Go Team Go!

I think the Super Bowl is coming up. Well, I know it is but only because I looked it up online right before I wrote this sentence. But I’m going to be honest: I know absolutely nothing about football and I don’t really care for it. I just tried reading the Wikipedia page entitled, “American football,” but I got bored in the middle of the introduction that comes before the table of contents. Additionally, I did not know that the term “Super Bowl” consisted of two separate words until my Microsoft Document corrected me. You really do learn something new every day.

With this knowledge, or rather lack of knowledge, in mind, I recently went through somewhat of an existential crisis while flipping through some college photos on Facebook (something one should never do as a disoriented post-grad). In many of them, I appeared to be having the time of my life at football games, cheering and even getting thrown up in the air to celebrate something that is called a “touchdown.” (Okay, I kind of know what touchdowns are.) So, did I spend four years pretending to be something I was not? That seems absurd. What is life?

Hiding my true feelings about football in order to spend a lovely Saturday with friends is in all seriousness no terrible sacrifice. However, there are other times in my life when the stakes are higher. Oftentimes, it is difficult to decide when it is appropriate to reveal my true opinions and feelings, and when it is okay or even necessary to distract others and myself from my personal reality.

Sometimes, the absolute truth gets in my way. If I’m at work and feeling down, crying at my desk might actually feel really good. But I’ve done it, and trust me; it doesn’t work out in practice. I’ve stayed close with many friends from treatment, and these are the people who have seen me go through some of my most difficult stretches. But we’ve found that when things are the hardest, forgetting about them and watching three episodes of 90 Day Fiancé (yes, it’s a show) is sometimes better than any heavy conversation.

While it is clearly delicate, and there are many scenarios in which I appropriately keep my emotions contained, I have decided lately to take a few more risks when it comes to being genuine. In some cases, this has provided a level of self-protection that I did not have before. In the past few years, friendships have come in and out of my life, some healthy and some not. As I’ve mentioned before, some of my worst relapses have come at times when these friendships have fallen apart for one reason or another.

I used to play a passive role in the deterioration of certain relationships, allowing them to fade out even though that was the last thing I wanted. But that doesn’t mean these people left my life. I still ran into them at parties and engaged in surface-level conversation, and whenever these encounters occurred, the run-ins were always teases of a sort. Memories of better times only brought back feelings of loss. In response, I would allow myself to become a victim to my grief and my illness, going back to old habits in order to numb the feelings. But thinking back, I had real and valid needs in those situations: I needed repair or closure, and allowing a friendship to fade away or become reduced to pleasantries doesn’t allow for either.

I was scared to voice what I wanted, because I didn’t feel I deserved to do so, and I’m still scared. But I owe it to my recovery and myself to act differently, and I have. I’ve been able to tell people when a relationship is hurting me more than helping me. When I do that, I run a large risk: losing the relationship altogether when that person doesn’t respond the way I hope they will. And in a few cases, that has happened. But it is more of a risk to have that person, who means so much to me, reduced to a simple minor character in my life, constantly reminding me of what used to be.

I think this honesty is a crucial part of my recovery that has been missing for a long time. Being passive and neglecting my opinions are concepts that really seeped into the rest of my life. I lacked the ability to be assertive in making daily decisions that kept me healthy when it came to things like what to eat or what to do on a Friday night. Disorders constantly tell a person to do the opposite of what they should, and without constant decisiveness and confidence in fighting against those temptations, hope is truly lost.

I am happy to finally be heading in a direction that seems authentic. I ask myself every day what my goals and ideas are, and lately they seem to change constantly. But, at least that development is genuine, and I am looking forward to seeing what comes of it.

So, now for the real question…who wants to invite me to their Super Bowl party?

Peace and Love,

Molly

Regaining my balance

We’ve all been given messages about living a balanced life. For me, they’ve come from a wonderful couple of years in therapy. Recommendations tend to include getting enough sleep, eating well-balanced meals, participating in healthy exercise, and limiting our work hours—all things most of us do not successfully do. I think this type of balance is incredibly important. I would, however, feel like somewhat of a hypocrite if I tried to explain it, seeing as how I’m pretty sure I’ve become an insomniac due to an unnecessarily high caffeine intake and a routine of falling asleep with my face plastered to a computer screen (Gotta keep refreshing that Twitter feed, am I right?). However, what I have been focusing on lately is practicing balance with an aspect of my life that carries far more weight for me: my relationships.

And by the way, I wasn’t being sarcastic when I called therapy wonderful. Therapy is amazing.

Let’s begin with romantic partnerships, shall we? I’ve spent the last couple of years navigating the New York City dating scene when I’d rather be doing anything else, and I didn’t apply the idea of balance until very recently. My last relationship (if you can call it that) lasted about a month, and despite being aware that I was better off without that man in my life, I was left feeling disproportionally lonely and lost when it ended. I think this happened because I quickly became dependent in this partnership. I met this person at a time in my life when I was quite vulnerable. Diving head-first into a relationship was the perfect distraction from my own problems. I lost all sense of balance. It didn’t seem like it at the time, but the relationship began to become as, if not more, important than my recovery. My self-esteem was dependent on another person, which left me in a dangerous spot when he disappointed me.

When our sense of self is shaky, it seems easier to find the solution in another person than in oneself, and this does not solely occur in romantic relationships. Early last year, I found myself in a difficult spot. When food and alcohol didn’t suffice to distract me from my problems, I looked to people like my parents to be my saviors. It didn’t matter if it was four in the morning—I would call them expecting a solution, and because they’re human, they didn’t always have the answer. This would leave all of us feeling hopeless and scared. My dependence on my parents as an adult was proving to be unhealthy and impeding some of my own growth.

I have seen in the past couple of years that dependence can be a dangerous thing. I’ve found that as I have taken more personal responsibility in both my recovery and in my life in general, things have felt significantly better. I’m at a point now where I know I have spent enough time in therapy to have the skills necessary to help myself (See? Therapy is amazing, people). I’m also coming on 25, and have had enough life experiences to know how to navigate the world independently. These days, I try to solve and answer many problems and questions on my own, from what to eat for breakfast to which tasks to prioritize at work. When I am able to make decisions myself, I feel pride and motivation. I have grown as an individual in the past couple of months, and am beginning to be okay with (ehh…maybe even like) who I am becoming.

Balance means not living in extremes. Therefore, while I am trying not to be dependent on others, I don’t want to shut them out completely. As I have previously written, this has also been a familiar go-to for me. Sometimes, shame keeps me from connecting, or like many people, I don’t want to burden others. I feel as if I’ve worn people out a lot in the past. However, it is dishonesty and silence that usually hurts the most.

The other day I walked around Chelsea with my one of my closest friends, Tyler. He’s known me since middle school, so he’s seen the good, the bad, and me in braces. Many of our conversations over the past couple of years have centered on my problems, and he’s been consistently patient with me. However, he also was aware far before I was that while he could provide support, he couldn’t attach himself to my issues and needed to establish some sense of healthy separation from them. This is one of my friendships that hasn’t broken or weakened, and has even grown stronger. That is because balance has been part of it without me even realizing it. Walking around with him on this particular day was one of the most normal and enjoyable experiences I’ve had in a while, because the conversation was fun; it wasn’t filled with pressure and distress. (Note: This is the official test to see if Tyler’s reading.)

I continue to reach out to others and try to welcome them into my life, though of course I am not doing so perfectly. But what I try to remember in my relationships, and what I hope to apply to future romantic partnerships, is that while others can provide advice, conversation, and laughter, they are not the solution to my problems. My self-worth does not depend on them. This makes my connections stronger. There is less pressure and more enjoyment. There is more conversation and less desperation.

Peace and Love,

Molly