A thought for my father

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If you have been reading the previous post. You would know that I walked out to the nearest starbucks for breakfast this morning. You might think it would be a trigger. Yet, I learned that it only becomes a trigger if I walk in while in a vulnerable place inside. So fragile that all I would want to do is escape. Reach for that fix. Run away from emotions that make me human.  I only needed a change of scene. I stayed in my apartment all day yesterday and it smelled like regrets, guilt and binge.

No make-up on, hair like a cave woman, clothes not matching. I needed to get out. Get some perspective. Get some space from my space. Then, after my little morning outing and grocery shopping. I came back to my niche. I broke down crying while printing images for my design research and listening to music. I cried because I missed my Dad. The thought was triggered as I was processing the bad news I received on tuesday. My cousin past away and lost her battle with breast cancer. She was only 32 years old. Diagnosed at 27. She left her husband and two boys of 9 and 7.

I wasn’t really close to her at all. My family always teased me about looking like her. Especially as she gained weight. To who-else compare the newly chubby girl than with the old chubby girl? I hated that comparison. She was also the youngest and only daughter. Any death is sad though I was never very close to her. Even so, it made think about my father and his passing. The void that he had left. Times I wish I spent with him, words I wish I had said. I never allowed myself the right to grieve until I started therapy again about a year ago. I thought that just like my mother, I was at peace with his departure. A lie. I was tirelessly restricting trying to be the perfect daughter.

Now, I let myself, miss him in the comfort of my room or my apartment here in London. Away from the stares and opinions. I truly miss him. I wish he was here. I wonder how things would differ if he was. Would I have held my ground and kept myself together? Would I have continued to keep a facade, try to the best of my ability to make my parents and brothers proud? Or would the real me, denied of the rights to freely live still push itself out anyway and demand its place in my world?

In a way, I believe not much would have changed. I would still discover my love for arts, face my struggles with food, continue to doubt my abilities to deal with those in the legal field. With or without him. Even if he was and always will be a part of me and has left an unforgettable print in my life, I cannot help but become the true person I am meant to be. Denying myself the right to “be who I am” in his presence or absence would still lead me to self-abuse.

Caught up in my overthinking. I miss my father. As simple a thought as that.

xoxoxoxo

I.

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If only the World was empty

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Monday after my therapy I feel back into the comfort of my bed until 10 30 a.m.

I had two goals that morning. First: internalise that I can do all the things that I am meant to. All the things that I want to do. Second: avoid a morning binge on pastries because it only sets my day into a painful spiral of obsessing about food thus leading me to overeat or binge. There I was abusing my sleep, my head pounding as if I had been out drinking all night.

I wanted to feel some sort of real joy. Naturally, it means getting in touch with my creative soul. So I woke up, put on my baggiest clothes and headed to the university of arts library. There, I indulged into some photography books. Desperately searching for inspiration for my fashion design project. I remembered days when I would stay in the library until 4 a.m at law school. I was there finishing my assignment or revising, but most time I was there to be. The library is a place of solace for me.

When I was first diagnosed with anorexia. Family, friends, and doctors had warned me about the likelihood of dying after such a long period of starvation. One of the main reasons I fought to get better was the dream of reading all those books around me. I was once blurted to my brother that I wish I could read them all. I never wanted to be a know it all. But there is just something about being surrounded by books, picking a random one and trying to understand and remember what is written. It chases my ghosts away.

Three may be four hours I spent in that library. Then it was time to go home. Did some grocery shopping as I felt some the anxiety slowly fading and a motivation to live a healthier life settle in. Dinner was fine. Sadly the ghost of loneliness paid a visit. I ended up almost finishing the box of pop tarts. Full and regretful. I forced myself to sleep. No day is ever perfect.

Tuesday morning, I woke up with a heavy weight of fear and shame. I needed to continue with my research. Unfortunately, yesterday’s motivation had disappeared. So, I willingly procrastinated. I left it all to tomorrow. Until then, there are hours to kill. I watched movies, ate and slept. I knew what I was doing, or not doing. I was aware of my deliberate waste of time. Regardless, I still felt guilty. There isn’t much to say about tuesday. I manage to complete two sketches and ate way too much.

Today, wednesday is a sunny one. Outside at least. Within it is still dark, filled with guilty and anxiety. I pulled myself out of bed to end up at this starbucks cafe across the road. My appartment smells like binges. It is haunted by painful memories of my irresponsibility. My throat is closing up at this very moment, my heart racing. Regretting my past dark week. I am out of bed, having breakfast after being obsessed about food all morning.

My anxiety as I understand it right now is due to procrastinating. Bills I have to pay for my shop. Unemployment. Loneliness. Guilt. Fear of an uncertain future. Worries about my arts and law. Binges. All mashed up into one. I wish the world was empty. I wish noone was here. I wish I could roam the streets aimlessly without thsi irrational fear of being watched, judged, seen.

xoxo

I.

Food doesn’t work

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Yesterday and today have been horrible. I try not to complain too much but the lack of interesting happenings in my life during those two days are taking a toll on my mood. Part of the reasons that are making me feel this way is the fact that I am still unemployed. Since I graduated I tried internships, opening a business, applying for jobs, networking. None of which worked. I tried it both in law for which I have a degree in and in fashion for which I am passionate. So these past two days I have trying to cheer myself up. But nothing ! I ended up trying to find something to do in between meals. Watching movies and spending the days in bed. I also painted but my whole heart was not into it.

I started applying for jobs again. Online and using some networking. I have no idea how long that will take. Regardless I am most worried about how long I will be in this state. I feel as if I am letting my life slip away while I fixate on my failures.

I was never the going-out, surrounded by friends type of person. Though I tricked myself into thinking that I was because it was what others did. First year of university was when I really went out there. Made friends. Unfortunately they were erasmus students, so they left the next year. Loneliness does not agree well with me. I have had trouble making friends ever since. Well, that part of my past ties in with my move to any country really. I am terrible at keeping on touch, as I categorise those I meet with different chapters of my life. Chapters in which I never seemed to be the same person. Where I would mould myself to the new environment and fail to really be in touch with who I really am.

So here I am back in London with one friend V. She has been spending time with me, but she works, so she has limited time to. Since I am unemployed I have very little social interactions. I feel alone. There is another reason for my sadness. I can’t seem to pick myself up. I want to apply for jobs. I wish I could stay here in London forever but because of my visa I can’t. The prospect of going home is painful. I don’t fit-in there. I don’t feel comfortable. I feel caged. There is yet another reason.

Right now I wish I had the courage to put on the baggiest clothes and buy some art materials. Come back and sink into my sketch book. If only I could generate money by doing that and only that. I wouldn’t even care if law was on the side. If only. In the mean time I turn to food for comfort and escape. It really doesn’t do the trick. I refuse to eat all day so when I don’t eat. I am still lost, the reasons are still there so present. I have conversations in my head to quiet the negative thoughts when I get tired. I simply fall asleep. Another day goes by.

I could write forever. I have no conclusions. Just that I am still frowning inside and out.

izaotee

I want to seal the can of worms

Since my loss of control I have made every effort for it to count for something. I let myself feel. I try every day to lessen the disconnection between my mind and my body. When I feel whole, I am content. At peace inside. Though I look fat and weigh too much for my frame. I do not feel fat. I just accept what has become of me. Telling myself it is only temporary and the priority now is to have a healthier mind.

Working towards a healthier mind. Feeling, sitting with my emotions and letting thoughts and fears be just that is exhausting. It consumes my energy sometimes but it seems to be necessary. When I do I need not to run to comfort and escape. I don’t need to be numbed.

I wish I had the ability and sense to face reality: pain, joy, sadness, stress in a stable way. I wish I never pushed them and locked them in a box inside me. At least I have learned the lesson now. It seems endless at the moment. I fear I will never get out of it. I will be obese again. I will keep drowning.

Battling not to escape or be dictated by new and unresolved emotions everyday has been tumultuous and unsettling. I am constantly training my mind not to give into my addiction and when it drifts towards food, I have to pull it back to the present. When I don’t.  I binge.

I am sure many of you have experienced this before. I admire you for powering through it because today I wish I could seal the can of worms tight. So tight it will never pop open again. But I know the mature and healthier way is to deal with it. So today I choose to deal even with the sliver of energy I have left.