Archive for April, 2008

Harmony and Coping Mechanisms

There is no perfect way to recover, just as there is no one right way to live. Parents cannot instruct their children to avoid making mistakes (though I have tried!), and I as a recovered bulimic cannot explain how to recover. Along the lines of the 12-step programs, I choose to share my story and insights, and perhaps they will spark something off in someone to help her on her own path. Sometimes it’s hard to find our own way, and yet that is a gift from the universe: We are each entitled to our own unique path. My only advice: Get help! Therapy is priceless, worth it, and may save you a few years of your life!

Because I am stubborn, or it’s simply my nature, when I am told how to do something, I am immediately sceptical. I tend to feel suffocated by rules – real or imagined – and I just want to find my own way. There is a certain pride involved, I must admit.

Recently I realized that the problem with some of the songs I write is that they are too repetitive and predictable. (Somebody already told me that as well, but I had to figure it out myself!) They need more variety. During a walk yesterday evening, it occurred to me that sometimes the unexpected twists in songs are what make them especially interesting, not the harmonious aspect.

Since it is my nature to relate to things on different levels, I immediately thought to myself: It’s like a relationship. Perfect harmony with no discord gets to be boring and may not be authentic. The less-than-harmonic situations tend to be the ones that promote our growth and bring us closer. Or it’s like eating habits. When I was first in recovery, I ate the same breakfast and lunch every day, because I just couldn’t deal with more at the time. After a while, I did add variety, and I felt so much better!

This can be found in many aspects – in our work situation, or how we spend our free time. Studies come to mind in which workers had one task that they always did, while others rotated among different tasks. That latter group had much higher job satisfaction, and a stronger sense of actually producing something. If I recall correctly, they even did a better job! As opposed to simply identifying themselves with one isolated part.

Which brings me to the subject of coping mechanisms. After several years of sickness, I realized that my bulimic/anorexic behavior was actually a coping mechanism! It helped me deal with an otherwise impossible situation – my parents’ divorce and the aftermath, things beyond the control of a child. I recall my therapist commenting at one point that he was amazed that I had survived as well as I did. The problem was, that once I was grown up and in a position to take control over my life, I didn’t have any other coping mechanisms in my repertoire! These had to be developed, one at a time.

What to do with free time? What to do with meal requirements? What to do with feelings like pain, sadness, happiness, excitement, disappointment, nervousness, hunger, fear, anger, anticipation…? The list goes on and on. I began by simply sitting, or eating the same meal, or writing in my journal. Then I expanded the repertoire, learning to go for a walk, take a relaxing bath, go to the movies, listen to music, or call a friend. Much later I started writing songs. The possibilities are endless. During the process of developing these coping strategies, I wasn’t consciously aware of what I was doing. My first goal was simply not to binge or throw up, and that was how I judged success for a long time. During early student life, I focussed on preparing for exams without getting into the food. Passing or failing became secondary. It was a developmental process in which I gradually learned to structure my life. It also helped assuage my fear of failure (e.g. not being perfect) and made me realize that life is about so much more than passing tests.

Recently I was in a dark space. I don’t mean a relapse; I just mean things were rather difficult for a while. My thoughts drifted back to the meeting rooms, where I haven’t been for nearly 25 years, but they left a lasting impression. I remember the mention of sitting with the pain, feeling the feelings, accepting them and going on. That is still what it’s about! It is normal to have such trying times! The other day, I went to bed and cried for a while, and then I watched a movie (Chocolat with Johnny Depp and Juliette Binoche – scrumptious!!!). At one point, my husband came into my room. One look at my swollen eyes and my wave of dismissal were enough. He patted my shoulder, walked back out, and took care of sending the kids to bed and closing things down for the night. After the movie, I went to bed. The next day, I felt peaceful and almost optimistic. And then I was able to talk to him about it.

I believe that the difficult situations are gifts from the universe. They provide opportunities to grow, explore and try new things. When I’m feeling down, I thank the universe for yet another gift. It doesn’t immediately give me an incredible boost, but it’s usually good for a smile.

April 30, 2008 at 12:19 pm 2 comments

Early Morning Coffee

Well, I was rather annoyed because – being the nice mother I am – I offered to drive my daughter to the bus stop in the pouring rain this morning. The annoying part was, she was so slow-moving, that she managed to miss the bus and I ended up driving her to school. But that’s okay. I made a point of getting out of bed on the right foot this morning (which in my case happens to be my left foot), so I came home, had breakfast, and am settled with a cup of coffee at the computer.

As I said, it’s raining and dreary outside, which makes it a wonderful day for keyboard rambling. I have hesitated to mention this in more detail, because in a sense I started this blog to tell people about my book. You know: “Look at me, I am healthy. Read my story and you can recover, too.” I am 100% convinced about the story, but the catch is: I didn’t live happily ever after. In fact, as I’ve already mentioned, things have been building up inside recently.

This is what happened. I wrote my book, and in that process a lot of stuff came up again. The book is comprised of nearly 50 journals, which I wrote between the ages of 10 and 31 years. Most of it I had completely forgotten. So that first round was quite heavy, including a depressive break of a few months. Rather, I took a few months off, otherwise I would have become seriously depressed. Still, I managed.

I live in a German-speaking country, so during the past year I translated the book. I don’t know why, but through the process of translating, it all hit me even harder. Perhaps because in my mother language, it was all rather automated and I read it more as an editor. Whereas translating it into a different language really made me think.

I know, I am meandering, but that is my style, and this is difficult besides. I finished this round of work on the book with a lot of sadness, because I realized a few things. First of all, my heart has always been elsewhere, but I never pursued it honestly, because I was convinced that I am not loveable. Ouch! Second, I never really had anything in common with my husband, except that he was willing to put up with me. Ouch again!

This past Christmas I went home to New York City for one week. (That trip was the subject of the first blog  in “Old Scars.”) What does one do with so little time? Of course – I went to Barnes & Noble. And there I was looking for 2 specific books. I didn’t find either one, but I ended up with three wonderful books: one on Arthur Rimbaud & Jim Morrison, one compiled collection of sample writings from the beat generation, and one on verbally abusive men (by Patricia Evans). It took me nearly half an hour of leafing through before I could convince myself that the third book might be applicable. I read that book on a train ride along the Hudson River and time and again felt tears of relief brimming. “Oh, it’s not all me! It’s not my fault! He really is not behaving appropriately!” I hate to admit it, but it took me 23 years in this relationship to accept the gut feeling that I am not happy with him nor will I ever be.

Don’t get me wrong! He’s wonderful – kind, reliable, faithful, generous, isn’t an alcoholic, doesn’t hit me, doesn’t smoke, gives me my freedom to do as I please. But from the beginning, I loved him most when we were separated, and always breathed a sigh of relief when he went away on business. And he knew enough not to be too nice to me. I’ve already mentioned that – because if he were too nice, I would have considered him a jerk like all the rest and left him early on. The bad part is, he’s neat and I’m sloppy – and that’s just the beginning. He makes me feel stupid, can be very condescending, looks at me like I am a jerk. Sometimes I have difficulty with the language, which doesn’t help. If I say “What?” three times, he often says, “Oh, forget it.” But after all these years, he hasn’t learned to speak loudly or clearly enough to avoid that, as some of my other friends do.

I am still not completely sure how much of the problems have to do with my acting out patterns that I learned as a child. I consider this situation an opportunity to grow. Perhaps I’m crazy, scared, or maybe just procrastinating, but at the moment, I am changing the interaction, and then I’ll see what happens. To leave now, I feel like I would be setting a bad example for my children, and probably pick up the same problems with the next relationship (after the honeymoon, of course). I want to work things through, so that we can separate as two mature adults. That may be wishful thinking. In fact, we might even change our relating to such an extent that we get along better, and according to the book I read, some men can change. Either way, I believe this relationship is an opportunity to learn, and perhaps it’s lasted so long because I’ve been too afraid to learn. Instead of speaking out, I hid in my room and cried alone.

At this point I am focussing on growth within the present situation. I am also focussing on getting my life together. I am not in a position (yet) to simply leave. Actually, I feel a certain elative thrill as I learn to stick up for myself. If he gives me a “stupid” look, I don’t accept it. I give it back and clearly explain what I did/said, etc. and why it makes sense. That also takes a lot of energy and awareness, but I feel better than I do expending the energy to suffer quietly, anticipate his every reaction, or try to keep harmony at all costs. While other people were “walking on sunshine” as Katrina sang, I was walking on eggshells. Now I’m trampling the eggshells, scooping them up and scattering them on the compost heap, convinced that something better will grow, and I’m ready to walk on sunshine!

So, I hope I’m not disappointing anybody by not sticking to the “I am recovered and holier than thou” routine, but that just wouldn’t be authentic. And right now, authenticity is what it’s all about. Just through blogging I have come across some wonderful people, and it warms my heart. In the long run, that’s really what it’s about – sharing and participating in a community. And from what I’ve heard, abusive relationships are no rarity! Especially among people who have/had eating disorders!

Today’s message in a nutshell: Let’s talk about this stuff! And like I said the other day: Recovery is life, so it’s an ongoing process. I thought my book would close one chapter of my life, but it turned around on me and opened a new one!

 

April 29, 2008 at 7:45 am 1 comment

My Children and their Food

I confess, I wanted to be a perfect mother. Now that I have more experience in the matter, I opt for the “good-enough mother” description. As long as I do the best I can with the resources available at the moment, I am doing my job. You see, I ran myself ragged the first few (10?) years, and then realized that it was to nobody’s benefit.

Naturally, there is one especially important issue: Food. I have a burning desire to prevent eating disorders in my children. How? I never make them finish everything on their plates – not even if there’s only one bite left. I encourage them to serve themselves, so they get a sense of how much they need. Now I sometimes regret that I wasn’t more insistent about them at least trying new things, but that’s how it is.

Part of my recovery was about being good to myself, which means the food looks nice, and if it’s meant to be served warm, then that’s how I want to eat it. A cold, chopped-up half-portion on a child’s plate does not interest me. As a rule, I never finish things on their plates. Table scraps are table scraps, and I am not a garbage can! Neither are my children!

My husband grew up without eating disorders but with less abundance, and has a tendency to finish things. (His parents experienced the Second World War and the food scarcity, which left an impression on him.) He suggests that the children finish things on their plates, but it’s more a reflex on his part – a habit I gently ignore. They don’t let it bother them. He has mentioned the starving children in China, and my son at one point asked: “What good will it do them if I eat this?” Lately, I’ve taken to joking: “Ask Papa if he wants to eat it. Otherwise I’m sending it to China.” By no means do I encourage waste, I just don’t want things swallowed at all costs.

Unfortunately, I was overzealous with my first-born. I cooked vegetables and pureed them myself, but overdid it on the carrots. To this day, she cannot eat carrots. (Back then I didn’t quite get it about the need for variety.) In fact, she doesn’t like most vegetables, which is a shame, but I can’t force her to eat them. I keep hoping she’ll end up with a boyfriend who likes vegetables. Never underestimate the power of love! (Meanwhile, a couple of her favorite meals actually have vegetables smuggled into them!)

I definitely made some mistakes, but on the positive side: I breastfed both babies for 9 or 10 months, I give them regular meals, and don’t have much snack food in the house. Now that they are teenagers, they like to take their meals in front of the TV at times – and sometimes their schedule varies, because they are out with friends or hanging out in their rooms on the weekend, and at 10 pm suddenly realize they are starving! But generally we eat together at the table. There is no TV in that room, and the radio is always off during meals. For me, the importance of the meal is not what’s on the table, but that we are all sitting together.

My daughter has a weakness for ice cream, but I blame that on the heat wave during my pregnancy. Cold baths and ice cream were a matter of survival! She definitely does tend towards sweets. I have enough in the house to prevent feelings of deprivation, but not enough that it becomes a problem.

My son is easier. He likes vegetables and has always been a good eater. Maybe that’s because he had more variety from the start. He likes sweets as well, but is quite moderate. (Funny enough, during that pregnancy there was another heat wave, but I didn’t eat quite as much ice cream.) His behavior reassures me that either I didn’t do everything wrong, or that a lot has to do with a person’s character. (I don’t mean just about eating!) He is the athletic type and easy going.

Watching children eat and grow is a unique experience. Sometimes it seems like they get by on nothing. Other times they consume large quantities as if they’re starving and you can literally watch them grow.

My daughter had the tendency to get a bit pudgy, then shoot up a few inches. That was her rhythm. She is not very athletic. (She gets that from me! I think we both grew too quickly and were thus uncoordinated. As an adult, I’m coordinated and enjoy sports more than I did back then.) When she was 11 years old, her tummy was again round for a long time. I made a subtle effort to be more active and cut back on cookies, but I did not make an issue of it. I remember one occasion when we went out to dinner with two other families. One of the fathers and his teenage son are both somewhat overweight and he had mentioned it as a problem on past occasions. My daughter wanted dessert. This man, meaning well, I am sure, said something to the effect of: “Are you sure you want dessert? Look at that stomach! Don’t you want to have a nice figure?”

I was furious, but managed to control myself. I glared at him and indicated that he be quiet. My daughter told him that she always gets a bit round before growing taller, just as I had explained to her at some point. After she enjoyed her dessert and went outside with the other children to play (they have a wonderful yard and play area at this restaurant, which is very popular with families), I told him that I’d had an eating problem for several years, that I would not make an issue out of a little tummy in puberty, that I don’t want him to make any more such comments in her presence, and that guilt is not the way to deal with it – the best way to start an eating disorder is to feel guilty and go on a diet. I won’t go into exact details, but today he is still overweight, and my daughter is now taller than I am, beautiful, and slim. And she still enjoys the occasional dessert!

She still has a slightly round tummy, which sometimes bothers her. I tell her she looks fine, which she does. Actually, since she’s started going out more and walking more (and I stopped driving her everywhere), that tummy has diminished of its own accord.

An experience of my own comes to mind. When I was 13, a male friend of the family patted me on the butt and made a comment about my curves. That shocked me, and I felt dissatisfied with my body and very uncomfortable.

I remember when my daughter was in kindergarten, she came home one day and asked me if I thought my thighs were too fat! I was quite surprised, but said, “No. I’m happy just the way I am.” I’ve worked hard to promote that image, as I know how much we pick up from our mothers. (Mine was tall and skinny and always on a diet! I realized later she used to binge and then fast. Many years later she confessed that she’d even tried to throw up, but had never been able to do it. Gee, am I surprised about my own behavior as a young woman?)

So, it’s not easy. I do the best I can as a mother, and still have to cope with outside/societal influences as well, over which I have no control. Things are generally working out well. I have conveyed an attitude towards food as being a pleasant necessity, but not overly important. It is definitely not an enemy, which is how I once perceived it. In retrospect, there are a few things I would do differently, but isn’t life always like that?

My daughter just got home after a long day at school and said, “Mommy, I’m starving! Please make me something nourishing to eat!” Little things like that make my day.

April 28, 2008 at 5:15 pm 2 comments

time for a change

I really should be practicing my guitar, but I just feel like writing something non-bulimic, since I seem to have jumped in pretty deep lately. Strange things are happening, I’m not even sure what. There seems to be a shift coming on. I will do my best to let go and trust the universe. I don’t have to know what is going to happen, but I do have some preferences.

Yesterday I read a couple of other people’s blogs for a few hours, and it did so good to simply immerse myself in something else. The endless chatter in my brain stopped for a while. Yeah, even though I’m “healthy” there is still stuff to change about my life. It’s like trying to wear old clothes. After a while, they just don’t fit anymore, or they are falling apart. I was impressed by the prolific writing, positivity, communication, generosity, and empathy. How come it took me so long to get here? I’ve been feeling so isolated on my post-bulimic planet. See, I’m beginning to realize how much more we have in common than the symptoms – and I am delighted!

I feel just a bit insecure. Everyone else is much younger, and so well-versed – in computers and life, it seems. I feel kind of stupid at my age, just realizing things that an almost-30-year-old already knows! But that’s life. And luckily, there are people like that who are sharing their wisdom and experience. We can’t do or be it all. Each of us has something special to offer. We just need to find it.

Living on the outside is lonely at times. It gives me a different perspective on things (not necessarily better or worse, just different), but seems to require a lot of strength which I at times don’t have. I’m kind of rambling today. Two steps forward, one step back. And every ten steps fall down and scrape your knee. You might see something you would have otherwise missed. In the meantime, it will heal. In any case, I don’t want to walk on eggshells anymore. I don’t want to be concerned about whether or not people like me. On my good days, I don’t care, because I know better. But not every day is so good. I want to make changes in my life, so I am asking for support.

What I’m trying to say is, we are never finished with recovery. There’s always one more level. Like I’ve said before, I think that is the nature of life. We just keep learning and growing. I’m saying this for other people and for myself, because I tend to still have very high expectations and put a lot of pressure on myself. It’s not easy! Today I will summon up my energy and go out for a walk and breathe.

April 27, 2008 at 2:21 pm 2 comments

My Food History (Why it’s not all health food)

I am a child of the late 1960’s. Shortly after the Woodstock festival, we began to spend a lot of time in the town of Woodstock, and my mother discovered the health food store there.

It didn’t take long before our sweet breakfast cereals were replaced with granola, and the candy bars became sesame treats. We had a large garden, so vegetables were always a main staple. My mother was an excellent cook. It wasn’t until after the divorce when she started working that we discovered canned foods.

She has a tendency to be extreme, which I resented. So, when I got healthy, there was one thing I was sure about: I was not going to be extreme. My food would be middle-of-the-road, a little of this, a little of that. That’s exactly how it is.

Now that I’m older and understand more about nutrition, I appreciate my mother’s knowledge and am trying to improve our diet. Just gradually, so they barely notice it. I believe it is important to take care of myself, but I am not willing to go to such an extreme that I eat something just because it’s healthy, and deny myself something just because it’s unhealthy. My motto is: Everything in moderation. I know that sounds kind of boring and reasonable, but it’s not. It means I can have everything!!! (Just not in mass quantities!) In heart, I am a hedonist. I believe that my enjoyment is of equal importance as the nutritional value.

My daughter has a nickel allergy, and has a rash on her stomach from a belt buckle. She was complaining about it, and I mentioned it to my mother, who immediately made some nutritional suggestions. I welcome the opportunity as a chance for change. My daughter’s wish for nice clear skin makes her willing to eat better, so we are working on that. (She’s willing to eat less white bread and more whole wheat.) I prefer the approach of working with food to feel good as well as to support health, rather than food being an enemy I have to cope with. I also found a place that sells nickel-free belt buckles, and she actually found two that she likes!

Over the years, my mother and I have had some heated discussions about the pros and cons of various approaches to eating. At this point, I’m not so concerned about whether or not one of us is right. I still consider her approach extreme, but I am willing to take her advice on some things. For me it’s very important that I feel good and comfortable about how I eat. Just as eating disorders are about more than the food, so is healthy eating!

April 27, 2008 at 12:27 pm 4 comments

20 Years of Wondering: a different kind of journal excerpt

I wonder if I’ll be in this house 2 months from now. I am so scared. I need a shoulder to cry on. I am so upset, I don’t know what to think.

I wonder if there is so much to sex after all.

I wonder what’s wrong with me – why I ask for so much. He didn’t say much.

I wonder what her first impression was. I’ve been dying all day long to gorge and puke, and it’s been really hard, because Mom’s been around constantly – watching everything I eat, and so suspiciously!

I was just talking to Mom, and said that I wonder if Desmond is attracted to me.

Mom said she doesn’t agree with all I say, but has faith because I believe in me. I wonder what I wrote to spark that off?

I wonder if people still know right away that I’m a foreigner.

I wonder what expression I have on my face when I pass a bum/beggar and pretend not to notice?

I wonder if there’s something lacking in my diet? Maybe it’s simply a lack of sleep.

I’ve been in the tunnel for so long – I wonder if there really is a light? I keep thinking I see it – but it’s only an illusion, or perhaps a crack in the roof – because darkness sweeps over me again and still again to successfully obliterate any gleam of light or hope. There is none. I am destined to struggle. To be scared, miserable and sad. Oh, so lonely.

I wonder if everyone has gone through this? Ah, the ultimate of inner peace – unplug the fucking phone. There is so much pressure, so much bother, I need to get out of it. Fear – what if I’m really stupid? I am a fuck-up and nobody knows it yet?

Young people at Jim Morrison’s grave – I wonder if they hang out there every day? One guy had a guitar and was playing unusual, soothing, music.

At one point, he said something about my health being good. I wonder if he knew.

I wonder about Doug. Mom said if we’re meant to be in love, it’ll take many years. I believe that.

Funny, when the idea of OA first came, I wondered what to do until it was time to go. And now, the meeting has already begun.

It really is so different from anything I’ve ever known – that in itself scares me sometimes, as I wonder if it’s really true – really happening.

I wonder if it’s because I’ve stopped smoking? It really is strange. But then, there are so many possibilities – strange air in the new office, the bus ride. Maybe it’s the cockroaches. They keep multiplying and I’m feeling defeated.

Feel so young and stupid. At times like this I wonder if it hasn’t been frozen – a  Polaroid shot that’s taken 5 years to develop – of stupid adolescence. Need something to wake me up. Pushing hard to open eyes. And, God, that’s why I started this letter.

When I got here, my travel bag was on the floor. I wondered where I’d been, since I must have just got back from somewhere far away. But the light was on – and I heard a moan. Goldilocks (Stacey) caught in the act – in bed with her boots on. She ate too much porridge, and fell asleep.

Such a strong feeling of being in love on the one hand, while on the other I wonder how I would ever get out of here.

Maybe I should rethink it anyway? I wonder if it might not be such a bad idea to take it easy now – take the time to build up my strength?

It all seems so harmless, but then I wonder. I’m 24 – not 10 – so it sounds strange to think I’m going to see him to play – but that’s the way I feel.

I wonder if maybe I’m too busy comparing instead of making an effort. Observed us tonight – when I’m not so bitter, it is also fun.

At times I still can’t believe he loves me so much, then I wonder why, and wonder if I should hold on to him? That implies the fear of not being loved again – very improbable.

Probably right – comfort is NOT a good reason to get married. More and more, I wonder what a “good” reason could be – other than children. (And is that really good?)

I wonder if the bulimia is the reason behind the cramps all those years. As far as I can remember, I didn’t have cramps in the very beginning. I’m sure the psyche also played an important role, but the constant nutritional deprivation was surely a major factor. Was functioning for so long on so little energy.

The change bothers me – and I wonder if the focus on sex is a means of avoiding shyness and openness to love.

Creativity in life – as I please, how I choose – don’t have to prove anything, or provide evidence of worthy existence. I’m here. And I wonder how it all came to be. How we all got to be as we are, why, how different we all are from each other. Or is the actual difference less than the varying degrees of courage of expression? Still trapped, not kidding anybody. But working towards at least a taste of that luxurious creative freedom of life – of days gone by.

I wonder if I chose a similarly difficult marriage to that of my parents, in order to prove that divorce is not necessary. I also wonder if I chose someone to whom I could never totally give my heart – as a protective mechanism. I’ve always secretly hoped that he would leave me, since we are so incompatible. But, not wanting to abandon someone, I never had the heart to leave him. Yet I am so grateful to him. I wonder if things had to be so difficult so that I could enjoy my present life as much as I now do.

We’ve made so many mistakes, had so many critical misunderstandings. Sometimes I wonder if the damage done is too destructive to be corrected. Then I feel helpless, like we’re doomed, stuck together with no way out and no way to improve the situation.

I wondered why he asked – did he feel guilty or what. I said he’s free and doesn’t have to feel responsible for keeping me busy. If he’s out having fun, that’s fine.

I wonder if something else happened as well, although that really was traumatic enough.

From a distance, I wonder if it will really help. It certainly was a help last year – and towards the end it felt like I was just beginning to open up. My gut feeling is – therapy would be good.

I wonder if my hurt soul didn’t need that more than stage lights.

 

Contrary to habit, I am NOT going to explain this! Thank you.

April 26, 2008 at 3:06 pm Leave a comment

Making Changes

I love my cat, but I decided to be myself today, so I changed the picture. Although, when I look at him sleeping over there on my bed, it is tempting to switch places. He sleeps all day, gets up for a meal now and then, and goes out at night. That’s definitely my kind of lifestyle!

I started taking vitamins recently (my mother is a very knowledgeable helper on the subject), hoping that they will help with my mood swings. Well, actually, I’m taking them for other reasons, but a friend suggested they might also help with that, and I actually noticed I’ve been feeling better. This opens up a whole pandora’s box for me. I still don’t know, if this is just the ups and downs of life, or if it’s worse. Am I crazy or just different? I don’t expect anyone out there to know, but I just wanted to let you know that recovering doesn’t mean that everything is perfect all the time – and they all live happily ever after or something. It’s still up an down, just now I can deal with it better.

In any case, the universe, higher power, god, goddess, whatever it may be, it an essential element. The other night it occurred to me: It’s not WHAT you believe, but THAT you believe. Amen!

April 26, 2008 at 12:57 pm Leave a comment

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