Hey guys, I am going to take a break from blogging for a bit. I am going through some stuff that I don't feel like talking about just yet. I hope that you all will still be here when I'm ready to write again.
~Emma Kay
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
First days
The first day of something new is always hard. Today I started my internship at the local public radio station. My day was full of the ups and downs that accompany new experiences.
Last night, and most of yesterday, actually, was probably the worst. Knowing that an important, highly anticipated day is drawing near always makes me neurotic and anxious. I also did not sleep well last night, and the dream I was having right before I woke up involved having a random physical altercation with a guy on a bus. Needless to say, I was agitated even before I had fully opened my eyes this morning.
Today was not as bad as yesterday, which is absolutely always the way it goes. I know from experience that the anxiety that precedes a big event is worse than the anxiety that actually accompanies the event. I think that this is because my greatest anxieties stem from a fear of the unknown. What worries me most is an inability to anticipate exactly how something will go. Today, for instance, I did not know until the day was over how long I would be at the radio station because I had been told that the hours would vary. This is the kind of thing that makes me batty, trust me. No schedule, organized and composed to a barely-human level of precision? I become unhinged.
Looking back over my day, though, I see that it was not so bad. And I can feel a LITTLE bit proud of myself. I learned a lot of new material and managed to follow instructions that were given in broadcasting lingo (definitions not provided). Heck, I even recorded myself and learned how to edit the audio. Trust me, it is a strange and humbling experience to listen to feedback of yourself talking in a sound-proofed recording studio. Let's just say that the voice inside my head does not sound like a 10-year-old girl.
I hope that, with enough practice, I will be able to face new experiences with calm, knowing that my anxieties are almost always unfounded. I also need to work on accepting that I cannot predict everything, and, sometimes, I just have to live and learn in the moment. Until then, I just have to get through the day-before panic attacks.
Last night, and most of yesterday, actually, was probably the worst. Knowing that an important, highly anticipated day is drawing near always makes me neurotic and anxious. I also did not sleep well last night, and the dream I was having right before I woke up involved having a random physical altercation with a guy on a bus. Needless to say, I was agitated even before I had fully opened my eyes this morning.
Today was not as bad as yesterday, which is absolutely always the way it goes. I know from experience that the anxiety that precedes a big event is worse than the anxiety that actually accompanies the event. I think that this is because my greatest anxieties stem from a fear of the unknown. What worries me most is an inability to anticipate exactly how something will go. Today, for instance, I did not know until the day was over how long I would be at the radio station because I had been told that the hours would vary. This is the kind of thing that makes me batty, trust me. No schedule, organized and composed to a barely-human level of precision? I become unhinged.
Looking back over my day, though, I see that it was not so bad. And I can feel a LITTLE bit proud of myself. I learned a lot of new material and managed to follow instructions that were given in broadcasting lingo (definitions not provided). Heck, I even recorded myself and learned how to edit the audio. Trust me, it is a strange and humbling experience to listen to feedback of yourself talking in a sound-proofed recording studio. Let's just say that the voice inside my head does not sound like a 10-year-old girl.
I hope that, with enough practice, I will be able to face new experiences with calm, knowing that my anxieties are almost always unfounded. I also need to work on accepting that I cannot predict everything, and, sometimes, I just have to live and learn in the moment. Until then, I just have to get through the day-before panic attacks.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Anxiety
I have always been anxious person. I think that anxiety fed into my eating disorder, my eating disorder fed into my anxieties, and, before I knew it, fear had taken over my life. Part of my large-scale approach to ED recovery has been to tackle specific anxieties that I have. The other day, I started to wonder if maybe other ED sufferers have some of the same non-ED-related anxieties I do. In the past, I have gone out of my way to work around my anxieties and to keep them hidden from people I know. Part of it was because I thought I could not possibly add to my already-long list of publicly known anxieties, but part of it was because I thought I had some strange fears and that no one could possibly understand them. I am going to list some of the ones I that I have been embarrassed about here, so that if you share any of them, you can know you are not the only one!
1. Fear of driving
Even before I had my bad car wreck 5 years ago, I was anxious about driving. I did not get my license until I was 17, and that was only at my parents' urging. This has been such a huge anxiety for me that I have literally deprived myself of friends, jobs, and opportunities that required me to drive somewhere that made me uncomfortable. So, lately I have been taking on more driving, and my anxiety is actually diminishing. I think this particular anxiety will get better the more experience I take on.
2. Fear of spontaneous outings
If I am going to get together with other people, I have to know exactly how long the outing will last and exactly what we will do. I am not one for "hanging out." Needless to say, this is not how most people operate, especially college students. My unwillingness to just allow things to unfold spontaneously has severely limited my ability to make friends. My new attitude is that if someone invites me to do something, I am just going to do it. I am hoping that, eventually, I will actually be able to enjoy hanging out with people.
3. Fear of sleeping somewhere besides my own bed
Ok, this one I have literally had as long as I can remember. I was not a child who liked having sleepovers. I even got anxious about sleeping in another bed when family came to visit. I am not quite sure how this anxiety originated, or why it has persisted so doggedly, but I certainly wish I could be more relaxed about sleeping in different beds. I am not sure how to fix this anxiety, as it has never gotten better, but I am hopeful that it will. In the mean time, I am not going to let this anxiety keep me from visiting friends or family.
If any of these anxieties resonate with you, I will include more later!
1. Fear of driving
Even before I had my bad car wreck 5 years ago, I was anxious about driving. I did not get my license until I was 17, and that was only at my parents' urging. This has been such a huge anxiety for me that I have literally deprived myself of friends, jobs, and opportunities that required me to drive somewhere that made me uncomfortable. So, lately I have been taking on more driving, and my anxiety is actually diminishing. I think this particular anxiety will get better the more experience I take on.
2. Fear of spontaneous outings
If I am going to get together with other people, I have to know exactly how long the outing will last and exactly what we will do. I am not one for "hanging out." Needless to say, this is not how most people operate, especially college students. My unwillingness to just allow things to unfold spontaneously has severely limited my ability to make friends. My new attitude is that if someone invites me to do something, I am just going to do it. I am hoping that, eventually, I will actually be able to enjoy hanging out with people.
3. Fear of sleeping somewhere besides my own bed
Ok, this one I have literally had as long as I can remember. I was not a child who liked having sleepovers. I even got anxious about sleeping in another bed when family came to visit. I am not quite sure how this anxiety originated, or why it has persisted so doggedly, but I certainly wish I could be more relaxed about sleeping in different beds. I am not sure how to fix this anxiety, as it has never gotten better, but I am hopeful that it will. In the mean time, I am not going to let this anxiety keep me from visiting friends or family.
If any of these anxieties resonate with you, I will include more later!
Friday, May 7, 2010
Possibly at rock-bottom
First of all, sorry, readers, for not posting as regularly as usual. I have been working on writing another piece this past week that has absorbed most of my creative energy.
Now, on to my current state: I am feeling very emotionally fragile. I have received an exorbitant amount of criticism this year. I need to write it all out as it follows in my head. The time line follows thusly:
1) I graduate from college in December, anticipating a brief vacation from school.
2) In January, I get a phone call from Drexel inviting me for an interview in mid-Feb. Yay!
3) Just before I leave for my interview in Philadelphia, I get an email from UCLA inviting me out for an interview. I am ecstatic. UCLA is my top choice. It represents everything I want for my future.
4) I go to my Drexel interview, and I feel like it goes really well. A week later, I get a call from the school saying that I am rejected. I am asked if I have any other interviews, I say yes, and then I am encouraged to "not feel like a loser" on my next interview. Wow, thanks.
5) A week later, I am off to my interview at my dream school. I am still a little stung by my recent rejection, but I am not letting it hold me back. UCLA pays to have my flown out to CA, and they pay for my meals and my room. Seems pretty promising.
6) I do a kick-ass job at UCLA. No kidding. I eat three meals a day around people I don't know, I navigate my way around campus (It's L.A. Think about that for a minute.), and I successfully complete 5 back-to-back faculty interviews. During my last interview, I meet my dream researcher, who studies anorexia. We really have a good rapport. Then, I am rushed back home to await UCLA's decision.
7) A week later, I get an rejection email. I ask for advice concerning my performance on what I could have done better. The response? "We cannot offer that kind of information to applicants." Ok, so I am not going to grad school, and I don't even know why. I email the anorexia researcher guy, but he really has no helpful advice, either.
8) I am hurting, but I apply feverishly to many, many jobs in town, I get rejected from all of them. Even Lucky Brand Jeans.
9) I move on to volunteer applications, hoping to just find something--anything--to do. I get zero responses.
10) Not willing to give up all hope, I try to reclaim old passions and interests. I begin to write again. I try picking up music. I go to hear my old fiddle teacher play. I ask for lessons. He says no.
11) Now, we have arrived at this week. I get weighed, and it is bad. My boyfriend leaves to go to a conference in Canada. I can't even text him. I am lonely, and I am stuck with my thoughts.
Well, thank you for humoring me throughout that lengthy whine-fest. I really needed to do that. I know that a pity-me attitude is not going to help me, but I have worked so hard in these past months to not give up, to keep on moving forward even when I see no reason to even try anymore. And, I feel that I just have been denied even a crumb of acceptance. I feel universally rejected. In fact, I am not sure that I can be scorned further without it just being a repeat of something that has recently happened. Can I sink any lower? Probably not.
Now, on to my current state: I am feeling very emotionally fragile. I have received an exorbitant amount of criticism this year. I need to write it all out as it follows in my head. The time line follows thusly:
1) I graduate from college in December, anticipating a brief vacation from school.
2) In January, I get a phone call from Drexel inviting me for an interview in mid-Feb. Yay!
3) Just before I leave for my interview in Philadelphia, I get an email from UCLA inviting me out for an interview. I am ecstatic. UCLA is my top choice. It represents everything I want for my future.
4) I go to my Drexel interview, and I feel like it goes really well. A week later, I get a call from the school saying that I am rejected. I am asked if I have any other interviews, I say yes, and then I am encouraged to "not feel like a loser" on my next interview. Wow, thanks.
5) A week later, I am off to my interview at my dream school. I am still a little stung by my recent rejection, but I am not letting it hold me back. UCLA pays to have my flown out to CA, and they pay for my meals and my room. Seems pretty promising.
6) I do a kick-ass job at UCLA. No kidding. I eat three meals a day around people I don't know, I navigate my way around campus (It's L.A. Think about that for a minute.), and I successfully complete 5 back-to-back faculty interviews. During my last interview, I meet my dream researcher, who studies anorexia. We really have a good rapport. Then, I am rushed back home to await UCLA's decision.
7) A week later, I get an rejection email. I ask for advice concerning my performance on what I could have done better. The response? "We cannot offer that kind of information to applicants." Ok, so I am not going to grad school, and I don't even know why. I email the anorexia researcher guy, but he really has no helpful advice, either.
8) I am hurting, but I apply feverishly to many, many jobs in town, I get rejected from all of them. Even Lucky Brand Jeans.
9) I move on to volunteer applications, hoping to just find something--anything--to do. I get zero responses.
10) Not willing to give up all hope, I try to reclaim old passions and interests. I begin to write again. I try picking up music. I go to hear my old fiddle teacher play. I ask for lessons. He says no.
11) Now, we have arrived at this week. I get weighed, and it is bad. My boyfriend leaves to go to a conference in Canada. I can't even text him. I am lonely, and I am stuck with my thoughts.
Well, thank you for humoring me throughout that lengthy whine-fest. I really needed to do that. I know that a pity-me attitude is not going to help me, but I have worked so hard in these past months to not give up, to keep on moving forward even when I see no reason to even try anymore. And, I feel that I just have been denied even a crumb of acceptance. I feel universally rejected. In fact, I am not sure that I can be scorned further without it just being a repeat of something that has recently happened. Can I sink any lower? Probably not.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Disintegration
Yesterday I got weighed at the doctor's office. I was shocked.
I now weigh what I weighed before I ever got anorexia. I weigh now what I have not weighed for 6-7 years. I have to say, I thought I would never again be a "normal" size. That is because I could not fathom it. I have a pattern of thinking this way, I've realized...if I cannot imagine something ever happening (or not happening, as in the case of grad school), then I am safe. Conversely, if I can imagine something happening, then I am pretty sure that it will, at some point or another. This is completely illogical reasoning, I know, and it frequently leaves me blind-sighted. Enter the disastrous weighing-in of yesterday.
I have a lot of difficulty accepting this weight. There is a lot wrong with it. Most importantly, it does not mesh with my self-image. I find myself again at this crossroads...I either look good and feel bad, or I feel good and look bad. I have my mind and soul intact, or I have my body intact. This polarization is, of course, a losing battle, and that is precisely the cold severance that anorexia brings. I am never able to be integrated.
Something has to change, or I will never, never have peace. This time, I refuse to give preferential treatment to my body image over my physical health. I am too intimately acquainted with the loss of vitality and spirit that accompanies a prostitution to anorexia. I know now that pieces of myself will fall away and I will not even realize it until they're gone and it's too late. My awakening interests in music and writing and reading are worth so much more than an inevitability bottomless, passionless disorder.
I know all of this, but it doesn't make it any easier.
I now weigh what I weighed before I ever got anorexia. I weigh now what I have not weighed for 6-7 years. I have to say, I thought I would never again be a "normal" size. That is because I could not fathom it. I have a pattern of thinking this way, I've realized...if I cannot imagine something ever happening (or not happening, as in the case of grad school), then I am safe. Conversely, if I can imagine something happening, then I am pretty sure that it will, at some point or another. This is completely illogical reasoning, I know, and it frequently leaves me blind-sighted. Enter the disastrous weighing-in of yesterday.
I have a lot of difficulty accepting this weight. There is a lot wrong with it. Most importantly, it does not mesh with my self-image. I find myself again at this crossroads...I either look good and feel bad, or I feel good and look bad. I have my mind and soul intact, or I have my body intact. This polarization is, of course, a losing battle, and that is precisely the cold severance that anorexia brings. I am never able to be integrated.
Something has to change, or I will never, never have peace. This time, I refuse to give preferential treatment to my body image over my physical health. I am too intimately acquainted with the loss of vitality and spirit that accompanies a prostitution to anorexia. I know now that pieces of myself will fall away and I will not even realize it until they're gone and it's too late. My awakening interests in music and writing and reading are worth so much more than an inevitability bottomless, passionless disorder.
I know all of this, but it doesn't make it any easier.
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