Meaningful Life

I started grasping this concept of having a life this evening during my share.  It's something about connecting with people and being authentic and in the moment.  It was like sunday night when I had a few hours to kill and no where to be.  I had quantatative productive work that I could use to fill the time.  that's what I wanted to do, but a guy asked me to go have a beer with him.  I don't drink, but I took the opportunity to practice socializing.  He had a beer, and we hung out.  Normally that would sound like torture.  I still can't intellectually grasp how it enriches my life to spend time with people doing nothing productive, but it did.  we talked about a crazy vietnam war vet he used to have for a coach who's as psycho as mine.  He told me about downhill mountain racing, which apparently has the most devastating wipeouts EVER, and I explained adventure racing to him.  we decided to make a team, and hold auditions for our navigator.  We'll post an add on craigslist, and tape the audition which will probably have no applicants.  it was just silliness, and it was more memorable and fulfilling than doing the same training, studying, or paperwork that I always do to validate myself.  Other ways I've been connecting today:

-friendly debate about 12 step programs and higher powers

-singing lion king songs in car with Cri

-listening

-screaming in the driveway

-staring contest with Am

-singing I'm too Sexy with Cri

-opera singing

-gulping like frogs and practicing cockney accents with Jp

-Joking with pirates

So i think what's important about this is that all the past weeks of training - good and bad - they all run together.  No matter how much I accomplish, none of it fills the hole I'm trying to fill with exercise and food.  But this stuff does.  I need human connection, whether I understand why or not.

Anonymous

I love when you guys post comments.  Seriously.  It means a lot to me.  But can you make sure that you NEVER mention my name?  On the off chance that someone from work came by it, I would hate for my name to pop up somewhere.  thanks!

Dreams

I've been dreaming a lot lately...and not just random dreams.  They're all incredibly relevant and intense.  The 2 worst have been about the same real life event.  I'm back in a place I used to call home, but i'm not welcome there anymore.  I wasn't careful enough.  I trusted too much, and fell into a trap.  No one meant for anyone to get hurt, but they did, and I feel responsible.  I know there's nothing I can do now, but I ... it still hurts.  In my dream, I'm back in that place, doing what I've always done there, and suddenly someone asks me why i've been gone so long.  I remember why, and realize I shouldn't be there.  No one present knows, but they start guessing and trying to explain why i've been gone so long.  I get nervous, and unpack my lunch: a sandwich and rice.  Interesting that even in my dream, I eat over feelings, and curious that I would have rice.  I never have just rice.  It was dry and plain, and I spilled it all over the floor.  I ran off to get a broom and dust pan, but I HAD TO eat my sandwich.  I stopped to eat my meal in peace in my room, and looked around at all of my old stuff.  Most of it hadn't been moved, but the sticker with my name had been torn and peeled off the door.  It really started to dawn on me how much trouble I would be in if the man in charge showed up.  I slowly crept back to the main room to clean up the rice and get out of there, but as I turned a corner, I saw his hair sticking up behind the back of his tall revolving office chair.  OMG.  I was in so much trouble.  I couldn't get out without him seeing me, and I CAN'T talk to him!  What will he think if he sees me here!?  and that i spilled rice!?  that's so typical of me.  using his stuff, giving nothing of value in return, making a total mess of things, and then having no ability to clean it up.  I tried to sneak past when he left the room, and his secretary caught me.  We had a chat while I did some inverted sit ups (yeah, weird, huh?  well, not for me.)  But the secretary started asking questions and guessing very accurately at why I was banned from this place.  I began to waver in my responses when the boss returned...but it wasn't him.  It was his friend who for some reason had his hair done exactly like the boss.  Anyway.  that was it.

In the next dream, I was back there again, and I saw the girl who hates me.  Well, she told me she doesn't, and I apologized profusely, but I still believe she hates me.  She must.  In the dream she did.  In reality, neither of us want anyone to know what happened, and in the dream, I was relying on that fact to save me from humiliation, but she didn't care.  The second she saw me, she couldn't control her emotions.  The started screaming and cursing at me, telling me off for everything I had done to ruin her life in front of everyone.  It was awful.

I don't know if anyone has any inkling of what happened, but there are many people back there who I would like to work with.  They were role models to me, but I always felt like a nuisance to them - like I was in the way.  And i'm not imagining it.  The boss told me that most of the guys felt that way - that he was wasting time and money allowing me to be there.  I don't know if he was exaggerating, but...

I had to send an e-mail to some of those guys today, applying for a job.  Like I said.  I look up to them so much.  There are few people I'd rather work for.  But writing to them...trying to say something as a friendly greeting, but having to somewhat address the fact that I dissappeared off the face of the earth for a while...not easy.  The moment I hit send, my friend came over, and commented that I looked sick.  I'm not.  I just don't think I breathed while I spent 20 minutes stressing over the e-mail.  Finally, I gave up trying to say "the right things", and just sent it, before I could change my mind.  I kinda regret it now.  It could have been better written, and I'm not so sure I should have sent anything anyway.  I feel like they're going to write back and be like "you think there's a chance we'd even consider hiring you when there are bums and bimbos on the streets with more talent than you?  Not now that the boss isn't taking care of you.  we're not required by anyone to be civil to you."  I already planned my response for when they send that e-mail.  I was in acceptance of that possibility, until I realized a more horrifying thought.  what if they decide to hire me?  What if they go against their better judgement, and trust that I've been training and improving since they saw me last?  What if they give me one last chance, and I show up, and suck.  I've had so much to deal with (as anyone who's had ED treatment can tell you).  I've been on hiatus.  I've done remarkably well maintaining skills and strength considering the mass injuries AND full time recovery from ED, but not enough.  They're harder to impress than me, and if I looked at my progress from the outside without knowing the extenuating circumstances (and they CAN'T know)...I'd be disgusted.  I can just see them threatening "we're giving you ONE last chance.  If you suck now, don't ever contact us again."

There were a lot of memorable moments tonight.  Really nice high points.  Lots of lulls in between, and lots of discomfort in social situations, but I feel like I got to really see God working in my life.  

My friend that was driving to an event missed the exit on the freeway, because we were having a conversation about Quads.  He needs to learn to ride them.  We had to turn around twice to find our exit, but in that process, we passed a truck towing 2 quads, and I rolled down the window to ask them (on the freeway, yelling at the top of my lungs and signing wildly) if they could teach us to ride.  "Now!?" they asked. "No!  Tomorrow!"  I said.  Then they gave me their phone number, and I called and left a message for them.  I don't know if we'll actually hear from them or ride, but it was crazy fun.  

Then I found out about this big hollywood party that i was supposed to go to for a job i worked on.  It could be a great networking opportunity, but I was afraid everyone would be wild and drunk, and I'd feel out of place, lonely, dejected, and not do a good job of networking anyway.  I just wanted to go home, read, and go to sleep.  But I went.  I got dressed up, and tried to gear up for the experience.  hardly anyone I knew was there, and I spent most of the time wandering around looking for people to talk to, but the first person I recognized (I admit, I don't remember his name) introduced me to his roommate, who ... you won't believe this.  He was a military guy.  He's pretty cute.  When he got out of the military, he realized that all of his training had caused him to be disconnected, and he took acting classes for personal growth.  Although he never intended to be an actor, he seems to be making a living at it, and is starring in a motorcycle movie, for which he will be training tomorrow.  Dirt bikes.  I told him how badly I'd been wanting to learn that stuff, and he invited me to come!  It's free.  Paid for by production, and they have all kinds of extra bikes around, and may need girls to ride too.  It was such a fortuitous meeting!  I was all fluttery and excited for the rest of the night.  I'm trying to analyze my feelings about it.  It's funny, because I think with most girls, the fluttery feeling would be because of the guy, and riding would be the bonus, but in all honesty, I think I'm the reverse.  I'm flattered and intrigued about the potential of getting to know a military guy who seems to have a lot in common with me, but the real excitement came from the chance to learn new skills.  Especially after my last post.  I've been feeling so worthless the past few days lying around doing nothing.  I wrote about how I define my self and my worth through physical activity, and have felt like a zombie without that in my life.  I had just resigned myself to a fate of nothingness until I could learn to recognize what else there is to live for.  I was expecting hard barren times.  Perhaps I shouldn't be riding yet...especially since that's what hurts me the most, but the sudden chance to learn something new and get that validation of doing something exceptional...it was like being alive again.  In the way that I've always known how.  As exciting as it is, I kinda feel like I committed to giving up my crutch and learning to stand on my own two feet, and immediately latched onto the same exact crutch when it was thrown my way.  I don't know.  Maybe the fires will prevent us from going tomorrow.  The roads are still closed now.  I guess I'll leave it up to God!

I had this thought last night.  I do believe that everything happens for a reason, and that my higher power is looking out for my best interests.  The series of 4 minor injuries last year around this time seriously interfered with my plans, but I was able to see that it was my body's way of telling me it was time to rest.  I wasn't taking care of myself or giving me the time I needed to recover on a daily basis.  This point was proven when they were immediately followed by a far more serious injury that knocked me off my feet.  I understood, but couldn't do it.  I am after all a compulsive over-exerciser, and that was my only strategy for preventing my compulsive overeating.  So when I refused to take the hint, I got hit with another injury that has baffled me.  It feels different, heals different, and no matter how well I think I'm protecting it while I work out, it's not getting the rest it needs to recover.  I feel like there were many reasons for this one.  Again- it was the final message about learning to take time off, but without being forced out of comission, I never would have been willing to remove myself from my regular training to seek treatment for my eating disorder.  I've been so confused and frustrated as to why it's lasted so long, but last night, it hit me.  God is doing for me what I couldn't do for myself, and someday I'll probably thank him for it, but right now I'm pissed.  I don't get to heal and return to full physical activity until I learn to live without it.  I have to know who I am and how to BE in the world without relying on skills and physicality to define me.

I was at a low point last night.  I was working, and was abusing my injury more than I have in several months.  I realized that probably the past 8 weeks of doing practically nothing, and the past few days of doing ABSOLUTELY nothing may have gone down the tubes because of the mediocre activity I was doing.  It was nothing spectacular.  I didn't feel like I did it well, but it was too much, and I was swollen within minutes of beginning.  It only got worse.  I couldn't even really enjoy the adrenaline or the workout because I was fighting tears.  I felt like the only way I'd ever be able to heal was if I was kryogenically frozen so that I could remain unconscious during the healing process.  Then I reconsidered, and decided some kind of anesthetic induced hybernation would be more effective.  I don't think the body heals when you're frozen.  All of my muscles would atrophy, but I'd probably lose a lot of weight.  Then I'd be healed and skinny.  I could rebuild the muscle.  I like doing that.  I know.  that's really sick, but that's what I felt.  It doesn't feel that far off from what the past month or 2 has been like anyway.  I feel like I'm just killing time until I can start "living" again.  because I don't know how to live without my physical ability.  I used to say that I would keep doing crazy things like bunji jumping and sky diving until I get so old and decrepit that it kills me, because once my body can't handle those things, what's the point of living?  I truly felt and believed that.  My opinion has changed only enough to know intellectually that there's something inherently wrong with that.  I have to learn to live for other things.  I have to know who I am.  Being in a coma won't fix that.  I feel like even with the perfect rest, perfect supplements, perfect medecine and treatment, my injury would never heal.  I feel like God gave it to me to force me to learn who I am.  Physical ability has served me well, but I rely too heavily on it, and God will not remove my injury and restore my ability until I learn to live.  I can do it like program: as quickly or as slowly as I want to, but it's not going to fix itself if I just wait around.  Last night, it felt like a miserable surrender, but today it feels a little more hopeful.  Like when I first went to OA.  I hated it, but if recovery was what I had to do to get thin, fine.  I'd do it.  But I began to see what recovery meant, and how it could change my life.  Then recovery became more important than physical results.  Right now, getting to know myself sounds interesting, but tedious, boring, painful, and really really HARD!  but I'm willing to do it if that's what it takes to get my legs back to full capacity.  Someday, my life will be of greater value to me than my physical strength and agility.  That's when they'll return.  At least that's what I think.  Which leaves me with the problem of ...wait no.  I'm still thinking of this the wrong way.  It's not just about how do I avoid harmful activities.  It's about how do I fill my life with meaningful non-harmful people and experiences.  That does sound better.  I just don't get the crutch of exercise.  I'm gonna try to look at it as an exciting challenge.  Where to start?  How about a 4th step.  

Guilt

I feel AWFUL.  just terrible.  weak, powerless, bad, careless, inconsiderate, deceitful...I feel like a bad person.  The last time my roommate was out of town, she said I could use her car if I needed to.  I used it to run a few errands, pick up groceries and such.  And I remember this one time when I pulled into our tight little parking spot under the building, and I froze for a second.  Did I scrape the side of the car against the plastered post?  I wasn't sure.  I backed up, pulled into the spot.  I knew I had.  I must have.  I ran around to the side of the car to check, but didn't really see anything.  It was kinda dark, but no harm, no foul, right?

well a few weeks after she got back into town, she asked me about it.  "Did you scratch my car coming into the parking spot?  it lines up right where the post would be, and nobody else has driven my car."  

"I don't think so."  I said.  Thinking back, I began to question myself.  Then she showed me where the scratch was, and I knew.  "It must've been me then"  I said.  I didn't want her to think I'd lied about it initially, but i didn't want to lie about it now.  "It must have been.  If you want, I'll do whatever I have to do to pay for the repair." But the way I'd said it left some degree of doubt in her mind as to whether or not it was actually me, and she didn't want to charge me if I wasn't sure that I did it.  That's when I realized that I was pretty sure, but I couldn't say it.  I honestly don't know if she would bother getting it fixed anyway.  She has a lot of scratches all over her car, but one of them was from me.

I felt bad, but moved on.  She's out of town again, and since I drove her to the airport, she's letting me borrow the car again while she's gone.  I just did it again.  This time, I can see a big scratch.  So big in fact, that I again question whether I did it or not.  I was moving so slowly.  I heard it touch.  I know I left a mark, but not that big...?  Perhaps this one was already there, and I put another little tiny one on top of it?  Or maybe I'm a weapon of mass destruction to her car.  I'm terrified to tell her.  I feel terrible, and i don't want to lie or hide it.   I know how much those things hurt me.  But I don't know what to do.  I have no money right now.  I can't afford to pay for the groceries I bought last week.  

I guess my strategy for apologies and amends is usually to make up for it first if possible so that they can't be as upset when I tell the truth.  "I scratched your car, but I already took it in, touched it up, and had all of your previous scratches fixed while I was at it."  I hate being a burden, or irresponsible.  I don't want her to fear loaning things to me.  This sucks.  Because I know i have to be honest, but I don't have the means to fix it.

All or Nothing

Like I said before,

The costs of overeating are obvious.  It's only by recognizing the payoff that we can accurately evaluate our actions in the moment, and make healthier choices.  If the payoff is a temporary numbness to our problems, that simply causes the pain to be burried deeper within us, that recognition will probably be immensely helpful in resisting the urge.  I've also recently recognized a little more about the psychology of why I like to starve or do other things of that nature.  I get an intense pride from being tough - able to withstand harsh conditions and injury - to soldier on alone without help or complaint.  Just like the sense of worthiness I get from excellence, achievement, and persistence, I get a high from extreme toughness.  If I'm doing something impressive, I can define myself by that, rather than by what I'm really feeling.  But it has to be a strong trait, or it doesn't overrule other things.  For example, Say a bunch of us are sitting outside in long sleeve shirts, and i'm a little chilly.  Everyone else seems fine, but I'm cold.  If someone offers me a jacket, I'll take it in a second, because refusing it doesn't make me amazingly tough.  Everyone else is fine without a jacket.  If I tough it out, I'm only succeeding in being average.  Not interesting.  Might as well be comfortable.  However, let's say the same group of us are there, and I'm shivering in a tank top, while everyone else has a furry winter coat.  There's a good chance that I would refuse the jacket, just to show how tough I am.  The cost is discomfort.  The benefit is demonstrating victory over the need for comfort - a feeling of superiority.  When you look at it that way, it all seems very silly, but that's why it's so important to look at and understand these things.  A binge brings comfort.  Starving brings pride, but both are only temporary.  Middle ground deprives me of the numbing comfort and the isolating superiority, but the long term pay off is so much greater.  That's what I'm just beginning to understand.  If I eat small meals every few hours exactly as planned, I don't get to numb out.  I don't get to feel super-human for transcending basic bodily needs, but I do get peace.  I get to really know and understand myself.  I get to be present in the world, and connect with people.  I get to stay conscious enough to get things done, live my life, and really be involved in it.  It's a tough transition to make, especially when I'm so used to my old way.  But the farther I go, the more value I see in it.  I don't feel like i've really done it justice in my description of the value of balance, but then, I guess I haven't completely found it yet.  How can you really describe something you haven't fully experienced?  But I've experience amazing highs from my disease, and still I am willing to give that up for balance.  I guess I have faith.  That's a pretty cool thing.