The Lowest Points of Bulimia

The bathroom floor often is where I find the most clarity.

Right after a binge/purge session, where I have taken in and gotten rid of so many emotions, I can almost visualize those emotions swirling around my head, threatening to take over my sanity. I feel hopelessness, helplessness, melancholy, despair, relief. I feel the weight, every pound, of all my problems and I feel entirely overwhelmed.

At this time I can admit to myself these emotions and that I do not know how to deal with them. And like a habit I turn to the wrong things, the deleterious behaviors to do so. I realize how much work I have yet to do and I hate that realization. How the hell am I supposed to fix all the problems? Where am I supposed to begin? I see possible starting points, but they all seem too much right now: the time and energy are just not here. It's a daunting task that scares me. So instead I push those thoughts away. And I eat. I feel stuck in the state of being/mind in which I am.

Lately I am an emotional time bomb: the most insignificant event can set me off. I cry too much. I want to talk about things but I do not believe people really want to hear. It is uncomfortable, what I have to say. I feel so alone and want to reach out. But I enjoy being alone because there are no questions to answer, no secrets to hide.

All of these thoughts come out while I sit on the bathroom floor, back against the wall, realizing the time but not wanting to go to bed. And while I am overwhelmed by the thoughts, I start to find bits of clarity in them. It's like a timeline all jumbled up and I need to put the events in the correct chronological order. I can begin to see a first step and suddenly life does not feel so despairing. But I hate how it takes nights like this one to realize these things. And how this feeling of clarity will most likely come and go a few times before it finally starts to stick.

I'm sure you know it-especially if you watch Glee. But this song is much older than that. And I really love it, especially in sad times.

The Stigmatization of Deep Emotions

Matt Erickson, a freshman at IU who graduated from Valpo this past spring, committed suicide.

I did not know Matt Erickson, although the fact that he went to Valpo automatically makes me feel like I have a tie to him. While our community is large, when something like this happens, our hearts pulse as one.

Reach out to someone. You never know when someone is in pain. People mask it so well to the point where they look happy and functional. It comes out when you're alone. And being alone becomes a state of comfort because we live in a society where the prolonged expression of deep emotions indicates a flaw. It's something that is severely misunderstood, and misunderstanding and lack of knowledge are the perfect breeding grounds for discomfort.

No one wants to talk about depression or loneliness. But then no one wants to talk about suicide. And at that point it is too late anyway. Talk about it. If you know someone, just talk about it. They want to talk about it. It's a negative feedback loop that needs to stop. Yes, it may be uncomfortable. But you have no idea what it is like to let someone talk about those deep emotions for even a short 10 minutes. You have no idea what it means to them. Be there for someone. These people are more common than you think. Just listen to them.

This is my all time favorite song. I spent a good deal of time about a year ago trying to figure out what song deserved that title. It took awhile, but this one finally won. The actual instrumentals and voice make it an unusual song and entirely unique.  It's about deep emotions. You not only can hear the emotions as she sings, but you can feel them. And ps. I knew this song way before Jason Derulo decided to chop it up.

Subconscious dream men.

Sometimes I wonder why I let people who know me read my blog. I believe it filters my content slightly. Before anyone gets offended, let me explain. Someone who did not know me would not be reading my blog because they are interested in how I am doing. They would read it because they can relate portions of the content to their own lives. Whereas the people who do know me just read it for that reason (I am assuming).

I bring this up because there are many things that have and are currently happening in my life that I do not know how would be taken by people who know me. Basically, I try to censor my content so as not to offend, shock, surprise, depress, or anger anyone. Yet I realize that by censoring, I am leaving out much of who I am and what I do on a daily basis that is significant to finding my voice. So with all of this in mind, I am warning readers that I am going to try to censor less. That does not mean I will spill everything at once and overwhelm the shit out of you. But I will start being more open and forthcoming about what is going on and I warn you that some of these things are not/will not be easy to hear.

You may choose to refrain from reading. But if you choose to continue following please note that I will be speaking candidly about topics that are often taboo and stigmatized in our society. Also note that while your support, empathy, and listening ear (slash reading eye) are always welcome, I tend to loathe sympathy and advice. I have enough self pity for the population of China and am highly skilled at using it on myself, I do not need anyone else's pity. And to be blunt, if I need advice, I will ask. The point of traveling my own journey is figuring things out on my own.

And lastly, knowing more in depth about certain issues may spur worry. I can handle the occasional running at night quip (although I can tell you right now you are wasting your breath and/or your finger energy), however, unless I seem to be in danger of physically harming myself or severely putting myself in harms way (skydiving, paragliding, train-hopping, and bank robbing not included), please keep your worries to yourself.

With that said, here is a happy song. Another classic in the life of Jourdan.

One thought I had today: recently I read (or heard?) that every person in any dream one has is actually someone one has seen in real life, be that even a minute sighting. I occasionally have dreams where I meet the man of my dreams and actually had one of these dreams last week. I was in London (duh) and I decided to see a movie by myself before I had to go work at Scotty's (obviously). Well, I happened to meet a guy and we just hit it off and then we were lamenting that I did not actually live in London and how would we do this long distance relationship (oh if only those were the extent of my problems). But regardless of the content, I could not tell you who this guy was. But according to dream science, I have seen him somewhere in my life. Which makes me wonder who he really is and why is my subconscious unearthing him for the role of my dream man. And this is not the first time my "dream man" has presented himself and each time I have no idea who he is. But I can tell you that they all have a tendency to have shaggy hair. Actually the last one resembles Eric Hutchinson (see above song) now that I look at him. I always knew we would get married.

Never underestimate Tim Allen's ability to make you laugh.

I received mail today from my number one choice law school I wish to attend. I'm always surprised when they send me stuff because I think how did they find me?? But then I remember I gave them my address. In the ginormous envelope was a reminder of application dates: they start accepting applications October 1st. Okay, whatever, I'm not applying this year, although I wish I was. Not because I'm uber stoked to be continuing school, but because at least then I would be accomplishing something in the direction I think I should be going. With which is a thought I seem to constantly struggle. Since I don't actually know what the hell I am doing in my life, any sort of revelation/accomplishment/assurance of direction is like discovering there's a Home Improvement marathon on TV when you're sick. I get a little burst of excitement and relief knowing that I am going in the right direction.

So I start questioning why the hell am I not applying if I feel this detrimental about it. Then I remember, oh right, this summer sucked ass, I was entirely overwhelmed with life, and I dropped out of my prep course. And it's better off I did because looking back on my time since I dropped the course, about 4.213% of that has been free time. So even if I had stuck it out, I would not have had any time to study and with the LSAT being this Saturday, I probably would have packed up my pirate pants and eye patch and headed for the high seas. Okay fine, Reason. You win this round.

Along with the lovely paper reminding me of deadlines, they sent me basically a short novel (with lots of pretty pictures) all about Lewis and Clark Law School. So what do I do instead of study? Duh. I set it on fire. But first I read it. And I'm reading all about this beautiful place where I want to spend at least the next 3 years of my life at a school that is equally gorgeous, not only in looks but also in the fact that they possess so many opportunities that will allow me to take the next step in pursuing my passion. So naturally (insanely) I start to cry.

I cannot tell if these are happy or sad tears or maybe a little bit a both. Sad because this next chapter of my life still seems so far away. Happy because umm hi...Portland, OR is equal distance away from the ocean and the mountains (sounds like another fabulous place on earth...Italy...). But seriously, I am reading the description of the law school and Portland and I cannot imagine a better place for me to spend the next portion of my life. This is pretty much the farthest west I can go and still be in the US. And we all know Jourdan needs to get the hell outta dodge. A liberal school and city that values the arts, animals, nature. A national park with OVER 600 NATURE TRAILS. hellloooooooo new running shoes. All of these things sound so perfect for me (and I do not want to hear any bullshit about how they purposely make it sound that way to make people want to go there. If you're thinking that, shut up. I've done my homework).

And yet ultimately I'm sad. I want to be there now. I look at all the necessary steps I need to take to get there and it is such a daunting list. By no means am I taking the mental mess I currently am to a new, beautiful place. This is not an escape, it is the next part of my life. There are so many things I need to work on, both mentally and academically before I can even begin this next journey.

And then I evaluate myself. Today, yesterday, tomorrow. And I am even more discouraged at the challenges I face. The challenges I have been ignoring for many a reason. So instead of trying to begin facing them at that moment, I pushed them away again. I pushed away the emotions, the struggles. A task I had begun to make progress on, but have been slowly reversing since August. It is my next challenge I must overcome in my journey. Learning to identify the emotions again. And letting them express themselves the way in which they need.

On a slighter lighter note: I realized, while listening to the playlist I compiled of all my favorite songs, that many people have not ever even heard these songs. Which makes me disappointed. And I realize that I have been hording all these amazing songs to myself all of these years and that is just not okay. So I will begin sharing them. Listen if you'd like. If not, no hard feelings. But your ears may forever hate your refusel.

Here's the first one. 

Procrastination, motivation, and cogitation.

Sometimes I wonder how I have managed four years of college with such a strong affinity for procrastination. The only answer I can think of is that my motivation has had to have weaned from year one. I think back on my freshman year when staying up until 1am was a late night. I clearly remember spending three hours studying for my intro to psych class and kicking myself for not starting sooner. Then with sophomore year came organic chemistry which I thought would be the death of me. Those exams kept me up until 2am the previous nights. I had a rule (based on what I learned in intro to psych) that I had to get at least 6 hours of sleep the night before an exam. This is due to the fact that sleep is pertinent to memory formation, and that studies have shown that six hours is necessary to maintain learned information the following day.

Since then I have unconsciously made it my goal to challenge that silly rule and subsequently my necessary sleep requirement has steadily diminished. I am not even sure one exists anymore. As long as I studied the material and coffee is available, the previous day never really ends and any sleep obtained can simply be considered a nap.

And of course all of this is being written when there is school work to be done....

Sidenote: Mad Men, if you have not had the pleasure, is an unique, intelligent, highly addictive show that I made the mistake of beginning this past Thursday. I am now two seasons in (out of 5) and kicking myself for breaking (yet another) personal rule: never start a new TV show (especially one with more than 2 seasons) mid-semester. For precisely the procrastination issue listed above. I do not believe it is in my genetic makeup to watch a show at a healthy pace. Instead choosing to hole up, becoming even more anti-social, in a perpetually artificial nighttime environment (thank you room darkening curtains), performing only necessary survival tasks until said show has ended. Similar situations have occurred for Grey's Anatomy, The Office, ER, Gilmore Girls, Lost, Dexter, Bones, True Blood. It is in this way that I am able to finish entire series quicker than the actors are able to recount them.

Now some of you who have not spoken to me in some time may wonder how I have been. I am happy to report that life continues to progress in a forward direction (there was slight worry of a 22 year reversal). Also, for those who are unaware, senioritis increases about 10 times your second senior year. Worriedly, I seem to have reverted to 7 years old where white clothing has once again become a magnet attracting all colored foods. And as expected, each day I tend to like people less and less.

As for life plans and decisions, I am in no rush. The more I think about it, however, the more frustrated I become. Choosing a career that barely exists, in an area where no one has any idea what you're talking about, doing things that no one has been able to do or even considered doing is much like putting on a blindfold, taking a plastic sfork and creating a walking path through the Amazon rain forest. AKA, it sucks balls (for those greater than 28, pardon my crudeness). Sometimes Almost always I feel like my mental energy is stretched so thin, that it really is not doing any good anywhere.

Another way to look at it: say you have $100. You want a new pair of jeans (from the Buckle- about $100), a cat ($90), a new pair of Sperry's (about $80), a deep tissue massage ($70), a new pair of running shoes (about $100), and highlights ($80). Shut up, I know you all want these things. Well obviously you cannot just go to all of these places, tell them you only have like $15 to spend there, can you just have what you want anyway? They will tell you that you are dumb, please go away. Then you will throw your money in their face and express your entitlement to your things and proceed to take what you want, shouting obscenities along the way. Then they will presume to call law enforcement officials and you will be taken away by force. Your name and picture will be in the paper. And you will have to use your $100 plus about $1500 more from your parents, grandparents, long lost cousin, friend's neighbor's son to get your stupid self out of this ridiculous situation. Where you could have avoided all of it had you only decided to use your money on only one of the things you wanted. Get it?

Moral? When there are multiple things you need to accomplish, do not try to split your resources and achieve them all at once. Understand your priorities and use most of your resources for your top priority, giving resources to other priorities as you are able.

I am most likely going to stop ranting for now.

For those who actually wanted to know how I am doing, this post most likely did nothing to appease your curiosity. Evading real life worries and problems with dry, sarcastic and cynical humor tends to be one of my specialties. So I suppose you shall (if you care to) continue to wait in anticipation of my next written rant, which may or may not come in a reasonable time period and equally may or may not reveal actual emotions.

A Broken Hiatus

I cannot believe it has been almost a month since I have written. Mostly for the fact that it seems like two years have passed. Since the beginning of July many changes have occurred. For instance, I cut my hair and learned a jig.

But seriously. I got a new job at Scotty's Brewhouse as a server. I dropped out of my LSAT prep class. I also dropped out of my 3rd summer school class. I saw Florence and the Machine in concert. I moved out of my old apartment and into my new apartment. I went to the store in the heart of summer and almost cried at the lack of watermelon and corn. I started my 5th year of college. I was alone. I spent time with old friends. Made new friends. And briefly viewed my life as a singleton with a "what the hell" mentality. I finished a book. Two actually. I actually went to the movie theater and payed for a movie. A movie that marked the end of my childhood. I went on a family vacation. I got into a car accident. I discovered a new addicting website. I have giggled and bawled and loathed and desired. And just when everything in my world seemed to be crashing down, I was filled with a peace that surpassed all understanding.

To be entirely honest this summer has seemed longer than decades, harder than life, and more hopeless than love. It has taken more of myself than I ever thought I would need to give just to survive. Yet, I did. Somehow. I will never know how to truly thank those who have walked beside me, from beginning to end. And even more so those who have held my hand and at times carried me. I can only hope to be there for you the day you need someone.

Mostly, I am surprised at myself. I am surprised at the resiliency and plasticity of the human mind. There is a term in social psychology called impact bias. Impact bias is defined as the tendency to overestimate the intensity and duration of our emotional reaction to future negative events. Basically this means that I predicted my emotional reaction to be worse and last longer than it actually did. And while it was pretty terrible, and I experienced it repeatedly, overall it turned out to subside more quickly than I had initially imagined or could have hoped for.

What is important to realize is that the events of this summer have changed me, as every significant experience usually does. These events have become a part of who I am, and I cannot evade them. Nor do I want to hide them. I am not embarrassed or ashamed of these parts of me. Because I have confronted them and vowed to work past them and move on. And ultimately this was my goal of the summer. My goal of this blog. To document my journey in finding my voice. And while my journey happened nothing like the way I imagined it would, I warned us all in my very first post that I had no clue what this journey would look like. And even though I have conducted this journey in the most round-about, inefficient way possible thus far, I can confidently say I am still progressing. Nope. I am nowhere near being finished, but once again, I turn to a new page in my life. A blank page. And I begin to write of new adventures on this road to anywhere.

You Gotta Tip on the Tightrope

Do you know what it is like to be entirely happy with yourself? To look in the mirror and just be satisfied? How often can you really answer yes to those questions? There is always something about our appearance we are trying to change. If we are happy with our weight, our hair is too bland. If our skin is blemish free, we still could be more muscular. And unfortunately it does not end with appearance. Our mentality is also affected. It is a circular trap that ultimately has no lasting benefit to us: mentally, psychically, or emotionally.

I believe in constantly progressing and striving to be better people. But I think many times we get lost in determining for whom we are actually improving: ourselves or the world's scrutinizing eye. It is frustrating to me how efficient society is at telling us who to be. It is frightening how easily we fall into society's trap. Society not only tells us what is beautiful, but also what is normal. Media and education paints a picture of what is acceptable and anything outside that realm is either weird, wrong or unhealthy. And while some of those things actually may be wrong or unhealthy, why on earth should that allow us to ignore these issues, or treat them as insignificant, or stigmatize them to the point that the silence seems the only way to cope?

I challenge you to take notice of every time you put yourself down or silence yourself from revealing an "unattractive" or "abnormal" quality. Not only appearances, but also emotional, intellectual, and any other less than desired quality in yourself. 1) Do not be afraid to share with people things that you, the other person, or society may find uncomfortable, abnormal, wrong and/or unhealthy. If talking about something helps you in some way, then rely on someone you trust. Yeah, it may be uncomfortable at first, but most new situations are. 2) I am not going to rattle off some 6th grade bullshit about "for every put-down you give, you need to give two put-ups. But get to know your put-downs. What topic do they mostly focus? Where do they stem from? Are they warranted? Sometimes it is just helpful to think about how we think.

Tightrope- Janelle Monae