Pedantic Romantic

Day 25 of ?

Well, I got nice feedback from my super awkward and TMI post, but it was super awkward to have that out there. However, some of that was like an old gross pustule. It needed to come out — to, literally, be expressed.

People, and I include myself in that group, become imprisoned by their shame, and then feel ashamed of that as well. It’s no good. Everyone’s all fucked up and gross inside, but we’re fragile and innocent inside too.

ES and I have resolved to continue this thing we’re trying, for at least another 30 days. My goals are to learn to trust myself…to, like, actually believe I can be trusted to care for myself on a most basic level. Feel body inside: is hungry? Give food. Is hungry still? Give more food. Is anxious/scared/depressed/anxious? Do not give food.

I continue to feel compelled to manage my anxiety with food. But, strangely, the strictness of this program helps me. Food is for mealtimes when my body is hungry. All other conditions must be solved some other way. And since alcohol is off the table, I have to do something else. Here’s what I have so far:



Drink a bubbly water

Make a list

Make an executable plan (which differs subtly from a list)

Execute a plan

Cry and/or let myself feel bad and/or scared about stuff

I never knew that setting tasks and then accomplishing tasks would give one a feeling of empowerment and self-efficacy. I mean, I guess I had “read” such concepts, or “heard of” them, but the old canard is true. You’re not ready until you’re ready. I feel kind of silly about it now. And a little depressed when I think of all the time that has gone by. And very scared when I think that this won’t stick. But in the last couple years I’ve stretched myself emotionally and had my stretches, for the most part, work out. I don’t think I’m going backwards. I’m going forward, sometimes at a glacial pace, but ever forward forward never backward and always spinning spinning. I had some tough news over the weekend, and I had to feel disappointment and anxiety and anger. And then I had to feel the intense desire to eat some junk food. And then I cried and said, “I’m disappointed and angry.” And then I realized that my feelings were about expectations for a future that was never guaranteed…no one’s is. And I accepted that I can just move forward making the best choices together with my man about our family and what’s best for us. And all will be ok.

My main question for myself is: is it now time for therapy? I don’t know if it’s better to do that when things seem to be going well or what? I know I need to work on some specific anger and grief stuff, and self worth stuff. But therapists scare me because I had one who would fall asleep when I was talking. Wow, the worst. So, even though I had a good one after that bad one, I still think about him (the bad one) first when I think of seeing one.

I guess I’ll ruminate on it more, but this is the first time I’ve really put the possibility out in the atmosphere.


Shame shame, I know your name

As someone who has been fat her entire adult life (and some pre-adult), I’m finding my body changes strangely scary and surprising. At times I have practiced better self-care, other times I have definitely not. But this Whole30 is something different. I’m having a hard time articulating it. It’s something like this:

1. Be a sad child — for a variety of reasons, mainly traumatic ones.

2. Learn to eat your sadness and get numb. Learn to escape into books and food, preferably consumed at the same time. Maybe ingrain a connection between tv and junkfood too, just for good measure.

3. Hit puberty. Grow big boobs and big hips and become a sexualized target when you are far too emotionally immature. Eat more.

4. Have some “normal” life stuff — boyfriends, experiment with illicit substances/alcohol, leave home. Eat more and worse, because you’re poor and need to spend money on booze.

5. Get real sad. Drop out of school.

6. Move “back home” in attempt to somehow relive and survive a failed childhood. Fail again. Eat.

7. Enter therapy. Fail at that, but start to take some “control,” meaning exercise in an extreme and disordered manner.

8. Suffer a horrible broken heart. Live wild reckless self-destruction.

9. Move far far away from “back home.”

10. Never stop eating and drinking to beat the band. Stay moderately active so your hugeness stays static.

11.  Experience a spiritual conversion that feeds your desire (no pun intended) to restrict and punish your excessive self. Quit drinking.

12. Suffer a different kind of broken heart.

13. Eat eat eat eat eat. Eat weird. Keep no food in the house except condiments.

14. Have more and better therapy.

15. Meet a boy. Experience the agony that is the absolute certainty of rejection because you’re too fat to be loved.

16. Somehow allow the Boy to overpower that feeling (!?).

17. Keep on eating, but not as weird. Relax and enjoy life with the boy.

18. Start drinking again, but for fun this time, right?

19. Get engaged, get horrible news, get married.

20. Live in a place tailor-made for the excessive eating and drinking, the kind that helps you keep yourself numb to your fears about your new role as a wife, your grief over things that could have been, and to your old ugly angry baggage made up of all the things that made you eat and eat and eat your sadness to begin with.

21. Leave that place. Become fixated on fixing yourself through the perfect diet. Develop a mild orthorexia that causes you anxiety. Medicate your anxiety with alcohol and….what’s that? Food.

22. Be raw, be vegan, be vegetarian, be pescetarian, be ovo-lacto, cry because you don’t know if you should really take supplements. Realize you have no idea how to feed yourself or even care for yourself.

23. Realize you do *not* care for yourself.

24. Drink. A lot. Like, a lot.

25. Have your heart broken in such a primal way that you don’t even know how to react.

26. Your father’s death releases you in some way you can’t understand. Feel like a free orphan. Alone with one less bag.

27. Keep trying to learn how to love your body through nourishing it. Make a lot of false starts.

28. Start trying to be reasonable and loving to yourself. Accept who and how you are.

29. Move slowly toward health and wellness with love for your body rather than hate.

30. Eat foods that make you feel good and not bad.

31. Begin to connect to your body. Internalize the understanding that food cannot love you, but it can hurt you.

32. Decide once and for all to figure out what has plagued your body’s systems for years decades ever.

33. Try a thing. Stop drinking, eating sugar, eating wheat/corn/beans, eating dairy. For 30 days.

34. Be transformed by the renewing of your mind and body. Feel liberated from alcohol.

35. Realize your neck is smaller and become confused and astounded. Recall that no previous attempts to “fix” yourself resulted in any….results.

36. Relax. Eat more food. Eat. Eat when you feel hungry. Eat things that feel good inside your body. Eat to get energy to move around. Eat.

37. Feel….good. Feel happy and optimistic. Feel accomplished. Feel grateful. Feel scared of failing. Feel convinced that this time something profound has shifted. Feel shame for all the previous failures. Feel resolved to kill that inner voice that tells you to feel shame and that tells you you’re a failure. Or, don’t kill it. Feed it something nourishing. That hateful voice is sad and filled with rage, probably because it’s been starving for so long. Love it to pieces with tender loving care. Whisper sweet nothings to it when it says “this beautiful life isn’t for the likes of you.” Tell it, “yes, it’s for both of us. Come on.”





Good gravy, lady! What should I do? How can I blog everywhere? Can I keep one as one kind and another as another kind? What’s even the point?

::lays down and weeps::

A new one

Here’s a new poem, a new kind of poem, it’s a poem about poetry I have never heard one before. Why does the world contain any other subjects? How is poetry a circle that is a hole and a pit and also an opening in the clouds and a sphere that we can float in when we think “I will write a poem.”

Here’s a new way of writing, it’s writing only about writing and the act of writing and the meaning of writing and the cause of writing and the effect of writing and the way it’s bigger on the inside.

I think poetry is a trick created by a trickster that makes us run down the sloping tunnel in our cavernous mind, the tunnel that ends in an unexpected yet not totally unsurprising place. But what is writing. What is writing.

The Tweek That Twas

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