Be kind to you

The beauty of blogging is in the freedom to write or not write. I have not been writing lately for no particular reason other than it just has not been the right time and I have not been in the right mindset. That said, my struggle to “be” continues. At times the fight is harder and in rare moments I am able to find some peace. I cherish those moments. Walks by the dunes, staring at the beach, the sky, the stars, drawing, designing, making clothes.

Then, there, I fell free, connected, one body, one soul. My physical appearance no longer matters. My bulging stomach becomes an insignificant worry and the XXL clothes? Well … just another thing of this world.

Since I last wrote, I have moved away from London, traveled to Africa and now back in the Netherlands. It has been a long long journey. I started a new job, a tedious, toxic one, but that was my choice. Now I need to work on getting out of it and finding something better. Living a well deserved life demands effort.

When I am not drained of energy, I motivate myself towards my freedom. Towards being the person that I really want to be. Although that remains undefined, I know aspects of what brings me peace within. Creativity being one of them. Self-expression, whether confronting a small conflict or asserting my ideas is another.

Since I have been denying myself of that right to “be”, it seems easier to give in and settle with the mistaken habits, of being someone else; until I realize, all I am doing is giving my power away to invisible influences. Quickly, I lose myself.

So, the struggle continues. I suspect, there is a high probability that  this will be a lifetime struggle. Though I hope, it will become easier with time.

I used to think that I needed a break from the World because it was so mean to me. Truth is, I was cruel to myself. Then I had another realization. There will always be bitter times, the trick is to live it. Feel it. I do not want to forget or escape anymore. It has not worked. Bingeing, over-exercising, starving, trying to be perfect has not worked. Self-torture has failed. Self-love is surely the answer.

I hope to have a little more of it today, tomorrow and in all the other days I have left on this earth.

This I write to you and myself, so we both remember to “be”.

izaotee

Those who work at starbucks …

Lost in deep hesitation that lasted a whole day, I stayed in my appartment.

I applied for jobs, worried  about my bills, my uncertain future, and tried to continue my design project. My body wanted to get out. My mind refused, finding the stupidest excuses. You could binge you know! You are too fat! Too ugly! Too lazy to put on some clothes and walk out! People will stare at you when you get there! People will wonder why you are still eating when you are already that large! They might wonder why you are drawing, writing and all alone! Stupid thoughts ! I ended up working on my design in the safety of my appartment. Opened the door to my little roof top. Stared at urban pigeons feeling free to parade before my eyes. London was sunny today. Beautiful and sunny. How could I let those hideous voices take over me? I walked out to the nearest starbucks, ordered a frapuccino and here I am writing on my phone feeling comfortable. As I walked in I looked around. People don’t care. They are just there some studying, others writing, franctically on their laptop, reading or tchating. No one was explicitly judging me, noone said any hurtful words to me.  At that moment, their thoughts were just theirs. I had imagined it all. Unable to hear them, they were harmless. Thoughts won’t kill me.

Today I became one of those who work at starbucks. Freed from the chains of my hideaway appartment. It felt fine.

Izaotee

New day ! Wednesday

I was nervous about fashion class yesterday. It was a field trip. Gaining all this weight back and more reminds me of embarassing moments. Times when I couldn’t walk as fast as the rest of the class. When I would pretend to laugh and complain inside if I couldn’t enjoy hiking with my brother. When I was picked last at team sports. I had urges, thoughts about a cookies and more. I was genuinely hungry. So I had a cereal bar.

At coffee time after our retail research I had a chai tea latte. It was in a food hall at Selfridges. I was surrounded by food while stressed in class. Not the best of all situation. During our discussion I thought about a box of pop tarts. Well because I heard about them in movies and wondered what they would taste like. Buying a whole box would not be wise in this moment of weakness.

When the class ended we all walked out. I was the fattest. Embarrassed to buy that pop tart box. I walked out. In the streets on my way home I felt proud. Once again for not giving in.

One day I hope food will simply be an accessory to my life. Not the whole outfit.

No binge day

20 th of september about two months ago I fell out of control. My eating that is. I hate the word binge. But that is what it was. I put on 20 kg since. Unbelievable my trainer at the gym says. If only he knew the truth he would understand. I don’t tell. If I do, i’ll only feel exposed, judged. I know this because when I did long ago that is exactly how I felt. This is my struggle, a part of who I am that I want to change. Food will not enslave me.

Anyway yesterday I did not restrict or binge. It is always somehow easier during the day. At night is the worst. After an attempt at a balanced dinner. Rice, fish and cauliflower. I rummaged through my kitchen looking for a fix. I don’t keep food in my apartment anymore. At least not for now. Until i am a little stronger. Then I stopped. Couldn’t fall asleep. Started drawing. My back hurt. It was so painful. I knew it was all the feelings and anxiety calling out for attention. So instead of numbing it with food I gave it the attention it wanted. I felt lonely. Though i knew I wasn’t alone. Worthless. Wondering why the guys I met who seemed interested in me never wanted to spend more time with me. Was it because I wasn’t pretty enough, tall enough, thin enough? What was it? I then fell asleep listening to music.
I don’t have the answers to those question. I didn’t tell myself that I am better than that or beauty is within me. I just let it be. Too tired to self hate I fell asleep.

I know I have other qualities. Being the thinnest person in the room will not enhance them. My quest and desire for a perfect body is not a solution. I have to learn to be proud of myself sometimes.

A little victory — no binge
Phewww

Dear Dad

Dad left this world about two years ago
He is amongst the angels
Here are words I wish I had said
Everyday I miss him

Good morning Dad
I decided to write letters to you even if you are gone. Let me first confess that I always wanted to write on your birthdays, father’s day, christmas and so many other days while you were alive. I bought cards, just for you. I still have them. Never sent them. Not because I do not love you, simply because we don’t really do that in our family. We never show emotions. When we do, we brush it off. Dismiss it. I have grown accustomed to that. I don’t know how you, mum, and brothers do it. It turns out that I am more emotional than I portray. I kept them in all these years. Sadness, happiness, anger, all kinds of feelings. Suppressed, jammed down, hidden deep down. What do you know. They want out. Always wanted a way out. I realise now that this is one cause of my addiction to food.

Just this morning I thought about flapjacks, starbucks cinnamon rolls and pumpkin spice lattes. Indulging myself, seeking comfort. Using the idea of going to a cafe to write and people watch as an excuse to eat. It’s a cold and grey morning. Truth is I would rather stay in bed than get up and sit at a cafe. I would just to satisfy my addiction. Instead. I stared at my exploding body in the mirror. I didn’t hate it. I missed my old body. The fit, thin one. These thoughts are once again an attempt to escape. When, the fact is that I missed you. My heart wanted to drift away from my brain. Old habits die hard. I learned from the past and instead of giving in. I stayed in my apartment to write this letter. I miss you everyday. It is not the food or the self-hate that creates this disconnection between my body and mind. The real thoughts and feelings were about you not the cakes, cookies or chocolates. They were about How one day you were here, still joking with me. Welcoming me when I arrived home. The next you were weak. So weak and tired. No one even noticed. I did. I mentioned it to Daniel, brother who loves you so much. You died in his arms, I wish they were mine. He said it was the medicine that caused your fatigue. We should not have travelled that day. I wish I listened to my gut feeling and insisted on taking you to the hospital. I cannot turn back time now. Mum says it was your time to go. To leave this world. Even if we took you earlier to the hospital you would have left us anyway. She says what God does is right. We just have to accept it. But did God ever thought about how your absence would be so painful. Dad I miss you. May be mum is right, we all die some day right. I just wish I had gone first if it hurts this much.
Dad I don’t want to binge anymore. I don’t want to abuse my body anymore. It is tired and so is my mind.

I miss you
Love