Thursday 10 December 2009

My Sister Breathing Light

This is the season for gratitude, and almost every day for the past couple of weeks, I have been grateful for my sister.

Anyone who knows me – either virtually or otherwise – is likely to be wondering what I’ve been smoking, or if the four pounds I’ve managed to put on in the past couple of weeks (more on that later) perhaps is clogging my brain. (I can just picture all those fat cells greedily grabbing the fat like, um, me at a buffet, preventing the thinking cells from having so much as a single marshmallow.) After all, my sister and I have a long and tortured history. This is, after all, the person who said to me just this summer: “Who knew there was such a little body beneath all that fat?” The person who, when I told her I was going to try to give up sugar for a while, said: “I just can’t bear the thought of you never eating ice cream again.” Etc. Etc.

But for the past couple of weeks, I have genuinely felt like my sister would do anything in the world to make me happy. She’s also become so much wiser than I ever gave her credit for – is it possible we were always too busy fighting for me to listen?

We lay in bed one morning talking. Normally I’d have gotten up immediately and gone for a run, but it seemed important to suck up every moment with my sister. I listened to my sister breathe and had a sudden image of the last time we shared a bed: when my mother was dying, and we fell asleep holding hands.

“You know, everything seems dark to you now – all these areas of your life you’re so unhappy with,” she said carefully. “You think this relationship [with BN2] is the only thing you’ve got, but all these other areas of your life would open up if you just did something about that. It’s in your control. You’re so unhappy, but you can do something about it. I know it’s hard, but you can.”

She went on to tell me – in a nice way – that I hadn’t been myself for a couple of years. That I was never the person who took crap from anyone; that she thought of me as someone who did what I wanted (she actually used to tell me how selfish I was), and who always had something on the burner that I’d pull out at the last minute – and now, for my next trick. “We never knew what you’d have up your sleeve,” she said, laughing a little bit. “Remember you even applied to colleges you didn’t tell us about?” (I actually hadn’t remembered that.) She went on, saying that I’d done a lot of work on myself in the past several years and that I deserved so much better.

“I know it’s hard, but you can do it,” she said.

We talked a bit more and she sounded almost desperate. “I just worry that he’s going to propose and you’re going to be miserable for the rest of your life. Can’t I come with you and just get your stuff?” I remembered my sister and I visiting my mother one weekend and realizing we’d done nothing but set the clock on her VCR – something tangible we could do in an otherwise uncontrollable situation where we felt helpless.

“He’s not going to propose,” I said.

“You can come and live in my guest room,” she said. “You can do the dishes.” I didn’t point out that she had a dishwasher. A dishwasher in her gorgeous Capitol Hill row house that she lives happily in with a husband who adores her and a very adorable dog.

Later that day I tried on her engagement ring and diamond band. It’s almost a habit – she likes to see how it looks on someone else (for some reason that gives her a better idea of how other people see it on her), and I am still amazed that I can get it on my fingers (I couldn’t when I was heavier). This time I held my hand out and let the diamonds catch the light, the way you’d imagine someone newly engaged would. I thought of all the small ways my sister’s husband shows that he loves her; of how adorable and funny he finds some of the things I find the most irritating (that’s the very definition of love, isn’t it?) The sparkle seemed to taunt me: If you don’t do something, you’ll never even have a chance at this.

* * *

Saturday I had one of the worst binges I’ve had in ages. I could feel it coming on Saturday afternoon, like a migraine. There had been too many days and weeks and months of balancing things – of trying to make everybody happy and in the process, making no one, least of all myself, feel that way. It was like all the obligations and everyone else’s needs were squeezing me into a tiny corner, chin on knees, and I needed to inflate myself so I could claim some space back in the only way I knew how.

I don’t remember exactly what I ate – I know there was at least half a package of cookies in there, plus a muffin and some chocolate bars and some fried food. I just remember a point of jumping off the bridge, of thinking: F—k everything. I can’t deal anymore. And I’m not going to.

And then I ate until I couldn’t feel anything anymore but full.

I felt full – and ashamed – the next morning. I thought briefly about my reasons for bingeing – in the scheme of things, my reasons are pretty understandable -- and wondered if I were addicted to bingeing or addicted to beating myself up about it.

Anyway, I’m up somewhere between four and five pounds, which I’m not nearly as upset about as I think I should be. Normally the extra weight plus the prospect of several weeks of being out of my routines and eating lots of holiday goodies would have me in full frontal freak out, but I’m just not. I’m not delighted about it, but I just don’t think it’s a disaster. Maybe I haven’t got the energy to spare? Or maybe, just maybe, I’m a little bit better than I thought I was.

4 comments:

  1. Take care. I am glad your sister is proving to be a good support for you.

    Sarah

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  2. You're going through such a tough time it's hardly surprising that you can't be strong all the time - hence the binge. But consider how far you've come - you've really kicked the binge habit (I keep mistyping ginge habit which I hope you haven't kicked!) and this was a blip. I'm glad you're being kind to yourself (energy deficit or no) and glad your sister is proving such a good ally.

    love
    Peridot x

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  3. Beth,
    Glad to see you back and that you have the support of your sister during this time. It's nice that she is/was physically there for you while we can only be emotionally here for you. Lots of love, and don't worry about the binge - just one day and in the grand scheme of things not a big deal - you're still gorgeous!

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  4. Beth,

    I so understand everything you are saying. I am sorry that I don't have the words that will help you feel better....take care.

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