:(

So much for posting here daily... it seems this new job training has taken a lot more out of me than I expected. I am not gone. I am merely struggling to keep my (emotional) head above water at the moment.

Art

As a person with an intense history of mental illness, I want to weigh in on the interwebz furor surrounding two recent incidences (one at a high school, the other a university) of competitive dance teams incorporating straight jackets and "wild" makeup into their routines.

I seem to be in the minority when I say this, but I am not offended by these choices AT ALL. I AM somewhat offended to feel a sort of obligation from other mental health advocates to get hot under the collar about this. There is an implication that if I don't, the only reason why is because the man been keepin' me down so long I've gotten used to it. Yes, fitting into society has been difficulty for me and anyone with similar symptoms. Yes, I've felt alone, and occasionally, resigned to a miserable fate. And no, that is NOT the reason why I'm on the side of the dance teams in this case.

I will admit I have not seen either of the performances, though I've looked around for clips on YouTube with no success. I still feel confident in my opinion as the look of either routine would make no difference at all to me. Dance is art. Some of you out there are throwing out a red herring to say it's sport, not art. That argument is meaningless. Art to me is any kind of personal expression springing from one's own, and in this case the group's, creativity. Passionate athletes are artists too. Unless an artist is committing a crime, he/she is free to let it all hang out. This is the fucking United States of America. Let's not move backward any more than we already are in other areas.

Do we need more good quality mental health services in this country, available to more people, at lower financial and social cost? Yes. Do those mental health advocates who are writing letters to the networks, the schools, and the world have the best of intentions, love their ill children, etc? Yes. Does that make actual repression and/or efforts to impose it okay? No.

For those who are unaware, there was plenty of macabre art in the world before this, and it won't stop now, no matter what we as individuals say, do, or wish. Some people will connect to it, and some won't. Those that find any particular bit of artistic expression not to their liking may turn their faces away/associate with different organizations/remember it is each person's CHOICE to be offended or not in any given situation. In this case, there was no material or immaterial threat to anyone, and no intention of such. To choose to be offended is merely a waste of mental energy, and won't accomplish anything. Why not put that energy toward generating what this country really needs: a group of mental health lobbyists in significant proportion to get and keep the attention of lawmakers.

Anyway.

Someone might make fun of me or turn me down for a job or a relationship if I was actively mentally ill, mostly because symptoms like psychosis, manic rage and aggression, and suicidal or parasuicidal behaviors are scary to witness, hard to understand, and can be dangerous to an observer who doesn't have specialized training. That is their right. If I was in remission from these symptoms (as I mostly am now) I would not want to go around the world wearing one of those Bring Change 2 Mind T-shirts with the word "schizophrenic" or "bipolar" written on it and demand that other people immediately bow down and "understand" me. I would not want to do that if I had cancer, diabetes, or a cognitive disability either. I just want to live and reserve the personal details of my life and its high/low points for my close friends and family. (This blog is entirely anonymous so I don't really consider it personal, per se.) I don't see my mental illness as something to be proud of or something other people must be comfortable with and willing to chat with me about when our relationship is casual or non-existent. I have tried to for a while and I can't understand why other people disagree with me on this.

It is my responsibility to seek out the best treatment I can find for myself, or to entrust myself to a loved one's and/or ideally a professional's judgment if I am unable due to symptom severity (and yes, I have been there, multiple times.) It is my responsibility to take the reins of my life and get myself to a stable, healthy place, no matter if it takes me my whole life to do it. In some way, shape, or form, we all have mental difficulties. I'd rather they came up in art in whatever form that may take instead of not at all. That means the truth is out there and legal, practical progress is within our reach. Dance on girls, and I hope both teams did well in their competitions.

Moovin Right Along

I was slammed with a pretty intense migraine this morning. I rarely have them. I was worried, since my last meal had been at 5 PM and mild pain started happening around 9 PM, that ibuprofen would upset my stomach and I wouldn't be able to sleep and I'd stay up all night thinking about how hungry I was, or at least felt, considering I'd by no means deprived myself of the nutrition I needed for the day. Bad call, as I didn't really sleep anyway.... Thankfully, I took the ibuprofen in the morning, went back to bed for about 3 hours, and was good as new.

I've been doing some research on calorie consumption. As it turns out, the only possible way I could maintain my starting weight (the past couple years I haven't gained or lost more than 5 lbs away from 365) is to consume an average of 3,000 calories a day AND maintain a sedentary lifestyle. I don't doubt for a second I've been doing this, though it is shocking to see the actual number. I've never been one to track calories, especially when I don't want to know. I'd hazard a guess that most emotional eaters are like this. When I'm upset or excited, I want my favorite tastes, textures, and smells to fill me up, and I don't care what the consequences are. I will keep eating to the point of physical discomfort. Then, an hour later, I'm going to need another hit --- cheese, pasta, bacon, sour cream, french fries, cake... whatever it is, it will be high in fat, salt, and/or sugar. And no matter how much I eat, it will never be enough.

I commit, from yesterday forward, fueled by my own choice and not external pressure, to alter my view on eating. I am desperately addicted to the idea of food as companionship, and have never before been willing to publicly admit I was wrong and literally killing myself. I wouldn't be surprised if that migraine was simply the pleasure center of my brain sassing back at me. We are NOT going another 24 hours sans a Double Whopper w/cheese. Get your ass in the car, buy one, and promise you'll never do this again.

I'm saying no this time. I've been to the brink of suicide, almost fell over that ledge, and when I became wise enough to understand what my actions against myself meant, I said no. This is not for me. That's the same thing I'm saying to food today, and for the rest of my days, one at a time.

Perfectionism

Figures. The first thing I would do this morning, the first day of my epic best diet EVAR, is break it. I am on a 10 day course of antibiotics for lady bits issues, the morning installment of which I'm supposed to take at 5 AM. I got up, stumbled to the kitchen in my half-conscious, foraging bear state, and made that pill mine with a big 'ol swig of chocolate milk. Scandal. I never buy chocolate milk and the only reason we had it is because the Wal-Mart checker accidentally gave me 2 extra bags of groceries this week that weren't mine. Irony. I also spaced weighing myself naked before ingesting anything today (though I did clock in at 365.4 a few days ago when I was testing the scale.) Annoyance. At this point the theoretical sock puppet representing me is getting its little face bashed into the desk. Bad Zell.

All of us perfectionists out there know the feeling of allowing a minor mistake to derail us from major achievement. I could write you an infinite list of examples of opportunities I turned down just because I was afraid I might not be the best performer of that task who ever lived. I'll be lucky if I fit that bill for even one thing I attempt in this life. I won't be alone if I don't.

I have a feeling real world perfection would be to stick with the promise I've made to myself through the end, no matter how many times I fuck it up along the way. I've set an attainable goal here --- less than 2 pounds a week. I'm starting with diet modification only at first, planning to add in exercise a little at a time as my metabolism slows. I have a long road to walk. I have 245ish pounds to lose and my lifestyle is borderline sedentary at the moment, not to mention the limitations and fear of pain my Frankenstein-style ankle fracture and repair have afforded me. Yet somehow, I know that slowly, steadily I can climb down this mountain.

So I'm going to take a breath, crack open a can of Slim-Fast, and keep walking.