Empty

My dearest Void.

My void. 

Void- 

You are a hole so deep. 

There is a hole so deep in me, missing something, feeling that something isn't there. I have - in the past - filled it with lust, and flirtation and hurting others. I never mean to hurt others. In fact, I want to be full of love (not in that way, you perverts...) I want to wrap myself in flannel and warm arms and feel connected again. I think I'm mostly disgusted with myself lately. I have not been taking good care of my world. The pandemic absolutely destroyed my body, and maybe some of my mind. I'm quicker to anger. Probably not healthy.

I had a roommate a long time ago who said I was angry at the world, and I had to learn to deal with that anger. I'm not good at dealing with my anger. I never have been. I'm angry at the world because... well... because of a lot of things. Because I have always felt abandoned maybe?  I try not to abandon people or things. When I say I'm going to be somewhere, I tend to follow through. If I say that I'm going to be there for a person, I will try everything I can to be there. There have been many people in my life who have not treated me the same way. On the other hand, I haven't exactly been fair to everybody in my life either. I guess - in the end- we all hurt someone, whether we mean to or not. 

There is a void in my life where a friend belongs. I lost most of my friends with the divorce. I admit, I pushed people away to focus on the love that was coming in to my life, but most of the friends that I did have at that time were friends of the EX, so when I left the ex for - well, let's say fairer horizons - they went with him. In the ten years since, things have been alright, actually. The ex found a new wife, I found a new husband. The leaving part was inevitable in the relationship with the ex, and with the leaving comes the hurt. 

I had a friend once. I romanticized this friend and maybe I expected too much of them. I have spent time recently thinking about my old friends, people I used to see all the time, people who remember the better me -- not this sick broken down old woman that I've become who weighs way too much and is absolutely broken -- but the young vibrant young woman I used to be.

Body dysmorphia is where your inner vision of yourself does not match up with the outside reality. I have it pretty bad. In my head, I am that youthful, slender, capable woman. I can totally kick butt and take names. I can love hard and lust even harder and everybody wants me. That image of myself in my head gives me confidence that I don't honestly have. When I am faced with the reality of who I am, that image in my head gets in the way and tells me that I am unworthy because I am not her. I am lazy and unworthy and I will never have the friends in my life who will respect me for who I am because I am not that beautiful person that I am in my head. 

I reached out to my friend this week. I reached out because maybe, the vision in my head is the same vision as the one in his head, because he knew me when I wasn't broken. I can't really keep this friend the way I want to without hurting someone, whether it is myself or him or my AM. It hurts me that I have to hurt someone- again. 

Feeling drained-

ToryLynn

Episode 58: Dishes

This will shock my family.  This may shock the few friends I have that know me pretty well.  It actually sort of shocks me. Here goes...

I actually like doing dishes.

No, I won't come over and do yours.

Ok, so here is why.  There comes a certain satisfaction from just drowning your arms and hands in a deep sink full of dishes.  Ever since I moved in to this apartment, I have lacked a dish washer.  I no longer could just rinse the dishes and stick them in the machine that would sanitize them and make them scalding hot.  I have to get in there, pick off the dirt and debris of the past day's worth of eating (or so... I don't like doing them all the time). I use the many tools of the job: the sponge, which if Mythbusters is to be believed (and they are) is germ laden and disgusting; the bottle brush to get those hard to reach places which my hands are too big to get and the green fuzzy plastic scrubby thing that is safe for my Teflon pots and pans.  With these tools, I wash away all of the left over sauces and fat drippings that come from a rich diet of not entirely healthy foods.  If a particular bit of something won't let go, just give it a bit of time in a warm bath with plenty of good smelling soap and it will lose its stubbornness and eventually soften and let go.  Sure, my hands may be a bit pruny as I continue to wash, but that will take only a bit of time to mend. And at the end of doing dishes, once everything is dried and put away, there comes a bit of satisfaction that the job is done for the night, that there is order in the world, even in just one small part of the world, and that you know where everything is, in that kitchen.  It is a good feeling.

And I'm finding, life is like that on a larger scale.  Doing dishes is an interesting metaphor for life.  You take time to work at the problem spots, or just set them aside if they are too large to get to and eventually, it will all work out.  You may have to do a little bit of work, spend a little bit of time, and you may have to find the right tools,  but your world can come to some sort of order if you decide that is what you want to do.  Your body or mind may get wrung out, may become a bit pruny, but just sit in a hot bath for a while, forget about that problem even for a couple of minutes, and you'll be able to face and beat it when the time is right. And in the end, you will find that order will be restored and you can look back on your life and those rough times when you were up to your elbows in troubles, and see that those troubles have been put away in the right places, life has sorted itself out, and you can feel that you have accomplished something.

For my friends and families with automatic dishwashers, may I suggest that tonight, or sometime soon, you let go of technology, fill your sink up with soapy water, and emerge yourself into just doing dishes and letting your mind go.  And while your hands are busy, and you are enjoying the peaceful meditation of a gentle, relaxing task you may find your mind wandering and a solution comes out of some that celebrates those quiet moments that come when you are just doing dishes.

Happy sudsing!

Love and Lollipops,

ToryLynn

Episode 49: What's in a name?

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet, so Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes."
Juliet said it best.  A name is just a marker that is chosen for us at birth, something that our parents choose for us, something that we don't really think about, because we think it is out of our control. If I change my name, I will still be the same perfect person that I am. And so, as Juliet requests of Romeo, I may doff my name.

As we grow up, we identify with our names, we become attached to them, for the most part. As a woman gets married, in subservience to her husband, she changes her name to his, allowing him to dominate her nomenclature and taking away a part of her orginal identity, melding herself with him. He does not take her name, and stays the same person, not allowing himself to be subjugated, but instead becoming dominant.  It's been this way in our society for at least a thousand years, and women have put up with it. Hell, I've put up with it.  I changed my name when I got married. I thought it would bring me closer to my husband.  Things change.

I've been thinking a lot about my name, and posted a bit to Facebook about a possible name change, which prompted this post.

Now that I am divorcing, I have a chance to go back to my original name. Actually, it's even drawn up in my divorce papers that I will return to Victoria H----, but I'm not sure about this.  My name has become sort of a sticking point for me for as long as I can remember.

I was born Victoria H---- over 35 years ago.  My parents decided to call me Vicky, which changed to Vicki when I got to kindergarten and was asked which way I would like to spell my name.  (I think I simply asked which letter comes first in the alphabet and decided that was how I would spell my name.)  I was Vicki H--- from kindergarten until my sophomore year of high school.  As Vicki H----, I was mostly subservient, quiet, kind, polite, not much of a troublemaker... for the most part.  I had my fits of teenaged rebellion, but Vicki H---- was who I remained for a very very long time.

In my sophomore year of high school, I grew very rebellious and changed quite a bit.  This new identity that I created, this rebellious teenager who wouldn't take shit from anybody was called Tory.  When I moved in with my grandmother briefly during my sophomore year, when asked what I would like to be called (Victoria was too formal), I told the teacher's Tory, and for three months, Tory went to Menlo-Atherton high school.  Tory H----- was kind of a no nonsense kind of girl. I liked her.

I returned to Stockton and my name, changing it just a little bit to Vicky H----. The addition of the Y did little to change me and I returned to the girl I was. When I became interested in computers, my computer handle was Vixen, or sometimes Vixen Vipere, after a old device that my boyfriend and I had used in our writing. It was short for Vixantrayil, a name that I played with like a toy, a character I had created for a book that we had written together. 

When I got married, I took my husband's last name as was tradition and was Vicky L---.  We got married in 1998 and I stayed Vicky L--- for at least 7 years. Everybody still called me Vicky, at least family and friends, but I was in college and Vicky just seemed too..childish.  Vicky, in my mind, was a cheerleader, a sorority sister, a little girl with pigtails and just wasn't who I was anymore.  I attempted to get people to call me Victoria, which seemed much more professional and was the name that was put on all of my degrees. But my friends and family insisted on calling me Vicky... except one person. 

With one person, I confident and powerful and I didn't take shit. He made me feel strong.  For this person, I was Tory again.  He called me Tory for a good five years, and I loved him for the confidence that he seemed to give me.  A false confidence, I am sorry to say, for when he pushed me away, all of that confidence broke. 

With a little time and healing, I knew that I could not go back to being Vicky again and Victoria didn't quite fit right. It felt a bit big for me, so I took the name Tory back and made it my own. I grew confident, I added my middle name to it and became ToryLynn online (although everybody still called me Tory).  I grew into ToryLynn and became strong. I felt confident, I felt powerful, and I felt good finally being who I really wanted to be.  I joined writing groups, I became a big part of the writing community on Second Life for a while, and I felt like a better person. I had found my power. 

Unfortunately, as I gained my power as ToryLynn, Vicky was being left far behind with my husband.  I grew apart from him as I pursued my creativity and my power.  I feel bad about doing that, especially today.  Now, I am leaving him. It's not like I suddenly stopped loving. It is that I grew up and became a different person.

So, now this new person needs a new name.  In some societies, you are given a child name, something that your parents and family call you which is a personal name just for them.  When you grow up in this society, you are given a new name by an elder, or are asked to choose your own, something that represents you.  This new stage in my life is giving me a chance to choose my name and become a new person. The strong, confident, beautiful woman that I know I can be am.

I am reluctant to return to H----- as I don't want to be the child that I was before I got married, and I don't want to keep my husband's last name, since I have outgrown that as well.  I consider changing it to McGregor and becoming Victoria McGregor, which would look good on a book jacket, and Tory McGregor, which sounds awesome, and very ethnic to me.  Back to my Scottish ancestors, honoring my blood.  Another option is Victoria French, my grandmother's last name. Both are options which I find interesting, which I think are good. 

I will try on both for the next five months, and make my decision once my divorce is final.   I will give it a lot of thought.

Until next time, I am just

ToryLynn

Episode 41: End of an Era

Yesterday I filed my divorce papers. I don't really want to talk about it on this blog, as it has little to do with my weight loss journey, or food or anything, but I need to talk about it a little bit.  It is hard.  I feel like the last two months of my life have been a whirlwind of emotion, of hurt, of happiness, of feeling free and feeling so totally alone.  AH moved out on the first of this month.  My apartment is emptier, not just of furniture and stuff, but also of his presence here.  I can't say that I don't miss him, but things in my life are changing.  I am starting to pack up old memories, clear out bookshelves, sort out clothes and things that I no longer need anymore.  I am starting to make a real change in my life and I feel like these changes are good for me.

I eat healthier now.  Last night's dinner was a roasted veggie pizza from Trader Joe's. (I should have only eaten half, but I ate the whole thing).  Tonight's will be Maryland Crab Cakes.  I am learning that I can eat or do just about anything I want now.  I am trying to go out more often, see the world from a new perspective.  I am trying to keep the dishes out of my sink and the plates from around my computer and I'm trying to get more exercise.

I'm not entirely lonely.  If I absolutely need people, there are people out there who I can talk to through this glorious contraption called the interwebs.  Physically, in real life, I'm spending more time on my own.  But I have AM in my ear very often, I have good friends who type at me, who talk about writing and literature and those sorts of things that I have wrapped my entire life around.  I am considering getting more involved in things in the real world, so that when love comes to me, I don't hover around it like a vulture, smothering it to death and then picking at the remains of a corpse that hasn't figured out it is dead yet.

Wandering around downtown yesterday, I found a nice Greek restaurant called Yadoo Yasni, which was sort of a nice surprise. I had an hour to kill between courthouse and paralegal, so I sat and ate breakfast alone.  I texted with a friend, I read some Gaiman (in the middle of American Gods, if you care) and just learned that it's not so bad being on my own because really.. I'm never really alone.

I am sad for my divorce.  I am sad for AH, who has treated me so well over the years and who I am hurting with all of this.  I regret that hurt a lot.  I feel though that it is time for me to move on, to become my own person.  I have never been on my own before, and while it may be a lonely journey, it is a journey that I have to take to learn who I really am, without looking at someone else and trying to define myself by who they want me to be.  I'm ready to do this, but I know that I don't have to do it completely alone.  I have friends who are there for me, holding up the net as I dance on this tightrope called life, ready to catch me when I fall... and then send me back to the tightrope again.

Thank you to all who read this blog. Thank you to all who have been so supportive and wonderful  I know that I am rambly and cranky sometimes, and I know that some of this is probably a bit personal, but it is good to speak out into the void... and hear the echoes of my friends and family telling me that I am strong.

Deep in thought....

ToryLynn