Angela and I

Angela and I
Showing posts with label warrior. Show all posts
Showing posts with label warrior. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 26, 2017

A Practice in Apathy

Even if you just follow me on social media, you have probably gleaned the fact that I am anything but apathetic.  I’m not a casual friend, or a casual fan, and I think that level of passion for people and things that I love is important and makes me who I am. It’s something I really pride myself in.  So when I was in the throes of recovery and my therapist told me to do a practice in apathy, my entire being bristled.  I’m not apathetic!  Apathy is everything I hate about the world!  I’m in it to win it!!



But, as everything in recovery proved to be, it was not as simple as that.  This was a kind of indifference I would learn to accept, and frankly would change the entire game for me.  It is still something that I practice, because without it, I probably would have just quit.

But...I’m not a quitter.

Everything changed for me when I began being apathetic about the way I looked.  A lot of you reading this have probably known me for a while.  You know that I don’t wear make up and I don’t brush my hair and I still wear clothes from the little boy’s section in Target.  You know that in high school I was never well dressed or put together.  You know that in college I wore dance clothes all day or a hoodie and jeans.  You probably know that I HATE the idea of someone else straightening my hair or doing my make up...the list goes on and on.  So even I sometimes look back at the disorder that held me in it’s clutches, one that is usually associated with looks, and am confused as to how I got to where I was.  But then of course I remember that that is not what anorexia is about in the first place, and even I am falling victim to society’s perception of the thing I know better than most people.  

Because I am the passionate, go-getter individual that I am, when I started recovery I set a very high goal for myself.  I remember saying the words out loud to my therapist.  “I am going to love my whole self, 100% of the time.”  She laughed at me.  She literally laughed, and said, “that’s an impossible goal, Katie.  I’m not letting you set that.”   I was angry at her for doubting me.  Hey, you barely even know me!!  You don’t know what I’m capable of!  But it’s true...I would be disappointed every single day when I woke up and looked at myself in the mirror and didn’t fall in love with the broken, changing girl in front of me.  She was trying so hard.  

But then, I decided to practice apathy.  What if I didn’t set out everyday to love my entire self?   What if I set out, instead, to just not care?  I wasn’t put on this earth to be skinny.  I wasn’t put on this earth to be beautiful.  So what if...what if I just didn’t care?  And in that moment, something clicked.  It was like I was finally seeing the whole point of recovery, and body positivity, and self love.  It’s not about saying “I’m beautiful the way I am.”   It’s about saying “I exist.  I am here, and that’s an amazing thing.  I’m allowed. No matter what.”  

This practice bled over to other aspects of my life.  I started not caring about people’s perception of me as a whole, not just my looks.  I started not caring about loving things out loud.  I started not caring if people didn’t like the things I liked, or made fun of the music I listen to.  I started not caring that I took up space, that my laugh literally echoes off of buildings because it’s so loud, that my hair is never neat, and that sometimes I take stuff to the extreme.  These may all seem like very elementary lessons, but you’d be surprised how hard they are to fully embrace.  I still have trouble  But there just comes a point where you can’t care anymore.  Life is too short, and way too wonderful. I could very easily get wrapped up in the fact that I am literally twice the size I used to be, or that I don’t get cast anymore, or that I don’t get complimented on my looks very often, because that’s what this weirdo society wants me to focus on.  But instead...I just don’t really care anymore.  I exist.  I’m allowed.  No matter what.



I don’t expect you to wake up one day and be like “wow, KT was right.  I don’t care anymore!  I’m free!!” because that’s not how life works.  I also don't expect this to fix all your problems. It's one very small puzzle piece in the whole picture. It’s a practice, not a performance.  I still have trouble with it, because I’m human, and so are all of you.  It’s not easy.  It’s work!  But, it really does make a difference, little by little.   And if you’re struggling with where to start, message me, or text me, or comment on this post and I will tell you all the things I love about you that have nothing to do with how you look.  I’m sure there are at least a hundred.  

You exist.  You’re allowed. No matter what.

Peace, Love, and Orange Juice,

KT

Saturday, December 27, 2014

2014

...So that’s how I started my new year. 2014. With tunnel vision from lack of oxygen. With my brother stroking my back, telling me to just breathe, you’ll get through this. With me wishing I didn’t have to feel anymore. With my mother in tears telling me she can’t keep watching me kill myself.  

In 2014 I...

Relapsed.
Cried.
Had lots of panic attacks.
Played Bingo.
Had numerous days when I couldn't get out of bed.
Spent countless hours on my living room couch.
Missed Emily.
Hated Emily.
Hated myself.
Yelled at Emily.
Played a lot of ukulele.
Watched a lot of Netflix..
Thought I would never get passed the bad part of recovery.
Rediscovered how fucking awesome my curls are.
Was in a parade.
Entered a pageant.
Got banned from a pageant.
Got fired.
Quit.
Went to a lot of therapy.
Wrote a lot of songs.
Relapsed again.
Spent a lot of time on tumblr.
Faked it.
Did a lot of art.
Reconnected with amazing friends.
Went to Savannah.
Moved to St. Pete.
Made some best friends.
Fell in love with a few Burnt Part Boys.
Went to the beach.
Watched a lot of soccer.
Climbed that mountain.
Looked up and headed for the sun.
Missed my boys.
Got an apartment.
Relapsed again.
Went into the woods.
Waited in the dark until I set myself free.
Knew things now.
Cried a lot.
Cried some more.
Won an award.
Conquered some demons.
Made some more friends.
Found a family.
Had a lot of feelings.
Wrote.
Sang.
Freaked out.
Wrote some more.
Finished a musical.
Shared that musical.
Went back again, only different than before.



Top 5 Moments of 2014:

1. Burnt Part Boys
2. Getting my tiny home
3. TTB Awards
4. Into the Woods
5. Full

Now let's see how I did with those resolutions....
1. Kick Emily Out 
2. Finish my musical
3. Up my yoga game 
4. Up my uke game 
5. Blog
6. Get back to NYC - This resolution was made when I still felt like I was failing at being a human and the only way to stop failing was to somehow get back to New York City.  Little did I know what the universe had in store for me.  Instead of schlepping my way back to a restaurant job in the big apple, I went south to St. Pete where I have found so much happiness, artistic fulfillment, and the best family a girl could ask for.  I still want to get back to NYC eventually (Mike and Miriam, I can't promise emotional stability as a roomie, but I can promise that we will always have the CUTEST APARTMENT IN THE WORLD and I will always walk our hypothetical future dog), but I really really love where I am right now, and I am proud to call St. Pete home.

Get at me, 2015...


Thursday, October 16, 2014

Gained.

There are a lot of horrifying moments in recovery.  To count them all would be impossible.  Moments of shame and humiliation.  There are moments you wake up so hungry that you feel like a feral child and find yourself sitting in front of an open fridge eating ketchup out of a bottle.  There are moments you turn on the faucet in the bathroom so no one hears you getting the scales out of the closet.  There are moments you look down at your plate and realize that you actually ate that fear food...and now what??


The hardest moments for me happen in the morning, when I have to shower and get dressed.  Even though I know it's physically impossible, it often feels like I have SURELY gained 20 pounds overnight. Putting on pants that I haven't worn in a few weeks is like summitting a mountain. Looking at my arms is like facing a tank of poisonous snakes.  I think I could take my body filling out any day over my face, but then there are moments when I think the opposite.  Taking pictures is actually torture, and yet I feel this strange pressure to take them and LIKE THEM.  Why?!  Why do I do this to myself?!  I could very easily just not allow people to take my picture, and not take any of myself...I'm still trying to crack this mystery.

ANYWAY, I have definitely gained weight.  I don't know how much because I hid my scales after about a week in April when I was obsessively checking.  Like multiple times a day.  Numbers are my biggest OCD trigger, and so for whatever reason for a week I was weighing myself about 5 times a day.  Again, WHY?!

The thing about gaining weight in recovery is that our brains are SO used to it feeling like a failure that it is extremely hard to view it as a victory.  That is why I try to focus on other things I have gained that are definitely victories.

I have gained...

-Brain space: sometimes it amazes me how much better I am able to focus on things. True story...there are full performances of Spring Awakening that I can't remember because I was so preoccupied with disordered thoughts.  Good thing I knew the show well...

-Healthier hair: My prrrrrecious.

-Friends: I am more open to new friendships and just easier to be around.  I don't cancel plans, I make them.

-Freedom to be my true extroverted self: I am so over pretending I'm an introvert.  My disorder is an introvert. KT is an outspoken, loud, extroverted, choir kid, musical theatre fangirl who makes no apologies for loving the CRAP out of everything.

-Strength and flexibility: It's so weird, when you starve yourself your body doesn't work.

-Vocal range and power: I love belting.



I have gained so much in recovery.  Every day is a new challenge and a new battle, but I will continue to be a warrior and fight the negative voices in my head telling me that gaining happiness is somehow a failure.  That somehow I don't deserve it.  Because we ALL deserve to be happy, and we shouldn't settle for anything less.