Climbing Out Of My Skin

All my life I've been interested in many things, some of which have become passions of mine. This has made it seem impossible to figure out what it is I'm supposed to be doing with my life as far as purpose and an actual career.

When I was a little girl, I wanted to go to "Universary" and become a teacher.  When I got older and discovered I could write as a career and not just as a hobby, that's exactly what I was gonna do.

There have been a lot of hiccups.  In my late teens I became severely depressed and it completely stunted me.  I went inward and left life behind.  It immobilized me mentally and emotionally, and consequently socially and psychologically.

When I started to really pick up the pieces in my early twenties, I had to leave a promising job due to unexplainable physical and mental problems.  I was diagnosed by doctors and deemed unable to work.

When one spends several years in stagnation, trying skill-lessly to get better, apart from 'normal' life and 'normal' schedules, it becomes increasingly harder to get your head above water, and keep it there.  Life slowly but surely becomes purposeless, unnecessarily hard, and farther and farther out of reach.

It feels like I've been fighting forever and for the better part of those years, not getting very far.  I've learned a few lifetimes worth of lessons and gained a lot of skills and wisdom.  I just kept chipping away at the big boulder and after a long time, began to see it take some form.  For the longest time it just seemed like it wasn't ever going to budge.

But for the past few years, I've been able to see the difference of then and now - how far I've come.

When I was younger I was extremely ambitious and I had goals and dreams, plans for the future.  After years of living the kind of life I was living, I slowly stopped dreaming.  I didn't even notice it for a while but one day I realized I had no idea what I wanted my life to look like anymore, just that I didn't want it to look like it did.

I still had my many interests and passions, but no direction and no real idea of how to go about getting it.  It made me so sad to think I had no goals other than the same few goals I'd had for all these years: basic goals for my health since my health problems had weighed me down so much.  You could go through my journals throughout the years and see the same exact themes, year in and year out, struggling with myself against the same obstacles and never seeming to get anywhere.  It was really sad.

The good news is that I am mentally out of that place - I am now able to conceive of and institute plans, goals, and purpose in my life and for a while now I've been on a journey of self-discovery to figure out what that means for me.

Most recently in my journey, I came across an apparent stumbling block - the same damn block that has been there my whole adult life when it came down to deciding on a purpose/career: I don't know what I'm meant to do because I'm passionate about many things!

If my only true passion were writing, that would be easy.  But that isn't the case.  And I struggle with trying to figure out what path to follow.  What if I choose the wrong thing and waste too much time before I figure that out?  And I know I wouldn't be satisfied with any one thing (yes, I'm difficult).  I've been all over the place as far as my pursuits in life go and though I need a direction, I don't wish to ignore my passions as purposes in exchange for just one.

Obviously I've thought of choosing one and doing the other things as side projects.  But that hasn't seemed to fit either: the reason I'm so passionate about the things I'm passionate about is because they are all vehicles to the same end, and that end is my purpose.

I've always believed anything is possible and so I haven't given up on figuring this out.  I need to figure this out.  And then last night I learned a few new words:

Multipotentialism

A term defined in 1972 by R.H. Frederickson for people who, “when provided with appropriate environments, can select and develop a number of competencies to a high level.”

(from puttylike.com)

A multipotentialite is a person who has many different interests and creative pursuits in life.

Multipotentialites have no “one true calling” the way specialists do. Being a multipotentialite is our destiny. We have many paths and we pursue all of them, either sequentially or simultaneously (or both).

Multipotentialites thrive on learning, exploring, and mastering new skills. We are excellent at bringing disparate ideas together in creative ways. This makes us incredible innovators and problem solvers.

When it comes to new interests that emerge, our insatiable curiosity leads us to absorb everything we can get our hands on. As a result, we pick up new skills fast and tend to be a wealth of information.

Polymath/Renaissance Person.

A polymath (Greek: πολυμαθής, polymathēs, "having learned much") is a person whose expertise spans a significant number of different subject areas. In less formal terms, a polymath (or polymathic person) may simply be someone who is very knowledgeable. Most ancient scientists were polymaths by today's standards.


So I'm not alone.  *phew*  So now what?

Well now I feel less stressed out about it, for one thing.  This is not a bad thing!  I've never been comfortable in any box and I don't see how I could ever be happy trying.  And why bother if that's not what I'm meant to do?

So what I need to do is figure out how to take my passions and turn them into a career - into something fulfilling, something that aides people in some way, and something that allows me to be financially independent.  This is now the journey I'm on.  I now feel I have permission not to be pigeonholed into one specific expertise.  I just need to figure out what it will look like.

I had an awesome brainstorming session with Brian today - we listed the main things I'm passionate about doing.  One thing is for certain, there is a very strong theme that runs throughout all of those things and that is healing... in all aspects.  Health and well-being is what I want both for myself and for others.  This seems to be the epitome of what I need to offer the world in whatever ways I can.

Brian and I came up with a pretty good idea that I am definitely going to develop though I can't be positive yet if that is the exact direction I'm going.  It is very promising though.  One sure way I can tell it is right is that it immediately brought up a lot of fears as well as a feeling of a huge weight lifting off my shoulders.  We shall see.

But there are some things I have to do before I can get where I want to be - getting over my social anxiety is the most important one and the balls are already rolling on that.  That's a huge one.  Huge fears and huge discomfort.  That will be an interesting journey.  But I'm eager to get on with it so I can start doing more with my life.

My next step, aside from the above and doing more research on my possibilities, is formulating plans for my various goals - something I've learned is essential to do if you want to accomplish ANYTHING lol.

I have a lot of work ahead of me - I couldn't be more excited or terrified!


<3 M

Baby Got Back

K I feel like writing so here we go.

On the subject of FAT...

 I am.  duh.  I was a chubby little girl until I hit puberty, at which point I naturally thinned out.  To tell you the truth, I didn't really notice: as far as I know, I thought I was the same size the whole time (chubby or even fat, even when I was not).  So anyway, I thinned out and was pretty damn hot (looking back, of course you never realize it at the time - don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone?).  I still thought I was fat though, not huge but definitely "big boned," which is why dieting was always in the back of my mind, always always always.  Looking back I can't beleive how sick that was, that I thought I was fat when I was so not: I was damn fine and healthy too.  Nonetheless, I remember putting a picture I'd cut out of a magazine on the fridge of a super skinny model - inspiration to lose weight, I said.

So then what happened?  Well, first of all, at some point along the way ( think I was either thirteen or fifteen but can't remember at the moment) I "discovered" emotional eating.  Well I didn't know that's what it was at the time, but I discovered it nonetheless.  Luckily it wasn't something I did too often and it didn't effect my weight too much, probably because I was still somewhat active and healthy.  It's no coincidence that this discovery of emotional eating came around the same time as I was becoming unknowingly depressed.  I won't go into what was going on and why that added to the depression but just that it was something I was unaware of, I just thought I was weird and super sensitive (I am both those things, but I was also depressed lol).

What's weird about being depressed in my house is that every single person in my family has some mental disorder or another (usually various) but no one said anything to me about possibly being depressed, nothing.  Not sure why, but I've always been a bit bitter about that.  Back to the topic.

Now, when I was somewhere in my mid teens I fell disgustingly deep in love with a good friend of mine.  This caused me a lot of turmoil and inevitably ended in heartbreak for me.  How badly was I hurt?  Let's just say I only just got over it a few years ago, and I am currently twenty-eight.  I got so depressed (still didn't know I had depression btw) that I eventually left my job and school (on the same day) and slowly but surely began shutting the world out, becoming a hermit, pretty much.

And this is where that wonderful thing called emotional eating came in handy.  I embraced that coping mechanism, consciously knowing that I would probably gain weight and not caring (because what's the point in looking and feeling good if you don't see any hope for the future?).  With the mixture of inactivity and emotional eating, I, of course, did start gaining and I still didn't care.  I'm sure I cared on some level but at the time I was too depressed to care.  That's how hopeless I felt.

I eventually got to the point where I started to suspect there might be something wrong going on and made an appointment with the doctor.  This is when I found out that I did indeed have depression.  They diagnosed me with bipolar (because I would go into deep deep depression and then mania) and anxiety and gave me some pills.

By this time I had a full-out eating disorder and was discovering that even though I didn't want to gain weight anymore, it was starting to become out of my control (that's the best way I can put it I think).  And I was still depressed. And I didn't know how to get control of my eating again, I just thought I was weak and pathetic.  I kept gaining weight.

Then, in my early twenties I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and osteoarthritis.  No wonder physical activity was so hard, I thought I was just lazy.  Try and lose weight when you're severely depressed, have an eating disorder, and have physical disabilities.  Right, sounds fun eh? 

So I became double the size I used to be - the size of two of me.  And trying to lose weight the whole time by dieting dieting dieting and trying to exercise.  The dieting wasn't so hard as the exercise, for obvious reasons, but the mental turmoil one goes through when struggling with body image issues is a sickness I wish upon no one - yoyo dieting, all diets that are extremely unhealthy, for years.  None of them worked.  Diets don't work.  I knew that, I knew it had to be a permanent lifestyle change, but by then I was so deep into the cycle of punishing myself for failing by starving myself, then inevitably binging out of starvation and comfort.  I now understand that this becomes a mental disorder that only gets worse.

And so I kept trying and the harder I tried, the more weight I gained.  I know that doesn't make any sense, but if you're in such a sick cycle it just keeps making you sicker and making things more distorted and eating away at your self-worth and that forbidden comfort food becomes no different than a drug addiction.  The only difference is that you have to eat, which makes it harder to avoid.

And that's why I'm fat.  Mind you, I don't think being fat is necessarily bad - we all have some amount of fat on our bodies, it's just when you have too much that it can take a toll on your health.  If I were able to lose weight (let's hope so!) I wouldn't want to be skinny, I'd want to be pleasantly plump, as they say.  That's just me.

There are many judgments about fat people, and I can understand why: it's a simple scientific formula - burn more calories than you consume and lose weight.  Unfortunately, when an eating disorder develops, when there's severe depression going on, when physical activity is limited, this simple formula is moot.  Don't tell a fat person to just stop eating because you never know if they're like me and get anxiety attacks just walking into the kitchen because they don't want to have to eat but know they need to.

Ultimately I'm not trying to make excuses for myself because that does no one any good, I'm just explaining how I got where I am and why I'm here.

Some days I feel absolutely disgusting, nothing but a blob of grossness that no one would ever want to look at.  In fact I've stayed in many times because I thought no one should have to look at me.  Sick, no?  Some days I actually feel kinda hot, like yes I'm fat but I'm still damn sexy bitches ;o)  Both of those are true depending on who's looking.  So what others think doesn't really matter.  There are plenty of men who love fat chicks, it turns their crank, but at the end of the day, it's me whose opinion matters and I'm not comfortable being as fat as I am.  This goes for aesthetics as well (and especially) health.

While it's true that you can be relatively healthy and fat, there are still things going on inside your body that are not good - things have to work harder because of the extra weight and that puts stress on important processes, resulting in adverse health effects.  Thinking about what my body is going through makes me sad, I want to be healthy.

I was at a level weight for a few years, but in the past year I have gained a lot more weight (yes, another severe heart break by a man I love) and this has accelerated my distorted thinking about eating and my body and all of that good stuff.  But some really good stuff has happened in that time as well:  I finally started seeing a therapist (I know, after being depressed most of my life you'd think I'd have gotten one sooner, but that's a whole other story of woe) and she is fucking awesome.  I've been in a DBT group (Dialectic Behavioural Therapy) as well, which has helped me so much.  And in about two weeks, I will be starting in an eating disorder program at the hospital.

If this doesn't help me, I don't know what will.  I recently went to an information seminar for getting gastric bypass surgery, determined that this was my only hope, I fully intended on going for it.  But after the information session, there was no way, I was really disappointed at finding out what it's really like and that the only thing getting that surgery does is help you lose a bunch of weight really quickly (the way you would on a fad diet) and you have to change your lifestyle by eating right and exercising anyway, the same way you would without the surgery.  There is no difference, well, except for all the serious health risks and permanent sacrifices, etc.  I could get the same results going on a shake diet for a few months and then dieting and exercising - I think I've already tried that lol.

Just learning DBT skills in the past six or so months has already helped me immensely with how I deal with food.  I'm hopeful that the next six months, plus my therapy, plus the next year in an eating disorder group will be just what I need to get healthy.  I'm tired of everything being about my weight.  Just the fact that I would never tell anyone the number on the scale tells me how shameful it makes me feel, cause as some of you know, I'm not the most private person, I tell all! lol  I would like to think, after being rejected by a man, that it's because of my horrible personality and not because I'm fat :op  There is some truth to wanting that, trust me.

I've learned a lot through the  years of being in a fat body...

I've learned the importance of not judging someone by their looks.  I've learned that it's still okay (socially acceptable) to say hateful things to or about a fat person, to discriminate against them for how they look.  I've learned that the media is disgusting.  I've learned that people can eat well and exercise and still be fat.  I've learned that they should stop making polyester/nylon clothing for plus size women because it's the most unflattering, worst possible fabric for anyone with curves, lumps, or bumps.  Oh, and I've also recently learned that there are ingredients in most of the food we buy, such as high fructose corn syrup and MSG that actually effect the body in a way that negates the scientific formula of natural weight loss (calories consumed/calories burned) - it is really sad to find this out because there are some people who try so hard to lose weight and they are unknowingly consuming these additives, not knowing it is likely making their struggle pointless.  I've learned a lot more, but I think I'm about done writing for now.

There was no real point in writing this, I just felt like talking about it so thanks for indulging.

P.S. Fat people need love too please :o)


Love M

I Can Haz Chocolate?

I figure it's time for some sort of update as I haven't posted in a while.  My mood's been low but I'm still kicking.  I went through a couple of bad dating experiences in the last few months and it just deflated me.  I don't handle pain well, ya see.  Then again, who does?  Right now I'm just trying to bring myself back up - I have absolutely no energy for most things and I just wanna go to bed.  A couple of other really hard things have come up now too and my emotions are very confused and fragile because of it.  So if anyone wonders why I've been acting crazier than usual, or why I'm doing fuck-all, now you know and hopefully forgive me.  If you read this blog and wonder if the girl called 'Marylin' is ever actually happy, the answer is 'yes, yes she is.'  It is only the fact that I do a lot of my blogging when I'm feeling down because I find it extremely healing - that is why this place paints such an angsty picture.

Now that that's out of the way... let's see what I wanna talk about.

Last Friday I went to two interesting stores with Jodie and Mike: first, Ways To Wisdom, which I've been to before, then, a Catholic supply store that I forget the name of down in the east end, which I've never been to.

Ways To Wisdom is a fun store if you're into spirituality and occult-type stuff, which I am.  Aside from the ridiculously high prices, it's a great store - a lot of interesting books on varying topics and any kind of thing you might want, from herbs and candles, to jewelery and oracle cards.  I found a beautiful set of cards but too much moola.  Anyway, it was fun times.

Then to the Catholic supply store.  This is a store that sells... well, Catholic stuff.  Books, bibles, rosaries, pictures of Jesus, crucifixes, candles, economy packs of the communion host, and priest's robes.  Not remembering where I was, the first thing I did when I walked in the door upon seeing a ginormous poster of Jesus's face was exclaim "holy mary mother of god!!!"  This set the tone for the experience.  The store clerk proceeded to administer dirty looks as we browsed and asked questions regarding each of our standing in the Catholic church.  The judgmental tone did not go unnoticed when asked what church I go to.  I nervously responded, feeling like no time had passed by since I was a kid being taught to be very very afraid and very very ashamed by the very adults meant to shape my mind for the future.  Why the need to feel guilty for just standing there, examining merchandise?  No need, just the natural way of things I suppose: the church can have a strong hold on a person, most especially those who grew up in it.  My fifty-something year old father is still strongly affected by his attendance at Catholic elementary school - I've only been cut loose for a decade and a half.

I walked out of that store and noticed I was holding my breath.  Wow.  That is what I call powerful black magic.  I found the experience of both stores interesting to in comparison and thought I'd share.  I'm not saying any one spiritual path is better or worse than another, I'm just speaking my own experience.  Though I will openly admit I am vehemently against organized religion that uses guilt and fear and any other cult-like device to keep its followers in control - I consider that a form of harm and therefore, bad karma.  Not to mention it does nothing to allow for real spiritual growth.  For me, I don't do religion, and this is just me, I'm not against religion per say (sp?), but I'm personally unable to fit inside a box.  I'm spiritual, and that is good enough for me.  I could talk on this subject forever so I'll move on.

I'll move on to somewhat political things... I guess I'm in the mood to discuss the un-discussable topics.

I don't know how many of you have noticed, but the world is going to 'hell in a handbag' at incredible speed these days.  If you're keeping up with the goings-on of the world,  you might have noticed things are pretty bad and getting worse.  Some people wonder why I talk about conspiracies, thinking I'm a nut or something, but what I talk about is what I see and hear right in front of my face: I read the and watch various news sources, I learn about the history of what is going on, the history of war, the history of politics and religion and whatever else will help make sense of current affairs, I listen to the words and watch the actions of those in power and I feel the need to speak out about it, because I care.

What I don't understand are people who think that everything anti-establishment or anti-government is either conspiracy theory craziness or some sort of anarchy.  This doesn't make sense.  This is no different then a "conspiracy nut" who thinks that every single thing is a conspiracy.  Different sides of the same coin.  Either of these cases are ones in which the person is not being objective and if you can't be objective, you're not really going to find out the truth.  It's the same as science: if you're only hoping for one conclusion in an experiment then you are likely to either ignore any result that does not fit your expectations or you're likely to steer the variables in the direction of your bias.  It's just bad science.

Here is what I hope people will do: read it anyway.  Even if you think something is ridiculous or the opinion of some nut-job, read it/watch it anyway.  And don't discount everything that is not the 'norm' just because you disagree with some things that are not popular opinion.  Opening yourself up to all view points makes for a much stronger knowledge base to go on.  Don't stop learning.  Be careful not to discount something just because it seems outrageous.  Outrageous things do happen.  Look at our history and you can plainly see that.  I believe it was Galileo who was tried by the Inquisition, found "vehemently suspect of heresy," forced to recant, and spent the rest of his life under house arrest for suggesting that the earth was not the center of the universe.  This is just a quick example but you get my drift.

And with that 'lecture' I will leave you with this bit of truth from an oldie but a goodie:





Okay and maybe a little George Carlin for good measure ;o)




Love M

Too Tired To Title

I. am. exhausted.

I totally lost it this weekend - something in me decided I didn't wanna deal with the pain I was going through (being reject #539 'er something) and so I didn't: instead, I pulled an old favourite and got myself and nice and wasted at around three in the afternoon on Saturday.  Being drunk and angry just feels so much better than sober and pathetic and in too much pain to be conscious.  I was quite trashed and decided I had to get out of the apartment, so, feeling nice and self-destructive, I narrowed my options and decided to head to Corktown to see Randy and Mr. Lahey (from the Trailer Park Boys).  So I wobbled over there, flask full of whiskey hidden in my purse (and bottle of Ativan just in case?) and actually had a pretty good time - the show was funny and as drunk as I was, I remember some of it - even standing with the rest of the patrons to sing 'Oh, Canada' after the 'boys' poked fun at those silly people requesting the lyric change (it's not hard to feel at least a little patriotic after those beautiful Olympic games).

Anyway, after that a few guys I know from a band got up and played a set with a new band they're in (Radio Free Universe: members include fellas from Bombshell and the guy from King Clansey) so that was okay.  Then closing time.  That's where things got ridiculous.

Some dude asked if he could share the cab with me cause he lives just a few blocks from where I'm going so I said sure why not.  That was a really stupid move apparently because all he did was get out of the cab at the same place as me and followed me into my fucking apartment building.  So I was fucking stuck in my apartment lobby with this really creepy guy who wanted to come to my apartment with me and kept calling me a bitch cause I was saying 'no, leave' meanwhile trying to grope and kiss me.  Then he drags me on the elevator! so I obviously refused to press any buttons cause I didn't want him knowing where I live (obviously).  After I don't know how long (and after flashing me in said elevator) he got fed up with the elevator business and tried pulling me into a stairwell.  But as wasted as I was, I was able to fight (thank gods).  Oh did I mention he grabbed my keys from me and wouldn't give them back?

Finally after about an hour of this torture he left and I booted my ass up to my apartment and locked the doors.

The next day was a hang-over and that same yuckiness that was intolerable the day before, except this time no drinky poo (as Mr. Lahey would put it).  I slept a good chunk of it away, then later on dealt with some unpleasantness and shed the damn tears I was trying so hard to avoid in the first place.  What a train wreck.  I'm pretty sure anyone talking to me lately thinks I'm a nut bag unless of course you already know me, then you already know I'm a nut bag.  Well, at least I learn from it all, that's something.

So after little to no sleep last night I had to get up early for an assessment to get into the eating disorders clinic here in Hamilton.  I pressed snooze at least ten times and felt like pure shit.  The assessment consisted of me sitting in this psychiatrist lady's office while she asked me about everything from my childhood to my suicidal tendencies and everything in between for about two and a half hours.  By the time we were done, I was completely drained and a little depressed because I had just talked about my life for two and a half hours and it was all really shitty stuff so it made me feel like I've had a really negative life.

As much as my apartment needs to be cleaned and that article needs to be written for Buttercup, there was no way.  I slept pretty much all day and it was very much needed.  And this is a big chunk of why I. am. exhausted.  No wonder it feels alien when I tell people my age cause I sure feel like I've been stuck at 13 forever.  I am so jealous of people who know how to live and people who know how not to fuck shit up and people who are reading this blog feeling sorry for me because they can't imagine being so miserably stupid.  And now I'm starting to make myself sick with my whining so I'll move on.

I do have some positive things to talk about.  I got a guitar!  Sean brought it over about a half hour ago and I've decided to relearn.  Yay!  Maybe when I'm 40 I'll be a rock star ;o)  I don't know how to read music - I learn by watching and listening because of course I like to do things the hard way.  I used to know so many freaking songs - I knew almost every Hole song too!  Damnit I wish I could remember.

What else, I needs monies.  I'm usually good with monies but I'm so tight this month and it's a really bad month to be broke cause I have two writer's meetings and a few shows I just have to go to.  Thursday I'm heading to 'This Ain't Hollywood'  to see '13 Bags of Dick' and 'Allysa In The Apple Tree.'  On the 20th I'm going to see 'Steel Mountie' at 'Bread And Roses.'   'Rackula' is having a CD release at the 'Casbah' on the 27th and I think that's it (I hope so cause I have no money! Please donate - I will show you my bra strap [no, I am not kidding]).  I need to do my damn taxes.

Alright, here's hoping for better days ahead.

xoxoxo




Love M

Hey Obama! This Is The Real Pandemic

Well I just posted about this on Buttercup, but it pissed me off too much not to blog about.

• In a study of 4th-grade girls, 90% were on some type of diet.

This is what I know: 4th grade girls are about nine years old; they are generally prepubescent; they have A CRAP TON of growing left to do (women don't stop growing till late in their teens), and in order to properly develop, you need proper nutrition.

Just touching on the physical part of this, diets are about rules and restriction, usually excluding one kind of food or another or trying to eat a lower number of calories and/or fat. What do you think this would do to a child's growth? Kids need all kinds of food and plenty of it - they need their carbs, their fats, their proteins, their vitamins and minerals and yes, even their ice cream cones. Their bodies need it, so I am afraid to even ponder the repercussions of this sad statistic.
If you think I'm nuts and it's perfectly fine for a child to diet, then check this stat:

• In 1992, the National Institutes of Health held investigatory hearings and concluded that diets do not work and may even be dangerous to one's health.

Now let's move onto the psychological implications. These girls are dieting for a reason, the reason could be that their parents put her on this diet, or maybe she's just copying what her mother does (as kids tend to do), maybe she feels fat, ugly, not up to par with whatever ideal nine year old girls look up to today (I shudder to think). Whatever the case, some of these children are not happy with their bodies and some will end up being unhappy with their bodies if they stay on this track. I don't know about you, but when I was a wee girl I didn't really think about my body in any terms besides 'this is my body and it does stuff.' I never looked at it, or parts of it, and felt a need to change it. For most healthy children, I think that's the case - we have no reason to start comparing shapes and sizes as long as we can run and jump and skip and enjoy being nine.

These poor girls don't stand a chance. I'm sorry, but how healthy can a child's self-esteem be if they are dieting? It's a hard, long road ahead for a girl who has the misfortune of being uncomfortable in her own skin before she's even had a chance to fill it out.

What this says about our society is literally deafening because people sure aren't hearing a damn thing. Kids should be busy being kids and not worrying about diets. Considering how mentally trying the diet game is (and if you've been there you know what I'm talking about), imagine what it does to a nine year old girl.

Alright, so who's going to fork up the money to pay for all the therapy these children will need when they get older?

1.2% of people in America with H1N1 have died.

18-20% (roughly) of people with eating disorders die. Where's the state of emergency for this pandemic? Srsly.


Love M

Planning For My Thirties

April is here: month four - a quarter of the year passed.

This year was to be the year of 'Marylin' - the year where I stopped moaning and actually acted on life. Because when last new year's came around and the question of "what are your resolutions for 2009?" started popping up, I realized that the resolutions I had were the exact same resolutions (for the most part) I'd had every year for pretty much a decade.

I am twenty seven years old. I cannot go into my thirties with the same energy as I've been spending in my twenties. I just can't. I know I wasted a fucking decade - I can't do it again.

It's not that I've done nothing, it's that I've done a very small fraction of what I have the potential and drive to do/achieve. I've only lived a small fraction of the life I've wanted to live.

Over these years I have made some progress. I've realized a lot of the limitations I was fighting against were not as controllable as I thought. Once I stopped fighting certain things, so much stress and sadness was taken away.

All my life I've suffered from sleeping problems, which have caused a lot of problems for me regarding school, work, appointments, and even socially.

I've strived all these years to take control of my sleep patterns, thinking I just wasn't trying hard enough.

Finally, a few years ago I had an over-night sleep study done that revealed I had what's called Delayed Sleep Phase Disorder.

The doctor explained to me that trying to fight it is fruitless because it is a neurological problem, it's just the way my brain works, and that I should try to work with it if I want to be happy. One of the best things for someone with DSPD is to do a job where you can set your own hours, like writing, for example.

Great! I thought. I am a writer! This just gives me another reason to justify writing for a living.

So after this new information was made known to me, I slowly stopped fighting against the sleep issues and that has made a world of difference. I don't feel guilty or stressed out anymore about it. This has made me a happier person in general.

Ask me how my writing career is going.

Well, just take a look at my ISBN collection and that should answer your question.

Isn't it funny what excuses we can make for our lack of productivity? Mmmhmmm.

Another obstacle that came about right when my twenties started was being "disabled."

Yes, I was about twenty when I couldn't take the pain and fatigue anymore. That's when they diagnosed me with the osteoarthritis and the fibromyalgia.

I can't even begin to talk about how weird that is/was for me. I've never been a very active person, so it left everyone baffled as to why I would get osteoarthritis, and so young too. I got the fucker all over the body too. The fibro is a little more understandable, my mum has that too, but still, at twenty?

Suffice it to say, these have factored into my life substantially. It is quite hard for me to walk very far, let alone do much rigorous exercise. It makes me an outsider to my peers, who sometimes don't quite understand why we can't take that twenty minute walk to "insert place." It's embarrassing, especially because I've never been very vocal about my issues, so it just makes me look really lazy to people, since you can't see my disabilities just by looking at me.

It's also hindered my ability to lose weight. Not only is exercise difficult, but the fibro effects your metabolism and also includes depression as a side effect, which I already suffer from. (But I'll get to the weight and the depression as well.)

I don't feel sorry for myself about my physical disabilities. I'm okay with adjusting my life because of them. I just still can't bring myself to accept that I can't exercise the way other people can and I know my refusal to accept this is only because of my desire to lose weight and be healthy.

I've finally accepted that I can't be as active as most of my peers, and I've been working on being more vocal about it, but I still have shame, and I hate that I have that shame, hence more shame. I don't want to be a pain in the ass ya know?

Anyway, I have come to a place where all those feelings of shame and of trying to fight the illnesses have lessened a great deal, which means, again, that I am a happier person with a lot less stress.

Then there is the mental catastrophe to talk about.

I honestly think I had depression as a child when I look back, but there's no way to know. What I do know is that when I hit my early teens, I had it. I had really bad depression and I didn't know it was depression, I just thought I was a really sensitive person lol. A misunderstood teen.

I didn't realize I might have a problem till I was nineteen, living in a bachelor apartment that I'd rented with no employment to speak of, where I spent the majority of my time filling binders full of get-rich-quick ideas and reading tarot cards over the phone for Miss Cleo (without payment).

If you don't remember Miss Cleo, let me refresh your memory:



Three months later I found myself unable to get up from my futon because i was "inexplicably" paralyzed with depression. But this was before I started hallucinating and being afraid to go outside...

The worst part of it was that my entire family suffers from a cornucopia of lovely mental illnesses and not once did anyone in my family suggest that I might also be afflicted - they all just thought I was the "normal" one. The one who would actually go somewhere in life.

Anyway, so I sought help and was diagnosed with bipolar and anxiety disorders. The little pink pill (paxil) they gave me made me feel better for about a year, but when it stopped working, things were a lot worse and this coincided with the worsening (and discovering) of my physical issues.

Since the initial diagnoses, I'd been seeking proper help in the form of therapy to no avail, and ended up being switched to effexor for a while (this made me worse), and then to celexa (which helped a lot and which I still take now) by a family doctor who I all but reported for malpractice for so many reasons.

I was monitoring my own meds and recieving zero therapy due to long waiting lists and a bitch of an ex-roommate who failed to deliver a very important phone message to me.

It wasn't until late last year that my name finally reached the top of a waiting list and I got myself a proper therapist, working under a psychiatrist.

The official diagnoses was Borderline Personality Disorder (which I knew) and they are keeping an eye out for signs of bipolar, which is tricky because you can have both, but it's hard to tell since people with BPD usually exhibit a lot of similar traits as people with Bipolar. Either way, I'm sick in the noggin'.

The good news is I'm finally getting help. There's a program that people with BDP can go through called Dialectic Behavoural Therapy that I'm on the waiting list for. This is supposed to help drastically with my issues and help me deal with things in my life.

As for what I can do to actually fight my mental issues, I 'm really not sure. Trying to fight them in the past, as if they weren't a reality, usually proved to create more guilt and so the cycle goes. I've learned that if I don't take my illnesses into consideration, it will lead to unnecessary disappointment.

The problem is that until I do what I need to do/learn what I need to learn therapy wise, I keep going through the same mental issues as always, and as always, they take me two steps backwards. It's always a matter of keeping my head above the water, and after so many years, that is very tiring and makes it more and more tempting to just let go, to give in, to drown.

My mental illness is the strongest force in my life - it paralyzes me and I can never get used to it, because if I did, it would mean being satisfied with not improving myself or my situation.

This is the obstacle in my life that fuels the other obstacles, the obstacle that prevents the other obstacles from being removed.

If the plant continues to grow, it's kind of hard to prevent the leaves from coming back, season after season.

I'm overweight because I was so depressed that I didn't care. I'm still overweight because I'm still depressed and I use food as a drug because I don't know how to manage my emotions properly. I'm still overweight because I have osteoarthritis and fibromyalgia, which fuck up my physical activity and metabolism.

I'm overweight, which makes the physical disabilities worse, because my poor joints have to carry all that extra weight, which makes physical activity even harder, which makes losing weight even harder.

I'm overweight, which makes me depressed because I'm not happy with my body, which has given me a low self-esteem, which has effected my social life, which has made me more depressed and withdrawn, which has made me want to eat more...

It's all mental though. My own mind has created my own misery and what will happen if I can't change my mind? I wish it was more of a choice. I wish I could just buck-up and get on with life. But it's more complicated then that. I can buck-up, but it's only a matter of time before it catches up with me again and the fall is always so hard.

I feel like a whiny baby complaining. But this is my reality. I wish I were just a whiny baby, so someone reading this could slap me in the face and show me my own stupidity, and then I could move on.

So this is my reality.

I have osteoarthritis and fibromyalgia that I receive disability for because I can't work. I have this delayed sleep phase disorder that prevents me from keeping a normal schedule, which is okay, because I don't work anyway. I don't work, which allows me the opportunity to actually write and follow my dream of being a successful writer.

All of this seems to work itself out... it almost seems like the universe planned it that way for a reason.

But my reality includes this debilitating mental illness, which seems to be THE obstacle standing in my way. It scares the shit out of me to think that I'll be this stagnant and unable to escape when I'm thirty seven. I can't deal with that, I have way too much potential for that to happen.

They're playing with meds (carefully) and I'm seeing a really good therapist on a regular basis. I should be getting into the DBT program thingy quite soon according to her, at which time I'll still be seeing her.

Aside from trying again and again and not giving up, I'm really counting on the program and the therapy to give me a lot of what I need to improve the way I live my life.

And it will be completed before I turn thirty.

Something else I'm starting to consider is gastric bypass surgery. I've obviously considered it many times before, but was always against it because it's unnatural.

But now the pros are really beginning to out-weight the cons: this surgery would make me lose weight, which would take stress off my joints, which would allow me to be more active, which would improve my overall health and lessen my general pain, which would make me more generally happy. I would not be so disgusted with my body, which would make me feel more confident, which would give me higher self-esteem, which would make me happier and improve my social life, which would make me happier as well.

It would be a huge thing to not have to worry about, which would free up so much energy. It would drastically effect my mental state and level of self-love.

I'm not saying that losing weight would solve my problems. I'm naive but not that naive. I just know that it would be a gigantic step toward improving my life.

The only concern I have is that getting such a surgery would not change my eating behaviours in itself, so I would definitely need to get help on that part of the deal.

So those are two gigantic things that will be happening before the big 3-0 (not sure about the surgery yet though).

I'm so tired right now that the usual momentum I'd have for "trying again, but this time better" is not showing itself. The thought of listing all of the things I need/want to accomplish is so overwhelming that I think it's best if I just try to keep it simple until I'm more capable of pondering more. Even the simple things are making my heart rate a little jumpy.

1. Take good care of myself.

That's my first job. I'll go from there.

I'm actually not done writing this entry, but my eyes are getting a lil' tired so I'll end it for now.

If you've read all this, well, you're a trooper! Thanks :)


Love Marylin.

We Didn't Start The Fiya!

Holy shit! Have you seen the passport applications they expect us to fill out? Seems a bit much, I mean, they make it so hard... I just wanna do a little bit of traveling, ya know? huh. Well it should be worth it, I'm off to sunny California later on this year, a trip I've wanted to take since I was a teeny bopper (omg did I just say teeny bopper? How the hell old AM I?).

What other fun have I been up to besides planning to leave the country? Well I started a ginormous kitchen fire earlier this evening, my biggest so far... oil fire - got so smokey I had to leave cause I couldn't breathe. Scary! I killed that mother fucker with a good bit of baking soda... is there anything baking soda can't do?



I "accidentally" knocked the fire alarm off the wall, and now have a possible live wire hanging out of the wall, which I have been informed is quite the fire hazard itself.

All is well and I was able to complete mum's birthday dinner, and make it pretty darn yummy too! This was the first time I've bought actual meat, actual rotting animal carcass, since spring of 2008... craziness. But a nice juicy steak indeed.

Other than that, I'm contemplating an online poetry workshop... perhaps a collaborative workshop with another artist... stay tuned.

-Love Marylin.

Hum Drum Dee Dum

I cut ma brotherrr in haaaaalf....

Well no, I only cut my thumb slicing into a bagel earlier today... not quite as bad, but....

What is the meaning of life, according to the gospel of Marylin: Love.

No, not being in love and all that stuff, I mean love in general: doing things you love, being with people you love, surrounding yourself with love, in whatever forms it comes.

May seem a bit idealistic to you, that's because it is. That's because although it is a simple concept, it seems utterly impossible - something always goes wrong in this crazy material world.

I'm not complaining, I'm a lucky girl, I have (according to me) a pretty good life. I'm happy for the most part, very lucky: I have a great shelter over my head with no stupid roommates, I have my sweet big daddy Georgey poo, I have some family, I have a few wonderful friends, I have more leisure time than most anyone could wish for, I've got ambition, talent, yadda yadda yadda yadda, you get the point, I'm grateful.

But I will quote from one of my own verses: 'I've seen heaven's angel face - when I came down, I was so cold - the difference was too much to take, the difference between hell and grace.'

Yeah, if you know what that means, than you know, you know.

There are certain types of love that just are. They didn't really grow and they can't really fade. It's like the love for a child, the love for a parent, the love for a friend, the love for a lover, the love for who a person is and all that comes with them, all wrapped up into one formless mess of love.

*sigh*

I don't really have a point (or perhaps I do but am holding onto it), just writing some thoughts is all.

I guess I do 'break just like a little girl'

Just remember, now is all we ever have.

On that note, I'll try to stop being so cryptic and dramatic for a bit here.

I'm pumping myself up for a big hair cut! I've always been timid about changing/cutting my hair but it's just GOT to happen. So I'm going for it and getting bangs, something I haven't had since I was eight years old - yep I got my hair cut from my butt to my shoulders and got bangs just before my first communion, oh I was a holy child! I wish I had a scanner so I could show you a pic! lol, me in my lovely white communion dress, hands held together is a pose of prayer... hahahahahaha! Oh my.

But anyway, so that's what's gonna happen to my head in the next week or two - I'll be sure to post the before and after.

I'm also on the hunt for shoes! I need to get shoes for my friend's wedding at the end of August. I love to shop, but I HATE shoppers. When I'm around people who are shopping, I want to commit violent acts and I normally wouldn't hurt a fly lol. Seriously, most people in a store are so rude, self-centered, pushy, etc. they are greedy with the need to shop shop shop, accumulate accumulate, spend spend spend! That's gross... just lemme browse at my leisure and get the fwuck out of my way you pre-fab morons!

Aaaaannyway... mmhmmm lol.

Yeah so I get to dress up real nice for my friend's wedding, which I never get to do so I'm excited about that. Not to mention excited about seeing my dear friend get married to a great guy :)

I'd personally prefer to go barefoot, but for her sake (and maybe for Don's sake too) I'll get some shoes :P I'm a good girl :)

Goin to a lan party this Saturday... my first lan party! Woohoo! Awww yeeeaaah. If you don't know what a lan party is, I'll leave you frustrated with curiousity for the time being... :P

Okay enough, this post is done.

-Love Marylin.