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Okay. I actually had to STOP the revelation process to make sure I had time for the writing/documenting process. Unfortunate, but necessary today. I've been spiralling. Or, at least, watching the spins of the spiral beneath me, cautioning myself and Scott, noting the depth of the cavern and the slickness of the slope. I've been quietly horrified. Scared of what I see in the mirror--scared of the penetrating dark circles beneath my eyes, the migraines, the unavailability of most of my former energy, the tight neck and shoulders that prevent me from lifting my head at times. And sometimes I've called out with panic for Scott's help. So, because of our past and our rules and roles, he starts to panic. So we're both panicking. Wondering with raised voices about how to fix the problem: flights home? Western doctors? just time in bed (i don't have time in bed here)? better food? taking taxis instead of walking on the dirty, polluted streets? what? what? what? Today, after 4 hours together on the Internet trying unsuccessfully to find flights to fun destinations (warm, hopefully) for a Christmas/New Year's break, I finally saw my breaking point. And because I could sense Scott's as well, I sent him away. As I figured it, I needed to stare the thing down. Myself. I had choices. And I was going to make them. I needed to either stay with the moment and be calm and do some yoga and some deep breathing, or I could crisis and panic. Which is what I used to do and what seems easiest for me. It's like a child response. Crumple and cry and get help. It's an emergency response. Well, this time I realized I make my own emergencies, and this didn't need to be one. I had choices. I was going to make them. Scott wanted to play his horn, and I could start to see that this was wearing on him too much, so i sent him to the school to play the sax. Ok. By myself now. Back in the cold little room by myself. Now. It's my choice. How do I want to live? How do I want this moment to play out? I took off my coat and turned up the heat and swept the floor and spread out my blue yoga mat. I changed my clothes and started to breathe. My mind started to quiet. 10 minutes of breathing and opening and stretching and saluting and my mind started to fill again. But this time with insights. With clarity. With the clearness of sunlight. I could see how I had started to bend into Scott. I could see how he had started to feel that weight. And how both of us were doing what we were used to doing. Me: crisis in trouble. Scott: crisis under Celeste's weight. And I felt such relief that I had sent him away. This was something I needed to work out. Alone. And when i'm with someone, I lean. I lean hard, hoping to somehow be carried. The problem is, people try. They try and carry me, so I forget my own weight and I forget how to carry myself. Scott tries. And he handles it bravely. But it eventually steals the life from him and from our marriage. Next breath. I realize that I don't need to crisis. That the poor health isn't itself a crisis. That either I'll fix it and figure it out, or I'll go home and do it there. But there's no reason to lose it. Next breath. I realize that I've spent two days without doing yoga and feeling completely miserable. And resting pouty in that mire. Staying there, feeling the tugs of every good martyr. Remembering that I have the responsibility to take care of my own crap, so no one else has to. Realizing that the biggest warning signal for my mental health should've been that I knew I was sick and awful, and yet I didn't do anything about it. Next breath. I think of the year that led to this one. The energy I expended STOPPING an eating disorder. The difficulty and the pains. The stress. And I did it. But I realize now this is the year to HEAL FROM the eating disorder. Body and spirit. Of course my immune system's taking nose dive. And, I thought, this is also the year for our marriage to heal from the eating disorder. This is all practice for us. Trying to handle things in different ways out here. Next breath. This is practice. I didn't immediately escape the dangers, but I escaped them. And it's becoming more and more easy and more and more quick and real. And the safety measures are in place: I did the yoga. I chose to do it. The self-understanding prescription. Next breath. I jump out of the pose with a smile and shove on my boots. Of course, I should've finished my practice, but I was too excited and too grateful and amazed to stay there. I told Scott all about it and then began to write. My own chat with Malissa. And I just fabricated it myself. Damn, girl. You are learning to take care of yourself. This is your year to do it. Wherever you end up in the world. My Own Chat, ck [2002-11-26]
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