september 21

September 21, 2009 - Monday 

naked as i sit here pondering another blog entry, that no one besides myself will read, i wonder why did i start writing again anyway? so perhaps one other person will read it but really, nobody else knows i'm here. years ago i decided that i would start journaling random things, thoughts, feelings but i never did it. sounds ridiculous but it started with writing down nothing but my eating and habit/emotions tied to the food. i would fill a few pages in a very "bridget jones" style of recording my weight, my mood, how many calories i would consume. it always ended with me being disappointed that i didn't eat properly that day and how poorly i felt about myself. all it did was reinforce the fact that i was out of control. but it never really stuck. the journaling, i mean. i am not one of those people who has journal upon journal lining their bookcase. wish i were so i could look back on my goofiness over the years and the growth that ensued. so i could watch from a different perspective this evolution. my bookcases instead are naked. these empty shelves with a handful of nonfiction, a dash of art history and a heaping helping of self improvement. in the self-help section are scattered subjects like depression, cognitive behavioral therapy, attention deficit disorder, eating disorders, binge eating, generalized anxiety disorder. all of them well written. all of them helpful at one point or another. but none of them hold the key to me being comfortable just as i am. they are empty. instead i believe there is a correlation between the nakedness of my library and in the nakedness of being vulnerable. i don't like being open, vulnerable, easily hurt. i like being in charge. able to make the decisions, having control over a situation. yes, it translates to this disease with food. but it also trickles down to all my relationships. you get too close, i push you harder the other direction. you make me feel, and i want to drown myself so i am numb. you feed me and i want to spew it back at you. you give me joy and i want to crush it. i don't deserve to feel it. i don't deserve the care and attention and love. i simply am not good enough. yet people tell me that i am. that i'm more than enough. that i'm just the way i should be. just being me. my husband showers me with compliments...for now. my children love me with their enormous hearts. my family, my therapist, my friends, my sweet westley. they give and give and give. but i can't be naked. i'm stuck and i'm tired of being another empty book on the shelf.