No Art Therapy For Me

Hey, guys! A great weekend for me. Great! Very melodic, if you will...
My doctor decided to put me on wellbutrin along with the prozac, so I hope that helps a bit...we'll see. I'm a little nervous about the combo, but there we are. I'll keep truckin.

I painted for the first time in a while yesterday. I used paint almost every day, but lately I have not. Some people find that painting helps them through the rough times...art therapy, if you will. Maybe I just haven't forced myself to do this enough, but I don't think it works that way for me.

I have a very high esteem for Art. For painting and creation in general. To do crafts and collages may help me unwind, but painting and song-writing requires a clear head. For me, it requires a special kind of positive force, a hope, a faith, and (as I said before) a clear mind. These things have been significantly lacking, and thus, I cannot find it within myself to sit down and create. It is hard to really open yourself up to the world when you feel hollow.

But I have lately, which is lovely. THREE DAYS. Three days I've gone without bingeing...so significant to me. I plan on making it four. And painting this morning, too. I did one last night, but I want to re-paint it in order to eliminate some of the more superfluous marks. Van Gogh did this, you know...He would often do a painting from life and then do drawing copies of the painting. Thus, he seemed to narrow in on relationships and accentuate the most important.

Labels

Yesterday was a rough. For some reason I snapped the night before...and because I decided not to purge, I had a rough night sleep, filled with the physical pain of fullness and indigestion as well as the guilt. The shame. Bad combo...so I woke up feeling unsettled. However, I took time for myself last night and woke up feeling good! I've been sitting here for a while, sketching and reading a new book of mine for extracurricular study. It's great!

I tend to think in black and white. I am aware of this, but it can hardly control my feelings on the matter...If I binge, the day is lost. It's a "bad" day: that's how I would first describe my day to someone. A day sans binge is a "good" day. I don't think it's beneficial for me to think in such a way...to even refer to the days in passing in this way. Perhaps if I use a different word, my mind will slowly begin to look at the hours in this way.

Let's see: good and bad is not a way to label the day, to explain it to someone. I had an overall good day on wednesday...in no way was a it easy, but I felt generally happy all day until the very last. I cannot take the binge out of the equation, nor do I wish to ignore the good moments I had before. It's hard to consider all the moments where no action was taken versus the few in which I did something against myself: actions yell. But my good times do not count for nothing. Quite the opposite...they count for everything. Those moments of clarity are what keep me running.

Successful versus Unsuccessful:
No...because "unsuccessful" makes me think the entire day was also a failure...fruitless and unproductive, which certainly is not true.

What if I thought in noise? I mean that's often how I experience a day: loud cries in my head cloud my thoughts...disturb calm. Don't think in success or failure, but in volume. I should concentrate on cause, right? The thing that makes my binge is the hectic thoughts in my head, the inability to calm down. Bulimia, after all, is not the cause but the symptom. Perhaps I should focus on the cause? And, really, a binge-y day would mean a louder day, anyway.

But then again, it changes. I could have a troubled day, full of changes in volume, but successful in the fact that I resisted a binge.

What about a reference to music? Melodic, sharp, and discordant. I mean,  perhaps I should stop the emphasis as to whether I binged or not, because (like I said) that is a symptom not the cause. And like I said, a day with binging is MUCH worse than the fight to resist.

I'll think on this more.

Find a Penny

I have a friend who says that he likes to pick up pennies heads-up: good luck. But even if he sees a penny heads-down, he doesn't leave it alone:
"If I'm feeling especially brave, I will turn the penny over, so the next person to find it will find it heads-up. And technically I haven't picked it up, you know..."

I saw a tails-up penny this morning and turned it over. A simple act just made my morning complete! I had a binge-free day yesterday, and this gives me so much confidence. Confidence and the faculty to see the little pennies in my day.

Superstitions can be very powerful, I think. They can give us a feeling invincibility or a feeling of hopelessness. Yet, I find it to be very amusing and self-empowering to figure out my ways of dodging the bad and sneaking in some good (even if not directly for you but for someone else).

I will relish, if only for this simple, calm moment, the joy of feeling like I have done something anonymously kind for someone else...and humorous. Even if the rest of this day is hard on me, this morning was not empty of some good.

Reasons Why

Huzzah! A good good day for me yesterday! Not without its challenges, but I still made it through the day feel pretty happy.
With a terrible weekend behind me, it was quite easy to find within myself the motivation to fight through my feelings and not let them overwhelm me! There's a site that I like to check out quite often now that's called "The Daily Motivator" (and the topics are often creapily relevant to my life:)
http://greatday.com/

Today was about the "Reason Why", by Ralph Marston. Part of it states:
"Again and again, remind yourself why. With a strong enough reason why, you will be able to do anything at any time in any circumstance."

This speaks true to me today, I think. Here I am entering a second day of potential no-binge/no-crazy/no-giving-in-and-feeling-utterly-upset-with-myself-and-thinking-tomorrow-will-be-different. I haven't gone two days in...months. Months. So, here I am on the verge of something...and reminding myself all day the REASON WHY I'm doing this, I feel, will give me the drive to keep going. I'm looking for truths that will glow through: thoughts I believe so firmly that no amount of waving in the heavy winds of my moods could pull them up by the roots. I feel I am a reasonable person, and I having such beliefs will act like a backboard for me. Perhaps I will write these things down...

1. My health. I can feel the difference in my body...Every time I binge, I feel sluggish, in pain, tired, dehydrated. I cannot move very much, and I cannot do the things I want to do. I can see the wearing of my body, and I feel foreign to it.

2. My feelings. I know that this whole experience is not necessarily my fault, but that doesn't mean I don't feel the shame and guilt of it when I succumb to those wild feelings of desperation. I isolate myself; I feel totally alone and hopeless. And I never know when I'll break out of the funk...it lingers for who knows how long.

3. My passions. There is so much in my life right now...so much potential. Every time I binge, I loose time. I loose opportunity. I feel devoid of creativity and desire to be out there DOING. I can't stand not wanting to paint, not wanting to be with friends, not wanting to read about philosophy or play guitar.

4. My relationships. I feel the difference between the ripening of my connections when I am calm versus the strain of bulimia. I am not actively mean or anything when I am under the weather, BUT I cannot climb out of he hole myself, and I know the people that love me worry about me. It kills me to talk to someone and say "Well, it wasn't the best day...". Again.

What will I do today if I feel crazy-like:
1. BREATHE. And look out the window. Think about the world...how beautiful and complicated and connected it all is. Maybe even look out the window (or around) upon a stranger's face and come up with a story for them :)
2. Read this list.
3. Talk to someone!! Especially someone who knows all about my struggles, but, really, anyone will do.

Wish me luck. I have a plan, I have some motivations. Bring it on.

Talking

Yup, a breakdown yesterday.
Spinning head.
Depressed.
Hopeless.

I don't cry very often, so usually when it happens, it happens for a while.

My head just felt so full and stressed...I don't know what's best for me: to fill my schedule or empty it? What do I do? Can I handle being a full-time student with a job AND recover?? I'm so terribly glad I have a good friend here lean on. She was there for me yesterday when I totally felt like I was circling the drain.

Talking is so important. So important. No one was going to fix me yesterday. No one was going to calm me totally...But having all those racing thoughts and fears swirling within just makes everything SO MUCH HARDER. But to tell someone these things is like taking a nice deep breath.

Of course, I am not really an advocate of telling anyone and everyone, "Hey! Back off. I feel crazy because my mind is spinning and I'm depressed and cannot focus..." yadda yadda yadda. There four kinds of people I have run across who are invaluable to me:
1. The Counselors. These people are those in your life who just love to help people. Often they are very obvious...they feel a need to help people. I am kinda like this person, although I more often need to lean on others these days. Kind people who are trustworthy and willing to be there. I have a good good friend who has offered to meet with me just to talk whenever I need it...she and another girl I know want to enter into the counseling profession anyway. heh give 'um some practice.

2. The Listeners who Love. These people love you so much. They don't necessarily understand all the time, but they try because they love you. At first it may be difficult to talk to them because you probably care deeply for them as well, and thus, the shame and guilt and need to make them proud of you is overwhelming. Yet, I've found that telling these people what's going on often helps them worry less about you, lifts those pent up feelings of guilt, and there's a wonderful ease that comes with finding they still do love you. I've found many moments of reborn confidence and hope after speaking to this kind of person, like my boyfriend.

3. The Similar Breeds. You'll find them in strangest places. I've talked to people who have/had eating disorders because they were friends to whom I've opened up, someone who came to ME because they overheard me talking to a "Counselor"-type, and even a sister. My sister went through the same thing, which made me terrified to talk to her about my troubles for a while. How could I fall into the same trap after watching her go through it? How could I do that? Would talking to her make those feelings re-surface for her? But finally telling my sister was one of the best choices I've made down the line. Also, I opened up to alcoholic before...anyone who has had an addiction can in some ways really understand your sentiments, although it may take some metaphor-work to make that transition :)

4. The Professionals. Therapists. People who have a range of understanding, suggestions, etc. I don't feel so problematic or crazy when I talk to a therapist because I find out there are so many more people like me out there!

Speaking of which, the lesson from this weekend's terror was to change my physical appointment and find a therapist (problems with insurance, so I had to change doctors...). Those are the main goals today.

Talk!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Safe Place

Do you have a "safe place"?
I suppose you could say that a coffee shop somehow does this for me. There's a slowing of time. A steady ebb and flow that is quite soothing, and it's also quite entertaining. Yes, I enjoy the coffee shop. It's where my creativity blooms and my thoughts tend to slow a bit.

I have mixed thoughts about the idea of a "safe place"; as with so many things, they are not good or bad. Bulimics (I am very guilty of this) automatically seem to think in black and white... a food is good or bad, we have either succeeded or failed, we are either pretty or ugly. Sigh. Tis a horrible habit, one that takes quite a bit of time to even remotely unravel. I feel like my mind is a big, jumbled knot...and it takes a while of picking and pulling and mistake-making to understand how to loosen it.

Now, when it comes to the "safe place": I think this is where you can stop, sit back and view the knot. It's not a place to hide, to escape yourself for a while. You carry yourself wherever you go, so there's really no way to run away. The more you run, the tighter the knot becomes. So I consider my "safe place" a place where I can sit and BE MYSELF. Feel the sanctity of sanity and CALM. That's the biggest thing: calm. It's not necessarily happiness or euphoria...that's not what what I seek. I know life is not full of consistent happiness, but I also know that my mind should not rev up to full throttle as often as it does. So, those moments of calm? Priceless.

What to do with them (the safe places)? USE THEM. Use them to be yourself. That can be a difficult proposition, as many bulimics don't know who they are outside of that obsessive mind...BUT you're in there somewhere. So that safe place is, perhaps, a place to sit and remind yourself that there are those precious moments where you can get a breath of fresh air...get a glimpse of the person you want to be...the person you are. That's hope.

The safe place should not be your escape. It can sometimes be a hard place, where you find out things about yourself you don't necessarily love. However, there should be something about it that, for some reason, does not let you fall all the way. For example, in my coffee shop, I smell the sweet smell of coffee, I watch the calm faces of people around me, I see friends and couple, I see the bright walls and paintings. Here, I see an inspiring and beautiful culture of relationships and art. There have been times when I feel so sad, so depressed in a coffee shop. There have been times when I have been journaling and I realize something about myself that is just the hardest thing in the world to accept...But I look around and I notice these things. I notice the colors and people...these things seem constant and outside myself. They gently whisper to me: "Hey! Common. There still are nice things in the world. Look! You're already noticing!" Just noticing means that some of them are in you.

Your place may be in an armchair in your living room. It may be on top of a mountain (oooo a good one!!), It may be a library. It may be in a park somewhere or in the lobby of a random building that's four blocks from your apartment. I like knowing I have a place to go that holds such hope.

Find a safe place. And remember: you don't have to go there all the time...but know that it's there, and figure out WHY it's your safe place. That way you can appreciate these qualities even more.

Hey...you may even find that these nice little features are all around if you take the time to look.

Café au Lait: explained.

Coffee with Milk. I once heard someone say that you never begin drinking coffee because you like the taste...especially black coffee. Yes, you may come to like the bitter-water, but (at least in my own experience) I didn't think I'd ever like coffee. But the smell: that was alluring. And sitting in coffee shops, watching people? My favorite activity. I study there, I sketch there, I read there. My frequent trips to the coffee shop meant that I started to try out beverages with the brown grounds. Particularly the café au lait (at first with lots of sugar) drew me. I am a Francophone, and so I would secretly smile to myself and chuckle when ordering the french drink. Especially in Starbucks (even after being reprimanded for not saying "café misto". bah. I simply refuse to say it). 

Ah, yes. It has a special place in my heart, this beverage: it was my drink of choice as I nuzzled myself into the coffee culture; it whispers sweet nothings to the française within; it is a warm, frothy blanket for my psyche; it connects me to the great minds of the past; it is a steady beat when my life seems like a . All these things are ever so important to me, both the past and present held in highest regard... e

Now, as for the metaphor: yes, I do consider it a metaphor. haha I try to pack as many metaphors in my life as possible!! Why? Well, I suppose it's because if you can attach a personal sentiments into an organized idea, one to project onto an outside experience or object, believe it acts like a handhold. You feel somehow a little equal with it, as you have waded through the confusion and, at the very least, wrapped a thin layer of sense around it. It can no longer possess you entirely. Aaaaand back to the drink metaphor: 
café = coffee. It's bitter. It really doesn't taste all that wonderful. BUT it has a fantastic smell, and it does wake a gal up in the morning. Its effects are alluring, although not necessarily the taste of the drink itself....oh! kinda like bulimia. Hah. That biting taste of shame and guilt and isolation and fretting....Gross.  
lait = milk. One could reach back and lay out all the old meanings for milk: life-giver, innocence, subsistence, etc. But for anyone who has ever suffered from an eating disorder, milk can be the enemy. It can be a non-necessary, calorie-packed extra for the wake-up juice!! "No, no, no. I'll have it black, please!" So you suffer through with the bitter stuff, because "Heck! Other people like it! I will, too...eventually." 
However, I DO like my coffee more with milk (especially soy milk). It stays with me longer, the texture silky and present on my tongue. It lingers and softens and, if it is soy milk, adds a bit 'o vanilla! Nice.
So, I accept the coffee drinker within. But I also accept that want for milk with that coffee. I accept that bulimia is part of my life. But it is NOT the entire story....I must learn how to find the sweet substance of my life so as to avoid drowning in a vicious coffee existence. There are positives to this entire experience with bulimia, and I am absolutely determined to find them.

There's a lovely balance waiting to be found.

So, here I begin my first blog journey, and I shall try to be faithful to it...I hope it helps me as it help you. Because sharing and knowing you're not alone makes all the difference in the world.