Posts Tagged ‘love’

Adventure, authenticity and 2011.

Saturday, January 1st, 2011

Last night I went to a 1930s ball. I wore a long black dress, red lipstick and a furry shrug. There was laughter and music and dancing and human slinkies and it was exactly what I want 2011 to be like. Unexpected. Alive. Fun. Vibrant. Full of people.
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Over Analysis

Sunday, November 21st, 2010

I was sitting in the pub the other night complaining that I didn’t understand how people “did” relationships and met their other halves and found that one connection when there are so many people in the world and also no fish left in the sea – when my friend stopped me, and said that the problem wasn’t me, it was practice.

Practice.
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Dating and the things that have been unsaid

Tuesday, September 14th, 2010

This evening I helped make a recovery vodcast. I was planning a post about it on the way home, and then this tweet hit my timeline. It was for an article from Jezebel called ‘The Delicate Balance of Dating and Mental Illness’.

I will come back to the recovery vodcast post. I will write it, another day, when I have moved beyond the hot relief that people are talking about the things that I’ve been too afraid to say. Now, though, I’m writing before I lose my nerve because I’ve known, for a while now, that this is a subject I will end up exploring.

I just thought it was only me.

And that it was because I was me.

Knowing that other people have had similar experiences makes all the difference, and this single quotation from Carrie Arnold (ED Bites) – “I was in survival mode, so [dating] wasn’t even on my radar” – summarises exactly where I have been. Relationships were another part of life that I rejected without even realising it, and I am only now beginning to get a sense of what that omission might mean.

It is glaringly achingly absent.

I am not quite brave enough to dig deeper into my experiences at the moment. There’s a sharp kick of shame, and a sense of failure, and a very very high wall that I’m finding quite overwhelming. I wanted to write this post though, to draw attention to the article and to start tentatively exploring how difficult it is to have a relationship when you’re hiding from the world -

How impossible it is to let other people in when you’re ashamed of who you are and every action is an expression of self-hate. How the few relationships that slip through the net are quickly complicated and twisted and tangled up with a relationship that’s already stranglehold strong. How you can wake up, when the illness – and then the recovery – stop consuming your every moment, and realise that the rest of the world has paired off and you’ve missed out on one of the most beautiful aspects of human existence and would kill for a weekend strolling hand-in-hand with a special someone…

I was blind to this when I focussed on food.

I did not miss it because I did not realise it was there.

It is. It just feels like, yet again, I’m on the other side of a very wide abyss.

Nb. For anyone who missed it, here’s a link to ED Bites article.

The Meaning of Life?

Sunday, July 11th, 2010

I am ready to love now.

I wasn’t, for a long time, because it did not feature in my world.

I am only just beginning to learn how far gone I was. That the things which make life meaningful were squeezed out, in the early years, and I ended up trapped between my own self-created walls. I am not sure how this happened. How something which is starting to seem irrelevant was the absolute centre of my world.

Absolute. Only. All.

I could not have loved before, maybe, because I did not have the attention to give. Could not have shared, because I did not trust; nor been open, because I was ashamed. I could not have spent time talking and listening and laughing and living, because I was only marginally there, just existing on the peripheries. I did not have room to love.

I think this has changed now.

I am ready, I think, to really really give –

I’m just terribly scared that I have got the point a little too late.

Unloveable

Sunday, July 11th, 2010

If you’re looking for fluffy hearts and romance, I’d stop here.

My eating disorder didn’t do sharing and it certainly didn’t have time for love.

It preferred sharp words to soft affection; advised arms length over intimate connection; and was characterised by coldness – and not warmth.
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The Capacity for Compassion

Tuesday, May 18th, 2010

Since starting Finding Melissa and beginning, finally, to join in, I have discovered a capacity that I never thought that I had. It is warm, and gooey, and the fuzzy-haired end of soft; and I think it is called compassion. It is like an unexpected ray of sunshine and the first kiss of warm air after you’ve been shivering, without an umbrella, in the rain.

I had always considered myself to be a rather brittle and cold person.

I am not, by nature, particularly tolerant and tend to lose patience pretty damn quick. I can rarely be bothered with explaining; am only just learning to listen; and, had become accustomed to life as them – and me. Compassion is not a quality I have associated myself with, nor something I thought I’d ever get –

It turns out I might have been wrong.
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The Hug

Sunday, April 18th, 2010

I was walking back through the park and there were a couple, hugging, on the path in front of me.

His head was bowed on her shoulder; her hands were clasping his back, so tightly that I could sense the strength; and I wanted, as I side-stepped around them, to scream.

This is what the eating disorder stole from me.

That kind of hug – and that kind of union – is what it stopped me from enjoying; and has put so far away that the distance feels too vast to bridge.
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Love

Sunday, February 14th, 2010

The light was fading and the drizzle still hadn’t stopped as I drove home past a guy, standing beside the A1 with a bucket of roses and a sodden, torn sign.

Sights like this make me sad.

At 5 O’clock on a rainy, winters afternoon, people shouldn’t be standing alone in the rain, especially when it’s Valentines day. It makes me wonder what the point of it all is, really; and whether I’ll ever make sense of what we’re doing here

And then I remembered, as the lights changed, that we don’t really know the answer, and we’ll probably never get what it’s all about; but the thing that keeps it going is a little four letter word called Love –

Because, when all’s said and done, it’s love that makes the futile feel bearable and gives meaning to what’s mostly mundane; and, it’s the human connections that provide an anchor when everything else is a little hard to grasp.

So, instead of feeling sad as I drove past the man in the rain, and rather than feeling sorry for myself, as I headed back to my empty flat, I felt an unexpected kind of connection and a strange kind of peace with it all; because the answers to life might be totally out of my grasp –

But the point of it isn’t.