self-love sunday: some rambles (it’s been a long week)

sleepy, per usual.

(san francisco at sun down, the other day)

my nocturnal clock is off. (or: i stayed up too late drinking whiskey in honor of st. patrick’s day but mainly in honor of one of my best friend’s birthdays).

this week has been weird. light and heavy in all moments, together. sluggish, too. i’ve spent a lot of time observing my emotions, feeling them out. simply a quiet week, peppered with overwhelming, abundant moments too intricate to explain. the best way to describe it: i am reentering consciousness.

the world looks like ireland outside my window. earlier this week fog ate into the tops of mountains, obscuring them. now clouds mix with blue sky i missed. everything is green. save for the one tree, defiant in holding yellow. i’m contemplating a cup of coffee. i’m thinking, in general.

i miss my friends. i miss sitting around smoking bowls and talking, talking, talking. i miss the closeness. i miss the connection. i miss knowing they’ll always be there. most days i keep the company of an empty house and an over-active mind. often my irrationality tells me i am slipping from friends’ consciousnesses. often i believe it. deep down i question my importance. my therapist tells me i am co-dependant and i can’t disagree. i’m still learning to appreciate my self, still searching for such self-acceptance and self-love in other people. still measuring my self-worth in the number of phone calls and texts and tips-of-the-hat i receive each week. it’s like this: fun things happen and i’ll find out about them later via stories, laugh and wonder why i am not helping tell them instead. wonder where invitations disappear to. wonder why i care.

frequently i wonder, too, “will i ever be settled?”

i think i know the answer. (i know — zoe, stop. we know. weknowweknowweknow. these thoughts are real, though. they’re not arbitrary. they’re as real as your fear of the dark or your fear of heights. let me feel. let me explore. let me process and progress as slowly as i need to. sit on your judgement because i am not judging you and your process.)

my heart feels sealed off. frozen in uncertainty, sadness, self-loathing and overwhelm. there are truths there, buried deep and fully-alive though only half-recognized. the me i want to be, the me i am, the me i see, will not come out. she’s rooted. stuck. available to only one or two people in my life.

i crave intimacy and authenticity like i do chocolate and cake and brussel sprouts (lack of such things in my life are some of the main reasons my eating disorder lives). times exist where i sit in the company of someone i love and we stumble into an opening, an invitation to speak, to pour my self out. words warm in my chest, bubble up to my throat, roll out onto my tongue, ready. i think, “this is it! it’s time! say it, say it, say it!” but i rarely do. instead i’ll swallow those truths back, slide them past my beating heart and into their caves where they’ll strip off their armor and wait for the next moment to be brave. it hurts every time.

someone told me recently, “you can’t hold all of that inside“. oh, but i do. i’m not good at asking for what i need. what i need feels like too much. so my quietness becomes my way of screaming. “i’m fine” is the biggest lie i’ve ever told.

possibly the craziest part of this crazy is this: i know my real friends love me deeply and unconditionally. i am the one who chooses to not understand, to not grasp fully what that type of love means. i am the one who nods in agreement on the outside while simultaneously rejecting any iota of love on the inside. i recognize i am generally the one keeping myself trapped and bound by fear.

my insides are all messed up. i will always be cleaning house.

i’ve frustrated and hurt a lot of people because of this persistant sadness i can’t quite figure out. i’m afraid that’s only helped distance me from my friends and my friends from me. i’ve let it swallow me entirely, isolate me fully. i’ve let it infiltrate all relationships. i feel like i’ve let a lot of people down, myself included. so it’s no surprise, really, that i struggle to talk to people. no one really knows me, truly. i won’t let them. because i fear losing everyone.

talk about irrational fears.

the good news (yes, there is some) is this: despite my negative rambling, i am getting better. i am opening up. i am slowly, slowly, shedding my fear of abandonment. the more i talk, the more i release. it’s a practice. kind of like strengthening a muscle. work it a little bit, watch it grow stronger.

i’m not sure when i will be able to separate my self-worth from my friendships but i am hopeful one day it will happen. i am hopeful one day i will see myself as my friends see me — as a whole person, not only flaws. i am hopeful one day i will freely ask for what i need without fearing judgement and complete rejection. i am hopeful one day i will be myself without apology, without wanting to be anyone else. i am hopeful that, one day, i will be okay.

this is my process.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: i wrote this in pieces this week, while floating in a weird, weird mood. today i woke up in much brighter spirits. i blame the whiskey fest and the company of one of my best friends, one i never feel shaky or questionable in front of. that and the sun is back after a week of straight rain. and i’m going on a hike!!)

life, lately

not pictured: talking, listening, sharing, laughing, crying, writing, dancing, stretching, living, breathing.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: all my photos. copyright me and my imagination. please no stealing.)

self-love sunday: explain yourself

i lost my shit on friday.

(source)
i woke up light and lovey. calm and steady. i am due for a new pair of pants so i hauled my butt to the mall (mistake one). before i tried anything on i took a few deep breaths. i spoke to myself sweetly, said, “zoe, it doesn’t matter what size you pick up. it doesn’t mean anything.” then i picked out two pants and two dresses and took them to the dressing room (mistake two). and promptly lost my shit.

my restless, egocentric mind went insane. stole the moment to unleash hurtful thoughts. i cried and cried. i cried myself all the way to my friend’s house, where i held it together for, oh, three minutes before unravelling all over. tears did not stop. neither did the questions, the “zoe-what’s-wrong’s”. i got a lot of “it’s just clothes” type comments too. those types of comments set my anger off. because no, it’s not “just about clothes”.

i sat on that frustration for a while. until i realized:

if i ever expect anyone to understand what i am dealing with, i need to open up my mouth and my heart and explain the details.

i cannot keep complaining about how alone i am when i make no effort to let anyone understand.

friends who do not grapple with body-image issues as deeply as i do simply do not understand how clothes shopping can spark a melt-down. it’s like trying to have someone who doesn’t understand drug addiction try and understand it. to them it seems simple. “just stay away from the drugs! just don’t do it!” is the answer to them. when, obviously, it goes much deeper than a physical addition.

while we cooked dinner i brought it up. i said, “i need you to understand this isn’t just about clothes. this isn’t trivial, this isn’t superficial.” i filled her in. i opened up. i explained myself. and, you know, it turned out to be relatively easy, asking for what i needed: understanding.

i know sharing the inner workings of your mind and heart serves up vulnerability you might not think you can swallow. but know this too: your friends love you. they want to help you. there is no judgement there. just another heart wanting to know what makes yours beat, in all the best ways and all the worst ways. responses like, “it’s just about clothes” are your friends ways of not lessening your situation, but of trying to understand. if friends show frustration, know it comes out of exasperated love for you, because they don’t understand how you don’t see the beautiful, amazing person standing in front of them.

after we spoke, i felt lighter. less scared. not embarrassed. everyone deals with issues. these just happen to be mine. they’re weird, they don’t make sense, but.

there is no reason i need to hide in their shadows, trembling with shame.

namaste

zoe

clean house, clean heart

i woke up writing poetry i forget now.

(a tree without leaves the other day on a walk)

a song rooted down into my conscious after the words disappeared with the morning fog.

limbs ached to express, to twirl.

(of course i obliged.)

i want to say i am proud of myself but that doesn’t sound right.

blissfully astonished does.

yes.

because i keep waking up.

every day.

i keep recommitting.

keep
breathing
reaching
expanding
shedding.

after dancing, after breakfast at noon, i confronted my closet.

threw away piles of clothing holding
the old me,
suffocating the present me
by living in trash bags just out of reach.

now i have two pairs of pants. three if you count my tie dye ones.

which i do.

anyway…

i’ve got a mountain to explore! it’s sunshiney outside and i’ve got little tolerance for sitting inside when it’s so beautiful out there!

namaste

zoe

music monday + monday lessons

mmm monday.

(san francisco on saturday on random street walks with my friend)

a light breeze, fat clouds, sunshine kind of monday.

i woke up intending to work out the whole day because i ate cake last night and militant, dictator zoe ordered it to be done. under strict authority, i laced up tennis shoes after i slipped out of my sheets and dreamy early morning haze. i skipped breakfast too for good measure. funny how plans figure their way out, though.

because the television spazzed out. and my brother came home sick from school. and my stomach grumbled loudly. and i picked up a pen and undid my tennis shoes. and i wrote into my journal. and i realized: “i still think my weight matters in the measure of happiness. so i still chase it as being the problem of all my problems” (journal quotes). silly anxious and negative self. it’s just cake, not the devil. calm yourself.

so i ate some breakfast, ate some more cake, laced up my tennis shoes, and took the walk i actually wanted. i listened to two pod-casts, did some yoga in the park under the sun, felt the grass beneath my feet. three or so hours later i am home, rested and happy and not thinking about that cake from last night or the cake from earlier. just how awesome my legs feel and how settled my heart is in my chest.

and how awesome this song is.

because i am in love with bon iver.

and mondays, for that matter.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: please don’t steal my photos. thanks!)

thoughts from long walks

i am currently waiting on cookies in the oven and kale chips in the dehydrator.

(on a walk the other day in sonoma county with a close friend)

a good metaphor for my life, don’t you think?

i’ve got no big message today. no deep, thought out words.

nothing is A-FUCKING-MAZING. and nothing is particularly soul crushing. i am merely existing today, enjoying the seventy-eight degree sun rays and the smells of my kitchen. i am reveling, simply.

last night i preformed poetry again. words direct from my heart. unlike last week, i showed up with a louder voice and more nerves. i stumbled a bit though i spent hours and hours burning the lines into my memory, talking to an empty house, the bay, passing cars and, finally, a circle of strangers. practice doesn’t always mean perfect. nothing means perfect because perfect doesn’t exist.

a funny thing happened when i finished and reclaimed my seat: nothing attacked me inside. yes, i shook and tripped over a few lines but that negative voice stayed locked inside. in fact, i heard nothing. just felt a sense of release and empowerment i am still trying to wrap my mind around. just thought, “i did it” quietly while the words of others filled the balmy san francisco evening.

i took a walk with my self and my headphones this morning. drank a decaf americano. danced the whole way home. thought and rethought those hopes i scribbled for the new-year.

i’ve spent a lot of time since we jumped into 2012 thinking i was a big fat failure. thinking i was doing nothing right, making no progress, only sliding, minute by minute, backward to a place i never wanted to see again.

today changed that.

as cars drove past me and sunshine soaked into my bare arms i understood: i am progressing. i never wasn’t.

i am opening my heart to the world, to people, to myself. i am shedding warped ideas of self and happiness. i am gaining a sense of peace and an understanding of life i never thought i would.

perfection has no place in my life anymore. i am reclaiming the person i used to be. the person i always was.

bumps and all.

namaste

zoe

i’m not sure about that bottle of pills

on tuesday i woke up at six for a doctors appointment i called salvation a month ago.

(photos of birds i take on long walks)

yet, even as i heard “chemical imbalance” and even when i picked up my first bottle of oblong blue pills, i did not feel saved. just skeptical. and mildly uncomfortable.

the mood swings i swing through scare me sometimes. leave me trembling underneath the question of “is this normal?” (really though, what the fuck is “normal”?)

in conversation where stories of sadness and hardship are traded, i realize how unbelievably human it is to struggle. my problems and issues shrink. i become one in a whole. we’re battling, collectively.

it’s just no one talks about it.

post-tuesday-morning-diagnosis i wandered. i walked. i smoked a bowl and sat in sunshine (because february think its spring). i breathed deep and practiced a few heart openers (got all warm-and-tingly in the chest. good signs). one thought sparked two hours of feverish writing. gentle contentment replaced heaviness. i smiled at the idea of knowing how to process.

but, as i am human, subject to an ever changing scenery of emotion, the mood shifted come nighttime. stubborn insecurities i cannot shake heated up cooled over anxiety. late-night sobs stuck to the hollow of my throat. i cried words and tears over my journal. wrote furiously into pages before occupying the land of dreamers and their dreams.

naturally, i woke up today agitated. to an alarm calling for my attention. to a lack of voice. to bitterness. to another long car ride filled with music and sadness. to a therapy appointment actually scheduled for next week. to more tears, to hands too jittery from coffee i never drink, to heart filled up with fear and loathing…

to, eventually, suddenly, nothing but pure joy.

wednesday morphed into endless laughter, seventy-something degree weather, unbounding love.

and i realized:
the more i feel, the more i release.

and i realized:
sadness is normal. crying is normal. anger is normal.

because i realized:

this is the human experience.

this is okay.

i’ve got a bottle of pills now. mood-stabalizers. if i am being honest, i will say i am scared to take them. i am scared to lose this ability to feel, something i just gained access to after years of feeling nothing. i am curious about this lost anger and misplaced sadness.

also, i’m not as scared of my feelings as i was a month ago, on the desperate day i called around for someone to grant me reprieve from my mind. i just feel more human. and, oddly, more connected to people. i’ve knocked some perspective into my life, opened up the dialogue, listened and listened and listened to friends pour their souls out because every one needs an open ear. simply focusing on the people i love and opening up to hear their frustrations has been enlightening. suddenly, i am not alone. suddenly, this isn’t all about me anymore. because it never was. we’re all going through troubles together. despite those quiet moments of deep loneliness, you are, truly, never alone.

life, pills or no pills, keeps happening.

every second i breathe, i pulse. over the course of my waking hours i am one emotion and another. i am human.

and i think i’m okay with that.

namaste

zoe

(p.s: yes, i am going to take the pills, just to see what happens. it’s an avenue i think i need to explore, if only to say, “yes” or “no”.)

self-love sunday

i don’t even know where to start today.

a lot happened this week. words, however, are not lending themselves to me, rendering me a writer without expression. i’m just a big ball of feeling.

i am learning to trust my feelings, to question my thoughts. to listen to the whispers of the heart, not the analytical murmurings of a brain. i forget i live in my heart, too.

today, on two feet with arms stretched to the sky, i am open to the world and the universe and abundance. last night, a momentary ‘pop’ released pain in my left shoulder. pain i’ve carried for months. the night before i went to a restorative yoga class and cried. i am releasing.

i am creating space.

i am opening.

i keep thinking, “i don’t know what ought to be.”

over and over.

among other things.

(found in jan spiller’s book cosmic love…or astrology for the soul, i can’t remember. i stumbled across this the other day in a bookstore. i sat there and read for an hour).

love inflates the emptiness felt feelings leave behind.

i breathe deeper. fuller.

there is still salt in the sea water of my life. still waves i navigate. but i am buoyed to a warm, steady happiness.

i am learning how to float.

what are you learning?

namaste

zoe

(p.s: thanks for the comments on the last post. you’re all so supportive and awesome. thankyouthankyouthankyou. i have a lot more to say about voice and speaking and discovering. soon enough!)