the whole truth

i'm ready to be honest with myself, my blog readers, & the whole world wide web (aka universe). so today, on the life of my ferrets, i swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. so help me god(s). amen.

i've let a lot of stuff slide as of late, one of the main ones has been my blog. not that i don't love my writing, my blog, or my readers (if any are still left as of this date). i've been absent because i've been healing. i'm finally at a good place, a great place, a place of peace. some place that intellectually i knew existed, but some place that i was never quite sure i would see in this life time.

today i find myself firmly in recovery. & yet, i'm not quite sure yet if recovery is a forever road, or if i will one day find myself totally recovered from the evil demon that is my eating disorder. i eat now. i get my three meals & my three snacks. it's not what the peeps at HCMC would prefer since i'm a post gastric bypass patient, they'd prefer the three meals, but my body just doesn't work that way. & for my physical, mental, & emotional health i need to make sure i'm eating every couple of hours.

for the most part i'm not restricting (starving myself) & for the most part i'm not binging. once in a while i will have a day where for whatever reason i think it's a good idea to push my body & i wait much too late to have breakfast. or i'll skip lunch or under eat at dinner. on the flip side of that coin when i'm stressed i some times find myself reaching to munch on something. the old habit of using food as an emotional band-aid. the difference now is that i recognize myself doing these things & i stop myself. i stop myself because i know that i'm worth fighting for. that it's just food. it's fuel. & if i want to accomplish all the AMAZING things i have planned for myself i need to treat my body as a machine. ya know, rotate the tires, get the oil changed, fill the gas tank, get the engine detailed....oh wait, that's the list of maintenance for my saturn.

what has happened thus far in 2011? so many things! the year is almost 25% done and already i'm on cloud nineteen (yes, i'm still a drama queen with a flair for melodrama after all this time). just on friday i had my defense for my MFA thesis. &{drum roll please}: i passed with no revisions required! which means i need to just get the final copies of my thesis to the office and then i graduate. it's been 9 years that i've been in the MFA program & i'm finally graduating. when i think on it i'm so happy that i literally want to cry.

cry? why for you ask. thanks for asking. {hint: here's where the truth, the whole truth & nothing but the truth part comes in} i cry because i realize how terribly close i came to not making it to this day. back in 2009 when my uncle joe died i missed his funeral because of how sick i was with my eating disorder. & while i was honest about this on my blog i wasn't brutally honest. the brutal honesty is something that i've come face to face with in the past month as i finished my thesis & really done some hard core introspection on my time in the MFA program. there was something about facing the end of the student era of my life & preparing to move onto the next, as of yet unnamed, phase that has made me rewind time and re-watch my life.

my plan is to use my poetry to change the world. i want to take my message about living with & recovering from an eating disorder to help keep other girls from going through the same hell. & as i prepare to do that i've realized that even though i'm in recovery i have not been completely honest with the people i care most about. my eating disorder nearly killed me. i'm not being melodramatic. i'm not asking for sympathy, for pity, or for tears. i just need to be transparent about what really happened.

2009 was a total craptastic year in so very many ways. but it was a year that i needed. that year tested me. when i was at the sickest & allowing my eating disorder demon to control me i was so weak that each day i was in pain. this is not a metaphor. yes i was in emotional & mental pain. but i was in physical pain. my back hurt, my tail bone hurt, my chest hurt. every day it hurt to breathe. i'm not even talking deep breaths, i'm talking regular breathing made my chest hurt. but i was scared to say anything because i did not want to be hospitalized.

when my therapist told me that she thought i needed to be hospitalized i balked. i know if i would have told her about the chest pains i probably would have been committed against my will {which was the only way, i told her, i would be hospitalized} at one point she said that i was so malnourished & dehydrated that if i did not start eating i would probably be placed on a feeding tube. i was in such a dark place that secretly i wanted that to happen. because if i had a feeding tube then i wouldn't have to deal with food. as i type this & remember sitting in her office with that reality it does make me sad. she was trying to use it as a threat & the me at that time saw it as a golden ticket.

the thing that i have not confessed to anyone until recently is how close i really came to death. i'm convinced now as i look back at that time that i was much closer to dying than i realized. every week i thought about dying at least three or four times. sometimes it was multiple times a day. it was not that i wanted to kill myself. to me that was selfish to slice my wrists open or over dose on pills. but i was slowly killing myself. every day it hurt to open my eyes, i drank a gallon of coffee a day just to get myself enough energy to drive the 3.3 miles to work & hunch over my desk. i put a smile on my face when people were looking, a grimace when no one was looking.

at least twice a week i would tally the people in my life. my mom, my dad, my sister, my brother, my grandma, each of my friends. & as i thought of each one i would tell myself they would be okay if i didn't wake up the next day. if my heart just stopped beating from the strain, the stress, not enough food, not enough water. & as i thought of each of them i did feel a bit of guilt, what would happen if i did die. but i also told myself they would be okay. i told myself that then my parents wouldn't need to worry anymore. that my dad wouldn't tell my sister that because we work at the same place it's her responsibility to go to my desk each day & make sure i'm eating.

even my ferrets. i thought of them & what would happen to them. i knew my family would make sure they were taken care of until they crossed the rainbow bridge. cassie & sunny d, my first two boys. they'd be sad, but they would get over it. podo & doodle are strong & would carry on. marley, linus & lucy were young & resilient. they'd all be okay. except for my nyddah. my little rescue from the humane society. i knew that if i died nyddah would not be okay. she would not be okay just living with my parents.

she crawled into a deep crevice in my heart when she reached up & licked my chin at the shelter on august 16, 2008. i've heard people say soul mates are not always human. in a way i feel nyddah is my soul mate. i love that little furkid more than i ever thought i could love another soul. just as she crawled into my heart i know i crawled into hers. it was miss nyddah & the thought that my death would kill her that kept me getting up day after day. it kept me fighting. i know that it will probably hurt those that i love when they realize that what kept me going was nyddah instead of one of the humans in my life.

but as i type this i don't hang my head in shame. {statistics are slippery things & i try not to use them, especially in my blog, however....} about 20% of people with eating disorders will die without treatment. even receiving treatment 2-3% of people with an eating disorder will die as a result of their disease. sure, that's a low statistic. however. i tend to defy the odds. there was a minuscule chance, less than 1%, of the type of complications i had post gastric bypass, & yet i had surgery again four months & three days after my bypass because of complications. my tonsils were removed twice because they grew back. i was born with only three wisdom teeth. i tend to be an odd conglomeration of weird medical issues.

& the point of all of this? honesty. i want to change the world with my poetry. i want to stand in front of millions of people & read my poems & change their lives. i will open people's hearts & minds & change the way people with eating disorders are viewed. i will open the dialogue so that there is no more shame. it's a disease just like breast cancer or seizure disorders or alzheimers. no one blames someone for getting cancer or having seizures or alzheimers, why attach shame to an eating disorder. & to be the role model i know i can be, to revolutionize the way people see this disease, i need to make sure i'm honest with myself, with those around me.

to thank nyddah for saving my life i've dedicated my poetry book to her. i realize she's a ferret and {probably} can't read. but, for me, i needed to acknowledge how close i came to dying & who saved my life. so, miss nyddah: i love you, always. thank you for saving me.

holy long absence, batman!

so after poking a facebook friend to read my blog and then i'll read hers i decided to see how long it's been since i blogged and was gobsmacked to find out it's been two plus months! then again, the past two months have been very full. just two days after my last blog, on august 8th, my sweetheart fry was in a very bad car accident and nearly killed. thank the gods he was able to walk away. here's what happened:

he was headed north on round lake boulevard in anoka. it's a two lane highway, the speed limit is 55 mph. a car was stopped to make a left. so the car in front of fry stopped. and fry stopped. and there's where it got ugly. the 20-something girl behind him "looked down for a second" when she looked up everyone was stopped. she jerked the wheel to the right and slammed on her brakes but hit the back right of fry's yaris hard enough to bend the axle and plow his car into the car in front of him and into oncoming traffic where his car was then hit again by a full size dodge ram pickup. his car was completely totaled out. and everyone who talked to us in the weeks after said usually the driver doesn't live in accidents like this:


even now with him sitting next to me eating bbq pringles and watching a very bad "meteor destroys earth movie" knowing he's safe. knowing he's ok. i get panicky and tears threaten to run because i came so very close to losing him. my heart races and my throat closes and i want to drop to my knees and thank the gods for sparing him.

he did actually WALK away from this accident. he got himself out of the car. called me when i was on my way to my part time job and said "i was just rear ended, do you think you can give me a ride?" i asked if he was ok and he said yeah, fine, he just needed a ride. thankfully i didn't see the car until the next day when i went to empty it for him. he didn't even want to go to the hospital, i made him because he had the seat belt mark embedded in his chest and kept saying he wanted to sleep and i was worried about a head injury. thankfully the full extent of his injuries were deep bruises, some slight ligament tears, and partially detached muscle. minuscule in relation to what could have been.

august was filled with helping fry recover. find a new car. both of us learn to be ok riding in cars without fearing the person behind us was out to kill us. i still sometimes feel anxiety when driving. and even more so when i'm passenger. his sister came up to visit from hawaii. we saw weird al at the state fair. life was getting back to normal.

and then bad news from the west. my uncle john, my uncle joe's younger brother, was getting weaker. my aunt sharon emailed us asking for prayers. not prayers for a cure or a miracle. but prayers for comfort and peace and no pain. then in the evening on wednesday september 8th, a month to the day after fry's accident, my cousin rico called to tell us the doctors said my uncle would be lucky to make it 24 hours and they would be simply shocked if he made it through the weekend. my dad packed a bag. tossed and turned all night. and headed west early on the 9th. he made it to the hospital in north dakota just before 2pm on the 9th. he spent a few final hours with his best friend/brother before my uncle john died on september 10th just before 5am.

so with a lot of fear of driving, cars, and dying behind the wheel: i got in my saturn and drove west to say good bye. i returned to the town i was born in. a town i hadn't seen in 30 years and 2 months and 29days. all in all i spent less than 24 hours in that north dakota town before returning east again. to home.

now, not like any of this is ALL about me, but i had just started to gain my balance again and completely had the pins knocked out from under me. my uncle john was my godfather. one of the steadies in my life. i still have both my parents, but i always thought that when the time came that i lost one of them my uncle john would be the one to hold me up and give me strength and he would still be there to take care of me. i wanted to see his face when i received my mfa from hamline. i thought he'd dance with me at my wedding. that he'd hold my babies and they'd call him grandpa john. i've had to learn to live again in a world without him. and, honestly, i hate that. but i'm trying not to resent it too much. trying not to have too much animosity towards the heavens for taking him.

it's exhausting to be thanking the gods for sparing fry while at the same time cursing them for taking my uncle john. oh, and then, the day my uncle died it was announced that i got a promotion at work. seriously. talk about an emotional mixed bag. but. blessing too? because i needed something new at work. a new challenge to better use my talents and skills. i'd been in my previous position for nearly 3 years and it was time for a change.

sum up? so, the past 2 1/2 months = nearly losing my lover, my uncle dying, and a promotion.

did i mention that i also have stopped seeing my therapist & nutritionist and decided i'm well enough to tackle this whole eating disorder thing on my own? but, you know what? maybe i am. because all of this could have sent me into a serious spiral and caused me to starve myself again. and it hasn't. i have my moments of poor choices, but everyone does. it's called being human.

ferret naptime

and here is my little boy, sundance (aka sunny d) napping. oy. now THAT is what i'd love to do right now. maybe i can grab a nap tonight before fry and i have a fire? ah, i love our summer evening bonfires in the backyard.

finally: an explaination on the weight loss ticky-ticker

granted, yes, for some people with an eating disorder they need to stay far far away from scales because it's detrimental to them. for me my problems with eating are more closely tied to my emotions rather than a number on the scale. although a number on the scale can upset me, as it can to many people, it's not enough to send me running for the kitchen in search of something to gnaw on.

i know it can seem somewhat contradictory. but i need to be able to keep track of my weight and i do want to keep losing weight. for me i want to get to a healthy weight. right now i'm still technically "obese" according to the medical charts. my first goal is to become overweight. yes. my goal is to become overweight. but when you're starting at obese it's a goal that makes sense. once i get to 174 pounds then i'll merely be overweight. yippee! my last weigh in and i was just shy of that goal. i know, weight loss is a slippery little bugger. and especially for women things can sway dramatically based on water retention and the like. but i'm keeping tabs on what i'm doing.

at work i have started taking the stairs. up to the fifth floor each day. and when i have to go to the bathroom i walk down to the first floor, use the bathroom there, and then back up again. yeah, it's a little thing, but i feel like the more little things i do the more they will add up for me. i really want to get in the routine of getting 10,000 steps a day. some days are better than others. i think the last time i got to that many steps was a few days ago. right now i'm at 4,357. getting the steps in during a normal work day can be a challenge to say the least. but i'm happy with the challenges i'm facing lately. and i feel as though i'm meeting them with dignity and grace.

insomnia: again? really?!

so. sitting on the couch in the living room. eleven ferrets wrecking havoc on the house. three in the kitchen. eight in the living room. and i can't sleep. one attacking my slipper. it's not doodle. it's cass. holy fucking hell. i know, it's obvious why i can't sleep: there's eleven ferrets tearing ass around the house making noise and trashing the place. that's not it. i'm not sure why i'm not sleepy. i thought i would be. work has been a steady pace lately. and sometimes emotionally challenging. it's tough being big brother and telling people they messed up. it's even more difficult having to tell someone that no, you won't change your mind, and try to nicely get them out of your cube so you can leave work on time.

but i'm actually very content, work life aside. fry and i have a nice home with our furkids. now and again when the temps are decent at night and the bugs're scarce we'll have a bonfire out back and make s'mores. we are very much into cuddling on the couch and watching netflix streaming through my wii. lately we've been on an xfiles kick. (i'm an xfiles junkie from way back so i like to skip around and watch my favorite episodes...currently the rain king...fry is an xfiles newbie so when we watch together we have started from the beginning).

there is a lot on my mind lately. i've finally come to terms with the fact that i very much do have trouble with collecting things. i think i've known it for a long time. and it's something that i've been working on with my therapist for the past few months. part of it is i have a very good memory. i can look at a knick knack and i remember who gave it to me and why they gave it to me. and then i feel immense guilt if i think about giving it away/throwing it away/donating it. as if that person may be hurt that i didn't hang onto whatever it was they gave me. it's not that i'm a spoiled princess and ungrateful for the thought. i very much am grateful to be the recipient of the gift. and most times i've gotten quite a bit of use out of the item it's just that it is now something that i have outgrown the use for. or else, i see something and think "well, i should get rid of X because i don't need it." but then i start thinking about how useful X item would be in Y situation. and then i keep it because otherwise if i have to buy whatever X is later down the line to do Y job then i'll be upset that i didn't keep the previous X item that i had. i grew up very very poor and so i can't stand to see something go to waste or waste my money.

in addition to having extreme issues parting with belongings i also have an extremely hard time passing up a deal. if i see something for 90% clearance at target i'll stock up, even if it's something like burnt orange pillar candles which i have no need for in the near, or even foreseeable, future. i keep a box of "gifts" in case i need to randomly give something to someone. all items that i got on massive clearance and i've stock piled. ugh. stock pile. that's a phrase that gives me the heebees, the geebees, shivers, and dry heaves all at the same time.

my dad used to get mad at my mom for "stock piling" food on the shelf we had in the basement. he'd get mad that she would squirrel away extra food. and in a way i did too. but i also remembered that day from my childhood. all the cabinets open. the fridge too. my mom crying because we had no food at all in the house and my siblings and i were hungry. something like that makes an impression on you. for me it instilled a deep fear of being hungry. or, of not having food. so when i see chef boy ardee on sale 10 for $10 i want to fill my cart with mini lasagna, spaghetti and meatballs, and beef raviolis because then maybe i'll feel safe.

when i go grocery shopping i'm so tempted to use my coupons and the sale ad to fill my cart. even though the cupboards at home are literally stuffed and nearly over flowing with food. fry tells me we have enough. that we have more than enough. that i don't need to buy so much. we're only two people. he reminds me we should work through what we have at home before we get new stuff because otherwise we will wind up throwing stuff away. i nearly threw a fit when he suggested i give some of my scooby gummies and fruit by the fruits to his friend's three year old kid (yeah, me throwing a fit over gummies is a WHOLE other issue in the realm of beckah & her dysfunctional relationship with food). in the end i did give 1/3 of my gummies away to fry's friend's kid, and another 1/3 to my friend april's little girl. but that took SO much of my will power and strength in order to do that. i know. it's ridiculous. and at the same time it filled me a bit with a sense of panic.

i decided today to sell some of my stuff on ebay. the stuff that maybe i can make a buck or two off of instead of donating. i was all set to donate it. but fry suggested we try selling it instead. some backpacks that are in excellent shape, it's just that i don't need them. seriously, how many backpacks does one adult REALLY need? in a way it was easier on me to decide to give them away than sell them. isn't that odd? and i know i have some furbies in the garage. those should sell on ebay too. maybe this will be another small forward step in recovery? cleaning and getting rid of stuff is empowering. but it's also SO scary for me. so very very scary. then again. didn't i just say i was ready for scary? that i am welcoming it with open arms and want to face the scary all on my own? well. i'm thinking maybe i shouldn't be completely on my own. maybe i do need some help. just a wee bit of emotional support from friends and family. i'm still resolved to quit therapy. or rather, bring my need for it to an end. but, that doesn't mean i can't lean a little on those who love me. showing weakness. asking for help. those are positive steps for me.

recap on my kayaking trip (july 8-11th)

the trip was challenging. i am NOT in anyway an outdoor kind of girl. even though i went to burning man, and would go again, SO not an outdoorsy girl. i like my running water. i like my pillow top mattress with the feather bed on top of it. my flush toilet. my snoogle. my ferrets. all those things that create my nice cushy life.

with that being said. i did have a blast on the trip in terms of the social aspect. it was really nice being around other people who have their own challenges with food. i was tempted to say "who have an eating disorder" and erased that to then write "who struggle with an eating disorder" however i don't want anyone to see just my illness when they see me. i want them to see ME first, and then later maybe my struggles. or, preferably, how i overcome my struggles.

before the trip i was freaking out. pretty hard core freaking the EFF out on the inside, and doing a fair amount of verbal freaking out. fry and i were discussing it one night after i found out after i was accepted for the trip and he said "you can always say no, hun." and i did think about it briefly, but going on the trip was kind of a weird dream come true for me. it was free for me, i just had to bring my clothes and personal stuff, but tent, food, transportation was all covered, which is HUGE for me in these difficult economic times. but, also, ever since my BFF from childhood went kayaking with her cousin way back in the day i've been curious about it.

so i pushed aside all my fears, packed up my bags, and went on the trip. what was the biggest struggle for me? honestly, and this may sound lame: battling the urge to over pack. i've discovered recently that i am a first rate pack rat. you know that tv show on a&e called hoarders? well, let's just say that i grew up learning from the best of them (my dad and brother SO could be on that show). and in therapy i've been working on getting over my need to hoard and save stuff. so when packing for the trip i wanted to put all kinds of stuff in my bag that wasn't on the list (an extra pair of shoes, a deck of cards, an extra t-shirt, extra socks....) and all that stuff adds up and pretty soon you're showing up in california with two ginormous suitcases and another two boxes of stuff mailed. oh, wait, that was when i went to burning man! my first proud moment was realizing that i stuck exactly to the list.

now that i've been back at home for two and a half weeks it all feels kind of fuzzy. i'm so glad i went. i feel very empowered and much stronger and better able to handle life and all it's surprises. i'm also feeling like i want to be done with therapy. i'm sick of being the sick girl. i hate having to take FMLA every week to leave for my therapy appointments. i actually talked with fry about it last night and he said he will help me with the nutrition part of it. for his bachelor's degree he majored in kinesiology with a minor in biology, his emphasis was corporate fitness. so, needless to say i'm living with a man who spent four years studying to help people with health, wellness, and fitness. well, i think his exact words were "i can give you a kick in the ass if you need it." the funny part about that is he is a first class hippie and the most non violent person on earth.

plan for nutrition and food support? check. as for the therapy visits? i see my therapist tomorrow night and i'm going to talk to her. i know that for therapists it has to be tough. if they do their job right then people get better and move on. which is great for the patient, not so great for the therapist. i'm kind of guessing my therapist is going to encourage me to not stop therapy just yet.

i spent so much of my early life waiting. and being afraid. and hanging back. i could run but instead i crawled, with fear, not daring to run. and now i just want to run. i want to test out my new self and see if i can handle all the challenges and obstacles and the every day bull shit that comes with living. see if i can do it without dousing my emotions with food. or starving myself so the pain of hunger is more cutting than any emotions i may be feeling. what would life be like to actually allow myself to experience emotions? scary. very very scary. but i think i'm ready for that.

poem- dance party

the following is a poem that i wrote while on my trip to the apostle islands to go kayaking on lake superior.

dance party

i wanted to pause that

moment, wrap it up tightly

for each of us to carry

back with us from our

campsite. snug it in between

our hairbrushes, sunscreen,

bug spray and water bottles.

a strong techno beat rolled

from the van’s speakers as

the twelve of us inside

bounced the vehicle moving

to the beat, energized by

struggles, victories, the water

and air and orange-pink-

red sunset. And then, as if

it had somehow been planned,

others appeared next to our

van arms in the air

feet moving bodies to the

beat. we were conscious

of energy and each other but

not self conscious of our-

selves, our bodies, our demons.

it was just a moment in the

woods of pure abandon and

joy as our group of strangers

found a common love in

the music and the feel of

our bodies moving in the night air

the last time you blogged was when?!

checking my blog i feel rather chagrined and fairly ashamed of the fact that it's been nearly six months since i've blogged. that's a whole half a year. sheesh. yes, there's a whole pile of shame and guilt that goes with that. then again. i tend to have massive piles of guilt and shame associated with a lot of things in my life. so, honestly, that is nothing new.

the past six months have been filled with lots of changes for me. most notably i met a WONDERFUL man that i am totally head over heels in love with. i did make him work hard for it too. it would be an understatement to say that i kept him at arm's length. it was more like arms length plus a dozen or so feet. but he persisted, and gave me my space at the same time, and now we're happily cohabiting with our eleven ferrets.

yes, eleven ferrets. see. i had eight. he had two when he met me. then after meeting me he picked up a third one, so 8+2+1=11. eleven ferrets also equals a fair amount of insanity at our house. there's also a fair amount of poop that goes along with eleven ferrets. but also lots of love, cuddles, dooking, and joy.

so what is this young man's name? well, if you befriend me on facebook you'll know cause we're listed as "in a relationship," or if you talk to me, text me, or stalk me (yes YOU, i saw you in the bushes last night! btw, pick up your PBR cans, we don't want that shit in our yard. please & thank you). but, for now, in blog world, i'll call him fry. i do sometimes call him that in person, and he is cool with that. so we'll see.

let's see. what else. um. i'm vitamin d insufficient. go me. supposed to be at 20 or above and mine is a single digit. and that digit is NOT a 9. but working on that. working on beating my eating disorder into submission. working on staying hydrated. just got back from a weekend trip to the apostle islands with a group from the emily program (where i go for my therapy). the trip was awesome. i'll post more about that along with the poem that i wrote as a result of the trip. um, also working on thesis. working on just in general getting my shit together. so. for now. i'm back to blogging. i've missed it terribly and hope that not ALL my blog readers have forgotten me.

lots of love,
beckah

nearly two years later

nearly two years after my surgery and it's time to take stock of what has happened since feburary 11th, 2008 when i went into HCMC and had gastric bypass.

on the one hand things have gone well. i've lost about 100 pounds, and pretty much kept it off. so that's a big win there. i haven't gotten pregnant, which is a big no-no in the first two years post surgery. i'm now able to eat just about anything in moderation (which is fricken AWESOME considering some people can never eat certain foods).

i'm still struggling with my eating disorder. it's pretty much put me off the map in so many ways. yeah. it sucks. and yeah. i'm dealing with it. on the upside, if there is one, of having an eating disorder, i'm on the mend. and i'm much better now than i was a year ago. i still have bad days where i binge. days where i eat little to nothing. but those are few and far in between. and i'm going forward and hoping to switch to a different type of therapy. i'm investigating EMDR. basically it's supposed to be a lot less painful than standard talk therapy.

this year i'm taking two days off work, the day of my surgery anniversary and the day after, to celebrate, reflect, and take some time for me. right now i'm not super psyched about it. i was dating someone who recently broke up with me saying "you need someone better than me. i'm not good enough for you and will never be." wtf is that supposed to mean? so i've had a bit of rage about this and i'm trying to work through it.

family and friends tell me i'll come out stronger on the other side. they tell me i'll be better in the end. that i'm always stronger. that the universe has some other plan for me. well, right now, i would like to give the universe the finger because i'm sick of it fucking with me. yup. i said it.

welcome 2010

i'm refusing to do resolutions this year. i'm starting to feel it's a good way to set yourself up for failure. instead of trying to do "big ticket" goals this year i'm going to strive each day to make the most of that day. to be true to myself. to be happier and more content with who i am at each given moment. maybe those are goals, maybe not. but watching jenn drive off today made me realize how blessed i am. to have the people in my life that love me and cherish me for who i am. and i need to have faith that they see in me something that i may not always fully see myself.

today

today

today is one of those days. one of those days i can't get the radio loud enough. can't get my car going fast enough. one of those days i just can't stand the thought of eating anything. it's one of those days i feel everything is spinning too fast. i can't slow it down. i can't stop it. i can't control anything at all. except.

that's just it:

except food.

that's 100% in the scope of what i can control. what i do (or in the case of today) do not eat. that's something that i actually have influence over.

i'm pretending again. that i'm ok. that i am tough. but not really. i'm not that way at all.

& right now i wish i could be vulnerable & really let someone know. but i can't. so i sit.

at work.

silent tears cutting down my cheeks.

my voice on the other end of the phone not nearly as cheery as normal. but close.

no hint of the dark gray spots caused by fallen tears on my hoodie.
no hint that inside i'm shredded to bits smaller than grains of sand.
no hint at all that i'm sitting in my fish bowl of a desk starving.

chatter around me of diets & golf & weddings. evidently the crane in the pond caught a fish. & i sit, one leg tucked up under me, crying. careful. so no one will hear. no one will see.

32 years ago

32 years ago at this exact moment my mom was in a hospital in the middle of nowhere north dakota waiting for the doctors to induce her so that i could make my glorious entrance into the world. unfortunately for me, there were two other babies that had the audacity to be born on june 13th 1977. so the docs pushed my mom off til the 14th. then another two babies decided they wanted to show. in the end i was finally born on june 15th. 8 days past my forecasted due date, two days later than the scheduled induced birth, & six days before my father's 29th birthday.

that's where i was/what i was doing 32 years ago. so what about for the past two months? i've been sick. i've been struggling. i've been secluding myself. work has been hell on earth. don't get me wrong, i'm happy to have a job. & i'm happy that i have a job that has SOME flexibility so that i can make it to my therapy appointments & my other appointments. for instance this past week i had a total of 6 appointments (2 acupuncture, 2 different nutritionists, a psychiatrist, & a psychologist). yup, i have a whole fucking team of people trying to keep me healthy. er. healthy enough.

my birthday is just 25 hours & some change away. well, that'll be when june 15th dawns here in minnesota. i was actually born just after 7pm, so it's nearly 44hrs until the actual time of my birth in the year the king died (yeah, an elvis reference). i want to keep secluding, but i know it serves no purpose. & i need to write in order to get better. i've been trying very hard to get better. each day i wake up telling myself today i will be in control instead of my eating disorder.

back in april i hit a new low. on the day of my uncle joe's funeral i was so sick that i was unable to attend the funeral. i was at work & getting ready to leave to go to the funeral & i was so dizzy & off balance i couldn't walk without holding onto the wall. it was like i was drunk i was so dehydrated/malnourished. jenn found me at the elevator & took me back to her cube where i called my mom & cried while trying not to draw attention to myself & told her i was too sick to drive to st. paul for the funeral. jenn & another person from work drove me & my car home. i crawled into bed so weak i couldn't even drink water without spilling on myself. & i cried. too petrified to sleep because i was very afraid that if i closed my eyes & fell asleep it would be the last time my eyes were open. in hindsight i should have called 911 & gone to the hospital. or i should have at the very least had a friend with me at my place. i should not have been alone when i was that sick. i really am hoping that is my rock bottom.

how can i not be smarter than my eating disorder? today i was at 4:30pm mass with my mom & i kept staring up at the crucifix over the alter counting the ribs on the figure of jesus on the cross. & wondering why depictions of jesus are always so thin with ribs & joints sticking out. is that the ideal? & even as i type this i'm remembering just a few hours ago when my mom was saying good bye to me & she touched my left wrist as if she was afraid she'd break bones if she applied too much pressure. when i asked her what was wrong she said my wrists are so tiny. & i know there were tears hiding in her brown eyes. tears that she let drop as i shifted from 1st to 2nd & so on as i guided my saturn west from st. paul to plymouth.

today i told my grandma i'm in therapy & dealing with an eating disorder. she hasn't seen me at my sickest so i think it's hard for her to deal with this. she asked me "which one" that i had: anorexia or bulimia (cause those are the only two eating disorders out there. . . .yeah, i'm a bit bitter about that one. not at my grandma specifically, but because that's the most common question i get asked).

i want to write more now, but i'm so tired i can barely keep my eyes open. i think i'll have to log off for now.

update on my uncle joe

hey all. my uncle joe passed away sunday morning. i'll be honest, with all the other stuff going on in my life i don't know how to feel. i haven't cried at all & i don't know if i will. i was not particularly close to him. my dad was close to him & my brother knew him better than i did. however. i'm sad/upset on behalf of my dad & my uncle john. but, i'm relieved for joe. from what i read on his caring bridge site his last days were not quality days. & for someone who was a very active & vibrant person that's pretty much hell on earth. so i'm strangely happy that he is no longer suffering.

last week when i was told that things were pretty bleak & it was near the end i had briefly considered driving to st. paul & going to visit him with my dad. but then i thought about it. & the strongest memories i have of my grandpa are the ones in the last moments of his life as he lay in the hospital bed not even remembering my grandmother anymore. i'll get into it another time, but they really did have a beautiful love story & she was his whole world. & in the end he looked at her with unknowing eyes. & that memory pushes out others when i try to think of him. it takes more effort to remember him smoking his pipe & playing solitaire. or sitting in his chair watching football on thanksgiving. or all those other little things that are now fuzzy for me.

i decided that i'd keep that last good memory of my uncle joe. when we all went out for dinner this past summer out on west 7th. & my mom borrowed my pink floyd zip up hoodie because she was cold. & i sat next to my aunt sharon wishing that she & my uncle john lived closer. & watching how happy my dad was to be with his oldest friends. & seeing something in him that i rarely see, a pure joy & genuine smile in his eyes. & joe's booming laugh & handle bar mustache. & the conversation that rolled around cars & engines & so many things that didn't interest me, but i was glad to be there. THAT is my last memory of my uncle. & that is what i'll forever keep with me. my dad & his brothers. having dinner on a random summer weeknight on west 7th. old friends. old stomping grounds. & love. that's what was there.

today is the wake with the funeral tomorrow. it looks like the sun may actually appear today for the first time this week. maybe that's fitting that we see the sun today. i hope it's out tomorrow for the internment.

perspective

my life, my struggles, & my issues have just been shoved into stark perspective for me today. today i got an email from my mom saying that my uncle joe is really sick, the cancer is winning, & he probably doesn't have much longer. i don't even know how to react to it, in a way i'm just kind of numb. obviously i'm sad & i've cried. i've cried today at work while thinking about it. i'm not as close to him as i'd like to be. i'm closer with my uncle john who is also my god father.

quick interjection: joe & john are not biologically related to me. their family took my father in after my grandfather died. the carusos basically raised my dad, called him one of their own, & treated him as one of their own; it was an unofficial adoption basically. i was raised with joe & john as my uncles. their parents as my grandma & grandpa caruso. & it never occurred to me that we had no blood relation, that they had just "adopted" my father & raised him from the time he was 13 & on.

even though john lives in north dakota i'm closer to him than joe. maybe because my dad is closer to john. maybe because john is my god father. maybe because somewhere in my memories i still hold onto the three years i spent in north dakota where he & sharon & jason (my cousin) were my closest family besides my parents. but while i'm closer to john, my uncle joe is someone that i really enjoy having in my life.

he's the kind of a guy that there aren't many around anymore. not saying it's good or bad, just is. he still lives over in the "old neighborhood" where they all grew up in the west 7th area of st. paul. he restores old cars & rides a motorcycle. he has a deep, gruff, gravely voice. his laugh reminds me of santa. if santa was a smoker. besides john he's my dad's oldest friend. not many people hang onto friends that long. my dad'll be 61 in june. he's known the carusos for so much of his life he probably doesn't remember a time without them. i know that i don't have any friends like that. i have some that are close, but not quite.

my uncle joe's time is being counted down now. if each life has a certain number of grains of sand his is almost empty. my dad tried calling his house earlier today & there wasn't any answer. joe may be on his way to the hospital again. my uncle john is stuck in north dakota because of the flooding & now snow that has pretty much shut the state down & isolated them. i'm stuck in limbo just waiting to hear something from someone. i really hope my dad gets to see joe one more time. i know that no one wants their last memory of someone to be when they're sick. but i also think it's important to get another chance to tell someone how much they matter in your life.

for me, one of the last times i saw joe was this past summer at a restaurant down on west 7th. i think it was this past summer. i was there with my parents, my uncle john & aunt sharon, & my brother. it was an italian restaurant & this was after my surgery so i didn't eat much, i only had a small salad. & i couldn't stay long. i don't remember now why i had to rush off. in hindsight it must not have been that important, the reason i couldn't stay. but it seemed like it at the time. but we had a good time, all of us talking & laughing. & it's always so bizarre for me to see this side of my dad, when he gets together with joe & john & they talk about the old times & the old neighborhood & all these stories bubble up about my dad, his childhood, his antics, all these things that i never even knew about. things i never even suspected.

the time i remember before that is at my grandma caruso's funeral. uncle joe was wearing a suit, which is much different than what he usually wears---jeans & a leather jacket is what i always remember. & i read a poem at the service that i wrote for my grandma caruso. & i met his daughter for the first time that i could remember. & her kids. & i had to leave the funeral early to go to a friend's wedding. & on that day i found out that my best friend tina's grandma died. may 13 2007 was one hell of a day, really.

here's some pictures of my uncle joe. i pulled them from his caring bridge website (which is linked above in the first paragraph). i'll update as i find out more. in the mean time, i'm sending lots of love & energy & healing into the universe for my uncle joe, my uncle john, & everyone that loves joe.

pscyh update?

yeah yeah yeah, i've been avoiding it, but i know i need to update what's going on with the psych eval that i had friday. the dr was really nice. can't recall his name for the life of me, i think his first name was peter, so yeah, we'll go with peter. i'll be seeing him again in a few weeks. when i got there he asked me why i was there & i was point blank honest with him & said that my therapist & regular doctor think i'm depressed & should consider meds & so i made the appointment to appease them. i'm not sure if people are usually that blunt with him, but he definitely seemed taken aback by that. i mean, i guess on some level i was there because i figured it'd be best for me, but that was the main reason i was there, so why lie about it?

i've been seeing anne & amy for so long now that it was weird having to start back at square 0 & tell someone all about me & my problems. & an hour is definitely not enough. did i cry? yeah, i did. but, i had some pretty heavy BS go down the night before with my family, so it's kind of amazing that i even showed up to the appointment & then work afterwards. so he asked me some questions & i did a lot of talking. A LOT.

in the end even though i told him that no i don't feel i'm depressed he said that he thinks i meet the criteria for being clinically depressed. yeah, whatever that means. so i had four options: the first is do nothing & come back if i decide to try a medication, the second would be to try a liquid med in a pediatric dose & increase dosage gradually over several weeks, the third would be to try a half pill dose of medication & then after a week or two bump up to a full dose, & finally the fourth would be to just start out on a medication at full dose. i chose the last one. i don't want to take meds, but i'm willing to do it temporarily if i have to. & if i'm going to do it i may as well just do it & not fuck around with anything like a half dose or a liquid med. so i'm now taking prozac, the smallest dose they can give me without it being a liquid or splitting a pill.

needless to say there are lots of people not happy about this. me for one. my parents are really not happy. some of my friends are upset on my behalf too. i know, if i really don't want to take the pills it is completely within the scope of my control. i don't HAVE to take them. bit i'm going to try. i took the first one saturday morning. i take one pill, once a day, in the morning. now considering the fact that often times i have trouble taking my vitamins this may or may not go well. we will have to see on this. i am trying to be better about taking my vitamins too. i know that i'm only hurting myself by not taking them (there will be another blog about this AND my unhappiness in relation to my clinic & my unnecessary trip to urgent care last friday evening).

in 3 weeks i go back to see peter to check in on the medication thing. my main goal between now & then is to just take the prozac every day. since i'm very pill challenged lately i think that's a pretty decent goal. what i will say, & i say this LOUDLY & publicly: IF THIS FUCKS UP MY CREATIVE PROCESS & IMPEDES MY WRITING I WILL IMMEDIATELY STOP TAKING THE DAMN PILLS. i have absolutely no sense of humor on this one, no wiggle room, & no leeway. i'm meeting with deborah on wednesday & we're going to put together a schedule, a plan, for me to finish my damn mfa already so i can get on with things. try to get a teaching job, try to just move on with my life. i've been swimming in lame little circles without any forward progress & i need to move on. if these pills help that, then great. but if they make my life, my writing, more difficult then i say screw them hard, i'll go it alone.

with six you get eggroll

welcome to the family, marley!



yes, for anyone keeping track i am now the mom to SIX fuzzbutts! little marley was looking for a new home. her mom had gotten a promotion at work. which is great, especially in the current economy, but it wasn't so great for little miss marley because promotion=more responsibility=more work=less ferret time.

i went back & forth for a while if i should adopt marley or not. yes, i have five, which is a lot of ferrets. but then, on the other side, cassidy seems to really miss lily because nyddah is sundance's BFF, & podo & doodle will kind of pair up, which leaves cass all on his own. so i was thinking it may be nice to get a little girl to see if she'd bond with cass, or at least somehow even things out. & then Z told me i couldn't buy love & that it'd be wrong to try to replace lily in cass's heart & i'd be evil. so then i was thinking no.

well, two things happened while i was in cali. the first, i decided to tell E that if cass & lily seem super upset to be separated that i would let him take cass most of the time so the two of them could be together. i know, that's super huge to give up one of my ferrets. but i really want my kids to be happy & if cass is really happiest with lily i want that for him. i also just put the marley issue out into the universe & said if she's meant to be part of my family then she will be, & if not i hope that she finds a really great home.

i had emailed marley's former mom before i went to cali & spoke with her & told her i was going out of town & i'd talk with her again when i got home. well, after returning to MN little marley was still looking for a place to live. i then decided to get a second opinion. i asked E what he thought because he knows how much work ferrets are & he'd be the one that i would wind up asking to watch her (&my other fuzzies) if they need a sitter. he didn't even hesitate & told me right away to adopt her. that pretty much blew my mind because i figured he would tell me "beckah, you have five ferrets, that's more than enough, you don't need another one, you crazy ferret lady." guess there was just something in the universe saying little miss marley was meant to be part of my family.

she's a smart little girl with TONS of energy. she fit in right away with the gang. i had E's ferrets for a few days because he was really sick. so when i walked in with marley tonight (er, saturday night) she right away wanted to play & run with the other kids. i held her for a little bit & then picked up the other ferrets one by one to sniff her, but then she wanted to just run & dook & play. there weren't any tempertantrums or bickering amongst the kids. they right away just accepted her as another one of them. she also seems to be in ferret 7th heaven with all of the fuzzbutt toys that i have & the fact that she went from being an only ferret to haivng five siblings. as i type this she & doodle are cuddled up together in the plush fish in the cage.


i've kind of considered changing her name from marley. it's a cute name, but it's not exactly what i would have chosen. she does answer to it though, which makes me feel a bit guilty about changing her name. & then there's the fact that her other mom really loved her & i feel sorta bad changing her name. i didn't feel bad about changing sundance & cassidy's name from what they were previously cause they didn't answer & i couldn't pronounce them anyway. & nyddah's, well, that was another situation. i did leave podo & doodle's names. so guess it's a toss up. i was thinking if i did change it that maybe i'd change it to harley, it rhymes with marley so she should still answer to it & it's super cute. we'll see what happens with that.

here are some pics of marley (harley?) with her new siblings & cousins (E's kids are her cousins. harley (i think i'm going to see if she answers to that) is the one in the middle with the two dark patches on her head with podo above her. doodle & nyddah are missing from this picture, but otherwise the rest of the gang is there. the fuzzbutts all really love each other, which makes me happy.

looking forward

back from cali & i have a bit of a plan. still not too sure on some of the finer details. but here's what i've got so far:

~march 20th meet with the shrink at the emily program for possible medication
~march 25th meet with deborah at the gls house to talk about my thesis/mfa
~mid april-beginning of may meet with larry also about my thesis
~some time in the next 12 months head out to cali again

um, yeah. so, good plan. to quote Z "great talk." i did make some lists of some things that i want to do in order to "reclaim my life." or, at least that's what i'm calling it. lately i've let some things get out of my control & i need to get everything back in order. while in cali i did get some stuff figured in terms of my writing. & just in terms of my life in general. & i took a long hard look at what i'm doing right now, what i want to be doing/where i want to be in 5-10 years, & now i'm trying to map out a path of how to get there.

the first step/stop on my journey is getting my mfa. like i said in my airport message i feel like things will start to fall into place once that is done. i'm going to put the novel aside, work on just my poetry & get the damn degree already so i can start looking forward to other things.

me + my luggage = what?

the new things with airlines is no luggage no extra fee, but you want to check a bag & you're going to pay for it. when i was in cali i did a BUNCH of shopping & got some nifty new stuff (mainly clothes, but also some dvds & new lights for my bedroom). so i had to buy myself a duffel bag to get all my stuff home because i didn't feel like boxing it up & shipping it, or making dev ship it for me. so yesterday morning at the airport i had to pay an extra $40 to get myself & my luggage both back home. i know, highway robbery. it was $15 for the first bag & $25 for the second one, but, i did get tons of stuff out there & it was pretty cheap. i know shipping it probably would've been cheaper, but, like i said i didn't want to deal with that.

so the airport employee had my bags up on the scale & just for kicks i asked how much it weighed. 57.8 lbs for two checked bags. hrm. so let's see. i am about 160 + two checked bags of 57.8= 217.8. & the last time i flew back in 2007 i was 263. so myself & my luggage combined weigh almost 50lbs less than the last time i flew, but they're charging me an extra $40 to check luggage because of increased gas prices. anyone else feel snookered here? cause i know i do. i know it's just a way for the airlines to have higher revenue coming in while appearing to have lowered ticket prices. because seriously, who doesn't fly with checked bags? especially when the size allowance on carry-ons keeps getting smaller & smaller.

personally i'm thinking if gas prices is what is driving the airlines to adjust the prices of flights then there should be some changes to the pricing. how about each ticket giving you a weight allowance. you + luggage is less than or equal to X no additional fee. you + luggage is greater than X & there is a sliding scale fee. i was just told at work "just because you're skinny don't hate on fat people." & i don't hate on fat people. i was one not that long ago & still see myself as such even though dev has nicknamed me his SLB (skinny little bitch) friend. isn't it odd that i still see myself as a fat person? talk about body dysmorphia.

not sure when i plan on flying again, but i may need to just get a bigger suitcase. so instead of two smaller ones & having to pay two luggage fees then i'll just have to pay one fee for one bag. that'll work, right? i know i'll be headed back to the bay within the next year, but just don't know the exact when. in the mean time maybe i'll have to learn how to pack more stuff into a smaller space. lots of possibilities here.

california dreamin'

once again i'm sitting in a california airport waiting for a plane to take me back to mn. i was only here for 6 days/5 nights but i got a lot done in that time. i physically did a lot. i saw the winchester mystery mansion, went to alcatraz, ran all over pier 39, haggled for silk robes in san fran, bought so many new clothes using my 30% discount at gap that i had to get an extra duffel at target for the trip back, got drunk off one B-52 in a souvenir shot glass at the hard rock, saw a body tales performance, took some bubble baths, drank lots of long islands at dave&busters, cruised in a convertible, sang karaoke, did some writing, reconnected with my poetry, fell in love with avocado, laughed over burning man memories of elephant dick & the orange tent, hung with one of my best friends in the world eating 100 calorie bags of popcorn watching random dvds, & did a lot of thinking/soul searching.

where does this leave me? i just said: sitting in the san jose airport on free wireless waiting for a plane to take me back to minnesota. i can't even say back home because i just don't know. it's been almost two years this time between my trips out to california. the last time i was here it was for my 30th birthday to get my fairie tattoo. before that i'd been out here a few times, visiting my friends & hanging out. there is something about california that i really love. talking to my friends that live here i see the ugly side too, they have some really fucked up laws (ie ferrets are illegal) & the tax is even more ridiculous than mn & the gas prices are way more. but still, there is something about this place that i really love. & i feel at home here. i just don't know if i could move here. a big part of me loves it to that point, but i know myself & i'd need to have a very strong support system out here. friends are great & can be a great help, but sometimes you can only lean on a friend so much.

i still don't know what the fuck i'm doing. i'm not going pretend that i took a long weekend trip & i know everything that i'm going to do with my life, because i just don't. but i feel more focused than i did before. before i came out here i was a mess. i felt like a mess, i was chaos in a pair of low rise blue jeans, docs, & nightmare before christmas hoodie. my head was a swirl of confusion & i was lurching from one thing to another doing just what i could in order to get by & onto the next day.

still no answers, no great over arching epiphany, but i do feel more centered. dev was wonderful this past weekend. i could not ask for a better friend if i tried to place a custom order for one. every day he asked me what i felt like doing & even though i was kind of lame saturday & sunday night & just wanted to stay in with microwave popcorn watching movies he was fine with it & we had a great time. sometimes i feel like going out & dancing & drinking & partying. which we did friday night & it was awesome, but sometimes i need to be more still. & he was great about letting me just be still & being there for me while i was. i just really hope that one day i will be able to repay him for everything he did. i don't feel like a hug & a thank you & a hallmark card can do enough to convey my deep appreciation for his friendship.

so back to mn to try to put all of this back together in some meaningful order. i'll be meeting with deborah soon about my mfa. it's time to finish that up & move on with my life. to do that i may need to cut my loses & focus just on my poetry manuscript. it wouldn't mean abandoning my novel because i will finish it, but i may need to just set my novel aside for right now & focus on getting my poetry manuscript together, complete, as strong as it can be so that i can obtain my degree & have that one chapter of my life completed. but i'll figure out more of that in the upcoming weeks. for now. i'm going to shut down my laptop. repack my carry on luggage. & get ready for the flight home. maybe pop an ultram for pain. maybe take a nap in flight. either way i'm leaving california better than when i got here. & leaving behind pretty much one of the best friends a girl could have.