My first official blog post. Exciting? Yeah! Why not?
I’m quite a picture, people. I have my moose shorts on, I’m in my bed, and ’90s Christmas techno came on shuffle and I’m not changing it. So how ’bout some quick facts and I’ll launch right in?
I live in New York. I’m an actor, graduating this year from a training program. I’m originally from the West. I am easily excitable. I’m in recovery from EDNOS (quick sidenote– eating disorders are NOT about what you look like, contrary to popular fiction. They, just like other forms of self-harm and depressive behaviors, are simply manifestations of psychological issues. I don’t fit perfectly into any specific eating disorder, but I will say that I have fluctuated 50 pounds in the last year and a half, and I’m currently in the larger portion of that process). I’m also, like a vast majority of other artists, clinically psychologically screwy. I’m totally high-functioning in the world (Phi Beta Kappa, boarding school, straight A’s, lead roles, y’all!) but I am also fully aware that I’m going to have to grapple with the fritzy chemicals in my brain for the rest of my life. I have my therapist. I have amazing friends. I’m gonna be fine.
So, down to business. Today, I went into my nutritionist, as I do every week, irritated. I hate going there, and I have from the start. My Thursdays are ridiculous– I have my therapist (H, I guess I’ll call her) at 11, take myself to lunch, then see my nutritionist on the other side of town at 1pm. It’s supposed to be my day off, but it’s obnoxious. Anyway, I headed into the nutritionist (M? What’s the protocol on this?) with a clear goal that I’d been harboring for at least a month– to tell her I wanted to come in less frequently. I’m not “cured”, but I have been remarkably consistent lately in terms of my behaviors, and I just felt like every week I was repeating myself over and over… and for that much money and effort, I just was very much DONE. So, I went through the whole appointment, jittery, nervy, and altogether out of sorts. But at the end of the session, when M said, “I think you’re doing really well,” I jumped in and said, “I agree– and I’ve felt that way for a while, and so I’d love to think about coming in less frequently.” She, to my somewhat surprise, said, “I was actually about the say the exact same thing!” Honestly, when I left her office, I felt probably less “eating-disordered” than I have… maybe in a year. It suddenly felt like my progress was being rewarded. I’ve felt moments of feeling better, but never like I was actually actively “in recovery.” Pretty great.
It was also gorgeous today in New York. Fifties, probably. Glorious! I came home with groceries from Trader Joe’s, opening my window, made some hummus, and snuggled in to watch some Modern Family. I had a lovely afternoon– no bingeing, very calm, collected, and safe. I became nervous, though, when I became hungry earlier than I hoped to, and finally decided to just make dinner. I probably waited too long, though, because my brain was already in that buzzy place it goes to when it doesn’t want to focus on doing what I’m supposed to do. Mistake. I ended up having a normal dinner, and then about an hour or so later, participating in some “behaviors.” Certainly not as bad as it has been, but also not really the smartest self-care. These little falls have been happening lately. I haven’t had a huge binge in a week or so, but food just seems to turn my brain into a live wire, and I suddenly lose all control of self-control. It shuts off.
I’m hoping that starting this blog will give me somewhere to push the buzz of the brain when it acts up. If anyone starts reading this, let me know you’re here. Knowing that I’m actually writing to someone and not just to the internet ether will SURELY help me stay on track. Also, nonexistent readers, email me whenever. I LOVE email.
P.S. I’m totally in love with a boy who may or may not A) be single, or B) be into me. Here’s the thing– he’s been insanely flirty via text/Facebook (omg I’m such a 21st century generation x-er) but the profile picture of the girl who at least WAS his girlfriend still has HIM in it (I’m just making it worse). I’ve seriously loved him since I saw him in like, June of last summer. Last night (dorky subconscious alert) I dreamed that we were for realz in love– like my love at first sight for him was totally mutual. We were inseparable in the dream. I feel often that I will never be the kind of person who could live with a lover (I desperately dream of it, but I can barely live with a roommate… hell, I can barely live with myself), but with him in my dream, our love was just so pure that it was not even a worry. Urg.
It’s my mantra, apparently: “I just feel so much, so deeply, all the time.”
How ’bout a quote of the day for the blog? I love quotes. Yeah? Okay.
“”May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art — write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself.” –Neil Gaiman