Monday, November 19, 2012
You know those times where you feel like you need to blog but you don't have much to say? That's me this morning. I've got my coffee, my purring baby next to me, and I'm feeling inspired. To say what? I am yet unsure.
I suppose that I could start by talking about the fact I had a talk with my mom on Saturday. We went to dinner and I found an opportunity to talk about the ED and trauma relation, and I brought up what was her part in it. I talked about the fact that I have no memories from the time I was 12 to the time I was 16. None. I talked about I think these collective experiences are the reason I don't want children. I saw her shrinking into herself momentarily, but she said "Paula, I'm so sorry. You are right, it wasn't fair to you, you were a child. I'm so sorry." I don't think it healed any part of me, because I'm not 100% sure I'm holding on to any resentment now that I've given the experience a voice, but it was nice hearing either way, acknowledging it. And I love her.
In talking through the trauma experiences, I half expected her to say "No, it wasn't like that" or "It wasn't that bad", but she didn't which just puts the nail in the coffin that I *do* remember exactly how those experiences were and they were traumatic for more than just myself.
I feel sad for my family really. I don't know why of all the people in my family that I've been given the task of digging through the muck, but I feel it's my resposibility to heal myself as an example to my family that they can also heal themselves. I'm already thinking about what sharing my revelations with my drug-addicted, bulemic, alcoholic brother might do for him... shed some light on his situation, give his trauma a voice he didn't know existed because he can't get out of his own way. In some small way, I imagine my own healing as a stepping stone for my family, but perhaps I'm delusional. I don't know.
What I do know is that when I was getting healthy, my family followed in my footsteps because they were inspired. When I moved here for college, they followed 2 years later. They adamently refuse to try certain foods until I cook it and they fall in love. Seems they are easily influenced when there is a strong leader.
I've always been a "go against the grain" kind of gal. Maybe it's the tenacity I built in moving through 3 different states, 5 different cities, 7 different houses, and 9 different schools all before I was 18 years old. Between 3rd grade and 10th grade, I was in a different school every single year. I've had to rely on myself because my experiences have proven me that I can't rely on others. My guard is almost always up because I expect to get hurt. It's a double edged sword, I know... I keep people out that way. Seems the lesser of two evils most of the time.
This last week was important in my life... the connecting of the dots, seeing the correlation of loss of memory and trauma, choosing not to remain silent. In tracking my eating in relation to the unearthing, even when I feel in control with my words, on the day or day after I talk about something that creates a lot of spin/energy in me, I tend to eat more. Emotional, yes. But now I'm aware where I wasn't before.
I had to step back this week and look at my collective week, not only through the lens of what I had come to terms with, but my collective nutrition. Overall, if you added up every day, I was within range for the week. I've done my best not to be nit picky about things... I record to the best of my ability but am not accounting for every single piece of gum that I have. It's not healthy that way, at least for me. It's felt balanced for the most part. I even made it to the gym 3 times... pretty cool. Moderation and reasonable expectations have yet to fail me.
So all in all, I'm pretty proud. For being less than 3 weeks back on track, I've made a LOT of progress. I am remembering what it took me so long to learn last time... that this isn't about the weight. It's about almost everything thing else, the weight is just a symptom of the unrest in your soul.