reunion

i went to my sister's graduation recently. it was a whirlwind weekend for not only my sister, but for my folks, too. my dad arrived on thursday, i flew in on friday and my mom showed up on saturday. and the main event on sunday. in addition to attending all things graduation, my sis and my folks were preparing her condo to sell - the weekend was full of pomp and circumstance, paint brushes and belt sanders. i had a delightful time and even got to spend some rare, quality time with just my dad and sister, kicking around lovely seattle.

in on friday, out on sunday. a special trip to tiffany's for a little something for dad's favorite daughters. a shopping spree in nordstroms. miles and miles of walking around downtown and capitol hill. and eating to the point of pain at every meal. despite all the great memories, the one that has lingered with uncomfortable clarity is that i completely overstuffed myself at every.single.meal. all weekend long. we stopped in a cute little divey indian restaurant the first night and i ate so much that i was still uncomfortable even after the movies the same night. the next day we went to the seattle space needle for a decadent brunch, where i repeated the stuffing cycle that left me feeling bloated, tired, and immobile even through the tiffany's visit and clothes shopping. later that evening, we had pizza and champagne while we celebrated my sister and freshened up her home. the next day, we rushed off to an early graduation and then to another brunch... where i gorged myself not only on the extravagant breakfast buffet, but also had a quarter of my sister's burger.

what the fuck was going on? i haven't eaten like this in months and months. the whole thing felt sick and out of control. something about being with my family brings this out of me... there was no animosity, no fighting, none of the usual, predictable behavior that usually ensues when two or more of my family members get together. so why the need to stuff? what was i worried about? what was i trying to smother inside of me? the worst part is that i noticed my dad eating way more than he usually does, too. since his heart surgery, he's lost thirty pounds, he eats healthy, he's walking 5 miles a day. he's in great shape. and yet, there was something odious about the whole weekend that was leading us to medicate ourselves in really bad ways.

i suspect that somewhere deep down, i know exactly why i was eating to the point of pain, but in my current state of consciousness, i'm uninterested in digging deeper. i feel flat lately... like i'm just... here. and yet i'm not fully here. what i do know, regardless of my current state of mental disinterest, is that i need to resolve the visit to seattle.

a change of clothes

my sister just left after a week of staying with me. we had a delightful time but after so many days in hostess mode, i'm spent! my whole life was on hold the entire time she was here and now it's time to get back on track.

i was anxiously awaiting her arrival. i always have a good time with my sister. ours is a tight bond, forged in poop jokes and silly repetitive word play and lots and lots of laughter. i planned a lot of activities for us and we had fun, but i couldn't help but feel pangs of something 'missing' for the entire duration of her stay.

yesterday, we woke before the crack of dawn and got her on her merry way back to school. once she was gone i was left to bob in the wake of an emotional sea churned up by her presence.

when i finally got home last night, i was struck by the onslaught of pensive thought that wedged itself between me and an early bedtime. i mulled over the slightly 'off' feeling that punctuated the visit with my sister. it wasn't negative or resentful - i didn't have a bad time with her. it was more... sadness... or grief... or perhaps just a somber flatness. i don't really know how to label this feeling... it was different... but not new, either.

this same feeling occurred the last time i went back to chicago for a quick visit. i was so excited to see my girlfriends, to spend an evening bearing witness to each other's stories, to reconnect, to just bask in the warmhearted goodness between good friends. the night fell short of my concocted fantasy even though it was full of goodwill and merriment, but it was definitely... different. there was a palpable change that had taken place between all of us and i wasn't prepared for it. the intimacy that comes with being in physical proximity was gone. the inside jokes and banter about the minutiae of jobs and partners and daily life was foreign to me. i had missed much being away for 7 months.

so when my sister's visit brought up the same feelings inside of me, i was thrown. i mean, this is MY SISTER. there is no changing here! this is sacred space. this is familiar space. this is the root of me. how can our relationship feel different?

at first i thought it might have been all on her. i mean she is in the midst of some major life changing stuff. she's graduating from her undergraduate studies in june and immediately shuffling off to grad school. she hasn't decided which offer to accept yet for her higher learning. she's preparing to sell her condo upon graduating this summer, move to a new city, start anew. i know the turmoil that all of these things can cause so my first instinct was to project my own troubled feelings onto her. maybe she did bring her baggage on vacation with her, but i know better than to pass the buck for my feelings. i'm feeling the way i am because something is going on inside of me... not because something may or may not be going on with my sis.

then i thought it might have to do with the living arrangements while she was here... in our small place...which is good enough for two but too small for three. i am a creature of habit. and boundaries. the environment in which i grew up knew no boundaries and many of my family members (e.g. my loveable sissy sister) still operate wtihout boundaries. maybe this was the cause of my discontent... my sister camped out on the couch, being ever present in my space. my lack of privacy, quiet time, me time. hmmm. no. this isn't it, either.

perhaps my lingering flatness was due to my tendancies to resort to old/unhealty patterns when i'm around my family? not only did i excuse myself from eating healthy, but i kind of went tits up in the other direction. we subsisted on a steady stream of cheesy poofs, peanut m&ms, and dining out while my sister was here. by the end of her visit, i had perpetual sour stomach and my sugar crash felt something akin to heroin withdrawl. my poor body was wrecked and crying out for leafy greens. i couldn't wait to get back to my routine, to the mandatory, plain fare of cottage cheese and carrot sticks. maybe the lost feeling could be attributed to my lack of willpower and my giving over to the dark side, having a food free-for-all for the past few days. this might be it, but still... just doesn't feel like the right answer.

one afternoon we wandered over to melrose ave where we toured a flea market and walked up and down the never-ending stretch of bohemian vendors and vintage clothing stores. the first time i visited los angeles was an exciting one. without ever having been, at some point in my life i developed a fairly negative bias towards the town. imagine my surprise to find that not only was my unwarranted opinion wrong, but i delighted in los angeles once i got a taste of it. i drank in the weather, the energetic buzz of the city, the amazing, kitschy shopping. in one weekend i fell in love with the artsyness, the hunger, the boldness of this town and just KNEW that i had to live here. that was four years ago. until my sis came for a visit, i hadn't really retraced the steps i took those short years ago. so when the opportunity arose, i was giddy with the prospect of revisiting melrose, wistfully remembering the treasures i found there, eager to show my sister how cool the area was. once we started walking around though, i was numb with the realization that none of it - not the colorful store fronts, not the wacky styles, not the incense-scented air - NONE OF IT was appealing to me anymore. we wandered into a hip little used clothes joint where so many years ago i found a veronique branquinho dress for less than $20, a loop guitar-shaped shoulder bag, and sparkly slippers - treasures of immeasurable happiness! instead of feeling the thrill of the hunt rush through me in undulating waves of exquisite shopping excitement, i felt grodytothemax as i dodged rows of used shoes and shimmied past size 00 club wear. i turned to my guy moments after walking in the door. "i think i've outgrown this place," i said with a twinge of sadness. he gave a slow, knowing nod while looking around the store, "yep. we really have. the thought of wearing any of this shit kind of gives me the creeps." i was crestfallen. crushed. instead of celebrating my adulthood, i grieved for lost adolescence. i padded back to the car feeling stunned. when did i get old? shit! is this midlife crisis?

surely this epiphany must be the source of my discontent? and yet... no.

then what is the cause of this weird, unsettled feeling? and what exactly is the feeling?

after having my space and routine back, and after kicking the question around for a day, i think i know what's going on. and it is new for me. it is different and foreign and therefore unsettling. i am coming into adulthood and i am coming into self. instead of seeking self definition from external stimulus that comes from a full social calendar full of dates with friends and family, i am now looking inward. i am looking inside myself to define myself. i am in process. i am feeling this adulthood/womanhood/self love thing out. i am trying it on, seeing how it fits. this phase i'm in is a new article of clothing - something i know i want, but that i've never seen before. i have an idea of how i'm supposed to wear it, but i'm still pulling it on over my head, figuring out where my arms can stretch through it, letting it settle naturally on my curves.

as i gaze inward, i see things coming into focus. i recognize that the past few months of engaging my body in a loving way is the result of quiet reflection and internal work. because i don't have all of the social dates and family gatherings and other 'stuff' that required my attention in chicago, i've been able to spend quality time with my self. alone time. belly time. this revelation frees me from feeling resentful towards los angeles and my temporary life here. this realization allows me to feel grateful for this time in my life. it eases the pain of missing my girlfriends and my family. i kind of feel like celebrating now! this IS an exciting time in my life. but it is quiet excitement, peaceful celebration. no fanfare necessary. just simple knowing feels good.

the visit with my sister helped me pull up and out and take a look from a different angle. thank you, sissy sister. thank you for holding a mirror up to me. i think i like what i see. it's definitely different, but it feels... right.

it's enough

today has been a busy day - one of those days that swallow you up and carry you along and before you know it, lunchtime is nearly over, and you know that if you don't break now, the remaining abysmal amount of work will lose you in its depths for all eternity or the rest of the day, whichever comes first. these are the days i'm grateful that i keep a cache of nuts, cereal bars, healthy-but-tasteless soups in cups in an office drawer.

i wandered down to the kitchen with a change purse full of promise and that boring old cup of soup. i was looking to the vending machines for salvation from the day, from the never-ending needs of my co-workers, from the daunting task list that loomed large and ever-present at my desk. i stood hopeful in front of the food dispenser, leering at the imprisoned junk food, clanking the change in my cupped fist, delighting in those moments of want before the want is sated. my sights landed on the doritos. crisp, red bag, full of radioactive-orange crunchy yumminess...

i deposited a quarter. CLANK. it defiantly popped out of the change return. i tried again, with more determination. CLANK. no luck. the machine was broken.

fucker!FUCK-ERRRRRR!

this soup just simply will NOT be enough!!

i returned to my lair, defeated and uninspired by my meager afternoon sustenance. back at my desk and in just as foul a mood as ever, i burned my tongue on the first bite and could feel my disappointment and anger surface.

i got lost in the tappa-tappa-tappa of sending veryimportantemails while waiting for the soup to cool... a bite here, a bite there... soon the soup was gone, my midday respite over, and i needed to open my office door and let the demanding world back in.

but herein lies the beauty of the afternoon: that small, not as tasteless as i thought, 150 calorie cupofsoup was enough. i was no longer hungry and i no longer needed a hit of junk food. it was enough.

i know there's a lesson somewhere in here for me, but truth be told, i'm too wiped out to seek it out. for now, i'll just appreciate the bounty of one small, seemingly insignificant cup of soup.

me want food

i am struggling. the past two days have been particularly difficult for me with food. i find myself abiding by the weight watchers guidelines until i get home from work, then i eat non-stop – right up until bedtime - wracked with guilt for doing so.

Why?

‘because i’m hungry' is my immediate response. this is no real answer, though. this is the lazy reply of a little kid. rarely do i bother delving a little deeper, asking myself “hungry for what?” instead, i feel that gnawing presence of my belly, mistake it for physical hunger, and without thinking, without really feeling what’s going on inside me, i head to the kitchen and start scouring the cupboards. there is a sickness in my scavenging but there is also comfort. i know this routine is not good for me, yet i don’t allow myself to pause and figure out what it is i’m REALLY starving for.

a few days ago, i started pondering addiction, my addiction: food. i quietly focused while trying to duplicate the feeling that i get when i’m in the midst of a binge, stuffing anything, everything as fast as I can down my gullet. you know what i came up with? what i felt? numbness.

binge eating brings numbness.

it's not really a 'void' or 'nothing' or blankness'; 'nothing' suggests the absence of anything. numbness, however, suggests the presence of something, yet an inability to engage it. when i succumb to the 'need to feed' i am, in essence, a friggin' zombie. instead of clamouring for more "par-ee-medics", i find myself trying to sate my hunger with a pear, an apple and peanut butter, a reese's candy bar, a frozen pizza, a handful of triscuits, a few olives, a handful of craisins, creme brulee that's been in the freezer long enough to develop a crystallized winter city on it's surface... eating and eating until the needle on my internal fuel tank rises well past "full".

this is what i can do for myself at this moment: 1. be aware of my comfort in numbness and 2. honestly record the points of everything i eat. and this is enough for now. it's ok
that i ate thirteen points more than my daily weight watchers allotment. i am aware and accountable. getting to the next level will come...

as daunting as the journey to a sound relationship with food may seem, there is light at the end of the tunnel… actually, it's closer than the end of the tunnel. this very moment i’m blessed with the presence of light and the calm it brings. this afternoon at work, a gal from another department ambled by, peeping her head into my office, whispering about pie leftover from afternoon office festivities in her department, "hurry up and get it! it needs to be gone before the end of the day" - the way she said it - the low, husky tone of her voice, the breathless, hurried excitement of a gilded secret, the glimmer of diabetic shock in her eye - it was as though she was intimating sacred directions - from one fat girl to another - about how to find the treasure. before heading off to extend her invite to another gal, she mentioned something about eating too much pie herself, worrying about having it go straight to her capricious ass and feeling guilty about how much of it she ate. girlfriend, i know the guilt of which you speak all too well.

perhaps it was the tone of her words. perhaps it was the fact that she chose to disclose the bounty of pie to only a few folks in my area, including me. or perhaps it was the way she denied herself absolute delight over an afternoon piece of pie by decrying her largess and therefore her right to wholly enjoy a simple piece of pie. (or perhaps it was the three 1-point weight watchers chocolate cakes i had already devoured over the course of this afternoon...) maybe it was all of these together that gave me pause. i was left a little stunned at her own admonishment of self, and, well, it felt very familiar. i'm grateful to this office pie cryer. strangely, her words left me feeling at peace with the pie, peace that was strong enough and steadfast enough for me to hold on to it through the evening. normally one to jump at the invitation of free sweets, this time I didn’t feel the need to quietly sneak attack the snack table in the pie department. it feels good to not need food just because it's there. it feels good to be offered something yummy and to be able to turn it down. it feels like peace. it FEELS.

and so it is this serenity that comes from saying "no" that i choose to hold on to as i go home tonight. i don't need to reverse carpet bomb the fridge. i am strong enough to confront whatever it is that i've been eating down these past couple of days. i invite it to the surface and offer it a place in my heart, and room in my belly.