Beyond The Cock-shots

I wrote the following piece for a New Zealand 'news' (I use that word here very loosely) site called stuff.co.nz as they'd asked for contributions on the subject of finding love online. It was published but changed without my knowledge or authorisation. They retitled it: 'Finally finding wonderful online', added a stock image of a wanky young couple with equally wanky blurb: "SHOE ON THE OTHER FOOT: Why is it so difficult for a modern woman to figure out how to properly romance a man?" That blurb disgusts me on many levels and is completely contradictory to the message I was trying to get across.

I've since written to the editor to try and get it removed although I doubt that will happen. I decided to post it on here so that it could be posted how it was supposed to be read, and so that they get less hits from my friends who might click my link and decide to read it. Hope you enjoy...

BEYOND THE COCK-SHOTS - Geni McCallum

Rob Lowe - 'Parks and Recreation'

I've never had a problem with talking to strangers.

When I was studying and living in central Wellington, some of the most interesting conversations I ever had took place at bus stops, queues for coffee, turbulent airplanes and even within hospital waiting rooms.

When I was younger it sometimes led to me ask someone if they wanted to get coffee sometime, or vice versa, and I met great and not so great people dating that way.

Once I moved back to Christchurch I found it more difficult to meet people, and as I was an already seasoned geek, I naturally gravitated to online dating.

At first it was fun, judging people based on such a tiny bit of information about them, but soon it just felt a bit depressing.

FindSomeone was often full of men and women much older than me, looking for a serious relationship right off the bat. I was more interested in meeting new people and potentially dating them, if we happened to hit it off.

I've noticed that in relation to other countries, we often leave very little time to get to know people before we prematurely jump in the sack with them, and/or label them our significant other. As a woman, dating was often seen as being 'skanky', even though I was very open about it and never led someone on if I felt like it wasn't working out.

I went on quite a few dates, and figured out that a good way to determine whether there was any chemistry between us was to call them up and have a chat.

Gut instincts work incredibly well on this type of dating platform. Personally, if I had always listened to them, I wouldn't have ended up in some of the incredibly dangerous situations that I only narrowly escaped.

If Facebook had been around back then, I probably would have cyber-stalked them a little too, just to feel them out a bit before meeting in public.

I once met a guy who at first seemed really nice, but as soon as I met him I knew I just wasn't attracted to him. I let him know pretty quickly that whilst he seemed like a great guy, I just wasn't feeling it.

He decided to take that as a challenge and proceeded to attempt to 'sell himself up'. There is nothing worse than being stuck in a date with someone who won't shut up about themselves, even after you've tried to say you're not interested in them. Apart perhaps from realising he's following you out the door.

I said goodbye and then he stalked me (while texting me) for a bit, gave up and I walked back to my car, looking backwards every two seconds. Sadly, that's not nearly the dodgiest situation I managed to find myself in, but it's the only one I'm willing to publicly share.

I'd like to note that there will be no victim-shaming or sexist rants here (towards or against either sex). However, it should be understood that not everyone will be who they say they are. Once a guy turned up to meet me - his profile photo was of a completely different person!.

Whether you identify as straight, bi, gay, trans, male, female, or another label, please make sure you meet people in a public place and make a rule to stay there for the first date. It is NOT your fault if something happens to you and you decide to act otherwise, I just know that not everyone will be as lucky as I was to get away safely.

On a more positive note, I met my partner five years ago online.

Bizarrely enough we found each other, wading through the many, many unicorn proposals (a twosome wanting you to complete their threesome), sociopaths (I dated a guy for three months who lived a double life, complete with new-born baby and live-in girlfriend) and general liars on NZDating.

I met someone I never would have dated in real life, someone who turned out to tick all the boxes I never knew I wanted, and un-tick so many of the silly ones I'd naively created for myself over the years.

Despite both the horror stories and generally lovely people, (who mutually just didn't 'click'), I met someone pretty great.

I quickly knew from the insanely cute profile picture of him and his two-year old daughter, long winded, bluntly honest self-description he'd written of himself at 2AM, and effortless five-hour phone call we had before we met.

So while I don't prescribe to 'The ONE' or 'Other Half' mentality, nor do I believe we will necessarily last until one of us is dead (credit Dan Savage), I love and feel lucky to have found and have him in my life.

I discovered my family online, and I will always be grateful for that.

Another Eating Disorder Post?

I've written before about my eating disorder but I'd like to be a bit more honest/specific this time around. Instead of focusing on the food, I'm going to write a little about where it comes from. Why? Because I only just realised that to heal myself I'm going to have to figure out the answers to all the questions about my behaviours, what's sitting behind it all. And perhaps it might help someone else too.

I am a Compulsive Overeater and have been since I can remember. The first time I remember eating past the point of full, without feeling in control was when I was 7 or 8. My Great Aunt and Uncle had me after school every Thursday and they would give me all the lollies, ice-blocks, sausage rolls, hot chips and tomato sauce I could possibly want. We didn't have this type of food at home, except for special occasions and I felt like Augustus Gloop in 'Charlie and The Chocolate Factory'. I hated school and didn't understand the other kids or the point of all the rules and schedules. Apparently I woke up every morning, surprised that we had to do it all again that day. I was classed as 'eccentric' by my family and had few friends, I gradually understood that to fit in I had to stop telling people what I was really thinking and then things became easier. But I ate to fill myself up and numb the anxiety, sadness and loneliness I felt.

I still compulsively overeat for the same reasons. I will eat like that, generally by myself, quickly and secretly. I will eat until I hurt, beyond that I will eat until I hurt, then wait a few hours and eat to that point again. Something inside of me enjoys sabotaging my body, I enjoy hurting myself because it stops me from feeling the other feelings that I can't do anything about.

People often speak of eating disorders as being about control and in my case that is correct too. I eat because I can control that feeling, I can create it and maintain it and I understand it, it has been with me since I was a child. I have scars all over my body from hurting myself this way, scads of deep stretch marks, four more scars from my surgery to remove my gallbladder (I don't believe this would have happened if I'd treated my body with kindness), pre-diabetes and a body that acts much older than it's 29 years.

We all have our addictions, our weaknesses, our Achilles heel, mine just happens to be fed with copious amounts of food. It's a long term journey but over 10 years ago I wouldn't have thought I'd be able to have the life I have now with my Bipolar. I'm strong and I know I'll find a way to treat myself with the love, care and respect it deserves one day - I hope that whatever your self-medication, that you also find your way there too.  

Fuck knows

Robin Williams died today.

I've always just written whatever I've wanted to on this here blog of the times but anything I say about his death or life seems so cheesy and unworthy. So I'll say this; his death has made me sad on many different levels and I'm grateful to have been privy to the parts of himself that he chose to share with the world.

In other news, I am procrastinating the shit out of studying which is BAD. This semester is the most important one I have and the last one I'll have (if I pass well enough) before I graduate. I began University in 2003, keen to become a main titles designer with a Fine Arts degree at Canterbury. Long story short, it is now 2014 and I am finally on the verge of finishing my first degree, a BA in Psychology which will be a massive triumph in the face of many adversities. That is if I manage to get my head out of my arse and study properly.

Fuck.

So petrified of failing that I seem to be failing before I've even started.

On a lighter and more positive note; my hair has been chopped off and I love it.

And... end scene.

Fear of Failure.

I am someone who spent a large portion of their life not trying because if I tried I would never have to fail. 

It sounds completely ridiculous and really it is. I decided at an early age that my older sister (by 4 years) was the smart and pretty one so I would have to find another niche. It turned out that mine just involved gradually getting fat, lazy, angry, bitchy, mean, loud, opinionated and very rarely turning up to class. When I did turn up, I really needn't have bothered as I managed to get myself in far more trouble being there than not. 

I managed to create a sad reality where I was the victim, my sister the perfect heroine and to try at anything wasn't an option I even considered. Then I was given the choice to essentially be kicked out of school or go overseas by myself for a year as an exchange student. So that's what I did and after that year was over, I was traumatized into a much better (or at least less pathetic) human being. 

Nevertheless, I still to this day live in constant fear of my potential. I was told so often by teachers and parents that I was absolutely brimming with the stuff but that my attitude got in the way of utilizing it. I think Dylan Moran's sketch on potential is hilarious and true. If you never go near your potential then you can live in the hopes that it could actually be a palace, filled with glorious snobby women, faffing around but what if you went to use it and it turned out it was just a sad little kitten, sniveling in a dark, cold corner?

I've been fat for more than half my life, longer than I've been crazy even (well diagnosed at least, who can really even pinpoint the beginnings of crazy?). Now that I'm well on the way to not being that version of myself (16 kilos less and counting), I'm proud of my efforts but petrified of what I might be when that fat suit is removed. What will be left?

I don't have expectations of a sudden modeling career blossoming into existence, I simply fear attaining my first massively important life goal ever. I've never done that before, apart from working to get into Fine Arts School, my goals have felt so unattainable and therefore at a safe and acceptably far away distance. 

So what happens when you achieve something you thought was impossible for yourself? I'm almost halfway through finishing my study so that at least feels like it's at a comfortable distance still. Most of my life aspirations were sabotaged by my mental illness for such a long period of my life but these past 4 years of relative mental stability have opened up doors for me that I thought were locked to me forever. All the professionals had advised me that I would forever be on heavy mood stabilizing and mood lifting drugs, that my life would always feel either numb or powerfully intense (without medication) and thus inhospitable for 'normal' life. I gave up on having a career that I could care about, a person I could fall in love with, children I could connect to, because to have those things I would have to be on those drugs and when I was on them I couldn't feel passion or true feeling for anything.

So, with a shit-ton of therapy, an incredibly supportive family (beyond supportive really) and a partner who risked his heart with a crazy person, I have the life I gave up on a long time ago, without the meds. The insane thing is that I'm really fucking happy and yet still scared shitless of getting cocky, reaching too high and screwing it all up. Deep down I still feel that if you never really try or care enough about anything then you can never truly fail or lose it all. 

I read a book.

Tonight I read a book called 'Brain over Binge' and it helped me to realise that sometimes therapists guide their clients to look too much into their behaviours and emotions. Sometimes there is an answer and sometimes it's simple and not altogether linked to your other psychological bullshit issues.

I had always thought that my binge eating was the last thing on my list, the least dire of all my issues. The likelihood of me eating myself into a coma wasn't as high as my suicidal thoughts and plans one day reaching fruition. So I put my energy into the many types of therapy, treatments, medicines etc and about six years after I was first diagnosed I could confidently say I was a mostly stable and functioning human being who didn't have the inclination to live under a duvet forever or consistently fuck the most inappropriate people I could find anymore (to name just a few things I did in the past). 

It turned out that binge eating couldn't be dealt with like all my other issues, it wasn't about my emotional baggage (because for the most part I had dredged through and worked through most of that in years of therapy), it was about my lower brain's desire to reinforce a bad habit/addiction. 

I'm not going to go over the entire book but in essence, all the things I'd tried (OA, therapy, diets etc.) had failed dismally. Giving up control, taking control, none of it worked for me and I thought I was alone in that because OA is full of people who are living with the 'illness' and consider themselves to be recovering. I always hated that idea, that I'd always be stuck with yet another fucking illness. It took me long enough to come to terms with my Cyclothymia and stop hating it and myself for being wired differently to most others. 

This book sets out to try and help people who have had no success in the other programmes on offer and instead of making it complicated and super personal and gut wrenching (ha, pun), it makes it simple. Not easy but simple. To stop binge eating I have to separate myself from my lower brain which keeps telling me to eat all that shit and to not stop until I feel like vomiting, and not argue but sit with those thoughts. Listen but not react or interact with them, as it's main goal is to get me to eat but me, myself and my higher more evolved brain doesn't want to. So I will choose not to do as it says. 

I will choose to not binge eat anymore, because I've done it since I was 11 and I FUCKING hate it and myself for doing it. I'm 28 years old and I refuse to listen to that stupid self-sabotaging voice in my head any longer. 

Will keep you posted on the outcome of this new-found realisation. 

Your food, your food, your food is my drug.

I saw a film called 'Thanks For Sharing' a few nights ago that focused on sex addiction. I thought it would be some puff piece where they lightly attempted to inject some sort of message into the storyline but filled the rest up with a shit-ton of puns about sex. I was pleasantly surprised at the depth of the film and even more surprised that I felt a real connection to the pain of their stories.

I became keenly aware of the addict crossover world years ago when I fessed up to myself that I had a compulsive binge eating problem. At the time I was navigating myself through the minefield of baggage that was entangled up in the shizzle of my bipolar mess, so my therapist and I decided to focus on keeping me alive and deal with the eating issues later. This often happens when someone has more than one major issue (such as smoking and drinking), the focus goes on the addiction/mental health issue that is more dire and the lesser evil is swept under the rug for a bit. Many addicts have more than one addiction, as do many people with mental health bullshit, in fact I'm yet to meet someone who has collected just one. Often you're just not that aware of the others until the black hole sized one is more manageable or drug dulled.

The odd thing for me was realising that compulsive binge eating was very much an addiction and how similar my experiences with it were to my friend who was a recovering alcoholic. I'm sure people would love to think that they're not and I'm definitely not saying there aren't plenty of differences (I haven't heard of any binge induced comas for instance). But the lies, deception, shame, guilt, complete lack of control whilst actioning said addiction, those are good friends for all addicts. No matter what substance we're abusing, we're trying to drown and numb something fucking dark that's located deep inside us.

In many ways I'm lucky, my addictions haven't killed me yet. I say yet because I may develop diabetes, have a stroke or heart attack due to my addiction to food. I managed to be a recovering OE for a few years but I recently figured out that I've managed to justify my inner addict for months now due to other health issues. So it came creeping back, stifled slightly by my late bastard of a gallbladder which attacked me for six months before I was able to get it removed, I was unable to eat anything high in fat, spice or with any alcohol content without having a severe gallstone attack. Much like my late grandfather who survived a double aneurism and was thus unable to drink, not drinking didn't make him any less of an addict and not eating shit food hasn't made me less of one either.

I'm not sure where to go from here but I think I might search out my old OA book again and see where it leads me. I tend to follow paths like this to avoid impending doom problems that are closer to home, so perhaps if I just dealt with those I'd binge less anyway. Sounds so simple, if only self happiness was as easy as it deceptively sounds.