Recoveredbulimic’s Weblog

Here’s a little poem I wrote, dedicated to my mother…

Cutting through clutter

Cutting through clutter is harder than butter
Even when it’s frozen.
This is a trying destiny
The path that I have chosen.

I’m not on the road again, I’m on the phone again
To avoid this impending sense of doom
I can’t go out, I have to stay
I have to face this cluttered room.

I’m at loose ends, I call my friends
For a dose of inspiration.
They build me up and help assuage
The creeping desperation.

Clearing up a few square feet
A solid floor I soon will greet.
Clearing up a space for fun
Take an hour, get something done.

Chalk around an opening – space to be me
Dress up in collected clothes the way I want to be.
It’s like a fairytale or game
Working through the mess
Confusion is no mere illusion,
but a massive source of stress.

Using the things I bought for someday,
Because I’m not allowed to shop.
Until I have cleaned my room all up
Further collecting has to stop.

Take a picture of each cleared space
Tack it up upon your wall
Put all the pictures together.
Glimpse your true room and stand tall!

I want a boyfriend,
But I have to clean my room.
I want to go to the movies,
But I have to clean my room.
I want to paint a picture,
But I have to clean my room.
I’ll never have any fun again
If I don’t do it soon.
I can’t go out and play until I’ve cleaned my room today.

Yesterday I was slightly irritated because a good friend hadn’t written or expressed the amount of concern I’d anticipated. After some (hopeful) hesitation, I wrote and explained that I needed to hear things like, “Thank God you’re not dead!” But since those were my words, I requested more creativity. He answered that I’d made it sound like a bump and a slight bruise.

That’s when I understood about sympathy and humor. It’s up to me to find the humorous side. For example, dear Sanity asked how bad it is. I said: “Well, I sleep as long as I feel like it and even then don’t have to get out of bed. I stay up reading as late as I want. I don’t have to cook, clean, go grocery shopping, or do laundry. It’s awful!!!” She said, “Oh, you poor thing!”

But when someone else said, “You can be thankful it’s not worse and that you can expect a full recovery,” I felt my operated-on shoulder twitch with annoyance. That’s what I’m supposed to say! Or if someone else says it, they need to include a preface like: “Thank God it’s not worse and you’ll recover fully.” You know what I mean? I don’t want to be lectured that I should be thankful. I am of normal intelligence and boy oh boy am I thankful!

All humor aside, I can’t play guitar for quite a while and I can’t drive for at least 3 weeks. (Okay already! I KNOW some people don’t even have a car at their disposal.) I feel like a totally caged monkey with no toys. (SanityFound, when you have a free minute could you take my picture? Thanks!) Now I have sympathy for animals in the zoo. Luckily their living conditions have improved over the years. But now and then they still might wonder about their purpose in life.

Why am I sharing this? Because somebody else might feel sorry for herself or neglected. In that case, I encourage you to reflect on whether or not people know that you need comfort and sympathy. If you joke too much, they might think you’re just fine. And if you happen to be in the lucky position of only having to comfort someone, tell them you are so GLAD that it wasn’t worse. Chances are, they’re as smart as me and have already thanked their lucky stars (probably more than once).

I also want to share that although I am not drowning in self-pity — not even treading, but easily floating with occasional bouts of tears (so that I don’t get stranded on dry ground), and although I will recover and be fine, and with some delay put out the CD that will in my modest estimation far exceed the first one, as well as eventually be able to cook and clean again (low priority), all expressions of compassion and sympathy are welcome!

And if anyone else needs some, feel free to let me know. I have plenty to spare. (Funny how our own compassion works best for others!) Compassion is free, but it’s priceless. So is sympathy.

You can’t live with them, can’t live without them. Don’t worry, I don’t intend to pontificate. I haven’t overcome mine either.

Today I’d like to look at envy, jealousy and self-pity. There’s no need to go into particulars. Let’s just say we’re better acquainted than I care to admit. But I do admit it! What are these feelings about? Feeling cheated, inadequate, shown up, that I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Today I remind myself of the larger picture — that each of us has her destiny to fulfill. Even though the planet is getting slightly crowded, there are still enough destinies to go around. Isn’t that amazing?

So just for today I pray for the willingness to let go. (Here we go again with that letting go — that just never seems to be finished!) I pray for the willingness to trust that everything is as it should be. Those who seem to be where I’d like to be now, or who have achieved what I’d like to have now, they have already paid their dues. Rather than feel cheated or jealous of the support they have, I can interpret their example as a source of encouragement. You know: “If she can do it, so can I!”

Today I want to accept where I am and remember that my path is unique. Even if someone else’s path may appear to be more attractive, it’s not mine. On the contrary, it just shows me one more possibility and encourages me to be creative.

That’s pretty much it. For those who are a bit more curious, don’t even think for a second that this has anything to do with my great heroine! The motivational force for these reflections is of a more mundane nature.