"I know"

I know I hate being wrong. Sirens and flashing lights go off in my stomach when I am proven wrong and I am afraid my cover is blown. Look, eveybody! She's stupid. She doesn't know what she's talking about. How could we have ever thought she was clever.
I know I am funny. I know I love comedy. I know I wish I had the balls to write and perform comedy. I know comedy was one of the first defense mechanisms I developed to protect myself. I needed to be funny to distract people - it was all smoke and mirrors. Look over here! Isn't this great? I thought if I could keep people laughing long enough they wouldn't think to make fun of me for being the fat kid. In my family, I was often a clown because there was so much tension - there were so many conflicts we avoided. Conversations were sometimes like a minefield. There were all these unspoken subjects we were not supposed to brooch. Things felt wrong. I couldn't say why or for what reason. I had no frame or reference of perspective, but I knew it felt uncomfortable. So I would joke to give the illusion that everything was ok.
I know that the first time I ever ate compulsively was when I was 4 years old. We had just moved from the middle of the piney woods, close to my father's family, to a small town close to the gulf where my mother had grown up as a little girl. I know that my grandfather was taking care of me while everyone else worked and that we had gone to my parent's house so he could cut the grass. I don't know if they'd asked him to - I know he loved cutting grass and that he would cut people's lawns without them having asked and without him having announced he would. I know he always felt offended when people didn't say thank you. I know that I was alone in my new house. I know that there were ice cream sandwiches in the freezer. I know I thought at the time, I am going to probably get in trouble for this later, but right now I don't care. I know I ate four in a row. I know I knew that was far too many ice cream sandwiches for one little girl to eat.

"I don't remember"

I don't remember how or when I learned to fear men. I don't remember where I learned to feel unsafe in their presence. I could never remember if a man had hurt me when I was little or if I innately learned from the women in my life, and their open wounds inflicted by men, to be wary.
I don't remember feeling safe. Or comfortable. I don't remember thinking this was out of the ordinary. I don't remember feeling like a child.
I don't remember feeling unafraid of words or judgment. I don't remember thinking, fuck them. I know who I am and I don't care what they think or say.
I don't remember kindness to myself. I don't remember being able to embrace myself, saying it's ok. I am here. I've always been here and I will always be here. I love you. We will get through this together.
I don't remember when I knew I loved to write or why I ever denied my love for setting pen to paper. I know why I grew uncertain of my abilities and I know why I shied away from writing, but I don't remember why I chose to hold on to that criticism for so long.
I don't remember ever feeling like I was enough. I know I would fall asleep many nights going through the never-ending laundry list of things I would change about myself, if I could: I wish I were skinny; I wish I had green eyes; I wish I had the long, spindly legs of a dancer; I wish my skin were dewy and fresh and free of blemishes and stretch marks; I wish I had nice clothes, that I looked like I belonged; I wish I had strong, toned arms... and on and on until I finally just drifted off to sleep. I don't remember when I stopped doing that.

"I remember" workout

I remember learning vocabulary at my grandmother's house after lunch, sitting next to her on their scratchy, unforgiving rust-colored couch. She smelled of Noxzema and toothpaste. Noxzema was her cure-all and she was so obsessive about brushing her teeth, that she had scrubbed them of their enamel.
I remember sweaty, oppressive, Louisiana heat, pressing in on me from all directions. Making me feel like to move was to exert the most effort physically possible. I remember loathing it, needing the air conditioning. I never realized the sun was mostly to thank for the heat. I miss the sun so much now. It's visceral, my desire to live in a place with the bright warmth on my face, shining through my eyelids, making my skin a little ruddier, though rarely tan.
I remember the smell of the public library. That welcomed rush of cold, cold air that was the horseman of a mustiness that can only be pleasant when coming from books. I remember my desire to know overwhelming my curiosity and keeping me from thumbing through a book, any book.
I remember magazines - stacks and stacks of magazines that I wanted to be important to me, but just weren't. I collected magazine after magazine dedicated to Lady Diana after her sudden death but I don't think I ever read a single one. Then of course there were all those other stacks of magazines about teenage boys on television with horrible center-parted hair and too-big flannel shirts. Later there were stacks of Cosmo. Those magazines were both who I wanted to be and who I hoped to deny I actually was. It was similar with books and music. And movies. And sometimes acquaintances.
I remember being so free after high school but also not because I was deathly afraid of myself and everyone else. I was not myself, then again I had no clue who I was. I was groping my way through jungles of self-doubt, anxiety and fear. I have yet to emerge.

Inventory

A) What was particularly nice about today?
-going for a nice, long walk in the woods
-waking up to my smiling, chatty baby
-visiting with a new friend
-listening to Dear Sugar

B) What did you do today that you are proud of?
-I remembered that being proud of myself was a choice and, when I remembered, pulled my shoulders together and down my back, so that my head was automatically held high
-I got out of the apartment even though the weather was super Hamburg-y
-I got out of the apartment to treat myself to time with a smart, funny, interesting woman
-I noticed myself fretting about something I have no control over and managed to cease the constant flow of worry

C) What did you do particularly well today?
-I cooked two delcious meals