I was doing a google image search recently and ended up in an odd place. In google image search, the bottom frame of the screen shows the site where the image originated from. I was looking up pictures of Carrie Underwood after her recent engagement and was directed to a personal site with the header "Striving for Perfection". Intrigued by other bloggers' journeys through perfectionism, I scrolled down only to uncover a world I had only heard about on old episodes of 20/20. The posts consisted of calorie counts and pictures of frighteningly thin girls.This was a pro-ana site. (Pro-ana meaning the promotion of anorexia). I found an entire pro-ana online community on her site. I couldn't believe how open she (and the others online) were about this eating disorder. I was disturbed and intrigued. I began reading backwards to see who this girl was and where or how her struggle began. Her posts uncovered typical teenager turmoil and stress and then I read a post indicating some pain that ran a lot deeper. It was a letter to her mom, that her mom would never read seeing as how her site was a secret.
"F_ you mom, no you don't understand the depression. You don't know about the eating disorder, or the pain of just looking in the mirror at myself. You don't know I tried cutting. Your father didn't leave you, he didn't pick drugs over his own daughter... Maybe your not much better, yea your still here, but are you really? You don't know a thing about me and how I feel... you'll never understand or really know me. You don't even try, you just lie... And no, my depression isn't going to just go away if I work at it, don't be a dumb_. It's the same way you never really gave up drugs, and my stepdad will never give up drinking, it's a part of you...But don't expect me to let you in either... I tried that, let you part of the way in... It only hurt worse the next time you turned your head in ignorance."
I first felt guilty for reading something so intimate, never intended for my eyes. Why should I have access to this letter, when her mother had no idea it even existed? Then my heart broke for this mystery girl and her mother. I wished I could tell her mom, "Your daughter needs help! She's in trouble? She's drowning!" I kept reminding myself that this was a real girl. The posts were all current. This pain was happening in her life as I read along.
The internet, especially with blogs and personal websites, is a crazy thing where intimate information is made public for anyone to read. My own blog is not private. My thoughts and experiences are floating out in cyber space free for the reading. I don't have any poignant conclusions I've drawn from this or commentary about our society. I'm not really sure why I wanted to post about this. I guess I just wanted to share my strange and conflicted feelings of entering univited, but not necessarily unwelcome, into someone else's pain and the helplessness of watching a stranger sink.
In the spirit of "it's better to have tried and failed, than to never have tried at all", I tried something I never would have tried a year ago. I recently stumbled upon the blog Six Sentences. Each day they feature a six sentence submission of creative writing. It's really entertaining as you get engrossed in these mysterious little stories composed of only six sentences. Feeling brave and attempting to try something new, I took a stab at it. I never received a response, so I'll accept that as rejection. I feel the need to confess here because part of embracing failure this year is being open about my tryings and subsequent failings. I could just as easily kept my submission (and rejection) a secret. I made an agreement with myself when I submitted my six sentences that I would share the result regardless of the outcome. That way there was actual risk involved. It's easier and less scary to risk failure if no one will ever know about it. So I did it and I failed and I shared that! Success! No harm, no foul, right? I feel braver already. Hopefully this is just the first of many attempts and "tryings" this year.
Check out the website. It's really fun! Maybe one of my friends can get published there.
Cinematherapy n. 1. friday night movie specials on We television channel with catchy jingle, "I need some cinematherapy, it could be good for me", known best for being watched during early 2000's while attending college 2. treatment for a bad day through the use cinema, film, or other theatrical viewing.
Last night my cinematherapy consisted of Alfred Hitchcock's To Catch a Thief starring Cary Grant and Grace Kelly. Between the setting of the French Riviera, Grace Kelly's gorgeous 50's costume changes, and Cary Grant's witty line delivery (and tan), I officially found escape from my generally crummy day. All the elements of the movie provided a fool proof formula for successful cinematherapy. I think my favorite part was from the special features is the original trailer. Hilarious and charming.
My struggle with anxiety is what led me to this blog project, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised that there will be days like today that I can't help but write about it. Anxiety makes me feel stuck. It's like a mental block. For example: most days the words for these posts come easily, but today there are long pauses between sentences as I try to figure out exactly what to say. At this rate this post will take me 20 minutes just to get out 5 sentences. It feels like heartburn, like I can't catch my breath, a little nauseous, a little jittery, mostly just stuck. Instead of exploding with nerves, I implode into myself. I promised Daniel and myself that I would begin another round of counseling this year, so I guess the best I can do today is make the first appointment and take deep breaths. Thanks for listening.
Last night I needed Daniel's help and without any hesitation he was there to rescue me. He's shown his devotion in more non-conventional ways in the past. For instance how many wives can say their likeness graces their husbands' arms in the form of a tattoo? Names and initials, maybe. But how about you as a tasteful pinup walking your family dog? Though I have mixed emotions about the tattoo (I should say tattoos in general), I certainly don't doubt his commitment. I am excited to see Daniel old and wrinkled (and tattooed Hattie following suit) saying to our grandkids, "Hey kids! Watch Grandma Hattie dance!" as he flexes/jiggles his bicep.
Me as the tattoo for one Halloween (mid dance move apparently)
I've been told repeatedly that I remind people of Amy Poehler. I will take SNL Amy Poehler or even “the cool mom” A.P. from Mean Girls, but please not Parks and Rec Poehler. (Sorry Parks and Rec fans.) I’ll take the comparison as a compliment. My husband is into her, so that’s a good sign, right? As I’m told the comparison usually stems from our similar facial expressions and humor. Now that is encouraging. Though I’ll accept being likened to the woman who created the masterpiece that is Kaitlin (see Hulu clip below), I’d much rather have someone pull me aside and say, “Hey, you know who you remind me of? Sienna Miller.” I guess my own picture of my inner starlet aspires a little far. I desire a resemblance to 2004’s “it” girl (pre-GI Joe debacle mind you). This is lofty indeed. But Amy is very, very funny and you know...I’ll take funny any day of the week.
I promise this will not become a weight loss blog. But when telling a friend about my Spanx predicament she found it quite funny, and this blog is welcoming to humor. Is it bad when one of your weight loss goals is to fit back into the body-shaper that was intended to minimize your problem areas in the first place? I have currently rendered my Spanx useless as they do more harm than good. It's like trying to fit into pants that are too small thus creating the infamous "muffin top". I remember that Special K or yogurt commercial that played "she wore an itsy bitsy, teenie weenie, yellow polka dot bikini" while a girl hung a bikini on her wall as fitness motivation. Maybe I should hang my Spanx in all their high-waisted, strategically-stitched-spandex-glory on my wall. I doubt that would be a very effective ad campaign, "Eat our yogurt and fit into your body-shaper in 2 weeks!" Their focus is to eliminate the problem areas, while I'm just trying to get to the place to begin trying to hide said problem areas. I'm a few steps behind you Special K. But soon enough I'll work my way to the bikini.
For the entire year of 2010 I took on the challenge to break my perfectionism and conquer my fear of mediocrity. I shared the experience through daily blog posts. I'm still living imperfectly and writing about it here.
