De-Friending: The New "F-you"

In the aftermath of this week, a good friend forwarded me this link (an article about de-friending in this new FaceBook culture):

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/29/fashion/29facebook.html?partner=permalink&exprod=permalink

Leaving Middle School Behind

I haven't been in Middle School since 1998, and I never want to return. Middle School was the time of cliques, petty arguments, rumors, awkwardness and overall hormonal insanity. I don't know anyone who can honestly say she loved those early teen years.

But recently, I was brought right back to those days...

I "broke-up" with one of my best friends yesterday. She was talking about me behind my back (the exact words are not essential, but they center around me dragging her down and needing to "find the right happy pill"). I confronted her and she couldn't understand why what she did was wrong. Her apology was, "Well, I'm sorry that you found out." Now, the problem is not that I found out, but that she did it to begin with. My explanations fell on deaf ears. She didn't want to hear what I was saying so she didn't. Through no doing of my own, I have been de-friended on Facebook, had all her pictures of the two of us deleted, and all of my photos of the two of us untagged. I have even been blocked from viewing her profile.

It must have taken her a lot of time to do all that. I'm sorry she wasted her time.

You see, I refuse to be disappointed. The friendship ended on my terms. I lost a "friend," but she couldn't really have been much of a friend if she was willing to do what she did. I must find and focus on the silver lining.

I learned my lesson in Middle School. I was the kid that got walked on (and over) on a daily basis. I was the girl who was teased for being the "teacher's pet." I was the girl who had other girls counting the number of times she was called on in class (and keeping the tally in the back of their notebooks). And I was the girl who got shot down every time she opened her mouth in class meetings. But I was also the kid that helped those same bullies with their math/science/English/history/you-name-it homework every night on the phone. I didn't know how to say no. I didn't know that I had the right to say no. I just took whatever crap they threw at me and tried to duck fast enough.

But I'm not that kid anymore. I am not helpless. I do not think that I deserve to be treated like that. I know that I have worth--as a friend, as a daughter, as a mentor, as a student, as an activist, as an author. And I will stand up for myself now. I did stand up for myself. This time.

As I think about what I've lost, I also think about what I've gained. For once, I have taken care of that inner, helpless Middle School child. I couldn't do it then, but I can do it now. I can refuse to stepped on or walked over.

Sometimes I still have dreams about those girls from Middle School. I think it haunts me that I did nothing to stand up for myself for all those years. In my dreams, I can give voice to all the things for which I never had the words. I was meek and timid in Middle School. Back then, I thought that what I would lose would be greater than what I would gain.

The truth is: you can't put a price on self-respect.

Gratitude

It has been an interesting holiday season. I have had my disappointments, reconnected with old friends and lost new ones. I have been scared for my health and had two MRIs of my brain. Things might not have worked out the way that I would have planned, but in the words of motivational speaker Les Brown, "Just because Fate doesn't deal you the right cards, doesn't mean that you should give up. It just means you have to play the cards to get to their maximum potential."

I must believe that everything happens for a reason--every bit of suffering, every disappointment, every moment where we pause to wonder what the world really has in store for us.

It hasn't been an easy couple of months--that's for sure--but there are still many things that I am grateful for. And if I pause to look at those things, everything seems so much better.

I am grateful for:

1. The moment of silence on the top of the mountain. The moment before I dig my poles in and take off. That moment of calm and serenity.
2. The feeling of my cat's fur when she lies beside me at night.
3. My parents.
4. My friends--new and old. The reciprocal relationship of friendship.
   
5. The feeling of galloping around the ring with my horse beneath me.
6. Hope.
7. The uninhibited laughter of children.
   
8. Health.
9. The soft, smooth feeling of the pages in a book.
   
10. The memories of past experience--those that are only my past, those that determine my now, and those that will shape my future.
    

I could go on. But I'll leave it at that. You may add your own, "I am grateful for"s in the comment section. Think of them every day and you might just find that the world (with all it's randomness and suffering) makes just a little bit more sense.

Secrets in Plain Sight

I think I have a secret. I don't mean to have a secret but I think I have one nonetheless.

Are you ready? Here it is:
Recovery is possible. It's hard. But it's possible.

A student at a high school told me last week that recovery wasn't possible. She told me that, because she had never seen someone who had completely recovered, I couldn't be. I told her she was wrong.

I don't know how to explain that difference between "in recovery" and "recovered." I've tried multiple times, in different ways (I'll save that for a later post), but the only thing I know for sure is that I have turned the corner and am no longer "in recovery." I am RECOVERED.

I have too many friends who suffer. I write this post for them. I want them to know that it is possible. I don't want to lose my friends to an eating disorder, especially when recovery could be right around the next corner for each one of them. It will never be enough to just hope for recovery; it has to be an active process. But if you work for it, you will get there. They will get there.

The problem, as I see it, is that not everyone can pay for treatment. I was fortunate---my parents were able to provide me with the best doctors and the best care. But not everyone can do that. In a world of HMOs and insurance companies, too many people go without the care that they desperately need because they simply can't afford it. I want to save the world. But the world might be a lofty goal. Maybe I can just save a few individuals.

I have to think about the way to do it. Maybe it's a foundation that provides scholarships for treatment (there are too few scholarships out there). Maybe it's just by talking at schools the way that I have been doing. Maybe it's about sharing my secret. I'll start with just one way. I say it again: Recovery is possible.

There it is. I guess now the secret's out...

Finally, It Is Time

I'm not sure how to begin...

I've been thinking about this for days, but haven't come to any conclusions. I've reworked the title of this blog a million times. I've started and deleted more posts than I can count. But finally it is time. I will not delete this post.

I can't for the life of me understand why bad things happen to good people. Why do we suffer needlessly? Why do we run out of money when we most need it? Why do men discard women like we are possessions---to be used and then thrown away? Why don't we (they) notice it when we (they) have it so good?

And why can't I save the world? Even with all of my best intentions and idealism, I cannot change the way things happen.

I was at the NEDA (National Eating Disorders Association) annual Gala Friday night. It was a wonderful night of dinner and dancing and awards. Dr. Cynthia Pegler got the medical contribution award. Zina Garrison, Olympic gold medalist, got the lifetime achievement award. And Allison Kreiger got the Youth Advocate award. It was an evening of community, caring and philanthropy. We were united against eating disorders. We were working toward the NEDA Mission of "a world without eating disorders." I don't know if I will ever see that day, but I will work hard to get there.

The work that NEDA (and other organizations like it) does is vitally important. It saves lives. But there is still work to be done. As long as eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness, there will still be work to be done.

We need scholarship programs to provide people with treatment even when they don't have the money or insurance coverage to pay. We need more helplines. We need more prevention and outreach programs. We need more people fighting for themselves in this life or death battle.

Basically, we need so much. I don't have the answers on how to get it. All I can do is point out the need and hope that one day we will get there.