[Read on to understand the nature of the title. This will be the first in a series that I humbly vow to maintain during my New Zealand travels as a chronicle of my adventures (and misadventures) there. And all new beginnings do so with an end....]
In the interest of self-preservation and obtainment of happiness, all troubled and/or unhealthy relationships must come to an end. No matter who they're with, a boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife, selfish friend or an addicted family member, all break-ups are all extremely painful. Indeed, the basic human desires to avoid emotional pain and resist change makes ending a relationship nigh on impossible; the very reason unhealthy relationships thrive the world over. But what happens when the unhealthy relationship one realizes they need to end is with themselves; how does one escape the person they've become?
I have experienced a mini-series of psychological epiphanies lately as I deal with my unhealthy obsessions, increasing amounts of stress, unstable blood sugar levels and, worse yet, a fresh reoccurrence of the panic that has immobilized me throughout critical transition points throughout my young life. I've written previously on my various attempts at psychological rehabilitation, and I've now undertaken a fourth in an attempt to leave my obsession with calorie-counting behind and ease my addiction to control. It's proven precisely what I already knew however, that I understand the inner workings of my own Mind and I also know the solutions. Yet, addictions die hard and I've allowed the fear of change and loss of control over my weight, and life in general, to completely commandeer my current life and state of mental health; driving away every speck of happiness I manage to muster. My thoughts are constantly focused on myself, what I'm going to consume, how many calories that food contains and what activities I'll do to burn them off, as well as obsessing over how to improve myself and let these trifles subside so that I can relax. Control, control, control; and it's high time I finally terminate this abusive relationship with the inner control freak.
I like my current counselor, because they are stern with me. Not know whether my low sugar attacks are causing the panic attacks, or vice versa, she recently gave me the ultimatum of a having a protein bar or going on an SSRI to control my anxiety. Sadly, I fear both almost equally. The protein bar could constitute calories I don't need, and if I eat one every time I feel anxious I will likely gain weight. Alternatively, I outright refuse to go back on an SSRI, which led me to a couple of the aforementioned epiphanies as I asked myself "what is the nature of this aversion?" When the counselor asked me the same I stated that I didn't like their side effects (anorgasmia is a real pain in the ass), but more importantly they made me feel like I wasn't myself. Namely, they took away my high energy 'passion'; in itself one the contributors to my anxiety as I get worked up easily by silly things, particularly when talking about politics and global warming or evolution-deniers. The first epiphany was the logical conclusion that I must like that aspect of myself if I don't want to change it with pills. Disturbingly, what I realized a few days later after mulling it over, is that I refuse to give those pills control over my anxiety; believing that I could and should control it myself. This elucidated just how deeply my control addiction ran, which disturbed me on a whole new level.
Additionally, since my last major (and only) break-up, a real hum-dinger the pain of which I've never been able to capture in written form, I've been completely focused on self-improvement. But much like The Phoenix of the X-Men, who blows up anyone or anything she sets her complete focus on, I have turned this determination and self control into a weapon that has finally dismantled my mental faculties. I need to break-up with that self-obsessed neurotic before it is too late. I've come to realize that the only thing she's really good at is keeping me ultra-thin and making me fell anxious; neither of which are qualities I'm interested in retaining. I'm stripping that identity/ego away and reverting back to what is underneath, my fundamental characteristics. These intrinsic traits, the ones I brought into this life with me and will take with me when I go, are certainly nothing to be ashamed of; though I may be a bit of a loud mouth I'm also smart, funny, honest and well-meaning. I love to dance and be goofy, but these thing aren't possible when I'm being plagued by a skinny treadmill addict who doesn't eat enough and is too weak to do much of anything besides calculate arbitrary numbers.
Here and now, to her I declare, "Get the fuck out!" I don't expect her to go without a fight, all egos will cling to preservation, which is the basis of every Human's fear of change; but it's a worthy battle the end of which will finally shed light upon the shadow that has persisted for too long.
So, with that identity gone, who am I now? Well, I got that answer today and it so precisely fit in with my future that I couldn't ignore it's validity. Earlier, while contemplating who I wanted to be, an answer I've known for a long while finally floated to the surface of my consciousness: I want to be a Hobbit. I want to be joyful, curvy, loyal, witty, adventurous and a bit ridiculous; live in the here and now, let life come as it will instead of trying to control everything, harbor a love and interest for all things nature, eat multiple breakfasts, walk everywhere I go and stay strong in the face of unparalleled evil. I made the decision (subconsciously, no doubt) to go to New Zealand months ago without being able to articulate why until now. What better place to learn how to be a Hobbit?! This identity alteration may even go so far as to include invocation of a new Hobbit-worthy name. I haven't completely decided to actually use it yet, but the name Eleanor "Ellie" Underhill will likely appear in future posts. Therefore, until my arrival there, I will mourn the end of my relationship and put it to rest, lick my wounds, let the hair grow on my feet and prepare for my training. I may count calories, I may have panic attacks, but I will also know that these are artifacts from a life I am leaving and they have no real power over who I truly am.
One of my all time favorite quotes is:
 |
| Allow me to introduce Eleanor "Ellie" Underhill, my new Identity. She doesn't give two shits about calories or social media, her only cares are her friends and the next mountain she's going to hike. |
In the interest of self-preservation and obtainment of happiness, all troubled and/or unhealthy relationships must come to an end. No matter who they're with, a boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife, selfish friend or an addicted family member, all break-ups are all extremely painful. Indeed, the basic human desires to avoid emotional pain and resist change makes ending a relationship nigh on impossible; the very reason unhealthy relationships thrive the world over. But what happens when the unhealthy relationship one realizes they need to end is with themselves; how does one escape the person they've become?
I have experienced a mini-series of psychological epiphanies lately as I deal with my unhealthy obsessions, increasing amounts of stress, unstable blood sugar levels and, worse yet, a fresh reoccurrence of the panic that has immobilized me throughout critical transition points throughout my young life. I've written previously on my various attempts at psychological rehabilitation, and I've now undertaken a fourth in an attempt to leave my obsession with calorie-counting behind and ease my addiction to control. It's proven precisely what I already knew however, that I understand the inner workings of my own Mind and I also know the solutions. Yet, addictions die hard and I've allowed the fear of change and loss of control over my weight, and life in general, to completely commandeer my current life and state of mental health; driving away every speck of happiness I manage to muster. My thoughts are constantly focused on myself, what I'm going to consume, how many calories that food contains and what activities I'll do to burn them off, as well as obsessing over how to improve myself and let these trifles subside so that I can relax. Control, control, control; and it's high time I finally terminate this abusive relationship with the inner control freak.
I like my current counselor, because they are stern with me. Not know whether my low sugar attacks are causing the panic attacks, or vice versa, she recently gave me the ultimatum of a having a protein bar or going on an SSRI to control my anxiety. Sadly, I fear both almost equally. The protein bar could constitute calories I don't need, and if I eat one every time I feel anxious I will likely gain weight. Alternatively, I outright refuse to go back on an SSRI, which led me to a couple of the aforementioned epiphanies as I asked myself "what is the nature of this aversion?" When the counselor asked me the same I stated that I didn't like their side effects (anorgasmia is a real pain in the ass), but more importantly they made me feel like I wasn't myself. Namely, they took away my high energy 'passion'; in itself one the contributors to my anxiety as I get worked up easily by silly things, particularly when talking about politics and global warming or evolution-deniers. The first epiphany was the logical conclusion that I must like that aspect of myself if I don't want to change it with pills. Disturbingly, what I realized a few days later after mulling it over, is that I refuse to give those pills control over my anxiety; believing that I could and should control it myself. This elucidated just how deeply my control addiction ran, which disturbed me on a whole new level.
Additionally, since my last major (and only) break-up, a real hum-dinger the pain of which I've never been able to capture in written form, I've been completely focused on self-improvement. But much like The Phoenix of the X-Men, who blows up anyone or anything she sets her complete focus on, I have turned this determination and self control into a weapon that has finally dismantled my mental faculties. I need to break-up with that self-obsessed neurotic before it is too late. I've come to realize that the only thing she's really good at is keeping me ultra-thin and making me fell anxious; neither of which are qualities I'm interested in retaining. I'm stripping that identity/ego away and reverting back to what is underneath, my fundamental characteristics. These intrinsic traits, the ones I brought into this life with me and will take with me when I go, are certainly nothing to be ashamed of; though I may be a bit of a loud mouth I'm also smart, funny, honest and well-meaning. I love to dance and be goofy, but these thing aren't possible when I'm being plagued by a skinny treadmill addict who doesn't eat enough and is too weak to do much of anything besides calculate arbitrary numbers.
Here and now, to her I declare, "Get the fuck out!" I don't expect her to go without a fight, all egos will cling to preservation, which is the basis of every Human's fear of change; but it's a worthy battle the end of which will finally shed light upon the shadow that has persisted for too long.
So, with that identity gone, who am I now? Well, I got that answer today and it so precisely fit in with my future that I couldn't ignore it's validity. Earlier, while contemplating who I wanted to be, an answer I've known for a long while finally floated to the surface of my consciousness: I want to be a Hobbit. I want to be joyful, curvy, loyal, witty, adventurous and a bit ridiculous; live in the here and now, let life come as it will instead of trying to control everything, harbor a love and interest for all things nature, eat multiple breakfasts, walk everywhere I go and stay strong in the face of unparalleled evil. I made the decision (subconsciously, no doubt) to go to New Zealand months ago without being able to articulate why until now. What better place to learn how to be a Hobbit?! This identity alteration may even go so far as to include invocation of a new Hobbit-worthy name. I haven't completely decided to actually use it yet, but the name Eleanor "Ellie" Underhill will likely appear in future posts. Therefore, until my arrival there, I will mourn the end of my relationship and put it to rest, lick my wounds, let the hair grow on my feet and prepare for my training. I may count calories, I may have panic attacks, but I will also know that these are artifacts from a life I am leaving and they have no real power over who I truly am.
One of my all time favorite quotes is:
"I am not who I want to be, I am not who I will be, and I am not who I was."
It eloquently suggests a Human's identity evolves throughout it's life, something I touched on in a previous article. If someone finds them-self in an unhappy existence, they can change their identity if they have the guts. Breaking up does suck, and changing ones identity is akin to ending the very relationship they've harbored with themselves and starting a new relationship with someone who may seem foreign to them, which is also turbulent. The whole affair is uncomfortable and takes time, but the silver lining is knowing that one can take command of at least one aspect of their life; refusing to be a victim to inner displeasure, empowering themselves and moving closer to the person they want to be, ultimately, to happiness.
