One Semester Down and Moving On

To say that things were great, when I came home from the Center is a lie. To say I was ready for the tasks ahead of me, is another matter. It was hard at first, and then it was smooth. The connection I felt for the people at the center was strong, but it was fleeting, and I had to work to actually keep up with them, and to ask them if they wanted to know about me. Most did, though the pull of their lives pulled them in, and I was pulled into my own life. The first three months were strong and full of promise, though there was a nagging concern. I came home to less money in the bank account, than I had ever had, and that money being gone weighed on me. I didn't know how to deal without it, and it felt as if I had been released merely to suffer. I struggled with the idea that God was punishing me, or trying to speak to me, and while things fell apart for me, others around me flourished. To judge my own spiritual growth by their standards was hard, and wrong, but it was easy to do, and I was frustrated! I was frustrated by the idea that I had done so much and I couldn't restart the way I wanted. I was stuck in a distinctive mire of financial woah that I couldn't fix easily, nor immediately. And as a man, having financial issues, in a downward economy made me angrier and angrier.

The second thing, i wanted to do was get off my Mom's payroll. Yes, off it. No more freebie gifts of money, I was going to be financially stable If i worked hard and if I prayed and persevered. Praying steadied me for a time, but I ended up crying most all the time. People who were close to me, would say you haven't given yourself over to him, and they were right, to some extent. IT was hard to see others flourish while I languished. Things I loved were being taken from me, steadily, and I hadn't found my new groove yet, it was without a doubt, the hardest thing I had ever done, and remains so.

At the end of it, my relationship took a nose dive. It splintered and I was broken beyond belief, because I had done the center to save the relationship, i had gone and spent so much money and it was over, in less than four months. My own spiritual growth was weak, but that was the end, i had fallen so far, I felt little connection to my savior, for all that kept happening were bad things. My account was overdrawn, my friends were far away, and the woman I thought loved me, was sending me away. I guess there is a small strange lesson in this, which I suppose I will study for the rest of my life. It hurts sometimes to use the keyboard and write about this. Perhaps a break is in order.

More Soon,

Me

Vulnerabilty

*Written in my Journal at the Behest of Matt P.*

For a Day and a half, I've been thinking over the concept of vulnerability.

Since being in Matt P's office, and looking at my one-on-ones with counselors, I've felt vulnerable, sometimes to the point of my detriment--I'm usually in control, (Or I feel the illusion of control.)

At the center, I cannot throw on the Academic mask. I feel like I shouldn't because wearing the academic mask has gotten me into so many problems before this. James is unable to hide behind his mask. I'm utterly ashamed of the fact I just started like about 4 or 3 sentences with "I" and I used "not" like twice. Looking at my hand-writing also makes me sick.

Coming here makes me slouch in the uncomfortable chairs. My chest feels heavy. All of this is like being in the playground again or off the bus, and I know the kids are waiting for me. I'm nervous all the time. I'm angry too at my roommates, specifically the ones who can't do dishes. I know I'm not special, but it actively feels like I'm trying to keep the place clean. Truth is, I feel like we're going to get kicked out, like multiple times. I feel like I'm back in the classroom.The world here is so small and manageable.


Even now I can feel myself shrinking. Nothing I do seems in control. I guess i need to stop care-taking others. Letting the pain out, has been something I fought. I have been vulnerable here since day 0, and and when I think I've nailed down by problems, my mind cracks and I retreat into being with others. Becky had told me, that my boredom is a symptom of something, and I think a lot about how much i have to be around people. I wonder if I will learn to be strong in myself.

The first lesson I learned in "vulnerability" was the Computer testing one. I was moved to a room, and you see, normally I'm really fast on the computer. I worked through those questions in under a minute, and then moved on to the next test, that is if the computer would let me.

Sometimes, the computer would not--and I was forced to wait, until someone noticed me, or someone told me to go downstairs and simply wait. As you might imagine this was frustrating, because, A. I'm good with computers. I don't mean good, I mean really good, and usually computers do my will. But these computers were specific, and they kept asking the same questions over and over and over again.

To say I felt Vulnerable is to say it clearly. I felt like they didn't know who I was, which was something Matt P and I discussed at length. The ultimate point was to see about my paperwork, which I had faxed specifically in advance of reaching the center. I was told by Christa, that they didn't have my paperwork. This started to really upset me, because A. I had sent it, and B. It had not bounced.

When asked could I use a computer to clear things up, the answer was sure, go to the library and I was sent walking and returned about an hour after they had closed. The closure of the building felt like the ultimate slap in my face, since A. They had lost my paperwork, and I was B. Doing them a favor. That night I went hope and sulked about what I referred to as their ineptness.

My roommate, Harold suggested little, except that he was going to bed. In the morning, I trudged up to the office, with the paperwork, i had brought from Dallas. I approached the desk and at that time, with nobody present to talk to me, I surrendered the paperwork from my trip, not the paperwork I had scanned meticulously into my computer, but the paperwork i had brought with me. I felt defeated and weak, but I wanted the nightmare over.

For a while, I sat there and questioned whether or not what they had done to me was a test, because it felt like a test. My roommate said to me, in some way, everything is a test. It was hard to sit there, and think they made me feel vulnerable over some paperwork. This of course was not the first time I felt pushed by the center, but it was the most memorable.

Vulnerabilty was reached on several occasions. On this one occasion, the day of the paperwork, I felt I was the most vulnerable I've ever felt.

Your Affirmation Leader,

James

Day 1

Day 1 (Or How I made a Bed I didn't have to and went Cold Turkey on Soda.)

When the Dawn breaks on the first day at the center, I haven't slept at all. All night I tossed and turned on the makeshift bed at the Edmond's Harbor Inn, which provides only minimal HBO and a number of Public Access Channels.

It's good to know there are abundant community colleges in Washington, and they provide public access channels. The Alarm on the machine next to my bed fails to go off. I wake at 5:30 and because the day will start at 7:00 a.m. thus far I am without guidance.

This day will begin soon and though Iam nervous, I work my room over. I do the inevitable look under the bed, but all I can find are the typical strange shadows that do not register I have lost something, so I shower and wash myself thoroughly.

15 minutes pass--I shave for the last time, and write down multiple numbers in my notebook, for today they will take my phone. This morning, I long to talk to Hollie, or anyone. This morning, the day has not begun, and I have drank my last soda. I decide that water shall be my friend, aided by the occasional iced tea or lemonade. This morning, I really want a soda, but the Breakfast Buffet has not opened, and I have not begun.

Shuffling outside my room, and I listen, a lady walks past my room, who I will later learn is named (Cindy) and I sink back into bed, only to watch a half-viewed Episode of "Mad Men"--how fitting.

The day has not begun yet. I shave in the mirror, and wipe down my own sink. I pack my suitcase tight, and tap in a few more text messages, but nobody is responding, probably because it is 6 a.m here and probably 4 a.m back home.

The hotel bed is made, and I marvel at it for a moment. Can it be that simple? Can I have it in me the ability to do this--without anger, without worry. My close shave stings a little, but It is the closest I've shaved thus far. I tie my tie, and grab my panama hat. My converse are tied. I want a soda bad. This should be a sign to me. I pray for a moment. My prayer is quick, and slow, and it is something like, God, will I be able to do this. The lock says, 6:05! I want it to start! (Each of these Entries is Unfinished.)

Day 0 (In-Flight and In Flight!)

July 24, 2011

"We all have a legacy--There's something bigger to my recovery than just me." --Victor Frankel

It is 1:30 when the plane lands in Seattle, SEATAC airport. To my left is a Chinese man who says very little, and to my right, an older hispanic woman who sleeps the whole flight. She also closes her window, so I cannot see the landscape change. as I saw from, Dallas to Phoenix--a sight which was breathtaking and sobering.

This was the bad flight, because it was becoming rougher the closer I got to Washington. For a moment, I could see that there was something wrong with me. This was real and I had wanted to lose myself in the idea that I was an ordinary tourist or traveler like the others around me. In Pheonix, I roamed the airport, waiting for the next flight. I perused the flights, stared at a 200 dollar silk tie, walked through the nearby Borders book store which was closing soon. I ate a steak sandwhich and stared out across the barren landscape of Pheonix. Dust clouds roll across the landscape. Giant brown rocks littered the landscape in patches, like giant pimples, but the city and the landscape look up to meet me, the landscape echoes me. Desolation, and dry despair but I am here, and already I feel like Sherman Alexie and the story, this is what its like to say Phoenix, Arizona. In his story, Victor Joseph is going to find his father. In my story, I am going to find myself and heal myself.

The airport is busy. My phone is at half-battery. I've pretended this wasn't happening the whole trip, but it's getting more real, the closer I get to Washington. A long dry wind surrounds me and I am still in the airport.

The Fiber Story

About the first week I arrived at the Center, I was still learning the ins and outs of Center life. After spending a lot of time in a "Home group," it felt a lot like school, more so than I first imagined, and as you might imagine, my time in Homeroom group BIB (Body in Balance) had given me a firm concept in affirmations.

From this point onward, I was writing affirmations, my room-mate, Harold had begun a specific regiment of walking late at night and I myself had begun to stick my affirmation cards on the wall. It was difficult slipping out because I wanted to keep my curfew, and try staying in and going to bed at a proper time.

Every day, for the first week, I wanted to rise about six, have "Flax" and write affirmations on a new day.

I made affirmations for myself, cutting at times images and words from the magazines and playing with their designs and passing them to people in the hall.

My wall was filled with affirmations, because for the first week, I knew almost no one, and it took me at least three days to ask, "Where is the gym again?"

Cut to two days later; I would not be seeing the nutritionist for at least a weak, and though I was eating well, and drinking water like a "mofo," and summarily going to the bathroom a lot.

This would be before the introduction of "Fish Oil" into my life. Fish oil and more fish oil and then that multivitamin issued by the Center.

(The writing alone on the Center's multivitamin package was at least a page.)

Well, after a few days, I began to get antsy, and I wanted to see the nutritionist, and I was unwilling to wait--I wanted to see her now.

Plus, Ray and others had apparently had blood work done, and I had had, what exactly?

Computer testing?

Right?

And on Wednesday, I was going to have more.

"*&$#@!"


So, shortly after my initial melt-down over the paperwork, (See later Journal entry on Humility) I began to write notes. I wrote notes, and more notes. My notes were tame at first.


______________________________

Dear Matt P,

I really want to see the nutritionist?

James.

_______________________________


Then later,

________________________
Dear Doctor K,

Can we talk for a minute, about some food choices. I need some advice.
__________________________

As you can imagine, my notes got shorter, quicker and they lost their formality. Inside, I wanted to know why my schedule looked so light, compared to the rivers of black ink the others were facing, not to mention the fact, that everyone had a balcony. There was a big window, but no balcony, but that wasn't a big issue, and then it happened, I was taken in to talk to Doctor K.

The two major doctors at the center are Doctor K and Doctor B, and i was scheduled for a Whole HALF hour with each.

Well at this point, Doctor K took my blood, and he took a lot of blood, at least for vials for something that he referred to as "Lipids."

At that point, I was taken in to talk to Doctor B, who started talking to me. I burst forward with, "Doctor B, I really want to get on a nutrition plan, so before i see Katey, can we jump start something?"

Doctor B, froze for a moment, as if , I guess, he was unsure if I was serious, so i reiterated. "I know some people say they want it and do nothing, but I'm going to assure you, you tell me to eat 26 onions a day--I will."

There was a pause, and the first thing he begin saying was about Fiber. Fiber needed to be upped in my diet. So, I wrote in Huge letters across my journal:

FIBER INCREASE! NOW!


So, was you might imagine, I started taking down notes, but the major note, that I kept returning to was the fiber. My amounts of fiber had to be increased. At one point, Doctor B, wanted me to increase my water. He began to talk about 6 or 8 glasses. I said. "No no no no no, glasses, please, tell me how many times a day to fill and drain my water bottle." He pauses. Maybe I was pushy. "Three times." I smiled. "Can do!"

Then I shuffled off for choice time and some quick shopping. I had it all in plan, and i bought some fantastic fiber bars! Then it started. The Gas. Yes, gas galore. One day, i sweat felt like a walking fart factory. I tried to release such natural gas into the Edmond's air, but the gas just kept coming!

Gas and gas and more gas. I started farting, really badly, like over and over, and in places where I said silent prayers that they could not smell or hear me. In my apartment, the roommates were talking and I'd slip down the stairs to let one loose in my room.

Fiber increase my ass!

Well, distinctly my ass. Because, I was a walking poop machine for a while. I was also a walking water drinking machine. IT eventually leveled off, but ab out a week later, Doctor B had us in nutrition class, and it was then that he told us about fiber.

Even now, I'm a little angry. Doctor B:

You want to increase fiber in your diet incrementally. Not quickly. Slowly because your body needs time to adjust.

I was stunned. You Bastard! You didn't tell me that, you mean, I could have avoided gas poisoning every child in Edmonds, Washington for about a week and a half?

I looked over at him for a second, and I swear, I swear, a smile curled to his lips.

Score:
________________
James E: 0
Doctor B: 1
________________

Moral?

Is there really a moral here?

I guess the answer is, not to push too fast, which I think the Center was trying to teach me, but like all things, I simply had to learn in time. Each lesson, learned at the center, isn't always a fun one, but I can guarantee that I'll remember most of them the rest of my days.

Your affirmation leader,

James