"In the midst of turmoil, Max falls into a primitive, mythical realm with a community of Wild Things. The Wild Things contain and re-enact different pieces of his inner frenzy. One of them feels unimportant. One throws a tantrum because his love has been betrayed. They embody his different tendencies." -New York Times.
Read more: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/20/opinion/20brooks.html
Showing posts with label DID. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DID. Show all posts
10.21.2009
8.03.2009
A poem by Susanne Parker
When we are well
We will do all the things that normal people do.
We'll wear modest, stylish attire
Befitting our age. I'll have a silver chain
With a pendant made from some exotic stone,
And you'll admire it when we meet at the cafe
For a catch up chat.
I'll talk about my husband
(I'll have one of those by then)
And you will, too. And you'll tell me
How he bought a dog for your little boy.
And you'll buy my coffee but I'll leave the tip
In nickels on the glass top table. Boring little things.
I'll still remember that there are scissor
scars on your stomach, but I won't look there. And if
You glance at my jaw and it is swollen,
You won't mention the screws.
Noone will think it strange that you order only cold drinks-
After all, it's a hot day.
Before we get up to leave
Our eyes will meet across the table.
We'll only smile. Only go back
To those normal, normal
normal deeds.
Strangers will wonder how we discover so much joy
At merely being alive.
We will do all the things that normal people do.
We'll wear modest, stylish attire
Befitting our age. I'll have a silver chain
With a pendant made from some exotic stone,
And you'll admire it when we meet at the cafe
For a catch up chat.
I'll talk about my husband
(I'll have one of those by then)
And you will, too. And you'll tell me
How he bought a dog for your little boy.
And you'll buy my coffee but I'll leave the tip
In nickels on the glass top table. Boring little things.
I'll still remember that there are scissor
scars on your stomach, but I won't look there. And if
You glance at my jaw and it is swollen,
You won't mention the screws.
Noone will think it strange that you order only cold drinks-
After all, it's a hot day.
Before we get up to leave
Our eyes will meet across the table.
We'll only smile. Only go back
To those normal, normal
normal deeds.
Strangers will wonder how we discover so much joy
At merely being alive.
7.31.2009
Prayer by Marie Howe
Someone or something is leaning close to me now
trying to tell me the one true story of my life:
one note,
low as a bass drum, beaten over and over:
It’s beginning summer,
and the man I love has forgotten my smell
the cries I made when he touched me, and my laughter
when he picked me up
and carried me, still laughing, and laid me down,
among the scattered daffodils on the dining room table.
And Jane is dead,
and I want to go where she went,
where my brother went,
and whoever it is that whispered to me
when I was a child in my father’s bed is come back now:
and I can’t stop hearing
This is the way it is,
the way it always was and will be
—beaten over and over—panicking in street comers,
or crouched in the back of taxicabs,
afraid I’ll cry out in jammed traffic, and no one will know me
or know where to bring me
There it is, I almost remember,
another story:
It runs along this one like a brook beside a train.
The sparrow knows it, the grass rises with it.
The wind moves through the highest tree branches without
seeming to hurt them.
Tell me.
Who was I when I used to call your name?
[Reprinted from What the Living Do (W. W. Norton & Company, 1999)]
Someone or something is leaning close to me now
trying to tell me the one true story of my life:
one note,
low as a bass drum, beaten over and over:
It’s beginning summer,
and the man I love has forgotten my smell
the cries I made when he touched me, and my laughter
when he picked me up
and carried me, still laughing, and laid me down,
among the scattered daffodils on the dining room table.
And Jane is dead,
and I want to go where she went,
where my brother went,
and whoever it is that whispered to me
when I was a child in my father’s bed is come back now:
and I can’t stop hearing
This is the way it is,
the way it always was and will be
—beaten over and over—panicking in street comers,
or crouched in the back of taxicabs,
afraid I’ll cry out in jammed traffic, and no one will know me
or know where to bring me
There it is, I almost remember,
another story:
It runs along this one like a brook beside a train.
The sparrow knows it, the grass rises with it.
The wind moves through the highest tree branches without
seeming to hurt them.
Tell me.
Who was I when I used to call your name?
[Reprinted from What the Living Do (W. W. Norton & Company, 1999)]
7.24.2009
What stumbling taught me (after therapy).
1. "I told a kid in kindergarten that candy canes were the bones of reject elves."
2. "You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget." - (Jessica, age 8)
3. See feeling chart above.
4. My four new favorite words to describe touch and texture: polished, knobbed, grity, and biting.
5. All dogs go to heaven.
3.29.2009
probably wondering where we've been
I am trying not to document much of the "Oh, Jessieh is going to college next year" information here and until I am sure which school I am going to I do not want to write about college at all and to be quite frank college decisions and admissions things are taking up about 68% of my life right now, the other approximate 32% is consumed by the following:
- The Comedy of Errors, which opens on Shakespeare's birthday; April 23rd.
- Directing a scene-study from David Rabe's In the Boom Boom Room
- Directing a reading of a play I wrote called Page Numbers as a continuation to our (Sam and I) Humanities Project and as a benefit reading for RAINN
- Directing a reading of A Memory, A Monologue, A Rant and A Prayer as a benefit reading for V-DAY. Both Page Numbers and MMRP will be presented on the same night.
- Thinking about going to see Jenny on May 24th in Washington DC and almost jumping out of my skin with excitement.
- Being thrilled for her about the completion of the wall-drawing project.
- Trying to both win my school's science fair with my project on Dissociative Experiences and the Artistic Temperament and make straight As my last 9 weeks of school. I want to end with a bang!
- The Existential Crisis and Trusting In God.
- (Trying not to think about the Holocaust.)
- Struggling with food.
- Getting my beautiful little sister, Jordan (Jourdan), ready to go to prom with me in a few weeks.
- Trying to cope with the fact that my dress for Luciana in The Comedy of Errors does not have sleeves, meaning that my arms will show- which let me tell you- hasn't quite happened in a public manner in what seems to be years.
- Thinking about leaving my Studio in just 7 weeks.
- Missing Patty and looking forward to his return.
- Wanting to go to Bennington so badly but knowing that money will play a huge huge role in whether or not I can.
- Needing a vehicle and a job for summer, both of which seem to get in the way of each other. I can't get a job without a reliable way to and from work and I can't get a vehicle without having money from a job. Not to mention-the unemployment rate in SC is rising with each passing moment and last I checked it was almost 11% which is terrifying considering I will be 18 with no "real" work experience and fresh out of a high school that isn't exactly a high school. The other problem is we refuse to work around food. I cannot work with food. Ideally, I would love to be a receptionist or a book store clerk or work in a library or maybe even a department store but not food.
love, jessieh
11.17.2008
Loaded Words
Stay away from the treehouse
don't separate the two words, tree and house, they
are both together, in whole, forbidden
synonym to swimmingpool, but pull those apart;
constantly waiting to see what it is that you are
waiting for.
zero. hit zero, my pants were made in
husband and wife in trashcan, missing legs
a dancer, can you believe that?
one, if any, lived
you didn't flush the toilet. How many times have I
told you about that, there is no soap and you
read about fixing things.
I can not speak but I do function properly.
Monsters are in that room with you.
I called your dentist, knew the teacher
was a real thought, and there are so many pictures
for the time at Christmas
with cards ripped open from the top
perforated edges and bedtime
defense attorneys push invisible buttons
on the floor, near paper cut outs of who we
used to be.
Take a swig from the brown and let it slide back
through into the bad places where Vachss said,
"talking doesn't get things fixed"
and I wonder what would have happened had I told you something
other than, penciled in another response more like
there goes your phone, it rings
and you still reach for it, and my head repeats words that now
Icanneversay, stuck in the place where
they gave me water in a morphine drip and even I
want so badly to just believe, but the water isn't fixing anything.
8.15.2008
An Update of Sorts
A small list.
1.Today I made a decision to do a piece from "The Wake of Jamey Foster" by Beth Henley, Character: Collard for monologue night. This decision may change. 9.We went shopping today for clothes. It was not a terrible experience, difficult and triggered a small amount of self hatred but comparatively speaking, it was not terrible. We found two skirts, a nice top, a wonderful black sweater and a pair of beautiful shoes.7. Tissue damage is not an effective coping mechanism.
- School begins on Sunday.
- When people say that my name should be something else because of spiritual reasons, I want to choke them. Actually, these people do not need to be choked. They need to be forced to sit on an insanely hot curling iron, or on a wooden plank with nails and have a very very loud recording screaming the other name as loud as it could possibly scream. I don't think God would have any problem with their decision to change their name. I think people who don't understand these things and allow their religious load of crap to interfere with their ability to understand the pain of other people need to be removed from positions of leadership-but that's just my personal opinion. And it basically sums up to this: If you don't have the ability to understand the reasons people change their names- you don't need to be in any position of authority. And even more basically it sums up to this: HUMANS ARE NOT TO JUDGE THE SPIRITUAL CONDITIONS OF OTHER HUMANS. Case ended. (Thanks Mr. K though, for your personal assessment of my spiritual condition based on my decision to go by another name--how gross.)
- We are trying not to focus too much energy on food and weight.
- We have been here and not here far to much recently.
- Jenny is in Italy. She called yesterday.
- I am worried about the day that Meryl Streep dies.
- Tonight I am going to map out the best situation as furniture placement in the room. I no longer have a roommate.
- Last night, someone decided to draw a sea horse and didn't even know it was a sea horse.
- Ms.Hepburn, Taylor, Savannah and I went shopping on Yesterday after Therapy Session Number One.
- We survived a physical for school, the doctor was a very nice woman named Diane, she has a bright smile and a fun accent. I was able to answer all of her questions and she did not frighten me.
- Levels of anxiety have been out the roof, which is the main reason why I have been unable to write, I know not what to say, I live much of my time away.
- The stomach hurts.
- Children everywhere are being hurt in unimaginable ways.
- God is more than love and does not take vacations.
- My heart is filled with gratitude every day.
8.04.2008
"And then Mary cries and runs off, kicking Ana on her way back to the trees"
The title of this post is an explanation for how my brain has been working for the past few weeks. I feel that an update, a very short general one is in order. We have read three plays recently to include, Necessary Targets by Eve Ensler, The Wake of Jamey Foster by Beth Henley and Love-lies-Bleeding by Don DeLillo. I am finding out how much I appreciate the song, "Fast as You Can" by Fiona Apple. Jenny is safely in Italy. God loves. My hunk of magical kitty cat goodness, named Lloyd was able to see Paris from the 'Pet's Only' part of the plane. Winston is equally excited about it. The opening of the coffee shop has been smooth and steady. We have been writing a lot. I have been incredibly emotional. I am anxious about school and monologues and not meeting the teacher's expectation's in someway or something. I have a roomate now for next year, her name is Danielle. She is a dancer. Sam turned 18. I leave on Wednesday to go back to South Carolina. I am on a detox diet. I want to at least feel thinner by the time school starts. Children everywhere are being hurt in unimaginable ways. I know the above is not very interesting but I am having a hard time using words today- it is increasingly difficult to communicate things. When people are broken, they could just melt. I feel like melting sometimes. God is a God of Grace and Grace is enough.
I will write more soon.
love, jessieh
7.25.2008
the first conversation we've had in what seems like a long long time, phone call aftermath
Last night, a little after ten here, I had what seems to be one of the only full and complete conversations I've had in the past couple of weeks. Time has been a funny, not ha-ha, but strange thing for us recently and working as a system of thoughts, rather than separate-individuals seems like it will never be possible. My artsy-constellation and I had a phone date, that was interrupted bythree other phone calls,
one dead cell phone battery,
a desire to drink a huge cup of ice cold diet coke,
a thought of the condition and discrimination of the homosexual in America,
a long series of thoughts regarding the condition of the child in America,
six monologues; none of which are even appropriate for me to memorize for school in less than a month,
this huge huge blanket of pictures of Jenny getting on a train to see a piece of art she's been wanting to see for years if she ever needs to run away while in Italy,
the realization that parts of both of us have been wondering how she is going to do this; while part of me is writing about it in a library with the sun hitting her face 14 hours earlier,
one-almost panic attack in a parking lot,
and the constant inner-chatter of a group of females ranging in age from four to forty-six.
Welcome to our life.
After the phone call, which somehow ended up being huge-crying-mess about our (singular) hypothetical fears for the future, that are really not so much hypothetical fears as they are giant concerns about past events- I hung up really wishing that I had let her do most of the talking, and feeling like a non-supportive friend- but then I realized that we (plural) did talk, and that I just felt like I talked the most because I haven't really been talking the past few days.
But it all sums up to this, in the end anyway:
She is moving to Italy in less than six days. She is taking her cats with her and will not be out of touch. On the scale of things dealt with in life, she will be able to accomplish all things.
I am going back to school in less than 25 days. I will have four contrasting monologues, two classical, two contemporary memorized before I go back and will be at least 11 pounds lighter than I am right now. And on the scale of these, seemingly very small problems I seem to be having, there is a conclusive fact that I realize about everything :
It would be so much nicer if this whole thing were about her giant, bold, brave move to Italy and my finding 3-5 minute stage worthy pieces so that my instructors are not completely disappointed in me. It is about so much more. We will both keep living. It's the most important thing. We will both be more-than-knowing in a way we wish we didn't have to know what F.Scott Fitzgerald meant when he said, ""So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
It would be so much nicer if this whole thing were about her giant, bold, brave move to Italy and my finding 3-5 minute stage worthy pieces so that my instructors are not completely disappointed in me. It is about so much more. We will both keep living. It's the most important thing. We will both be more-than-knowing in a way we wish we didn't have to know what F.Scott Fitzgerald meant when he said, ""So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."
love, we
7.23.2008
A note from my soon-to-be-Italian favorite:
The following is from my artsy-constellation:
Multiple personality disorder with a cherry on top.
I am sure that moving to a new country is challenging for most people. I think that taking two cats and having a divided mind escalates that challenge. The cat part is actually under control and as Stefano wrote in an email to me tonight, "I am so glad that you got all the forms signed so that Lloyd and Winston are ready for becoming Italian citizens." :-) So that part seems easy now compared to the whole "I-have-different-ways-of-thinking-and-those-ways-of-thinking-are-usually-not-on-the-same-page" issue. This is where the real difficulty is.
Here is a snap-second inside my head: "My to-do list seems too long.", "All of the important things have been done and now I am really just worrying while I wait- there is not much left to do.", "What if Stefano becomes overwhelmed by how much therapy work I have to do still and can not tolerate me?", "Which pants should I wear on the plane?", "Will I be able to get poultry flavored cat toothpaste in Italy?", "Is cat toothpaste more expensive in Italy?", "Why did my high school guidance counselor not inform my mother when I showed her the burns from where I was putting cigarettes out on my legs?", "I will be able to hug and kiss Stefano in less than one million seconds.", "Should I grab a box of yellow cake mix and take it with me so I can introduce Stefano to the joy of Betty Crocker on his birthday or should I make him a fruit pie instead?".
I am going to take my anti-anxiety medicine now and try to calm down. While I wait for the medicine to start working I will go back to work on the drawing I started earlier tonight.... an image of the head of Medusa.
Perfect.
---
love, jessieh
Multiple personality disorder with a cherry on top.
I am sure that moving to a new country is challenging for most people. I think that taking two cats and having a divided mind escalates that challenge. The cat part is actually under control and as Stefano wrote in an email to me tonight, "I am so glad that you got all the forms signed so that Lloyd and Winston are ready for becoming Italian citizens." :-) So that part seems easy now compared to the whole "I-have-different-ways-of-thinking-and-those-ways-of-thinking-are-usually-not-on-the-same-page" issue. This is where the real difficulty is.
Here is a snap-second inside my head: "My to-do list seems too long.", "All of the important things have been done and now I am really just worrying while I wait- there is not much left to do.", "What if Stefano becomes overwhelmed by how much therapy work I have to do still and can not tolerate me?", "Which pants should I wear on the plane?", "Will I be able to get poultry flavored cat toothpaste in Italy?", "Is cat toothpaste more expensive in Italy?", "Why did my high school guidance counselor not inform my mother when I showed her the burns from where I was putting cigarettes out on my legs?", "I will be able to hug and kiss Stefano in less than one million seconds.", "Should I grab a box of yellow cake mix and take it with me so I can introduce Stefano to the joy of Betty Crocker on his birthday or should I make him a fruit pie instead?".
I am going to take my anti-anxiety medicine now and try to calm down. While I wait for the medicine to start working I will go back to work on the drawing I started earlier tonight.... an image of the head of Medusa.
Perfect.
---
love, jessieh
7.05.2008
the magic erasers; party of (?)
Jenny is here. I am so happy.
I cannot even express my excitement.
I will be posting pictures of everything soon enough.
The only bad part, the city we are in has these terrible pro-life billboards everywhere and they make the people cringe when we see them.
Adam and Eve surprised me when I arrived with a bicycle that they picked up from the thrift store before I got here and it is beautiful. Jenny brought goodies one of which is an amazing quilt for my room at school with sheep all over it. I slept on the top bunk last night snuggled underneath it. She also brought other wonderful treasures like a Lloyd suitcase, I mean it is so beautiful, the magical hunk of kitty cat goodness painted on to a suitcase. What more could a girl ask for?
I am really glad I am here and my brain is having a hard time sorting things out so that I can somehow write about what good times I am having but this is so difficult because in my brain there is so much happening and we are overwhelmed with all things oriented from "home" and at the same time there is so much happening here that is good like Jenny and I painting a mural for the coffee house which is really difficult because a.) when you stick two dissociative people in a room with a big white wall and say "draw", you should already know it is going to be messy but when b.) the owners of the wall happen to be two people who are incredibly beautiful people with an idea about what the wall should end up being, it makes things messier.
So after much distress and pencil scribbling Jenny and I came up with a plan, stick to all things garden-related (because a French Impressionist painting of two girls in a garden is what Adam and Eve had in mind for the inspiration) and section off a piece of the wall using garden lights and only allow ourselves to draw inside of the section. This is an incredibly brilliant but awareness-provoking experience.
First, there is a bunny on the wall, in the garden next to flowers and while Jenny is resisting her urge to go and draw the intestines on the bunny; I am arguing with her about my need to keep the garden lights a stop sign and traffic light even though I know Adam and Eve will hate my traffic light because it won't make any sense to them and would just look funny and strange and off-key. They came in though, a little after 10pm last night and they seem pleased. I hope they are. Jenny made me erase the stop sign and traffic light and after about an hour of discouragement we found these wonderful devices called Mr.Clean's Magic Erasers.
Please allow us to add that it was when we found the Magic Erasers that everything became all better. On the way home Jenny and I came to a conclusion about these and realized that we really want a huge Magic Eraser for our lives and that is why it was such a mood-lifter when we found them for the dissociative mess we had on the wall. I know that I am not making very much sense because I am simply not thinking clearly about most anything these past few days. I have so much to figure out about my family life (both internal and external), about my education plans, about the play that we've been writing, about how in the world Jenny's going-to-Italy-to-be-with-the-love-of-her-life is going to mess with the systems of thinking, about finding monologues and trying to plan for the Humanities Project and all this jazz and the fourth of the July was yesterday and I was completely reminded of my last fourth of July experience and I was with Jenny then as well and it was beautiful because maybe a day later we were sitting underneath a huge war-monument that read, "FREEDOM IS NOT FREE." We all still feel this way. We hid from fireworks last night and tried not to let them bother us, because we don't want to be horribly emotional or weird or dissociative or PTSD-ed or any of that other stuff that usually accompanies this childhood sexual abuse and rape- aftermath, thing. What a messy messy place. Boy, Oh boy, Mary Poppins, What would we do without faith?
we will write more soon.
love, we the people
I cannot even express my excitement.
I will be posting pictures of everything soon enough.
The only bad part, the city we are in has these terrible pro-life billboards everywhere and they make the people cringe when we see them.
Adam and Eve surprised me when I arrived with a bicycle that they picked up from the thrift store before I got here and it is beautiful. Jenny brought goodies one of which is an amazing quilt for my room at school with sheep all over it. I slept on the top bunk last night snuggled underneath it. She also brought other wonderful treasures like a Lloyd suitcase, I mean it is so beautiful, the magical hunk of kitty cat goodness painted on to a suitcase. What more could a girl ask for?
I am really glad I am here and my brain is having a hard time sorting things out so that I can somehow write about what good times I am having but this is so difficult because in my brain there is so much happening and we are overwhelmed with all things oriented from "home" and at the same time there is so much happening here that is good like Jenny and I painting a mural for the coffee house which is really difficult because a.) when you stick two dissociative people in a room with a big white wall and say "draw", you should already know it is going to be messy but when b.) the owners of the wall happen to be two people who are incredibly beautiful people with an idea about what the wall should end up being, it makes things messier.
So after much distress and pencil scribbling Jenny and I came up with a plan, stick to all things garden-related (because a French Impressionist painting of two girls in a garden is what Adam and Eve had in mind for the inspiration) and section off a piece of the wall using garden lights and only allow ourselves to draw inside of the section. This is an incredibly brilliant but awareness-provoking experience.
First, there is a bunny on the wall, in the garden next to flowers and while Jenny is resisting her urge to go and draw the intestines on the bunny; I am arguing with her about my need to keep the garden lights a stop sign and traffic light even though I know Adam and Eve will hate my traffic light because it won't make any sense to them and would just look funny and strange and off-key. They came in though, a little after 10pm last night and they seem pleased. I hope they are. Jenny made me erase the stop sign and traffic light and after about an hour of discouragement we found these wonderful devices called Mr.Clean's Magic Erasers.
Please allow us to add that it was when we found the Magic Erasers that everything became all better. On the way home Jenny and I came to a conclusion about these and realized that we really want a huge Magic Eraser for our lives and that is why it was such a mood-lifter when we found them for the dissociative mess we had on the wall. I know that I am not making very much sense because I am simply not thinking clearly about most anything these past few days. I have so much to figure out about my family life (both internal and external), about my education plans, about the play that we've been writing, about how in the world Jenny's going-to-Italy-to-be-with-the-love-of-her-life is going to mess with the systems of thinking, about finding monologues and trying to plan for the Humanities Project and all this jazz and the fourth of the July was yesterday and I was completely reminded of my last fourth of July experience and I was with Jenny then as well and it was beautiful because maybe a day later we were sitting underneath a huge war-monument that read, "FREEDOM IS NOT FREE." We all still feel this way. We hid from fireworks last night and tried not to let them bother us, because we don't want to be horribly emotional or weird or dissociative or PTSD-ed or any of that other stuff that usually accompanies this childhood sexual abuse and rape- aftermath, thing. What a messy messy place. Boy, Oh boy, Mary Poppins, What would we do without faith?
we will write more soon.
love, we the people
PS: The real solution to the painting problem came when someone here said, "I cannot apologize for having all these people living inside of me with different artistic styles, not of which happens to be French Impressionist. I think that will be fine with Adam and Eve."
6.20.2008
Sub-memories
"These were not memories. These were sub-memories. Images from a place beneath the waking world, deeper than a dream, a place where logic dissolved. It was beyond remembering. It was knowing." - Tim O'Brien, In The Lake Of The Woods
----
{.thank you to Denis Darzacq for the clear explain-ation.}
.post-therapy madness.
love, jessieh
6.17.2008
the fun Nitty Gritty of Body Image, Purging and Tempting Anorexia.
Readers Note: I am not advocating eating disorders. I am not blaming eating disorders on people reading fashion magazines (because quite frankly, I believe that if you read the latest issue of Vogue or Allure and feel fat or ugly, you were feeling ugly and fat before you read it). Stop reading these magazines. If you are recovering from an eating disorder, I suggest you not read the following blog entry, for it is not likely to contribute to your recovery.
What's funny about what I am about to write is that the happenings I am about to try to work out; understand more clearly happened last night on June 16th. This morning, as I sit here trying to piece together this "oh-god, my-brain-has -been -taken -over -by- food" stuff- I began searching for a blog entry that I remembered writing about my history of eating problems as I understood them at the time. It turns out, this entry was written exactly a year before the happenings I am about to discuss. Funny, how that works, eh?
Last night, I celebrated my birthday with my adoptive family because on my actual birthday, they were out of town visiting other family members and I was here, celebrating with Ms.Hepburn, The Flague, A secret family, Sam, Jenny, Lloyd, Eve, and We the People. Anyway, this of course, is not the intended point. I was at dinner last night, a wonderful Asian cuisine, eating Sushi, talking about their Pennsylvania trip, and enjoying the company of my adoptive family and trying to remain as comfortable as possible with this whole-she's-gotten-another-year-older celebration. I was doing a really really good job. I loved the Sushi. It was so good. While I was eating it, I don't remember once thinking/hearing, YOU ARE A BAD PERSON FOR EATING THIS. and trust us, this is major progress. I was actually not worrying about my food at all, and I was actually enjoying the taste of it. Wow. Great. Good food. I didn't consider throwing it up. I didn't have that feeling in my stomach of ultimate and complete badness that 9.75 out of 10 time accompanies any meal I dare consume. I ENJOYED MY DINNER LAST NIGHT. I ENJOYED THE PEOPLE I WAS AROUND. I HAD FUN. I LAUGHED. WHEN THE USUAL FEARS DID ARISE, I COULD FIND A PAIR OF EYES TO LOCK WITH AND SOMEHOW IT MADE THE FEARS FALL APART INTO NON-LOGICAL NOTHINGNESS.
{even when we had a slice of the wonderful cake Ms. Dana brought I was not consumed by need-to-vomit-ness.}
and then, I had to come home. To a place where, it is evidently not understood that I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY WEIGHT OR THE FOOD I AM EATING with you, unless I ask you what you think about my weight or the food I am eating.
I walk through the living room, dressed in bare-nothing, shorts and a bra, headed for the laundry closet. The only person in the home who could see me strut almost-naked through the living room is my grandmother, a woman overweight, in her fifties, sitting in her nightgown, plopped pleasantly on the couch and she says to me, "OH, Honey, you're getting a little hippy aren't you?"
What's funny about what I am about to write is that the happenings I am about to try to work out; understand more clearly happened last night on June 16th. This morning, as I sit here trying to piece together this "oh-god, my-brain-has -been -taken -over -by- food" stuff- I began searching for a blog entry that I remembered writing about my history of eating problems as I understood them at the time. It turns out, this entry was written exactly a year before the happenings I am about to discuss. Funny, how that works, eh?
Last night, I celebrated my birthday with my adoptive family because on my actual birthday, they were out of town visiting other family members and I was here, celebrating with Ms.Hepburn, The Flague, A secret family, Sam, Jenny, Lloyd, Eve, and We the People. Anyway, this of course, is not the intended point. I was at dinner last night, a wonderful Asian cuisine, eating Sushi, talking about their Pennsylvania trip, and enjoying the company of my adoptive family and trying to remain as comfortable as possible with this whole-she's-gotten-another-year-older celebration. I was doing a really really good job. I loved the Sushi. It was so good. While I was eating it, I don't remember once thinking/hearing, YOU ARE A BAD PERSON FOR EATING THIS. and trust us, this is major progress. I was actually not worrying about my food at all, and I was actually enjoying the taste of it. Wow. Great. Good food. I didn't consider throwing it up. I didn't have that feeling in my stomach of ultimate and complete badness that 9.75 out of 10 time accompanies any meal I dare consume. I ENJOYED MY DINNER LAST NIGHT. I ENJOYED THE PEOPLE I WAS AROUND. I HAD FUN. I LAUGHED. WHEN THE USUAL FEARS DID ARISE, I COULD FIND A PAIR OF EYES TO LOCK WITH AND SOMEHOW IT MADE THE FEARS FALL APART INTO NON-LOGICAL NOTHINGNESS.
{even when we had a slice of the wonderful cake Ms. Dana brought I was not consumed by need-to-vomit-ness.}
and then, I had to come home. To a place where, it is evidently not understood that I DO NOT WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY WEIGHT OR THE FOOD I AM EATING with you, unless I ask you what you think about my weight or the food I am eating.
I walk through the living room, dressed in bare-nothing, shorts and a bra, headed for the laundry closet. The only person in the home who could see me strut almost-naked through the living room is my grandmother, a woman overweight, in her fifties, sitting in her nightgown, plopped pleasantly on the couch and she says to me, "OH, Honey, you're getting a little hippy aren't you?"
of course this comment started a whole series of thoughts, most of which my grandmother will never understand or know i was telepathically hoping to communicate as i stopped dead-middle of my journey to the laundry closet and starred at her, blankly, desperately trying to regain balance. The stare, however was not really blank it was a loaded stare, dead into her eyes that screamed, "ARE YOU KIDDING ME!? A LITTLE HIP-PY. IF YOU ARE GOING TO CALL ME FAT, SAY FAT SO THAT IT AT LEAST SOUNDS THE WAY IT IS MEANT TO AND NOT LIKE SO DISGUSTING LITTLE ADVICE TO LOSE WEIGHT BEFORE I GO BACK TO SCHOOL! YOU MUST LIKE THE IDEA OF ME HANGING MY HEAD OVER SOMETHING AND BARFING! YOU SICK DISGUSTING PIG! HOW DARE YOU ASK ME A QUESTION LIKE THAT- IT WASN'T A QUESTION, IT WAS A STATEMENT OF YOUR OPINION REGARDING MY HEALTHY WEIGHT THAT I HAPPEN TO BE COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY INSECURE ABOUT BECAUSE ON MOST OCCASIONS I FEEL THAT I WOULD BE A BETTER PERSON IF I WERE THINNER! WHICH IS ABOUT AS STUPID AND INSANE OF AN IDEA AS ME GETTING A LITTLE HIPPY. I'M NOT HIPPY YOU COW! I'M NORMAL. NORMAL. NORMAL PEOPLE DON'T THINK I AM FAT, AND YOU DON'T COUNT AS A PERSON BECAUSE YOU THINK OF YOURSELF AS A GOD AND I DON'T WORSHIP YOU FLUFFY!!!!"
of course the real excitement of this particular entire inner-monologue is the fact that she heard none of the above that was being shouted inside by an eight year old and decided to chuckle at my blank stare instead.
AND I WANTED TO DIE. THE END.
JUST WHEN WE ARE GETTING BETTER A LITTLE REMINDER COMES THAT WE SHOULD NEVER EAT AGAIN.
love, jessieh
5.28.2008
making it home safely & parole board to release serial rapist
We made it "home" safely. It is so odd coming back for the summer. I had literally forgotten the amount of disfunction that exists in my family, I had somehow just avoided it (but that is easy to do when you live away at school with limited contact). I've been drawing more and more in my sketchbook. Only 13 pages to go and it will be complete. I'm excited. I've been reading Anne Heche's memoir. While the writing is not nessecarily impressive, she does offer an interesting look on incest, sexual abuse, cult-nature and religious affiliation. The church Anne Heche grew up in sounds alot like the church I grew up in. Which at times, when read properly, can sound very very alarming. I start transcription review on June 2nd. Jenny made it back to the US, safely. Oh, by the way, if you are ever wondering who she is when I make reference to her: This is my dear friend (and I ). But for now, I must scramble, clean up the the kitchen, brush my teeth, get ready for the day's events.
---
Childhood rape victim Tiffany Edens has no confidence in the Oregon parole board.
To her dismay, Edens had to sue the board to block the planned release of Richard Troy Gillmore — the notorious "jogger rapist" who committed at least nine sexual assaults in the Portland area in the 1970s and '80s.
"It's been a frustrating battle," she said in a recent interview. "It's been very wearing on me and my family. I think it's very unfair and very unfortunate that victims have to be revictimized years later by the institution that is supposed to protect them."
Gillmore's case has become a rallying cry for parole board critics, who say it demonstrated poor judgment about a sexual predator and shabby treatment of a rape victim.
"This guy is one of the worst rapists in the Oregon prison system," said Steve Doell, president of Oregon Crime Victims United. "God only knows what they were thinking in approving his release."
In the wake of Edens' lawsuit and a rebuke from a Marion County judge, the parole board agreed to reconsider Gillmore's case at a yet-to-be-scheduled hearing.
"It's been a true disappointment to see the parole board take the course of action that they have, although I think they've tried to rectify it now through the advice of counsel with this next hearing," said Russ Ratto, a senior deputy district attorney in Multnomah County who sued the board on behalf of Edens.
Edens clings to hope that the three-member panel will reach a different decision this time.
"He is a predator, he belongs in prison," she said. "He played normal and here he was a serial rapist, raping several women in his neighborhood."
Edens was 13 when Gillmore broke into her family's Portland-area home on the evening of Dec. 5, 1986. He threatened to kill the terrified girl, then raped her.
The Statesman Journal normally does not identify victims of sexual crimes. Edens asked to be identified by her maiden name. "I want other victims to feel that they can step forward, that they don't have to be held down," she said.
Now 35, Edens is married, the mother of three children and still lives in the Portland area. She is a blunt critic of the parole board, calling it "desensitized" to the plight of people whose lives have been ripped apart by violent criminals.
Between 1979 and 1981, Gillmore terrorized southeast Portland by committing a series of rapes. At that time, the then-unidentified rapist was known as the "jogger rapist" because he stalked his victims while he was jogging. After being arrested for raping Edens, Gillmore admitted to eight attacks linked to the "jogger rapist." He wasn't prosecuted for those rapes because they were too old under Oregon's then-applicable three-year statute of limitations.
A Multnomah County judge found Gillmore guilty of rape, burglary and two counts of sexual abuse in the Edens case in October 1987. The judge found Gillmore to be a sexually dangerous offender and sentenced him to 30 years in prison for the rape and burglary counts, with a 15-year minimum on each count.
The sentences were to run consecutively, meaning Gillmore had a 60-year sentence with a 30-year minimum.
In 1988, only a year after Gillmore was convicted, the parole board overrode one of his 15-year sentences. That made him eligible for parole in 2001.
The parole board nixed Gillmore's requests for release in 2001, 2003 and 2005. In September, it green-lighted him for parole. Edens said she learned about the board's release decision from her mother, who happened to check on Gillmore's status.
The notion of the serial rapist being back on the streets hit her like a lightning bolt, Edens said. Outraged, she and other family members contacted the parole board and "begged and pleaded" for a chance to testify. The board agreed to a rehearing in October.
In a hearing room at the Oregon State Correctional Institution in Salem, Edens faced the man who raped her when she was a junior high school student.
"That was really hard for me," she recounted. "It's like revisiting a nightmare. It was very surreal to see him after 21 years."
Edens urged the board to keep Gillmore incarcerated.
"To have raped so many women is a travesty," she testified. "But Richard Troy Gillmore only serving less than a third of his sentence for only one of the violent rapes he committed is an injustice to me and the seven other victims."
Multnomah County prosecutor Ratto also testified. He told the board that Gillmore would be "a monster on the loose" if let back into the community.
In his testimony, Gillmore described himself as rehabilitated. He wiped away tears when he apologized to Edens.
After the hearing, board members huddled behind closed doors — standard procedure — to discuss the case and reach a decision. After 45 minutes, the board returned to announce the verdict: Gillmore remained "a danger to the health or safety of others," but he "can be adequately controlled with supervision and mental health treatment which are available in the community."
The board set his release date for Dec. 18.
Edens dropped her head to the hearing room table and sobbed.
Even now, she can't understand why the board chose to let Gillmore out. She cited a psychological evaluation of him by Frank Colistro, a veteran forensic psychologist who concluded in a June report that Gillmore continues to "suffer from a severe personality disorder, one not amenable to community-based treatment or supervision."
"I couldn't believe that three professionals were taking a convicted serial rapist's word against an educated doctor's evaluation," Edens said. "I thought that was just asinine. They don't seem to understand who he is. He's one of these really sophisticated criminals, very manipulative, very sociopathic. He's a chameleon who can meld himself into whatever he needs to be so he can get what he wants."
To stop Gillmore's release, Edens and the Multnomah County district attorney's office sued the parole board late last year.
In January, Marion County Circuit Judge Paul Lipscomb blocked Gillmore's release pending a new parole-consideration hearing. He ruled that the board committed several procedural errors, including failing to give Edens proper notice about hearings and failing to provide a full written explanation of its decision to free Gillmore, despite finding that he was still dangerous.
It was a gratifying victory for Edens.
"That was really empowering for me and my family to have Judge Lipscomb really take the facts in, take his time and really make a good statement," she said.
Lipscomb said he lacked authority under Oregon law to reverse "any ill-advised or mistaken release decision" by the parole board. However, the judge added that he felt compelled to express concerns about the board's decision to free the rapist, noting that "the only available expert evidence documents that Gillmore is even more dangerous and less amenable to be safely managed in the community than he appeared in 2001, 2003, 2005 and in April of 2007."
After the judge's rebuke, parole officials defended the decision to release Gillmore in a written statement: "In deciding that Mr. Gillmore could be adequately supervised in the community, the board considered Mr. Gillmore's long record of positive prison conduct and responsible work history, the many classes and treatment programs he has successfully completed, as well as his understanding of his past criminal behavior."
The parole board could have appealed Lipscomb's ruling. Instead, the board ended the legal fight by agreeing to hold a new hearing. Plans call for Gillmore to be examined by two more psychologists prior to the hearing.
Awaiting the next round in her battle to keep Gillmore behind bars, Edens said she's eager to testify against him again.
However, she lacks faith in the board members who will decide his fate.
"I think a used car salesman could read a human being better than these three," she said.
agustafs@StatesmanJournal.com or (503) 399-6709
"It's been a frustrating battle," she said in a recent interview. "It's been very wearing on me and my family. I think it's very unfair and very unfortunate that victims have to be revictimized years later by the institution that is supposed to protect them."
Gillmore's case has become a rallying cry for parole board critics, who say it demonstrated poor judgment about a sexual predator and shabby treatment of a rape victim.
"This guy is one of the worst rapists in the Oregon prison system," said Steve Doell, president of Oregon Crime Victims United. "God only knows what they were thinking in approving his release."
In the wake of Edens' lawsuit and a rebuke from a Marion County judge, the parole board agreed to reconsider Gillmore's case at a yet-to-be-scheduled hearing.
"It's been a true disappointment to see the parole board take the course of action that they have, although I think they've tried to rectify it now through the advice of counsel with this next hearing," said Russ Ratto, a senior deputy district attorney in Multnomah County who sued the board on behalf of Edens.
Edens clings to hope that the three-member panel will reach a different decision this time.
"He is a predator, he belongs in prison," she said. "He played normal and here he was a serial rapist, raping several women in his neighborhood."
Edens was 13 when Gillmore broke into her family's Portland-area home on the evening of Dec. 5, 1986. He threatened to kill the terrified girl, then raped her.
The Statesman Journal normally does not identify victims of sexual crimes. Edens asked to be identified by her maiden name. "I want other victims to feel that they can step forward, that they don't have to be held down," she said.
Now 35, Edens is married, the mother of three children and still lives in the Portland area. She is a blunt critic of the parole board, calling it "desensitized" to the plight of people whose lives have been ripped apart by violent criminals.
Between 1979 and 1981, Gillmore terrorized southeast Portland by committing a series of rapes. At that time, the then-unidentified rapist was known as the "jogger rapist" because he stalked his victims while he was jogging. After being arrested for raping Edens, Gillmore admitted to eight attacks linked to the "jogger rapist." He wasn't prosecuted for those rapes because they were too old under Oregon's then-applicable three-year statute of limitations.
A Multnomah County judge found Gillmore guilty of rape, burglary and two counts of sexual abuse in the Edens case in October 1987. The judge found Gillmore to be a sexually dangerous offender and sentenced him to 30 years in prison for the rape and burglary counts, with a 15-year minimum on each count.
The sentences were to run consecutively, meaning Gillmore had a 60-year sentence with a 30-year minimum.
In 1988, only a year after Gillmore was convicted, the parole board overrode one of his 15-year sentences. That made him eligible for parole in 2001.
The parole board nixed Gillmore's requests for release in 2001, 2003 and 2005. In September, it green-lighted him for parole. Edens said she learned about the board's release decision from her mother, who happened to check on Gillmore's status.
The notion of the serial rapist being back on the streets hit her like a lightning bolt, Edens said. Outraged, she and other family members contacted the parole board and "begged and pleaded" for a chance to testify. The board agreed to a rehearing in October.
In a hearing room at the Oregon State Correctional Institution in Salem, Edens faced the man who raped her when she was a junior high school student.
"That was really hard for me," she recounted. "It's like revisiting a nightmare. It was very surreal to see him after 21 years."
Edens urged the board to keep Gillmore incarcerated.
"To have raped so many women is a travesty," she testified. "But Richard Troy Gillmore only serving less than a third of his sentence for only one of the violent rapes he committed is an injustice to me and the seven other victims."
Multnomah County prosecutor Ratto also testified. He told the board that Gillmore would be "a monster on the loose" if let back into the community.
In his testimony, Gillmore described himself as rehabilitated. He wiped away tears when he apologized to Edens.
After the hearing, board members huddled behind closed doors — standard procedure — to discuss the case and reach a decision. After 45 minutes, the board returned to announce the verdict: Gillmore remained "a danger to the health or safety of others," but he "can be adequately controlled with supervision and mental health treatment which are available in the community."
The board set his release date for Dec. 18.
Edens dropped her head to the hearing room table and sobbed.
Even now, she can't understand why the board chose to let Gillmore out. She cited a psychological evaluation of him by Frank Colistro, a veteran forensic psychologist who concluded in a June report that Gillmore continues to "suffer from a severe personality disorder, one not amenable to community-based treatment or supervision."
"I couldn't believe that three professionals were taking a convicted serial rapist's word against an educated doctor's evaluation," Edens said. "I thought that was just asinine. They don't seem to understand who he is. He's one of these really sophisticated criminals, very manipulative, very sociopathic. He's a chameleon who can meld himself into whatever he needs to be so he can get what he wants."
To stop Gillmore's release, Edens and the Multnomah County district attorney's office sued the parole board late last year.
In January, Marion County Circuit Judge Paul Lipscomb blocked Gillmore's release pending a new parole-consideration hearing. He ruled that the board committed several procedural errors, including failing to give Edens proper notice about hearings and failing to provide a full written explanation of its decision to free Gillmore, despite finding that he was still dangerous.
It was a gratifying victory for Edens.
"That was really empowering for me and my family to have Judge Lipscomb really take the facts in, take his time and really make a good statement," she said.
Lipscomb said he lacked authority under Oregon law to reverse "any ill-advised or mistaken release decision" by the parole board. However, the judge added that he felt compelled to express concerns about the board's decision to free the rapist, noting that "the only available expert evidence documents that Gillmore is even more dangerous and less amenable to be safely managed in the community than he appeared in 2001, 2003, 2005 and in April of 2007."
After the judge's rebuke, parole officials defended the decision to release Gillmore in a written statement: "In deciding that Mr. Gillmore could be adequately supervised in the community, the board considered Mr. Gillmore's long record of positive prison conduct and responsible work history, the many classes and treatment programs he has successfully completed, as well as his understanding of his past criminal behavior."
The parole board could have appealed Lipscomb's ruling. Instead, the board ended the legal fight by agreeing to hold a new hearing. Plans call for Gillmore to be examined by two more psychologists prior to the hearing.
Awaiting the next round in her battle to keep Gillmore behind bars, Edens said she's eager to testify against him again.
However, she lacks faith in the board members who will decide his fate.
"I think a used car salesman could read a human being better than these three," she said.
agustafs@StatesmanJournal.com or (503) 399-6709
---
I don't have anything to say about this right now. I am severely disgusted. It does not make sense, not human, logical sense. I think it is important to look at the other news coverage of this, where is it? Releasing a serial rapist back into society sounds like important news to me.
love, jessieh
1.02.2008
PS: Back in October
"It's as if the Universe is bi-polar and isn't taking her meds, and we all know what that means. Mr. Universe has to dodge flying produce and sleep on an air mattress in the spare bedroom."-Heather B. Armstrong, Dooce.com
---
Last October (that sounds weird), I posted a blog with the title: "The news I caught tonight"
Well, I purchased Richard Baer's Switching Time: A Doctor's Harrowing Story of Treating a Woman with 17 Personalities finally.
The odd thing, I just learned that Richard Baer was the name of the Nazi official that ran Aushcwitz concentration camp from May, 1994 to February, 1945. He was found and arrested in 1960. He died, in detention, in 1963.
I wonder if Dr.Richard Baer's parents knew this man existed.
If so. I'm sorry Doc.
---
And in other news:
-Children everywhere are being hurt.
-Jesus loves you.
-Patrick is coming tomorrow to visit.
-Breakfast this morning at the Waffle House was fun.
- On this day in 1890, Alice Sanger became the first female staffer in the White House.
-We finished Ms.Hepburn's Christmas gift (attempt number three now) today. It looks nice. I hope she likes it.
-Finally caught an episode of "The Golden Girls"
-Therapy tomorrow and Friday
-The stomach hurts.
-I'd like a diet coke and a stiff drink, but that is a-whole-other story. No drinks for me.
-I should start reading the next book for English, but I haven't.
-I want to complete The Year of Magical Thinking and Dr.Baer's book first.
-Mary had a really really good day yesterday with the twins and Mere. She left a note.
-The fireworks last night were scary and good.
-New Year's Day is an aware day. It forces people around the globe to pay attention to something, whatever that some-thing may be. For some, it is horrific. For us, it was good this year and I couldn't be more grateful.
-Depression is still here.
-Insomnia is exhausting.
-Finding Angela Shelton is released in less than three months.
love, jessieh
Well, I purchased Richard Baer's Switching Time: A Doctor's Harrowing Story of Treating a Woman with 17 Personalities finally.
The odd thing, I just learned that Richard Baer was the name of the Nazi official that ran Aushcwitz concentration camp from May, 1994 to February, 1945. He was found and arrested in 1960. He died, in detention, in 1963.
I wonder if Dr.Richard Baer's parents knew this man existed.
If so. I'm sorry Doc.
---
And in other news:
-Children everywhere are being hurt.
-Jesus loves you.
-Patrick is coming tomorrow to visit.
-Breakfast this morning at the Waffle House was fun.
- On this day in 1890, Alice Sanger became the first female staffer in the White House.
-We finished Ms.Hepburn's Christmas gift (attempt number three now) today. It looks nice. I hope she likes it.
-Finally caught an episode of "The Golden Girls"
-Therapy tomorrow and Friday
-The stomach hurts.
-I'd like a diet coke and a stiff drink, but that is a-whole-other story. No drinks for me.
-I should start reading the next book for English, but I haven't.
-I want to complete The Year of Magical Thinking and Dr.Baer's book first.
-Mary had a really really good day yesterday with the twins and Mere. She left a note.
-The fireworks last night were scary and good.
-New Year's Day is an aware day. It forces people around the globe to pay attention to something, whatever that some-thing may be. For some, it is horrific. For us, it was good this year and I couldn't be more grateful.
-Depression is still here.
-Insomnia is exhausting.
-Finding Angela Shelton is released in less than three months.
love, jessieh
10.16.2007
Time off, not out
(and the girl in the picture is the beautiful roomate)
Theatre History was cancelled which partly saddens me because I enjoy Theatre History but missing it tonight also makes me very very happy because I have so much stuff to do. I am slightly behind in most my classes and this troubles me.
I was assigned a monologue today from The Children's Hour by Lilian Hellman.
I am excited about it.
I read an article this morning about a kid in the UK who can only eat 6 foods.
I need to go do work.
We have therapy on Thursday and Monday morning.
When we get angry, we shall return.
love, we.
PS:
(and approx. 2 months ago, it was the three of us, I on the end with pineapple in hand)
10.09.2007
Focus.
The Good
1. Jesus loves everyone.
2.One exciting piece of information that cannot be published.
3. Sam and I are able to do our National History Day Project on Roe V. Wade. We will hopefully be able to interview her sister, an attorney in Atlanta, which means a roadtrip.
4. Brenda and I will be going up to Asheville on the 27th to see Angela Shelton. I am so excited!
5. I have my glasses now which means I can take my contacts out.
6. I am enjoying nature.
7. School is an adventure.
8. Sam and I now have internet access in our dorm room.
9. I'm running out of time to think.
10. We purchased a Raggedy Anne doll in honor of the forward roll.
11. Wellsley visited on Saturday, discussed Early Decision options..
12. We are alive and well.
13. This list will always be longer.
The Bad
1. Children all over the world are suffering.
2. I have a Chemistry test tommorow.
3. Earlier this evening was dedicated to writing about Gerri Santoro. It's a sad story.
4. I had a slight nervous breakdown when I realized that while I am away at school, reclused away in my room or studio, children are still being tortured and there is still an insane amount of evil in this world.
5. I'm keeping a painful secret inside.
6. I'm not sleeping, still.
7. The Seasons are changing.
love, jessieh
9.24.2007
and if we had any time
we'd write...
but instead she sticks pictures that don't belong to her up here.
love, jessieh
(I will write tonight. Tonight. I will write.)
9.06.2007
8.26.2007
always so about everything.
Reader's Note: I apologize for being so busy. My schedule doesn't allow for much blogging time.
About last night:
Ms.Hepburn invited our studio (Studio 3) to dine together somewhere downtown. Some people excluded themselves from our merry adventure while the ones who did go had a great time, well sort of. We went to a tap room downtown and the food was disgusting. Everything. Even the nasty garlic bread was gross, it took 45 minutes for Ms.Hepburn's nasty food to come out and the waitress was rather irritating. It took much patience. After several interesting judgment calls, we left. Decided on ice-cream. It was a great bonding time. Several of our studio members really opened up with us about things and it was nice to really get to spend time with each other, outside of the studio. Ms.Hepburn and I are calling a Studio meeting for Wednesday night. We will play a of 'truth' and really get to know each other. I'm excited.
And this week:
Since I have been here, I have seriously contemplated the idea of purging five times. I will not purge. The idea, however is very tempting and I feel stronger for having resisted it. I am going to begin a diet on September 1st. I'd like to lose 20 pounds this semester. The physical activity I receive in my classes will certainly help with that.
I feel rather disconnected from the outside world here. There really isn't any access to the world outside of school and I haven't seen the news in over 9 days. It's disturbing. I feel, for the first time in my life, slightly sheltered. My fears and insecurities are heightened here and I have no sense of balance. Today will be devoted to sleep and school work.
My music library on my computer has expanded since I have been here thanks to my school's incredible music library. I haven't spoken to my parents since I have been here and my Grandfather really hates me. He hasn't spoken to me in two weeks. We are incredibly close and sometimes he decides that because I am 'selfish' and a horrible person, he doesn't want me to be a part of his life and cuts me off for awhile, gives me a weird silent treatment of sorts. It is immature.
I find myself not wanting to eat here. I am exhausted every day and I have panic attacks often. My close friend is wanting to hate me. I'm not close with anyone here really. I feel myself wanted to draw back, wanting to become as reclusive as possible and never speak to anyone again. I'm menstrual. My throat hurts, my head is pounding and the very thought of the conditioning class on Tuesday sends my thoughts into another world. I want to scream at people for seemingly insignificant things. I hate my body and I hate myself for hating my body.
About last night:
Ms.Hepburn invited our studio (Studio 3) to dine together somewhere downtown. Some people excluded themselves from our merry adventure while the ones who did go had a great time, well sort of. We went to a tap room downtown and the food was disgusting. Everything. Even the nasty garlic bread was gross, it took 45 minutes for Ms.Hepburn's nasty food to come out and the waitress was rather irritating. It took much patience. After several interesting judgment calls, we left. Decided on ice-cream. It was a great bonding time. Several of our studio members really opened up with us about things and it was nice to really get to spend time with each other, outside of the studio. Ms.Hepburn and I are calling a Studio meeting for Wednesday night. We will play a of 'truth' and really get to know each other. I'm excited.
And this week:
Since I have been here, I have seriously contemplated the idea of purging five times. I will not purge. The idea, however is very tempting and I feel stronger for having resisted it. I am going to begin a diet on September 1st. I'd like to lose 20 pounds this semester. The physical activity I receive in my classes will certainly help with that.
I feel rather disconnected from the outside world here. There really isn't any access to the world outside of school and I haven't seen the news in over 9 days. It's disturbing. I feel, for the first time in my life, slightly sheltered. My fears and insecurities are heightened here and I have no sense of balance. Today will be devoted to sleep and school work.
My music library on my computer has expanded since I have been here thanks to my school's incredible music library. I haven't spoken to my parents since I have been here and my Grandfather really hates me. He hasn't spoken to me in two weeks. We are incredibly close and sometimes he decides that because I am 'selfish' and a horrible person, he doesn't want me to be a part of his life and cuts me off for awhile, gives me a weird silent treatment of sorts. It is immature.
I find myself not wanting to eat here. I am exhausted every day and I have panic attacks often. My close friend is wanting to hate me. I'm not close with anyone here really. I feel myself wanted to draw back, wanting to become as reclusive as possible and never speak to anyone again. I'm menstrual. My throat hurts, my head is pounding and the very thought of the conditioning class on Tuesday sends my thoughts into another world. I want to scream at people for seemingly insignificant things. I hate my body and I hate myself for hating my body.
Life is good.
love, jessieh
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