"I’ve been having conversations with my eating disorder. They haven’t been great ones – I’ve not been enjoying them. This is mostly because my eating disorder is not a great conversationalist. She doesn’t dialogue well; she’s rude, aggressive, intolerant, and kind of mean. She's up in arms because I haven’t been exercising. I’ve done nothing for five days..."
"I had a look at the stats page on my blog the other morning; something I almost never do. I try not to be invested in results. I write because I feel compelled to, because it helps me, because it might help someone else, and because it lets me connect with interesting people. I don’t want to grow angst-ridden about market share. The timing of the peek was serendipitous. The post counter has me at one-hundred and ninety-nine posts, making this number two-hundred. I feel compelled to created something spectacular, yet, remain stymied over what to say. I wasn’t going to write today..."
"My brain likes to go walkabout occasionally, without even a “by your leave”. I’ll be sitting or walking, even driving when suddenly, I’m back in the past, revisiting an event I didn’t enjoy the first time around. I hate flashbacks. I hate the emotions that come with them. I felt horrid during the initial encounter, whatever it was, and I don’t enjoy reliving everything from assaults, to bad days at work, to bullying. Any opportunity my brain has to make me relive misery, it takes. Occasionally, I’m in the author. I create memories of things that never happened, and wild imaginings of bad times yet to come. Visions of death, injury, violence and destruction abound. I feel ridiculous when I pull myself out of these daymares, as emotionally wrecked as if the event in question had occurred. Sometimes, however, I enjoy my brain’s creativity. I like it when I construct imaginary scenarios where I fight back, stand my ground, and put bullies and abusers in their place..."
"I’ve been trying something new with my meditation, now that I’m back to doing it semi-regularly. I’ve been meditating with my eyes open. It’s an odd experience. It makes me feel vulnerable and I don’t like it; generally speaking, vulnerability is not something I do well..."
"I’m failing at my eating disorder and my eating disorder voice reminds me of that fact incessantly. She’s a bitch that way. I feel bad about failing, which is odd, considering that I’m mourning the absence of incredibly destructive behaviours. We miss what we know, even if it’s negative; we miss the loss of the familiar. I’m failing because I’m eating..."
"I just finished reading Jack Kerouac’s Dharma Bums. It’s the first Kerouac novel I’ve read, and I’m not going to kid you – it was a challenge to adapt to his writing style. Once you get the rhythm, however, wow. He was brilliant. His descriptions are fantastic, and his writing is intense. He pulls you into his world and keeps you there, sharing his thoughts and philosophies, and detailing what life was like for those in the beat generation, for those who dropped out. It’s all philosophy and striving for contentment and learning to just be. There were also some very interesting parties. I wish I’d been there. I wish I could write like that. My feelings about my writing are problematic..."
"I’m trying to complain less, especially about the small things. Those mundane little annoyances that beset everyone and send me into over-the-top over-reactions all too often. I failed in my resolve yesterday when I engaged in a rather spectacular, internal whine-fest upon realizing I had to water my plants again, a small and simple task to be sure..."