it means it's harder to adjust. And adjusting so suddenly is going against the natural course that life is supposed to take. Forcing isn't natural. It brings up aches, pain, anger, discontent and a feeling of separation. Nobody wants to be separated from something that is so dear, from something that has become a part of being, from something that life has given you and that you cherish.

Realizing a love that you have; it's suddenly being revealed, it has always been there, but you were never aware and now you finally choose to see it and to experience the joy it brings to you. Bringing a passion into your life, just like a loved-one, and not being able to feel whole without it. Seeing a gift for what it is and using it, only gives you the tools to do what it is from day to day that makes the life you want. Tools to either work on yourself and to keep yourself sane or tools to help others and educate them on what lies beyond or tools to discover the world and to learn about everything that's in it. Reading a word, such a simple little thing, done from day to day. But to see that way in which it's formulated, the context around one word, the meaning behind it and then the sentence that has evolved bringing something extra. And the next sentence is totally different, but still in touch with the one before. The choice of words that just comes with each thought and the vocabulary that extends and extends, with every book that expands the mind. The choice of words and formation that comes together giving a different twist and turn to words and a different meaning and with depth behind them that is always there but that not everybody can see. The space in between, like falling into gaps of nothingness, but they are more than nothingness, they are more because it's the space that gives the words meaning and it gives them air to breathe and to be individual but still being part of a story. The part they play, could be tiny or huge, but that's insignificant. It doesn't matter, the point is that they have been chosen and they exist alone and together.

....More to come