She’s Got Issues

It’s that time of year again.  Escape from Iqaluit for a vacation in southern Canada.

That means I get to see a lot of people whom I haven’t seen in a long time.  About a year, to be precise.

The last time most of said people saw me, they saw me after I had been losing some weight and trying to get healthy.  And since the last year hasn’t been particularly kind to me, things have changed for this visit.

I can see it in everyone’s expression as they lay eyes upon me for the first time in a year.

Wait…didn’t she…?

Wasn’t she…?

I thought she was smaller….?

And while trying to prevent their faces from screwing up into a weird mesh of disgust and surprise, they manage to let loose a gem like this:  “Suzanne, you look good!”

No.

No, I don’t.

So seriously…just stop.

I have gained back almost all of the weight that I lost last year.

So the subject is eventually broached and people start to wonder why it happened.  For everyone who I haven’t seen yet, here’s the story.  Remember how I broke my wrist back in November?  Well, it certainly threw off my workout schedule.  I didn’t want to go to the gym, because I was afraid to walk anywhere in the city for fear of finding another super patch of ice to fall and break something on.  I fell out of the gym routine and let’s face it…that was a miracle in itself that I actually managed to develop that routine in the first place.  It became difficult to keep up with the healthy eating in the winter:  Iqaluit barely has fresh produce that’s tasty in the summer, so the winter is next to impossible to find the kind of food to keep me happy.

And then…my mental state was not exactly peak either.  After another battle with depression in excess of a year, I started to wonder if I wasn’t actually dealing with a personality disorder.  After doing a lot of reading, I had begun to recognize patterns within myself that suggested I might fit into the diagnosis of borderline personality disorder.  That’s a scary thing to face.  And in Iqaluit, it can be difficult to find proper mental health care, so I because really nervous.

I began to hate myself.  Yeah, yeah…I know.  Who doesn’t hate themselves?  Seriously though.  Hatred.  Full on self loathing.  I’m not the kind of person to feel suicidal.  I don’t get those thoughts usually.  I sometimes consider what life would be like for people around me if I wasn’t around, but that is pretty much the extent of it.  And with the hatred I was feeling, I was to the point where I didn’t even feel like I was worthy of ending it all.  Yup.  That was my hidden life for a pretty long time.

I began to let my eating get reckless.  I ate for comfort.  I ate for boredom.  I ate because I hated myself so much, I just didn’t care.  As a diabetic, it’s not a particularly safe way to go about things.  But I didn’t care.  Some people drink.  Some people turn to drugs.  My path to self-destruction began at the grocery store.

With luck, I managed to find an amazing therapist in Iqaluit thanks to a recommendation from a friend and I have been seeing her since.  She has helped me learn to meditate and accept and recognize that it’s okay if I can’t solve my problems.  It’s okay to feel what I’m feeling.  It’s okay to let myself be myself.  To be honest, it’s been so long since I really understood who I was that it seemed like an insurmountable task to just be me.

But I’m getting there again.  I’m beginning to feel at peace with the woman I’ve become.  I’m getting there mentally.  I’m getting there emotionally.  And one day, I’ll be there physically too.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to be where I want to be in terms of weight.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get rid of that flab that I don’t necessarily feel like looking at.  I’ve never been a small girl.  I’ve always struggled with body image.  I know I’m lucky that I have a supportive partner in that regard.  Ian doesn’t really pressure me one way or another and it’s helpful.  I hope I inspired him last year with what I accomplished, because now I need that same inspiration to get myself back to a healthy lifestyle.

I recognize the amount of work that it’s going to take for me to maintain a healthier body and in being honest with myself, I’m not sure if I have the energy – mental or physical – to spare.  I will certainly try, but I also am trying to accept.  Whatever path I take, I am trying to accept that I am who I am…and that’s okay.

If that’s the only lesson I learn in this journey, at least it’s one of the good ones.

The Shape I’m In

I’ve been trying to write a post for a long time.  Putting pen to paper, figuratively speaking, has become an impossible task for me.

It probably doesn’t help that the topic of the post I’ve been trying to write has been my all-too-fragile mental state.  I find it easy to write anonymously on the internet.  But this wouldn’t have been anonymous.  This would have been akin to an expose, I suppose.  Well, that might be a little melodramatic.  I don’t tend to have a reference point these days for that sort of thing.

The point is that writing in general has been extremely difficult for me lately.  And my writing this now is not necessarily because things have changed; it’s more that someone else has written a really great account of far too many of the things I’ve been going through.  Rather than re-inventing the wheel at this point, I figured I would just link to the post.

Will I eventually write the post I’ve been meaning to write?

Yes.

Maybe.

I don’t know.

Until then, I think you should go read Allie’s posts on depression.  The first one…and the second.  It doesn’t matter if you don’t have depression.  Chances are, there is someone you know that does.  And that someone is also probably pretty good at hiding that fact.  And if they do open up to you, trust me…they don’t want to hear “Cheer up”, “this too shall pass” or any other contrived bullshit that people tend to come up with when they don’t know how to respond to what’s in front of them.  Not everyone who has depression can point to a singular cause or event that led them to feel the way they do.  Not everyone with depression will ever be able to just snap out of it and feel better.

Anyway, before I end up actually writing a really poorly written version of what I’ve been trying to write, just go and read the posts.

And I’ll just go back to dealing with life the best way I know how to – at least until that shrivelled up piece of corn appears.

I Wanna Be Sedated

I’m stressed.  You can tell, because I haven’t even been blogging.  In fact, I’m so disappointed in the lack of writing I’ve been doing, that you should go check out Ian’s latest article.  It’s about McDonald’s advertising.  You’ll love it.  Go.  I’ll be here when you get back, I promise.

All Apologies

I need to get something off of my chest.  It’s been bothering me for quite some time now.  It makes me feel very bad that I haven’t taken care of this yet.

The whole thing makes me a sad panda...

You see, what’s been bothering me is that Ian and I were married Halloween of 2009, and ten months later, I still have not sent out my thank you cards.  Most people know that I am a huge procrastinator.  But this is getting ridiculous.

It all stems from two things.  The first was this…I was really excited to order my thank you cards.  I found a lovely crafter through Etsy who could customize my cards on plantable paper…postcards at that.  That way, there would be no waste from an envelope, and the recipient of the card could plant the paper and have some lovely wildflowers grow.  Or, if they just threw the postcard out, the paper would still eventually flower.  Exciting!  So I ordered them (after the wedding as money was tight from putting the whole thing on), and waited patiently for their arrival.  They eventually showed up in January…it was a long wait.  By the time they arrived, I was exhausted from the holidays, and I put them aside.

The second problem I encountered was that while transporting our supplies from the reception hall to my car, one of the envelopes fell off of a gift, and after the 17 hour day (on 2 or so hours of sleep) that I had, I didn’t see the need to ensure that it was promptly returned to the package so that we could later thank the gift-giver for it.  Having lived together for a few years, and been together for over 12, most people understood that we did not really need much “stuff”, and thoughtfully gave us monetary gifts.  One of the only physical gifts that we received was a lovely tapas set, as our dinner was tapas-themed.  And I can’t for the life of me figure out who gave it to us.  Ugh.

So this is my dilemma.  I know, I know…you’re reading this saying “really Suzanne…you could have just sent them as soon as you got the postcards.”

Even Xena makes mistakes sometimes...don't scold Gabrielle!

Finger wagging won’t really do anything for me.  I know that I’m a horrible person for not having sent the thank you cards.  It’s been eating away at me over these long months where I’ve glanced at the cards and told Ian I would take care of them and thought long and hard about what I could possibly say on them to explain my delay in sending them.

Even Eli Manning is disappointed in me...

The fact is, I have no excuse.  Well, I have excuses, but while they seem reasonable (at times) to me, they certainly aren’t to the people who gave us gifts.  So, I will eventually fill them out.  I definitely want them finished before our first anniversary, which is quickly approaching.  My family and friends know based on our wedding, that I am not one for tradition, and I have absolutely no sense of etiquette.

To all of my family and friends who attended our Wedpocalypse, and gave us such generous gifts…please forgive my procrastination.  Do not blame Ian.  This is all my responsibility.  We both truly are thankful for all of you and were so happy that you could share our joining with us.  I also ask for a bit more patience…you will receive the thank you cards…I promise you that.  I just have to undergo the task of trying to figure out what to say on them.

And to the giver of the tapas set…thank you!  I likely will not be able to thank you for the set directly, as my detective skills are extremely limited, and we just cannot figure out who you are.  Step forward if you’re reading this…I’m embarassed already, so at least I’d be able to thank you directly.

I'm not really a bad person...I'm just terrible at being timely...