I've posted about how my birthday today is not going to be quite the celebration I'd hoped due to the horrific execution of Troy Davis in Georgia. Now, I want to post about how, well ... I'm twenty-five.
It's weird to think about how much my life has changed over these twenty-five years. I remember when I was a kid, I had ... no friends. I was teased a lot, and I don't know why. I've never been super cool by any standards, but as a six- or seven-year-old, I'm really not sure I was terribly uncool. I mean, yes, I was hugely bossy, but I don't think I was being teased for that.
And then we moved, and I made friends for the first time. Many of these people I'm still friends with today. All of us have changed a lot, and yet we're still together.
I went through weird phases with clothing. When I was young, I loved wearing pink, and I loved wearing skirts and dresses. Then I switched gears; I cut my hair to my chin and refused to wear skirts, insisting that my favorite color was orange. I didn't want to be a boy; I just didn't want to be a girl either.
In late elementary school and early middle school, I dressed extremely unfashionably, even for the late nineties. I mean, really, really, really unfashionably. Even throughout high school, I struggled to find a way to dress that I loved. I went through my punk phase (giant Hot Topic pants and everything), and then settled on boring. Experiments in fashion failed frequently. It wasn't until this past year that I've really put myself together, to the point of receiving actual compliments on my outfits. Huh.
My love life has had its ups and downs. First was the epic crush I had on a friend who had a crush on me. The crushes faded, returned, faded, returned, etc., never turning into anything, until we grew apart (or fell apart, more accurately). My first kiss was at camp, as was my second. My first boyfriend was a fellow musician, a member of the same Boston groups as I was. Looking back, I see how UNserious we were, but when I was sixteen, I felt like he was totally perfect for me. Our break-up threw me into a tailspin, and was the catalyst that brought me to therapy.
My first huge relationship was in college; it was with this boyfriend that I had sex for the first time, and learned how difficult it can be to balance principles with practice. The relationship ended in a huge emotional mess, and it took me almost a year to pull myself out and move on. It was then that I finally started dating for the first time, and even when dates sucked, I enjoyed it.
About a year later, I started dating my most recent boyfriend. It started out with boring dating, became a moderately interesting relationship, and then fizzled. I still had a tough time when it ended, but moving on was much faster and easier, especially when I realized that there was so much I was ready to give, and that I deserved someone equally giving.
Finally, I learned not to hook up with friends.
My heath has also done some weird-ass shit over the years. From PCOS to idiopathic hives and angioedema to ulcerative colitis to compartment syndrome ... it's been pretty ridiculous. Right now, it looks as if I might be emerging from this mess with my health intact. PCOS seems to have ... well, no impact anymore. I do have my LOVELY acne back, now that I'm off the pill, but so much of my weight gain was from the pill that I don't think it was fair to think that my PCOS was somehow in full force because of my weight all these years. Meanwhile, my periods are coming somewhat regularly, or at least every 35 days or so. Compared to before the pill, this is unprecedented. I used to go months without a period. So I guess ... it's gone?
Hives and swelling haven't reared their ugly heads, although I know that going off my antihistamines will change that. I was having some mild hives along my waistline, from the pressure of my belt, but I realized that my Zyrtec had expired several months before. New Zyrtec and POOF, hives were gone. But they're so well under control, I feel as if I'm finally free. I just have to take an over the counter pill. That's easy.
Colitis came back last summer and lasted about six months, but hopefully that's the end of it. I've been fine since January. And compartment syndrome? Well, that'll either be cured or not. We'll find out in a few weeks, when I can run again.
My professional life is so much different than I ever could have expected. Wasn't I going to be an artist? An animator? A flutist? A veterinarian? A farmer's wife? Even in college, I had no idea what I wanted to do. I still don't know what I want to do, but the difference now is that I'm getting my PhD. I never thought I would do that until maybe a year and a half ago. And here I am, in a program at BU, still in Boston.
My family circumstances have also changed. I went from being super close to my siblings, in a home with two parents, to living with just my mom and sister while my brother was at school, to living on my own and not speaking with my dad or his new family. My relationships with my siblings are ... complicated. It's a bit sad, realizing how far from ideal my family is. But at the same time, I still have a family that cares about me, that supports me.
I lost Lady, our dog since I was seven years old, back when I was twenty-one. I didn't think she would necessarily be around when I was twenty-five, but losing her was still one of the worst things that ever happened to me. Our bird, Kiwi, died when I was sixteen, and I didn't know how to mourn. Now, I have a beautiful parakeet, Loki, who is endlessly adorable and entertaining, and while sometimes I just want to bite his head off, he's very sweet and loving.
Didn't I used to want to own a lion? Yes.
Speaking of which, my obsession with the Lion King faded with time and was replaced by a similar, albeit more intelligent obsession with the Legend of Zelda video game series. My favorite TV show went from the Simpsons to That '70s Show to House to Friends to Scrubs to Bones. Somehow, I'll still watch any episode of Forensic Files that's on. My musical taste started with the Goo Goo Dolls ... and is still Goo Goo Dolls-centric.
I didn't know how INTO politics I'd be at my age now. I'm open about being a feminist and an atheist, two things which were absolutely not always true. I'm working every day to check my cis, white, straight, able-bodied, neurotypical privileges. I'm so liberal, it hurts being an American right now. My first time voting, I voted for Kerry in the 2004 Presidential election. We all know how that went.
When September 11th happened, it was maybe the third day of high school, and I was in class.
My best Halloween costume was when I had swine flu and stayed home as a "sick person." Okay, no, it was probably last year, when I was Hit Girl, but no one got to see :(
I will celebrate my birthday by teaching lab, going to my classes, and holding office hours. Then I'll have dinner with my mom and go out with classmates. Friday, I'll go to my classes and then go out with some friends. Saturday, I will do work and laundry, and go to a friend's party. And Sunday, I will have lunch with my grandparents and then be surprised by my childhood friends.
And hopefully, in another 25 years, I'll look back and think, "Wow, look at what's changed and what hasn't!" It's sort of inevitable, isn't it?
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Birthdays and deathdays
On the evening before my 25th birthday, at 11:08pm, Troy Davis was executed.
There's a lot I'm feeling about this. I'd rather not go into tons of details about the case, which are widely available through online news and Wikipedia. The gist of it is that Troy Davis was tried and convicted in the murder of a policeman in 1989 based on witness testimony, and he was sentenced to death. One of the witnesses was a suspect in the same case, and seven more out of the nine total have recanted their testimony, citing police pressure as the reason for their testimony.
I have never felt good about capital punishment. I don't quite see how it actually makes any sense. Perhaps if we were absolutely sure of someone's guilt, with no evidence suggesting otherwise, overwhelming evidence suggesting truth, and no sign of remorse on the part of the person convicted, then maybe, maybe, I'd say ... "Maybe." Because even then, what good does it do?
The person murdered is still dead. Capital punishment is purely for revenge. "You did this, and now I'll make you pay."
So what happens when we're not absolutely convinced of guilt? In the case of Troy Davis, the people with the power to stop his execution acknowledged the lack of evidence for his guilt. They acknowledged it and didn't do anything about it.
His execution was scheduled for 7:00pm, but he sat on the gurney, with the needle in his arm, for hours, waiting for the US Supreme Court to save him. They did not. And no justice dissented. Before tonight, I considered Ruth Bader Ginsburg to be something of an idol for me. Now, I'm just too shocked to even process the complete lack of dissent.
And that was the night I went from disliking the death penalty to actively working to abolish it. I don't know what's so different this time; I've already known I've disliked capital punishment, but really didn't DO anything about it. But something's changed. Maybe it's because I'm older. Maybe it's because I have friends and acquaintances who have been sharing and retweeting the heck out of this case. Maybe it's because I'm no longer ignorant about so many issues.
Or maybe it's because those people in power, people who had the ability to grant clemency, knew there was doubt as to Davis' guilt. They acknowledged there was a good chance he was innocent. And they murdered him anyway. They did it anyway.
Meanwhile, I've turned twenty-five. I've had an extremely difficult week so far; major family illness, news of a friend's imminent deployment overseas, and now the government-sanctioned murder of a man who was likely innocent. I've been missing someone whose friendship I lost this summer, and I've been struggling to take care of my legs. All in all, I feel much, much older than twenty-five.
And this morning, I have to teach biology to some first-year students, many of whom might not even be aware of what happened last night. It's so strange.
It's difficult that I've just started my PhD, and now I want to run off and get my law degree so I can fix our broken justice system.
There's a lot I'm feeling about this. I'd rather not go into tons of details about the case, which are widely available through online news and Wikipedia. The gist of it is that Troy Davis was tried and convicted in the murder of a policeman in 1989 based on witness testimony, and he was sentenced to death. One of the witnesses was a suspect in the same case, and seven more out of the nine total have recanted their testimony, citing police pressure as the reason for their testimony.
I have never felt good about capital punishment. I don't quite see how it actually makes any sense. Perhaps if we were absolutely sure of someone's guilt, with no evidence suggesting otherwise, overwhelming evidence suggesting truth, and no sign of remorse on the part of the person convicted, then maybe, maybe, I'd say ... "Maybe." Because even then, what good does it do?
The person murdered is still dead. Capital punishment is purely for revenge. "You did this, and now I'll make you pay."
So what happens when we're not absolutely convinced of guilt? In the case of Troy Davis, the people with the power to stop his execution acknowledged the lack of evidence for his guilt. They acknowledged it and didn't do anything about it.
His execution was scheduled for 7:00pm, but he sat on the gurney, with the needle in his arm, for hours, waiting for the US Supreme Court to save him. They did not. And no justice dissented. Before tonight, I considered Ruth Bader Ginsburg to be something of an idol for me. Now, I'm just too shocked to even process the complete lack of dissent.
And that was the night I went from disliking the death penalty to actively working to abolish it. I don't know what's so different this time; I've already known I've disliked capital punishment, but really didn't DO anything about it. But something's changed. Maybe it's because I'm older. Maybe it's because I have friends and acquaintances who have been sharing and retweeting the heck out of this case. Maybe it's because I'm no longer ignorant about so many issues.
Or maybe it's because those people in power, people who had the ability to grant clemency, knew there was doubt as to Davis' guilt. They acknowledged there was a good chance he was innocent. And they murdered him anyway. They did it anyway.
Meanwhile, I've turned twenty-five. I've had an extremely difficult week so far; major family illness, news of a friend's imminent deployment overseas, and now the government-sanctioned murder of a man who was likely innocent. I've been missing someone whose friendship I lost this summer, and I've been struggling to take care of my legs. All in all, I feel much, much older than twenty-five.
And this morning, I have to teach biology to some first-year students, many of whom might not even be aware of what happened last night. It's so strange.
It's difficult that I've just started my PhD, and now I want to run off and get my law degree so I can fix our broken justice system.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Two towers, ten years
It is really weird to be in my apartment this weekend, reading textbooks and papers, and realizing how much time has past. Not only that, but it's unnerving to think how the course of my life and the lives of all Americans have been irreversibly affected by one major event ten years ago.
I have actually been dreading this day for about eight years, which is the day I realized that September 11th, 2011 was going to be a day full of politics, where my identity American, ten years later, would still be questioned. All throughout this August, my heart sank as I saw all the retrospectives. It's not that I'm against remembering, against mourning those lost, against uniting as a country. It's that I'm angry at the way that this event has been used, much like a weapon, to tear apart the country I live in and give political leverage to men and women who would see the lives of so many Americans destroyed. And I'm not talking about terrorists.
Ten years ago, I was fourteen years old, and it was one of the first days of high school. When the World Trade Center in New York City was struck by planes and collapsed, I was in early morning classes. I left band class to find that there were TVs set up all around the school. We saw the smoke and flames, but like so many people, we had no idea what was going on. No one knew how this had happened. No one knew why. Even worse, no one was quite sure exactly what had even happened. And, to make matters even worse, I remember the very, very real possibility that other cities would be targeted, including Boston.
I remember watching the news a lot for the next several weeks. I remember that the radio that night played zero music; there were just people talking about what had happened. One young man called in to say that his father had died in his office at the Pentagon, and that he would avenge his father's death by joining the army and destroying the people who had done this. I remember flipping through channels one evening to find that nearly every single channel was showing a memorial concert.
In this one horrible, terrifying day, I feel like our country was destroyed. We have not been able to unify in the wake of tragedy. We were not able to effectively punish the people who did this. Instead, we're in ruins.
We have politicians who do not help us, who instead have petty arguments, abuse their power, and ignore their constituents. These are the kinds of people who would deny healthcare to the first responders, who are dying because they were heroes. Poorly executed and illegal wars have bled us dry financially. These politicians, through their decisions, have killed innocents, illegally imprisoned suspects, and tortured people. Instead of unifying our country, and standing up and defying those who hurt us, we're vilifying entire groups of the population for not being appropriately "American." Our consumerism still permeates every facet of life. Instead of being able to say to al-Qaeda, "You were wrong about us, and we will, as a whole, avenge the deaths of those you took from us," we have fought amongst ourselves, we have done a disservice to those who died, and we have validated the justifications in the eyes of extremists.
It's been ten years. Ten years ago, I was a freshman in high school. I believed I would one day be a professional flutist. I had no sexual experience, I lived at home with my parents, and even "college" was only a distant milestone. I had no politics, only strange feelings as I watched the coverage and mourned the loss of life and our collective sense of safety.
Ten years later, I'm a first-year again, this time in graduate school. I haven't thought of being a professional mucisian in years, and am fulfilling my subsequent goal of becoming a scientist. I have sexual experience, as well as a desire to be involved in sex education; I am living in my third apartment, with three roommates, far from my hometown; my parents have been divorced for several years; and college feels like a distant memory. I am passionately political, and dismayed to see my feelings from ten years ago have been identified ... and validated.
I have actually been dreading this day for about eight years, which is the day I realized that September 11th, 2011 was going to be a day full of politics, where my identity American, ten years later, would still be questioned. All throughout this August, my heart sank as I saw all the retrospectives. It's not that I'm against remembering, against mourning those lost, against uniting as a country. It's that I'm angry at the way that this event has been used, much like a weapon, to tear apart the country I live in and give political leverage to men and women who would see the lives of so many Americans destroyed. And I'm not talking about terrorists.
Ten years ago, I was fourteen years old, and it was one of the first days of high school. When the World Trade Center in New York City was struck by planes and collapsed, I was in early morning classes. I left band class to find that there were TVs set up all around the school. We saw the smoke and flames, but like so many people, we had no idea what was going on. No one knew how this had happened. No one knew why. Even worse, no one was quite sure exactly what had even happened. And, to make matters even worse, I remember the very, very real possibility that other cities would be targeted, including Boston.
I remember watching the news a lot for the next several weeks. I remember that the radio that night played zero music; there were just people talking about what had happened. One young man called in to say that his father had died in his office at the Pentagon, and that he would avenge his father's death by joining the army and destroying the people who had done this. I remember flipping through channels one evening to find that nearly every single channel was showing a memorial concert.
In this one horrible, terrifying day, I feel like our country was destroyed. We have not been able to unify in the wake of tragedy. We were not able to effectively punish the people who did this. Instead, we're in ruins.
We have politicians who do not help us, who instead have petty arguments, abuse their power, and ignore their constituents. These are the kinds of people who would deny healthcare to the first responders, who are dying because they were heroes. Poorly executed and illegal wars have bled us dry financially. These politicians, through their decisions, have killed innocents, illegally imprisoned suspects, and tortured people. Instead of unifying our country, and standing up and defying those who hurt us, we're vilifying entire groups of the population for not being appropriately "American." Our consumerism still permeates every facet of life. Instead of being able to say to al-Qaeda, "You were wrong about us, and we will, as a whole, avenge the deaths of those you took from us," we have fought amongst ourselves, we have done a disservice to those who died, and we have validated the justifications in the eyes of extremists.
It's been ten years. Ten years ago, I was a freshman in high school. I believed I would one day be a professional flutist. I had no sexual experience, I lived at home with my parents, and even "college" was only a distant milestone. I had no politics, only strange feelings as I watched the coverage and mourned the loss of life and our collective sense of safety.
Ten years later, I'm a first-year again, this time in graduate school. I haven't thought of being a professional mucisian in years, and am fulfilling my subsequent goal of becoming a scientist. I have sexual experience, as well as a desire to be involved in sex education; I am living in my third apartment, with three roommates, far from my hometown; my parents have been divorced for several years; and college feels like a distant memory. I am passionately political, and dismayed to see my feelings from ten years ago have been identified ... and validated.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Hurricane Irene
Today, the Boston area is in the middle of some nasty weather from Hurricane/Tropical Storm Irene, which started to hit yesterday afternoon. I actually slept through what I think was the worst of the Boston-area weather, at least according to the radar at Weather Underground. Right now, it looks a little rainy and pretty windy out. I haven't lost power, although I had some flickers about an hour ago.*
Right now, I think the most annoying thing about this storm is the "OMG SO OVERHYPED" reaction. I don't just find it annoying because of the political implications; I find it obnoxious because I'm really not entirely sure how the storm was overhyped.
Let's think about the Boston area, how much hype there was, and what's actually going on right now.
The MBTA decided to shut down today, after 8am. People were advised to stay indoors and not drive, unless leaving/driving was necessary. Coastal and low-lying areas were warned about flooding and advised to prepare for it. Folks planned in advance in case they lost power, or if they lost power and clean running water.
And what's going on? Trees are falling, lots of people have lost power, and there has been flooding in various areas. It is extremely wet, dark, and windy outside.
So, how was this overhyped? Yes, the storm weakened before it reached us (from a cat 1 hurricane to a tropical storm). But it's still here. And this isn't just a bad thunderstorm. And naturally, most of the people complaining online about the hype still have power. You're not hearing a lot from the people who've lost power; even if you have mobile internet, you're probably not going to want to waste the batteries when you're not sure when your power will be back on.
In NYC, the "omg overhyped!" reaction is even more unacceptable. Entire blocks in the city flooded. People died. That's not overhype.
And then onwards to the political implications. Because this isn't just that people crying "overhyped!" are fucking wrong. This is about the responsibility that government has to protect citizens.
No one knows exactly what will happen when bad weather hits. We don't know which houses will flood, or exactly which trees will fall. But it was obvious that the east coast was going to be hit with a major storm, and people needed to be protected. Governments made the right call and took steps to protect people.** If they hadn't, it would have been worse.
This is an example of government working, not an example of how government is useless or shouldn't bother itself with things like hurricanes. An example of when government does not work to protect people? Katrina. When Katrina hit six years ago, people were unprepared. Government was unprepared. And the death and destruction was absolutely devastating, not just because it happened, but because it could have been prevented or minimized.
So, the bottom line? If you got through H/TS Irene without losing power or having your life interrupted in any way, that doesn't mean in any way that the storm was overhyped. The storm wasn't overhyped, and because governments and people took the storm as seriously as they did, the storm isn't causing as much death and destruction as it could be.
* Had three more flickers just as I finished writing this post, around 1:45pm. GAH.
** An exception needs to be noted: there is no evacuation plan for prisoners in Rikers in NYC. Not just "there was no plan for this hurricane." There is no plan, period. While I believe that many people in that prison are in there for good reasons, that does not mean that it would be totes okay if a hurricane flooded the facilities.
Right now, I think the most annoying thing about this storm is the "OMG SO OVERHYPED" reaction. I don't just find it annoying because of the political implications; I find it obnoxious because I'm really not entirely sure how the storm was overhyped.
Let's think about the Boston area, how much hype there was, and what's actually going on right now.
The MBTA decided to shut down today, after 8am. People were advised to stay indoors and not drive, unless leaving/driving was necessary. Coastal and low-lying areas were warned about flooding and advised to prepare for it. Folks planned in advance in case they lost power, or if they lost power and clean running water.
And what's going on? Trees are falling, lots of people have lost power, and there has been flooding in various areas. It is extremely wet, dark, and windy outside.
So, how was this overhyped? Yes, the storm weakened before it reached us (from a cat 1 hurricane to a tropical storm). But it's still here. And this isn't just a bad thunderstorm. And naturally, most of the people complaining online about the hype still have power. You're not hearing a lot from the people who've lost power; even if you have mobile internet, you're probably not going to want to waste the batteries when you're not sure when your power will be back on.
In NYC, the "omg overhyped!" reaction is even more unacceptable. Entire blocks in the city flooded. People died. That's not overhype.
And then onwards to the political implications. Because this isn't just that people crying "overhyped!" are fucking wrong. This is about the responsibility that government has to protect citizens.
No one knows exactly what will happen when bad weather hits. We don't know which houses will flood, or exactly which trees will fall. But it was obvious that the east coast was going to be hit with a major storm, and people needed to be protected. Governments made the right call and took steps to protect people.** If they hadn't, it would have been worse.
This is an example of government working, not an example of how government is useless or shouldn't bother itself with things like hurricanes. An example of when government does not work to protect people? Katrina. When Katrina hit six years ago, people were unprepared. Government was unprepared. And the death and destruction was absolutely devastating, not just because it happened, but because it could have been prevented or minimized.
So, the bottom line? If you got through H/TS Irene without losing power or having your life interrupted in any way, that doesn't mean in any way that the storm was overhyped. The storm wasn't overhyped, and because governments and people took the storm as seriously as they did, the storm isn't causing as much death and destruction as it could be.
* Had three more flickers just as I finished writing this post, around 1:45pm. GAH.
** An exception needs to be noted: there is no evacuation plan for prisoners in Rikers in NYC. Not just "there was no plan for this hurricane." There is no plan, period. While I believe that many people in that prison are in there for good reasons, that does not mean that it would be totes okay if a hurricane flooded the facilities.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Two miles omg
I went out to dinner tonight with a friend of mine; we went to Burtons Grill and got the Restaurant Week menu. It. Was. AWESOME.
To get there, I walked about a half mile to the bus, and took the most almost all the way to the restaurant. On the way home, I still wanted to chat with my friend, who had decided to walk home. She agreed to walk with me if I chose to walk home, too, even though it was a bit out of the way for her. So I walked home, no bus. I didn't realize it, but it was a mile and a half walk home, not just a mile.
So I walked two miles today. And now I am absolutely exhausted! I've gone months without running and been able to get back on the horse fairly easily, but I've never gone this long without walking on a regular basis. Normally, I walk at least a mile every weekday, to get too and from work. So I guess I shouldn't be so surprised at how tired I am now. I could totally fall asleep right now. Yikes.
I won't, though; Loki is having too much fun running up and down my legs right now, having conversations with my big toenails. Not joking. It's very weird because he keeps walking over the part of my leg that's still numb. He takes great care to avoid the incisions; he's afraid of the left interior one, with the blister.
Oh, bird. But whatever. 'Cause I walked two miles today, suckahs!
To get there, I walked about a half mile to the bus, and took the most almost all the way to the restaurant. On the way home, I still wanted to chat with my friend, who had decided to walk home. She agreed to walk with me if I chose to walk home, too, even though it was a bit out of the way for her. So I walked home, no bus. I didn't realize it, but it was a mile and a half walk home, not just a mile.
So I walked two miles today. And now I am absolutely exhausted! I've gone months without running and been able to get back on the horse fairly easily, but I've never gone this long without walking on a regular basis. Normally, I walk at least a mile every weekday, to get too and from work. So I guess I shouldn't be so surprised at how tired I am now. I could totally fall asleep right now. Yikes.
I won't, though; Loki is having too much fun running up and down my legs right now, having conversations with my big toenails. Not joking. It's very weird because he keeps walking over the part of my leg that's still numb. He takes great care to avoid the incisions; he's afraid of the left interior one, with the blister.
Oh, bird. But whatever. 'Cause I walked two miles today, suckahs!
Monday, August 22, 2011
Embodiment
I've been thinking a lot about embodiment lately. Growing up in a culture that teaches women, from a young age, that they must work on their bodies endlessly, I came of age believing that I consisted of two separate entities. I was me, Stephanie, and I had this body that Stephanie was in. It's definitely a weird disconnect. It's not that my body was somehow unfamiliar to me. It was always that my body was a thing that belonged to me. It wasn't actually me.
I think a lot of messages women receive about beauty and appearance reinforce this disconnect. We're encouraged (in a heteronormative society) to want a man to love us for our brains, not our bodies. Some of us feel like "a thin girl trapped in a fat girl's body." Many of us look in the mirror and feel depressed that our external appearance isn't "correct," that it is not an accurate representation of who we truly are.
I struggled for years with these issues, and they linger in some ways. For example, as a diehard contact lens wearer, I'm sometimes surprised when I look in the mirror while wearing glasses, or if there are pictures of me in frames. Then again, as a diehard contact lens wearer, I'm quite unused to seeing myself in glasses. But spending years looking in the mirror and feeling surprised that I looked so much bigger than I felt--that was a problem.
I don't have a recipe for fixing embodiment issues, just a smattering of things that helped me. An avid doodler, I stopped drawing "myself" as slim. I started to check out online shopping sites that used plus sized models, even if I wasn't buying anything. I mentally checked myself any time I worried about looking "too fat." I would go sleeveless and remind myself mentally, several times throughout the day, that no one cared but me. I would wear clothing that made me feel awesome, instead of clothing that I thought would hide all of my horrible, terrible, unacceptable flaws. I started working on hair and make-up for fun, which switched my focus from "hiding and changing" to "decorating and enhancing."
I don't know if I'll ever completely destroy the disconnect, but it's a relief to lessen it significantly. I'm so much happier with myself and my life without the disconnect looming over me. And the funny thing is, as the disconnect lessens, as I take care of ME instead of MY BODY, I get more compliments on my fashion sense. Go figure.
So far, though, I've found two ways to erase the disconnect, at least temporarily. The first isn't that shocking--it's sexual activity. No matter how much my body weighs, or how large or small it is, no matter how insecure or not I've been feeling, sexual activity lets me be me, not just a mind and a body. The effect lasts for about as long as the encounter, usually going over slightly until I get distracted from thinking about it. I never feel "one" during sexual activity with a partner, and that's never my goal. I just love that I feel one with myself.
The second way to erase the disconnect is running. I guess running is similar to sexual activity in a lot of ways, and it's not surprising to me that both methods of erasing the disconnect are physical activities that make people feel good. But somehow, when I'm running, it's just me. Compartment syndrome didn't even bring the disconnect back; even though I knew the problem was with my calves specifically, it was still me, not my body.
I've been very ambivalent about my post-pill weight loss, and I've written as much on multiple occasions. I spent years trying not to obsess over my weight; obsessing over it only increased the disconnect. But now, like it or not, I'm losing weight, and I have no idea how much I'm going to lose before it stops, and what life will be like from now on. I like knowing how I function; I know that if I eat ice cream and don't take a lactase pill, I will feel like crap. So, what are the new rules for my weight? The old rules were easy: weight will go up about 5lbs a year forever, no matter what you eat, HAVE FUN.
As I've written about before, losing weight has benefits, even if I was happy and healthy before. This is a culture that treats fat people, especially fat women, like shit. So yes, I will be happy to not have as many people treat me like shit. But I don't like that my mom keeps obsessing over how "skinny" I look now. Yeah, I'm totally healthy, but she was excited when I lost weight from ulcerative colitis, and upset when I didn't lose weight while I had mono. It's not her fault; again, this is a culture that doesn't care about health as much as it does about fat vs skinny.
But the biggest downside is that the disconnect is returning. I look in the mirror and the person looking back isn't really me anymore. I look at my stomach, and it's not my stomach. My thighs aren't my thighs. My face isn't my face. My arms are still mine, only because they haven't changed. My calves have changed, but not from weight loss; I'll have to get used to my calves being floppy. But that's different; that's change I made intentionally, for reasons other than a disconnect.
The disconnect appears even when I'm not looking in a mirror. A lot of my clothing, especially jeans, fit differently now. Going to the grocery store today was so strange; the fabric of my clothes moved across my body so much differently than usual. My body, not me. There's the disconnect. Because after finally minimizing it, looking in the mirror and seeing me, moving around and feeling me, things changed, and right now, this isn't my body.
Embodiment is a tricky subject, but hopefully this resonates with some people. My goal is to see how far this weight loss is going to go, hit that plateau and maintain it, and get back to work erasing the disconnect as best I can. I don't want to be going through life trapped in my body. I just want to go through life as me.
I think a lot of messages women receive about beauty and appearance reinforce this disconnect. We're encouraged (in a heteronormative society) to want a man to love us for our brains, not our bodies. Some of us feel like "a thin girl trapped in a fat girl's body." Many of us look in the mirror and feel depressed that our external appearance isn't "correct," that it is not an accurate representation of who we truly are.
I struggled for years with these issues, and they linger in some ways. For example, as a diehard contact lens wearer, I'm sometimes surprised when I look in the mirror while wearing glasses, or if there are pictures of me in frames. Then again, as a diehard contact lens wearer, I'm quite unused to seeing myself in glasses. But spending years looking in the mirror and feeling surprised that I looked so much bigger than I felt--that was a problem.
I don't have a recipe for fixing embodiment issues, just a smattering of things that helped me. An avid doodler, I stopped drawing "myself" as slim. I started to check out online shopping sites that used plus sized models, even if I wasn't buying anything. I mentally checked myself any time I worried about looking "too fat." I would go sleeveless and remind myself mentally, several times throughout the day, that no one cared but me. I would wear clothing that made me feel awesome, instead of clothing that I thought would hide all of my horrible, terrible, unacceptable flaws. I started working on hair and make-up for fun, which switched my focus from "hiding and changing" to "decorating and enhancing."
I don't know if I'll ever completely destroy the disconnect, but it's a relief to lessen it significantly. I'm so much happier with myself and my life without the disconnect looming over me. And the funny thing is, as the disconnect lessens, as I take care of ME instead of MY BODY, I get more compliments on my fashion sense. Go figure.
So far, though, I've found two ways to erase the disconnect, at least temporarily. The first isn't that shocking--it's sexual activity. No matter how much my body weighs, or how large or small it is, no matter how insecure or not I've been feeling, sexual activity lets me be me, not just a mind and a body. The effect lasts for about as long as the encounter, usually going over slightly until I get distracted from thinking about it. I never feel "one" during sexual activity with a partner, and that's never my goal. I just love that I feel one with myself.
The second way to erase the disconnect is running. I guess running is similar to sexual activity in a lot of ways, and it's not surprising to me that both methods of erasing the disconnect are physical activities that make people feel good. But somehow, when I'm running, it's just me. Compartment syndrome didn't even bring the disconnect back; even though I knew the problem was with my calves specifically, it was still me, not my body.
I've been very ambivalent about my post-pill weight loss, and I've written as much on multiple occasions. I spent years trying not to obsess over my weight; obsessing over it only increased the disconnect. But now, like it or not, I'm losing weight, and I have no idea how much I'm going to lose before it stops, and what life will be like from now on. I like knowing how I function; I know that if I eat ice cream and don't take a lactase pill, I will feel like crap. So, what are the new rules for my weight? The old rules were easy: weight will go up about 5lbs a year forever, no matter what you eat, HAVE FUN.
As I've written about before, losing weight has benefits, even if I was happy and healthy before. This is a culture that treats fat people, especially fat women, like shit. So yes, I will be happy to not have as many people treat me like shit. But I don't like that my mom keeps obsessing over how "skinny" I look now. Yeah, I'm totally healthy, but she was excited when I lost weight from ulcerative colitis, and upset when I didn't lose weight while I had mono. It's not her fault; again, this is a culture that doesn't care about health as much as it does about fat vs skinny.
But the biggest downside is that the disconnect is returning. I look in the mirror and the person looking back isn't really me anymore. I look at my stomach, and it's not my stomach. My thighs aren't my thighs. My face isn't my face. My arms are still mine, only because they haven't changed. My calves have changed, but not from weight loss; I'll have to get used to my calves being floppy. But that's different; that's change I made intentionally, for reasons other than a disconnect.
The disconnect appears even when I'm not looking in a mirror. A lot of my clothing, especially jeans, fit differently now. Going to the grocery store today was so strange; the fabric of my clothes moved across my body so much differently than usual. My body, not me. There's the disconnect. Because after finally minimizing it, looking in the mirror and seeing me, moving around and feeling me, things changed, and right now, this isn't my body.
Embodiment is a tricky subject, but hopefully this resonates with some people. My goal is to see how far this weight loss is going to go, hit that plateau and maintain it, and get back to work erasing the disconnect as best I can. I don't want to be going through life trapped in my body. I just want to go through life as me.
Slowly but surely recovering ...
I had my stitches out on the 12th. The appointment ended up kind of sucking. The fellow who did the follow up had zero sense of humor, and she also had no real advice for what to do with the huge blister that was intersecting with my interior left incision. She did feel some swelling that felt strange, so she sent me to have an ultrasound done to make sure it wasn't a clot. (It wasn't.)
The next evening, I had a great time at a friend's housewarming party. First time I was really out and about (and drinking) since surgery; we hung out and played Rock Band all night. Badass :D By the time I got home, though, three of my incisions were leaking, my calves, feet, and ankles had swollen pretty seriously, and I was in some pain. One evening of elevation fixed the swelling, though.
Since then, there's been a general pattern with my legs and incisions. My right leg looks pretty damn great; one incision looks amazing, and the other is 50% amazing, 50% a little sad looking, nothing serious. My right leg stopped discharging first, and I can shower and put antibiotic cream on it without either one getting pissed the fuck off.
My left leg hasn't been as happy. The left exterior incision was the leakiest when I had my stitches out, although it got its act together after three days or so. It looks a bit angrier than my right incisions, but it'll be okay. The interior left incision is a mess, though.
The blister intersected with the bottom of the incision, which has left that spot looking horrible. The skin doesn't look evenly sewn together near the top. A week after my stitches are out, the incision has discharge every time I shower or put antibiotic cream on it. The discharge isn't pus, at least it doesn't look like it. It's more like serum-y with a tinge of blood.
The most disconcerting thing, though, is the blister. Most of it did dry out; most of the top skin has already dried and broken off. The splotch where it was is light pink (not from infection, but just an exposed underlayer of skin), and it'll probably scar, but it's fine. It's just the center that's the problem. There's a little knot of scab material in the center, and then a weird yellow squiggle shape. The squiggle is not liquid or abscess; it's solid. My friend believes it's devitalized tissue, which is essentially dead cells and ECM. If that's what it is, I'll have to have it removed. The squiggle is not getting bigger or uglier, and so I'm going to wait till my next follow up to have it examined. My immune system is famously overreactive, so I'm hoping very much that it gets its ass into gear to heal my legs faster.
I also can walk easily now, without getting tired, and without any pain. I still take stairs carefully, but I put less and less thought into it each time. Unfortunately, my legs, ankles, and feet swell when I leave my legs unelevated for long periods of time, but it's easily fixed. My first PT appointment is in two days, yay!
Meanwhile, the unintentional weight loss saga continues. I've lost a total of 21 lbs, and I've lost about 5 or 6 lbs since I had surgery (Well, more like I was down 19 lbs two weeks after surgery, and it took my body another week to get down the last lb to -20). I've had a couple of people express some concern that I'm losing weight while lying in bed all day, but I'm actually not confused about it.
1) Now that I'm off the pill, I seem to be losing weight no matter how unhealthy I am anyway. I think the general gist of it was that while I was on the pill, lifestyle changes that should have led to weight loss did not. But the thing is, I STILL maintain those lifestyle changes; they're only kicking into effect now.
2) Healing takes energy. That sounds new-agey, so many I should add that when I say that, I'm imagining my ATP synthases spinning wildly.* My body is more active right now than it was pre-surgery while I sit around and do nothing (except fuck around online all day).
3) I am not sitting around eating candy and chips all day, although I admit that I HAVE had some candy and chips this month.** For two weeks, my mom bought my groceries, so they were almost completely healthy foods, and then last week, I was trying to make the most of what I had so I didn't have to go to the grocery store--canned fruit, cream of wheat, frozen vegetables, etc. As much as I'd love to eat nothing except homemade mac and cheese all day, every day, I haven't been doing that.
4) I am such a lazy person. That's why people are surprised that I love running (and that I'd actually have surgery just so I can run again). I am so lazy that I'll often not eat because the kitchen is too far away. With my legs the way they are, this laziness has been seriously augmented. I also only went to the grocery store for the first time today. It's hard to eat like crap when you're too lazy to go out and actually BUY crap.
5) Now that my stitches are out, I have been a bit more active. I've already been doing arm exercises since my surgery, but now I'm walking around the apartment more, making short trips to Walgreens (not just for candy--mostly for more gauze and bandages), cleaning, and going out with friends.
In summary, I am definitely not starving myself in an attempt to say, "HA! Losers! I lost weight while lying in bed all day! It's easy!" Because, to be frank, it bothers me that I'm still losing weight while lying in bed all day. I hate not knowing exactly how this weight loss is going to work. How long should I wait to buy jeans that fit? Can my dresses be altered no matter how much weight I lose, or will it be impossible to take them in enough if I lose too much weight? Will I gain everything back if I start carb loading for running? ARG?!!
* COOLEST THING EVER
** I am in my mid-twenties. You bet your ass I will sometimes have candy for breakfast. Two days ago, I made brownie batter from scratch as a snack. What's the fun of being an adult if you can't do any of the things you dreamt about as a kid?
The next evening, I had a great time at a friend's housewarming party. First time I was really out and about (and drinking) since surgery; we hung out and played Rock Band all night. Badass :D By the time I got home, though, three of my incisions were leaking, my calves, feet, and ankles had swollen pretty seriously, and I was in some pain. One evening of elevation fixed the swelling, though.
Since then, there's been a general pattern with my legs and incisions. My right leg looks pretty damn great; one incision looks amazing, and the other is 50% amazing, 50% a little sad looking, nothing serious. My right leg stopped discharging first, and I can shower and put antibiotic cream on it without either one getting pissed the fuck off.
My left leg hasn't been as happy. The left exterior incision was the leakiest when I had my stitches out, although it got its act together after three days or so. It looks a bit angrier than my right incisions, but it'll be okay. The interior left incision is a mess, though.
The blister intersected with the bottom of the incision, which has left that spot looking horrible. The skin doesn't look evenly sewn together near the top. A week after my stitches are out, the incision has discharge every time I shower or put antibiotic cream on it. The discharge isn't pus, at least it doesn't look like it. It's more like serum-y with a tinge of blood.
The most disconcerting thing, though, is the blister. Most of it did dry out; most of the top skin has already dried and broken off. The splotch where it was is light pink (not from infection, but just an exposed underlayer of skin), and it'll probably scar, but it's fine. It's just the center that's the problem. There's a little knot of scab material in the center, and then a weird yellow squiggle shape. The squiggle is not liquid or abscess; it's solid. My friend believes it's devitalized tissue, which is essentially dead cells and ECM. If that's what it is, I'll have to have it removed. The squiggle is not getting bigger or uglier, and so I'm going to wait till my next follow up to have it examined. My immune system is famously overreactive, so I'm hoping very much that it gets its ass into gear to heal my legs faster.
I also can walk easily now, without getting tired, and without any pain. I still take stairs carefully, but I put less and less thought into it each time. Unfortunately, my legs, ankles, and feet swell when I leave my legs unelevated for long periods of time, but it's easily fixed. My first PT appointment is in two days, yay!
Meanwhile, the unintentional weight loss saga continues. I've lost a total of 21 lbs, and I've lost about 5 or 6 lbs since I had surgery (Well, more like I was down 19 lbs two weeks after surgery, and it took my body another week to get down the last lb to -20). I've had a couple of people express some concern that I'm losing weight while lying in bed all day, but I'm actually not confused about it.
1) Now that I'm off the pill, I seem to be losing weight no matter how unhealthy I am anyway. I think the general gist of it was that while I was on the pill, lifestyle changes that should have led to weight loss did not. But the thing is, I STILL maintain those lifestyle changes; they're only kicking into effect now.
2) Healing takes energy. That sounds new-agey, so many I should add that when I say that, I'm imagining my ATP synthases spinning wildly.* My body is more active right now than it was pre-surgery while I sit around and do nothing (except fuck around online all day).
3) I am not sitting around eating candy and chips all day, although I admit that I HAVE had some candy and chips this month.** For two weeks, my mom bought my groceries, so they were almost completely healthy foods, and then last week, I was trying to make the most of what I had so I didn't have to go to the grocery store--canned fruit, cream of wheat, frozen vegetables, etc. As much as I'd love to eat nothing except homemade mac and cheese all day, every day, I haven't been doing that.
4) I am such a lazy person. That's why people are surprised that I love running (and that I'd actually have surgery just so I can run again). I am so lazy that I'll often not eat because the kitchen is too far away. With my legs the way they are, this laziness has been seriously augmented. I also only went to the grocery store for the first time today. It's hard to eat like crap when you're too lazy to go out and actually BUY crap.
5) Now that my stitches are out, I have been a bit more active. I've already been doing arm exercises since my surgery, but now I'm walking around the apartment more, making short trips to Walgreens (not just for candy--mostly for more gauze and bandages), cleaning, and going out with friends.
In summary, I am definitely not starving myself in an attempt to say, "HA! Losers! I lost weight while lying in bed all day! It's easy!" Because, to be frank, it bothers me that I'm still losing weight while lying in bed all day. I hate not knowing exactly how this weight loss is going to work. How long should I wait to buy jeans that fit? Can my dresses be altered no matter how much weight I lose, or will it be impossible to take them in enough if I lose too much weight? Will I gain everything back if I start carb loading for running? ARG?!!
* COOLEST THING EVER
** I am in my mid-twenties. You bet your ass I will sometimes have candy for breakfast. Two days ago, I made brownie batter from scratch as a snack. What's the fun of being an adult if you can't do any of the things you dreamt about as a kid?
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