book 1

I finally made the move.

I'm stoked to be sitting where I am writing this entry.

I'm in my room... my new one... the one with windows... 3 of them actually. A room with character and decoration that screams "JJ." It's not fancy, but it's me, and I like it. Mostly I keep my bed made, a default characteristic I picked up at my former residence, but sometimes I take the Beatles advice and just let it be. Music is every where, Dean Martin is on the wall, and I have more books than shoes pretty much on every side of the room. I like that people may walk in and think I am an incredible intellect who basically reads for a living, but the sight of all the books on my shelves doesn't tell you that I haven't finished over half of them. Many of them I have started, but it's hard to stay committed to the end.

The way I read books could be compared to the way many people do relationships. At first the book is exciting and new, especially the ones with cool covers cause you feel cool carrying it around... but after a while you see a newer one and think it looks more exciting, so instead of staying commited to the original book you once thought so exciting, you try out the next... and again, these new, exciting feelings start all over... until you get tired of that one too. And by you, I mean me. I have abanonded a good book for the shiny appeal on the cover of another. And yes... I judge books by their covers...

For example... I loved carrying around the book "Blue Like Jazz" ( I read it 2 and a half times) because it's trendy dark blue and black cover with yellow writing is very appealing. Not only that, but it's a title you wouldn't necessarily get unless you read the book or ask the person who's reading it... which opens the door for a cool conversation... "oh, it's non-religious thoughts on Christian Spirituality... This guy loves Jesus... along with the gays and liberals and other people and things much of 'the Church' tells us not to love... even though it's 'the Church' who's got it wrong when it comes loving people." Interesting.

Now, take for example a book that was sent to me while I was in treatment. Most of you have heard of Beth Moore... a fiery bible teacher who loves the lord, big bangs, and saying "AMEN" in her Texan accent. She's written bookoos of books and bible studies and has done videos and teachings all over the country. I started a few of her studies when I was in high school and college. Anyway, so I get this book with big bold capital letters that say "GET OUT OF THAT PIT!" with the word "PIT" in bright red. As if that doesn't scream "self-help" there's a huge picture of Beth Moore plastered across the front of it. Everyone knows that any book that has a picture of the author splashed across the front is some form of a self-help book, weather it be "co-dependent no more," or "you are not what you weigh," or "learning to love yourself." Books that many people love to read, but probably don't want to be seen reading them.

I am one of those people... sort of...

Carrying around "GET OUT OF THAT PIT!" screams "she's got issues!"

I say all this jokingly, but half true. Even though I myself have read many self-help books, I find it interesting when I see other people carrying them around. I find myself wondering what their story is and how they got to where they are in that exact moment... needing the words of some stranger to tell them why life is worth living, or that size is not beauty, or that he's just not that into you... or her... or even himself for that matter because he's got so many issues he couldn't see a good thing coming if it were 3 inches in front of him. A self help book would probably say something like that... "it's him, it's not you." Well if it's not you, then why are you the one reading the self help book? Shouldn't you give it to him?

Anyway... so yea, the "PIT" book, as I call it... I cracked it open. I read the paragraph I was asked to read about Moore's daughter who struggled with an eating disorder... but that's about it. After that I shelved it with the rest. I think I was kinda frustrated. I think I still am when it comes to the whole book giving thing... especially while going through treatment. It's like as soon as people find out you have a problem, the key is a good self-help book. That'll make it all better. I realize that most people have no clue what to do, say, or give when they find out you have a problem like an eating disorder that no one knew about because you were so good at pretending everything was fine and then all of a sudden one day you end up in treatment. Honestly, I don't even know if I would know what to do, say, or give... but I know what I would not give... a self-help book. That person is WELL AWARE that they have a problem... especially if they are actually in treatment... they've figured it out by now. Not only do treatment people (that's what I call us) have loved ones, doctors, and therapists constantly trying to help them, I mean us, now strangers are too through the words of their self-help books. Where's the escape? When do we get to rest from therapy? If it's our world that's crumbling, why can't we just escape to another one? Sometimes I realize that is not healthy... the whole idea of escape... but sometimes I think you should take that opportunity to escape to another world when it's in between the pages of a good book... not one that is constantly reminding us of our issues.

I felt this the other day. I've been reading my bible a lot lately, and I tend to start to read too many spiritual books, but the other day I was just tired and didn't want to think anymore... I wanted to hear about someone else's life and their adventure... I wanted to get lost, I wanted to go to another world, I wanted a good book.




There are 3 books that stick out to me as I have been on this journey of recovery... none of which are self help books.

They are as follows...

1) Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Loooking Glass by Lewis Carroll.
2) Imagine by Steve Turner
3)The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd

The first is Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass by Lewis Carroll. This book was given to me by a man named Charles back in April of last year right before I was discharged from inpatient. Charles, an older, African-American man, was a nurse who worked the night shift at Timberline Knolls. Every other morning he came in to take our vitals... blood pressure, heart rate, weight... all that good stuff. Every other morning I would lie in bed, barely awake and talk to him about life. As soon as he walked in the room I'd holler in my deep manly morning voice "CHARLES!" He'd answer back in his deep manly regular voice "Good morning Jennie." He would usually take the vitals of the other girls in my room first so that way we could chat for a bit while he took mine. I realize this may sound weird... but it wasn't. He was a caring old man with the most peaceful voice you ever heard. As I got to know him I found out he wasn't just a nurse, but a therapist too. This made so much sense to me as he seemed so wise... too wise to just be a nurse.

I always looked forward to those mornings. One of my last mornings there Charles was taking my vitals and said he had gotten me a going away gift... something to encourage me... "oh no" I thought "another self-help book." Actually no, he pulls out Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass. When he handed it to me he told me to never let my imagination die, and this book would help keep it alive. He made analogies about life in the book and how amazing, yet hard life can be. In fact, when I opened it he had written in the back cover "To: Jenny" (he spelt my name wrong, but that's OK, we never talked about that) "Life is a wonderful and strange place to be. Take Care, Charles."

I thought about how true that one statement was... "life is a wonderful and strange place to be." Even though I had seen the movie a bazillion times as a kid, this book meant more to me than any book I had ever gotten. Maybe it was because of the timing it was given to me... I was 23 years old and in treatment for an eating disorder and depression and this person gives me a book about Alice in Wonderland... WHAT?? I know it doesn't make sense to most people... but it does to me. He didn't see a girl with an eating disorder when he talked to me... he saw a girl with an imagination and creativity buried somewhere below all the crap. I was a patient, but he saw who I really was. He knew I was more than an eating disorder and that if I could just tap into my imagination again, instead of another self-help book with a bunch of facts, I could find my excitement for life again... like the one I had as a child. A child who watched Alice in Wonderland, and built forts in her yard, and created her own TV shows with her siblings. That child had a wild imagination... and somewhere along the way, lost sight of it...

But all it took was one older, African-American man... a nurse who worked the night shift at Timberline Knolls, to take my blood pressure a few times and see that my imagination was not lost... and that my eating disorder was not my future.

Thank you, Charles.