Author: Mari Ramsawakh

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My Body and Me: My Relationship With Food

Today I’ve been struggling a lot. My motivation is low and so is my self-esteem. And the first conversation I had for the day was about food.

There’s some background information on that last sentence which connects it to the rest.

I have an eating disorder. I doubt I’d be medically wrong if I called myself anorexic. But this isn’t something that came from body image issues. I loved my body. I don’t know who I am anymore when I look in the mirror. My clothes hang off me and I hate this shrinking skeleton I’ve become.

If I love food, and I loved my body at my biggest, why do I have an eating disorder?

Continue reading “My Body and Me: My Relationship With Food”

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Untangling Gender, Vulnerability, and Toxic Masculinity

Today I had planned to write a fun blog post about my gender. It was going to involve a photoshoot and outfit changes. I’m genderfluid, so I often find myself identifying along different parts of masculinity and femininity – often at the same time. I’ve coordinated my wardrobe, my hair, everything about how I present to allow for this constant shifting. But the more I thought about letting people in on that, the less I wanted to share.

Continue reading “Untangling Gender, Vulnerability, and Toxic Masculinity”

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The “Adulting” Project: Navigating Between the Personal and the Professional

I used to fantasize of the glamorous writing life: working from home, eyeballs deep in books and notes, odd hours and a steady stream of whiskey and coffee. And it’s not too far off from what I’m currently living. Except, instead of writing I just keep wavering.

2016-09-22-00-20-55That’s the only way I can describe it. Like describing the way my fingers hover over my keyboard before I slam my laptop closed.

When I used to write, it used to be for myself. It used to pour out of me, like I had a tap into some kind of story well. It was every fear, every wish, every guilty pleasure. Every story was me. It wasn’t a job or a chore. It used to be a way to make sense of my own head; it was a way to live all the lives I wanted to live.

Now when I go to write all that I can do is stare at a blank page. Continue reading “The “Adulting” Project: Navigating Between the Personal and the Professional”