Happy Birthday to My Blog—Now What?

“Everywhere is within walking distance if you have the time.”

Steven Wright

My father always used to surprise and delight me when I was a child when at random times he stated some often inconsequential but fun fact about our family such as “7 years ago this day, Mom and I had to wait in line extra early to get tickets to see Dog Day Afternoon.” Sometimes he’d have more significant milestones to remember such as the day we went on a certain vacation or the day he got sworn into the bar (for lawyers, not drinkers, although I’m sure there are correlations in some circles). He wrote it all down, and as best I can tell, by sticking to the simple facts, he was freed up to keep a very replete record of events big and small.

I don’t know if it’s as a result of that per se or of just being wired so similarly (I wouldn’t make a good lawyer, but then again, it was always a question to me whether his heart was in the law)—but I do enjoy marking time and remembering certain noteworthy events if only in my mind. Thus we have a birthday blog.

I said I was fearful to write one. This quickly gave way to being fearful I’d drown in the vast ether-wasteland of bad bloggers or worse yet, those blogs that get completely ignored for lack of anyone noticing they exist!

That has given way to delight that my very dear friends and some friends I haven’t even met, do read and supply the most affirming encouragement to go on (which is not a nice way of saying you have only yourselves to blame for this blog’s livelihood).

The original inspiration for the blog was having seen the movie “Julie and Julia,” three times in all. Considering how many times I go to the movies (and let’s just say that a full 50% of my movie going times these last 12 months involved seeing THAT movie)—it pains me to say that the only other films intriguing enough for me to break away from my sewing machine in order to see them in the theater had the words 3-D (are those words?) and Pixar embedded somewhere in the advertising.

I still smile every time I think of that self imposed mission of Julie’s, and in a way, I consider myself on such a mission this year—particularly since my formal work as a technical writer ceased in March of this year—2 days before my 46th birthday, another fact mentioned in my first post.

This brings me back to my father’s perceived mixed feelings about his work. I so want to have meaningful work, something that draws me toward it, even if that’s idealistic. I take it as no coincidence that this year brought the occasion of my brother’s graduation from law school, at age 43. 

I know, at least I think I know, that it took great courage for him to walk unhesitatingly toward the drum of yearning for this career, the same one that sometimes seemed to imprison my father, and darn well do it. Anyway. The look on his face when he walked out of the auditorium in cap and gown said it all and I perhaps egocentrically took it as a harbinger of a similar conquest in my life.

I spoke of my training as a social worker and a process of inching back toward it. Well in 48 hours my private office opens for business. I am volunteering at a crisis hotline as well, and am preparing a presentation to give to our couples’ group. It was so easy, really. I asked and they said yes—but what it took to ask is the story I’ve been telling in this blog.

So what lies ahead? Of course, as ever, I haven’t a clue, and I’m becoming more comfortable with as well as delighted by that fact. Writer that I was and am, the words may not come quickly but you’ll find them here as long as they keep coming.

Happy Birthday to my blog and thank you for riding along. 

"I have met the builder and broken the ridgepole. I shall not build that house again."

THE BUDDHA, UPON HIS AWAKENING

Who flips that switch?

“You think he's gone? He's not gone. That's the whole point! He's never gone!” Dr. Leo Marvin speaking of his patient, Bob Wiley in “What About Bob?”

Lately I’ve been observing what’s behind that switch. You know the one. Maybe. For me, it connects to two things, blind rage or compulsive eating. There’s a match made in hell, eh?

The overwhelmingly tired soap opera about this phenomenon stars me as myself, whomever that is at the moment, usually a woman on the outside but a disgruntled toddler within. I look as if I’m going about my life doing ‘the next right thing.’ Could be something quite mundane, like catching a nap, even.

My experience is that I go from whatever to waking up in this overwhelming urge to yell my head off or, less belligerently toward passers by, eat anything not nailed down (“Katy bar the door,” as my father might say.) All reason goes flying out the window, and in the case of overeating, I can’t honestly recall at those times why I ever wanted to do anything but eat my way through my kitchen, my neighborhood, my country, and this planet (and not necessarily in that order, either).

In OA, some say this is all the proof we need of Step 1, that we are powerless over food and our lives are unmanageable, if not in and of itself, then as a result. In Zen, we speak of these moments as the experience of becoming identified with a regressed part of ourselves, sometimes referred to as a subpersonality.

For me, it’s the real reason I stick out any self-improvement program. I’ve been haunted by this feeling my whole life and at times I feel like it owns me. Because I get there and see only all the food I can possibly eat my way through along with this unstoppable feeling that I must eat it.

I can buy into the notion that it’s a small, needy part of me confused as to what’s needed to feel taken care of. But not when I’m under its spell. Then it’s just me needing to eat and eat and eat until she’s done. I can blame some tangible things like making my hunger wait too long, or eating a triggering food like wheat thins with just enough of a hint of sweetness to feel an overeating switch inside engage. But there are other factors to, before it comes on, completely unknown to me except for what I infer by how I feel when I’m done overeating.

In Zen we meditate to that we can cultivate the mind of sitting still and seeing without judgment what arises. This compulsion is so perfect for this kind of observation, I know, although I feel blindsided every single time. It is a very counter-intuitive process of in essence waiting for the disturbance to happen so you can watch how it comes about. By disturbance I mean that which takes place mentally and extremely discreetly, to result in a landslide of emotion that did not exist but 5 minutes or 5 seconds before.

"A man is rich in proportion to the number of things which he can afford to let alone." Henry David Thoreau