Knowing My Name

(Originally posted on July 2, 2011)

Since I was a child, I have had many names: the nerd, the socially-inept, the disappointment; but also the crafter, the student, and (my personal favorite) the ever aspiring author.  For better or worse, they are all names I can’t help but feel I have known only as memories for nearly two years now.  I don’t know who I am.  I barely even know who I was, because she just wasn’t the sort I ever expected to allow our childhood depression back in.  She had conquered it, I’m sure. She knew herself with all her names and roles, hopes and fears.  But me… she wouldn’t know me at all.  She wouldn’t even know my name.

I have other things to fill my time
You take what is yours and I’ll take mine

See the world hanging upside down.
You can understand dependence.

It’s been about a year since I moved for just the second time in my life. The year before that was one of great confusion and restlessness as I began to doubt how well-suited I was to the traditional college routes I had undertaken.  I think something in me was expecting the move to somehow clear my head and make clear how I was to live my life from then on.  But it didn’t, and just a couple months in, I was miserable and faking my way through social engagements so my husband and his family wouldn’t catch on.  I smiled when I wanted to cry and laughed instead of screaming, and as I came to hate myself more and more, I finally made the unconscious decision that if I were to be nothing more than a shell, then I could at least make up for the void inside with a pretty exterior.

It was May or June of 2010 when I began dieting. It was innocent at first – cutting down on fats and refined carbohydrates, and trying to eat more “whole” foods.  Then the portions began to creep down.  My attempts to exercise daily ballooned from just a few minutes worth to over an hour.  The weight I had put on for the first few months after the move began to fall off.  When I looked in the mirror at night, I still felt hollow but I couldn’t help but hope and tell myself again and again that if I kept it up, if I could make myself beautiful, no one would look deep enough to find out all of my substance had faded away.

Now let me at the truth
Which will refresh my broken mind
So tie me to a post and block my ears
I know my call despite my faults
And despite my growing fears

My mood deteriorated completely. I had no hope or drive, and even the desire to write or craft (let alone the energy) disappeared completely.  I stopped speaking with friends and only maintained contact with my family for how much I missed them. My relationship with my husband began to suffer too as I became angrier and angrier with this situation I was sure had robbed me of my stubborn strength.

Months passed this way until finally in October, I collapsed after several weeks trying to completely eliminate carbohydrates from my diet. We visited my family for several weeks shortly thereafter, and when we returned, we decided there was no choice but to contact a local counsellor for advice.  We could think of no where else to turn.

It’s empty in the valley of your heart
The sun, it rises slowly as you walk
Away from all the fears
And all the faults you’ve left behind

Time has a funny way of passing when your focus is on internal mechanisms and not the world outside.  It feels like years ago that we last saw our counsellor and yet the months that we saw her still seem so recent, it pains me every time I think back to her asking to stop our sessions so that we could afford to have me see a specialist in eating disorders.  It hurts because I know she’s right.  Even with all the time she spent with us, I still careen from angry to aimlessly sad several times in any given day.  I still try to get away with eating as little as possible so that my physical body will make up for my perceived lack of personality, and then when I’m stressed or bored, I respond with a binge on any food I can find – anything to keep from examining the feelings and emotions that hurt. If I’m to be honest, this post is an example of just such behavior.  For lunch, I fixed a tuna teriyaki salad with a pita and hummus on the side.  I’ve been quite comfortable with this meal on several occasions, but I was so keyed up about returning to finish this post that I leant over to our “pantry” and proceeded to eat an oat and hazelnut Nature Valley bar, 1 hard-boiled egg, a handful of stale peanuts, half a kit-kat, half a Hershey’s chocolate bar, a pack of Japanese panda biscuits, a mint chocolate button, a snack-sized Mars bar, 3 Nairn’s chocolate oat biscuits, a frozen brownie, 2 Smarties tablets, and the remainders of a bag of pretzels.  I felt (and still feel) sick and disgusting, but that dark void within me kept crying out that if I just kept occupied, I wouldn’t have to face these feelings.

You cannibal, you meat-eater, you see
But I have seen the same
I know the shame in your defeat

I tell myself I don’t want the counsellor to have been right and that if she was, I’ve strayed so far from who I used to be, I don’t know how I’ll ever get back.  But sitting here now… I wonder if that’s just the void talking, trying to save itself, and keep me weak enough it can survive.  I named her Glados, if you can believe it.  The void trying to hollow me out, her name is Glados.  I, meanwhile,  was and (I hope still am somewhere inside) Sparky, the Steamstress. I’m Glados’ adversary, and it’s very nice to meet you.

So make your siren’s call
And sing all you want
I will not hear what you have to say

Cause I need freedom now
And I need to know how
To live my life as it’s meant to be

Glados is my siren, I think. She calls to lead me astray onto the shoals or shore, away from the sea.  I’ve been in the cave with her for some time now, and my legs are weak.  Most days, I even feel as though I’ve forgotten my name completely – that all I am is the shell Glados takes such pride in disparaging and nothing more.  But today… I can almost feel Sparky there, crawling back from the shadows to the cave mouth because today… today, I’ve written for the first time in what must be months now.  It was honest and it was painful and it took a lot of Glee, Adele, and Mumford and Sons to help coax it out of me, but it wasn’t stuffed down even by a binge.  And you know what? I think I’m going to do right by the counsellor and my husband and write this eating disorder specialist, because if it feels this good just to see the light in the mouth of the cave, I want to find my way back to the beach and set sail once more – not as Glados’ shell, but as Sparky in her entirety.

And I will hold on hope.
And I won’t let you choke.
And I’ll find strength in pain.
And I will change my ways.
I’ll know my name as it’s called again.

All lyrics Copyright Mumford and Sons. I claim no ownership whatsoever.