knowledge from the future...
If there was one thing you could tell your 10-year-old self... one piece of advice you would give yourself... what would it be?
I would say, "Don't hurry to grow up. You'll have many years to be an adult and be mature. Right now, be silly. Be unruly. Be everything you shouldn't be. You only get to be a child for so long, so enjoy every moment of it. "
Then again, are we
really smarter now than we were then?
AIDS Express
...such an awkward name for a clinic that tests for
HIV/AIDS.
To apply for a temporary residence Visa in Ukraine, there is a long list of documents one needs to get from various institutions. Two points of interest:
- Proof that applicant is not an alcoholic, narcomaniac, or toxicomaniac (substance abuser, I assume)
- Proof that applicant is does not have Tuberculosis, AIDS, or other such disease ("Such"? I didn't know the two were closely related!)
For various reasons, my mother was going through this process, so I tagged along through the sludge that is the post-Soviet bureaucracy. We had to collect all the documents within a week, making our mission much harder. We got notices from doctors that she hadn't been admitted for alcohol- or drug-related reasons (Ukraine keeps a list of everyone who has... listing overdose victims as "Registered Alcoholics" or "Registered Drug Addicts").
The most frustrating part was the search for fast HIV testing (most tests take up to two weeks to get results). While going through hospitals looking for the cabinet that does STD testing, we got interesting reactions. People were generally polite in asking us if we needed help finding an office (Soviet health care is set up very differently from the American), but once we told them what we were looking for, smiles turned to awkward, crooked faces, with squinting, jundging eyes. There was no point even justifying our search, saying that we had to get proof that she
doesn't have HIV. We shouldn't have to justify it.
Eventually, we found the AIDS Express office. Results in 30 minutes. But I don't think I'll ever forget how quickly a facial expression can change... How quickly a judgment can change.
Weekend Photography
To preserve my love of seeing the world through the lens (and to make use of my new digital camera) I will try to post a photograph or two every weekend. My first comes from playing with the camera in my room, learning its features, while my cactus patiently sat as the subject.
on anorexic beauty...
I'm a perfectionist. In academics, the trait is a valuable asset. In life, it can be a debilitating obstacle.
One of the more frightening effects of my perfectionism is that I'm very critical of myself - especially my appearance. When I was younger, wanting approval from my mother (a former rhythmic gymnast) led me to an episode of anorexia. I just stopped eating. At the same time, I was playing soccer, so I began to lose weight quickly. Seeing the change I could make in my body made me feel powerful, in control. I eventually lost the desire to eat altogether. Not until my mother started force-feeding me did I realize that I had a problem. Luckily, a relationship gone awry made me feel helpless enough to lose even my seeming control over my body's appearance.
Recently, one of my friends, who danced in a ballet company for several years and who has been struggling with bulimia for almost 10 years, startled me. In a bout of drunk sincerity, she revealed her envy of my body, my litheness as she called it. Obviously, her perception was skewed, as she has a smaller frame than I do (I'm hardly a ballerina). Still, it made me think about just what people with eating disorders see as beautiful: a thinner version of themselves? or just a lean version of someone else?
While doing some online research, I came across
Something Fishy, a support website for people who suffer from eating disorders and their families. They have a
memorial page, which lights cyber-candles for those who lost their battles with eating disorders. Many of the eulogies touched me and some overwhelmed me. For example, one woman writes:
If only I would have known from the beginning what this eating disorder would end up costing me. I pray that someday I will find the strength to forgive myself for my daughter never getting a chance at life.
Another writes of her bulimic husband, who died of a heart attack at age 16:
Although we got married at a very young age, he was very dedicated to me. Unfortunately he was also dedicated just as strongly to his running. He ran, and ran, and ran, until one day his heart ran out.
For
information about
eating disorders.
on self-understanding...
As I mentioned in an earlier post, I worked with children with serious
emotional/behavioral disorders this summer. It was physically, emotionally, and mentally challenging, but I think the most difficult part of it was returning to the real world. You see, in the real world, people don't talk about feelings. They don't even often share their thoughts. Sure, they talk, they say funny or meaningful or interesting things, but they rarely delve into their inner thoughts to explain what is happening inside their minds at the time. It's frustrating, sometimes, when I ask, "Why do think that?" and they escape with a response of "Nevermind." I understand that it's hard to explain what caused one to say something. Often people don't know themselves why they do or say things.
I spent much of the summer teaching kids how to recognize and describe their emotions and how to pay attention to the progression from thoughts to feelings to changes in the body to behaviors. Perhaps, my frustration comes from the wrong assumption that I was teaching them things that normally developed adults already knew intuitively. I have much to learn.
on the joy of bleeding...
Not a rant on self-injury or suicide... in fact, quite the opposite.
Many women complain about getting their period. They might feel grumpy, bloated, or just plain annoyed. I just rejoiced when I started mine today. I've missed two periods this summer and my fear wasn't even pregnancy. Of course I took a test, just in case, but the chances of that approach 1/infinity. In reality, I was more worried about something that the recent reports on the effects of
Chernobyl have been forgetting: the fact that the radiation has caused many of the females in that area to have reproductive problems. Almost all the females I know in my hometown around my age (I was 2 years old when the accident occurred) have since been treated for something in that department.
Me? I found out last year that my Fallopian tubes were fusing with my uterus. How scary to think that there is a possibility (however slight) that I might not be able to have children... After treatment, I thought everything was alright. I hope that this summer's missed menstruations were a result of stress. Working with children SED (serious emotional and behavioral disorders) isn't a breeze. Still, I might need to get checked out again. For now, I am grateful to bleed.
Mind Hacks points out that although the physical health effects of Chernobyl may not be as bad as most had feared, the
mental health impact has been significant.
on starting over...
We always wait for the perfect moment to "start over." Whether a new year, a new month, a new week, a new job, or a new hairstyle, we procrastinate making those little (or big) changes that could make a difference in our lives. I've heard a woman claim, just after biting into a frosted doughnut, that she will start her diet on Monday (What day could be more perfect?). We've all made resolutions for the New Year, which were forgotten by February. It seems natural that, with the advent of a something new, we should want to use the moment to change some unwanted feature or behavior in ourselves.
We forget that this new beginning is completely arbitrary -- just a marker of time made up to keep track of our lives as they pass. If time is passing so quickly, why wait?
I think of this as I make plans for the upcoming semester. I tell myself that I will stop putting off important tasks until the last minute. I plead with myself to maintain a normal circadian rhythm, lest insomnia should once again creep into my head. This year is the last. It
has to be different, I try to convince myself.
Returning to cyberspace...
...and for my senior year of college. The summer proved intense and wonderful, terrifying and amazing. As cliche as it sounds, I learned so much about myself -- my limits, my strengths, my weaknesses. I feel better prepared for what I'm setting out to do. I also feel inspired -- to learn, to change, to contribute.
"There is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the ways in which you yourself have altered." ~Nelson Mandela
