New Years 2013~

This year I want to___ ___________fill in the blank.

January 1^st- This seems to be the magical day that apparently begins the year that you will eat healthier, lose x amount of pounds, get in a relationship, END a relationship, be nicer, go to church more, budget your finances, quit smoking, drinking, work harder, BE BETTER and any other New Year’s resolutions that you come up with. I know for me the days after New Years are always annoying…because my gym is packed…and then attendance will wane like it always does… I hate all the pop ups on my Facebook and internet page about dieting and lose this amount of weight this year…Thanks but no thanks. Been there…done that. It didn’t make me a better person. I wasn’t happy. It was miserable. Yet ED is good at making me forget this, the King of Lies. But I am fallibly gullible…I made the foible, the utter mistake of stepping on that DAMN scale after the holidays. Why? I don’t know…I regret it and want to punch myself in the face…However, I will not do that. Just like I will choose not to self-harm over the shock of the number I saw staring back at me. I will not starve myself. I will try to refrain from over exercising. I will hold myself accountable. I told my mom right away. I told people around me that would understand and support me despite this stupid mistake. I tried to be kind to myself. I tried to ask myself what I would tell someone close to me who I cared about what to do in this situation. I breathed and prayed and cried…because though the number is higher than ED thinks it should be…I am alive. I am healthy. I have energy. And that number does not define me. I used to feel like whenever I walked anywhere in my disease, I had a huge sign stating ~ANOREXIC~ pasted to my forehead. Now I just feel like I have that damn number stuck to me…everywhere. Why do I constantly hold myself to this standard when I would NEVER judge or ask anyone what they weighed? IT DOES NOT MATTER TO ME ONE IOTA! So why do I think I should hold myself some unit of measurement that will fluctuate with age, the time of month, year…EVEN DAY! Good Lord. No, this year I choose to focus on how I measure up to God! I choose to weight myself by HIS standards. And that means getting up every morning, building my fire, and letting it blaze for HIM. So that those who hopefully will see the light in my eyes and not the death that was there last year at this time will know that it is because of HIM~ For He who began a good work in us will be faithful to complete it. But I sure as heck can’t complete that life if I am running on empty. And even though I feel like controlling that number will solve all my problems and give me a sense of control, of power, I have to constantly remind myself of how THAT went. No. ED can no longer have that power. GOD has full control of my life now. When I give Him ALL of the parts of me, not just the ones I feel comfortable giving Him, there is success. There is victory in Him. But alone, within my own power, I create disharmony and absolute misery for myself, which then ripples out to my beautiful family.       Last night was a family dinner with my dad for his girlfriend. I didn’t want to go. In fact, I told myself I was not allowed to go. Well, ED told me I couldn’t. Then my little brother (not so little anymore…) called me on his way home from Portland. And he said this to me.

“I CALLED TO BITCH YOU OUT! YOU CAN’T HAVE PLANS TONIGHT! YOU HAVE TO COME WITH ME TO THIS STUPID FAMILY DINNER SO WE CAN SIT THERE AND ENTERTAIN EACH OTHER! YOU MUST COME WITH ME! “

Yaaaaa #sorrynotsorry Im SOOOOOO not going so have fun!

But then I prayed about it. I assessed why I really didn’t want to go. And all the reasons I didn’t want to go were ED related.

F my life I told myself…It is so weird/aggravating/incredibly hard to explain having two sides in your head. If I go, my ED will be super pissed at me. If I don’t go, Winter will feel badly. So I friggin’ went…after much debate and indecision and hemming and hawing and NOT WANTING TO FRIGGIN GO. And yep, I was right…ED was pretty pissed. He just saw that number on the scale going uppppp and upppp and upppp! But ya know what was awesome…My lil brother…his girlfriend…my dad…THEY DON’T FRIGGIN CARE WHAT THE NUMBER ON THE SCALE IS! My lil bro just wanted me there to keep him company. We ended up laughing till our guts hurt…I love him. And I decided ED can’t keep me from my family. EVER AGAIN. Cause I don’t care…well…at least I desperately don’t want to care about that stupid scale…It doesn’t own me. Just like an inanimate object doesn’t care what it weighs. I betcha anything my bed at home….it is not worried about how many pounds or kilograms it weighs. It doesn’t wonder if the comforter I put on it makes its ass look big or if the fitted sheets are making it appear to have a muffin top. If it was rock hard and boney, I would not want to sleep on it. I need my bed to be firm to support me, my back, and joints, but plenty soft and padded to rest on and sink into.

This is my New Year’s resolution: To not care about that insignificant number on the scale. On the treadmill. On the tag on my clothes. How many calories are on my plate. I want to worry about the number of laughs I have in a day, only counting the moments I am able to look back on and think THAT WAS FRIGGIN AWESOME because I listened to God, my family, my friends and someday MYSELF instead of friggin ED! J My goal…not to weigh myself. My physical being. But my spiritual, mental, and emotional self on a weekly basis and make sure I am on track and sustaining myself. Of course, to make sure I am sustaining myself physically as well! But to be kind to myself. To focus on those around me, those I want to help with my degree, those who may be struggling and hurting with their own struggles. A quote I read and stuck with me was this: Be kind to everyone around you for each person is fighting their own battles. Amen and Amen! And can I get an AMEN!? Everyone has their issues, whether it be smoking, drinking, money etc. There are so many stumbling blocks in this world. My goal…this year…to help kick those blocks in the balls, taking the power away from those things!

OWN 2014! FORWARD! Onward! UPWARD!

CHRIST-mas 2013

What is the best Christmas present you have ever received? Like the Grinch from Dr. Seuss’s book, sometimes we learn the best gifts don’t come wrapped in packages, boxes, or bags! Don’t get me wrong…I love giving and receiving Christmas gifts as much as the next 6 year old child (at 21  years old J) I love me some ribbons and bows and I could huff the intoxicating sent of Scotch tape till my brain cells are like Sugar Plum mush… However this year, I have realized that there are three things that I have been gifted that will forever go on my “Naughty and Nice” list for Christmas presents~

1.       The gift of God’s son to this earth~ Jesus Christ. My Father, HE is the best Christmas present I have ever received. His love, grace, and endless mercy is priceless. He calls me by name, He knows my innermost thoughts, He has the days of my life listed, and the hairs on my head counted. He knows all that I have done and before I open my mouth next He knows what I will say. My future is mapped out in the palm of His hand. He loves me so much that He died for me! He has claimed my soul. I am forever His. He paid the greatest expense for my gift…with His blood, sweat, and tears. He did this to buy my life back…to pardon my numerous sins with His unfathomable love. This IS the best gift I have ever possibly been given. The amazing thing? YOU can have it too! Anyone who believes in Him can have eternal life~ He offers this immense gift to us all- Forgiveness, Grace, Peace, Life. You don’t have to pay for shipping and handling, there is no service charge or entrance fee. You don’t have to buy any other silly gizmos or useless extensions or warranties along with it. There is no cash, credit card payments, or checks involved. It is FREE. And it is waiting to be opened and loved on by you and me J

 

2.       Last year at this time, I couldn’t sleep through the night. I was frigid continuously, covered in goose bumps and lanugo, despite wearing layers of clothing under my work uniform. My extremities and lips were a raunchy purple hue. I rode a bicycle to work in 10 degree weather, where every time I bent down to retrieve something, I would see stars, my head swimming.          I couldn’t lift anything heavier than a bottle of soda on the conveyer belt for customers to scan. I was mistaken for a 15 year old at 20 years of age. My treatment team had quit seeing me because I was a liability. My heart rate was at 32 bpm. I was muted. I was disintegrating. I was lifeless. I was a slave to Anorexia. I needed help…again. But after being admitted to an Eating disorder facility both winters before 2013, I refused to go back. Even if it inevitably meant being kicked out of the Sober Living home I was staying in and living on the street.  Then my beautiful souled friend whom I had met in treatment my first visit started talking to me. As a nurse, when she heard about my heart rate and the condition I was in, as well as the sheer mental state I was suffering, she was gravely concerned. This frightened me. It actually caught my attention. I didn’t realize that this was an issue. I was in complete and utter denial, my eye sight completely obscured by ED, unable to see any clear truth. Slowly, through the prayers of many, God began to soften my heart. For three excruciating weeks I sought out Inpatient treatment options near my surrounding area. Each place rejected me due to my unstable EKG and blood work results. I refused to consider the possibility of going back to the same treatment center I had attended the two prior times I was hospitalized. But again, God used their amazing intake coordinator and staff to love on me and change my heart. In January of 2013, I entered the doors of Rosewood Eating Disorder Center in Wickenburg, Arizona for the third (and God willing, LAST) time and began the uphill journey back to life. It was and still is an everyday struggle. Unlike an addiction to drugs or alcohol, abstinence is not recommended for anorexia…that is kinda how I got to treatment in the first place! Instead, they say that food is your medicine- restoring your brain and bodily functions. It is an excruciating, terrifying, and humbling experience. It was also the best thing I have ever done. I met so many amazing people along the way who taught me that getting help does not deem you weak, but instead shows just how dedicated one is to being the best that one can be in life. Those people are survivors. They have waded through the shiz, earning their stripes and stories. I am forever grateful. This year I not only have the gift of recovery, I have the ability to be back in school, studying the very passion of my heart- Psychology- that I hope to use to one day help others on their journey to Recovery- to one day see them open that glorious gift and hold onto it forever. It may sit on a shelf for extended periods of time…collecting dust with seldom use. It may be misused. It may be thrown away. But the beautiful thing? It can be taken down from that shelf. It can be brushed off and be as good as when you first opened it. As I have learned through my interaction with many other fighters, it can be re-gifted, for so many have influenced my healing process in incredible ways. This Christmas, I am so grateful for the gift of Recovery. It is one I hope and pray I will fight to give myself each year!

 

3.       Lastly, I am so grateful for the gift of family, for a Holiday my brothers and I can spend together with our parents. Though our family is dysfunctional, quirky, and wild- I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I am so proud of the fierce woman my mother has become. She is my partner in crime, my gumba, my best friend. She knows me better than any other person on this earth…HECK she squirted me outta her vagina! Come on now! My brothers and their amazing hearts and eclectic personalities~ My father and his kind soul and hard-working drive. I fall in love with their imperfections, not the things they strive to be “perfect” at. I am so grateful they do the same thing for me- for I am greatly flawed! One day, I hope to be able to view myself as “enough” imperfections and all!

 

This year, I want to thank you all for giving me the greatest gift you could possibly give me: The gift of you never ending support, kindness, and love. It is priceless to me. Each and every one of you are a gift to my life each day. I wish you all the best on this CHRIST mas Eve~ Please know that you are loved! May God bless you and keep you~

Winter Grace~

 

Enough~

   I have been trying to reach out to a friend who has been going through relationship problems lately. Most of the time I don’t know whether to try to spew out all the advice I have building up inside of me on his predicament or if I should keep my mouth shut and try to just listen. I straddle that thin line between my co-dependent self wanting desperately to fix it for him and my wise mind knowing that he has to go through this pain by himself…which sucks cause every fiber in me wishes I could take it from him. A lot of the depression-induced thoughts he is having really strike my own heart. Will I ever be able to have a healthy relationship? How can I allow myself to fully trust someone when I have been hurt so many times? What if God wants me to be alone? In hearing his agonized questioning, I had to step back and look at my own heart before I carefully responded to his deep intrigues.

   For many individuals, loneliness is kryptonite. Women have to go to the bathroom in large groups, for Heaven’s sake! In fact, just the other night I walked into a restaurant to meet a date there for dinner. Since I was a tad early, I waited inside at the front for him. The seating hostess asked if I was a party of one and I quickly told her that I was waiting for someone, silently thanking the good Lord that I didn’t have to be there eating alone. Awkward. But why? Why is that awkward? Why is it such an uncomfortable thing to go out to eat by yourself? To take yourself to the movies? Buy yourself flowers? We are meant to be in relationship with one another, but does it always mean that we must be looking for that in a partner? In a dating situation? For me, I don’t think it does. While I hope that God has a man out there for me to settle down with some day, I do not fear being “alone” for the rest of my life. Because I have experienced community and the fulfillment that it brings and I know I will never be truly ALONE. Why? Because 1. I have God, 2. I have family, and 3. I have a slew of other brothers and sisters in Christ to do life with! This has been made very apparent to me throughout this last year going through treatment, school, an amazing baptism, and joining a wonderful church. I no longer have to fear what others think of me. I don’t have to get absurdly nervous before going out on a casual date. (Though trust me…I still do! J ) Why? Because I AM WHAT I AM. If I try to make some man fall in love with the well behaved, put together woman I WISH and could PRETEND to be…he is falling in love with something that isn’t true. And though I may be able to keep the act up for a little while, sooner or later he will find the soot on my cheek and realize I ain’t no Cinderella! Instead, I want to go into the night being totally myself. My quirky, crazy, random, hyper self. I’m gonna order dessert, eat with my hands, tell you about how I love my family, am crazy about God, spend my free time in a library, and listen to Lady Gaga profusely. I’m going to show you the scars from where I trip over myself running, tell you my most embarrassing moment, and explain why I would rather read a book than go out drinking on a Friday night. Chances are I will show up 10 minutes early because I am OCD, have little to no makeup on, and may not be wearing pants cause I hate real clothes…(Don’t worry I will DEFINITELY be wearing bottoms of some sort….GOOD GRIEF!) I will shake my head when you go into rants about how much you work out, I will stop you at crude or racial jokes and rude smirks about someone sitting next to us, and I will cock my head in confusion when you start talking about video games and movies. This will probably drive most dudes away. This may prevent me from ever marrying. And I have accepted that IT’S OK. So to all those SINGLE peeps out there, don’t sweat it. Yes, it always nice to be with someone who tells you how awesome you are or buys you shiz…but the truth is…I have to be able to do that for myself FIRST before any man does that for me. Because otherwise I will just get angry at him, turn mean, green, and bulky and throw things at him like the Hulk. Because I don’t believe it. And no matter how much you try to convince me that I am not an ogre, I will not be able to take that into my speculatory heart without some major self- reconstruction first. And that is where it is up to me. To take time to learn what I actually like, instead of liking whatever THAT guy likes…instead of morphing myself into whatever Bob or Jerry or Tiny Tim want. I want to be what GOD wants. I want to be the daughter He intended me to be. And if that happens to fit into the mold of a relationship with a man, awesome! If not…mmm I might not feel so awesome…but I’ll get over it! Because God has other things planned! For He who has begun a good work in me will be faithful to complete it~ His plans are greater than anything I could ever construct. So here’s to throwin’ my hands up in the air, dancing to the beat of my own drum, enjoying bein’ single, and knowing that a party of ONE is just nifty, as well! Cause no matter what, I’m never ALONE~

This message has been brought to you by:

YOUR CHEEKY MONKEY, WIN J

Thanks and Giving~ 2013

I once had a dream...

That I was a slave to life itself. That I could not step outside without worrying about being seen by those around me who pleaded with me to stop the way I was living. I was constantly tired. No amount of sleep could remove the bags from my eyes and the exhaustion from my eyes. Each day felt like a horror movie placed on repeat. I woke up dreading the day before me, crippled with anxiety, just trying to make it through the hours until I get fall fitfully into a surface haze of sleep.
I was on the verge of being kicked out of my sober living home because I had relapsed on my eating disorder. Everyone looked at me with concern in their eyes, a grimace on their face.

I once had a dream that I was in living hell where I lived like this for YEARS...
I wish I could tell you I woke up from this bad dream. That everything is different now. That the voices don't plague me, the anxiety doesn't exist any longer. Instead of waking up to a complete and total transformation, each day I must change the dream I am living in. I must continuously fight the battle in my head and my natural desire to want to hurt myself.

I can tell you that my life is so different today~ It looks, feels, tastes different. As I was walking outside yesterday, I was struck HARD with a bus....

OK not a literal bus (did I scare you?? :P ) No, with a GOD bus! With a Happy Yellow-how thankful I am that my life has turned 180 degrees- BUS!

I am so thankful for all my friends and family who have stuck by me and love me with a love I cannot comprehend~ My family is lop-sided, quirky, and dysfunctional. But they are MY family. And I love them for that. Especially my best friend, my panda, my baby girl: My mom, Brenda Jane Fierce, who is the reason I breathe some days. "Sisters, sisters-Their were never such devoted sisters!" *LOVE

For the opportunity to be back at school studying what I love. Yes, it is stressful and sometimes I want to junk punch it all in the face and finally accept that I should just work at McDonalds forever. And then I giggle and put the pen to paper and push on. McDonalds my arse! I'll show you!!!

For the ability to run without shame, without fear of being seen by people who will yell at me (though they didn't ever yell they were just concerned:(. I am so thankful I don't have to hide constantly. NOW I can run without the shame of knowing that I am hurting my body. I am no longer a slave to it, but rather run on sheer passion and exuberance for the energy I have been given to live life again.

MOST of all, I am thankful for God's gift of His grace, His never ending patience. Because I am one silly, stubborn nifkin who likes to screw things up...ALOT. I always think I can do it MY way. False. When will I learn this? No idea. But thank God I have a Heavenly Father who doesn't require me to pass some test, who holds me to a certain GPA, a bill I have to pay each month for my salvation, a certain number of hours I have to work, a number I must weigh, a size I must fit- an empty shell I must be. No. He wants me to be my weird, crazy, Winter self. I don't know why. I don't understand why He loves THIS. But I can feel Him. And I know in some way (though sometimes Satan tries to convince me otherwise) HE DOES LOVE ME. For when I look back at where I was last year, where I have been, and what my life is like today...I see His love~ And it is astounding to me. I am blessed. And I want YOU all to know what a joy you are to this world. Even when you don't feel like it, YOU ARE. Simply because you breathe. This is a truth I am trying to learn each day, slowly. And though life seems impossibly insurmountable at times and I would rather crawl through crushed glass, I simple remember- He dies for US. He hasn't dropped me on my head yet...:)

Happy Thanksgiving to all! Know that I am so Thankful for YOU~ Gobble gobble!

Homecoming

The University of Idaho just celebrated a win for their Homecoming game~ Simultaneously, Heaven is celebrating the arrival of an amazing woman~

I found out recently that a wonderful woman I went to treatment in Arizona with several years ago passed away from acute pancreatitis due to years of alcohol abuse and bulimia. I am shocked. My heart breaks for the family. It was a huge wake up call. This shit is real. And it takes lives. This woman was beyond strong. She was smart, beautiful, eloquent, athletic, and talented in so many ways. She was a daughter, a friend, a woman of God. And her life was cut short but this sick disease. Ravaged by years of ED, her body could not take it anymore. At 21 years old…this terrifies me. As it should. Yet, the deceitfulness of my disease will tell me that I am immortal. I am exempt from the effects of Anorexia or Bulimia. But the truth is, that could be any one of us. I wish I could open up the eyes of those who suffer to the truth. I wish I could believe it myself. That we are more than this shell. We no longer have to suffer because HE took that suffering for us. It seems an impossible cycle to break when you have been living this way for so long…Sometimes I wonder if it is possible to live free of it…All I can do is live one day at a time…and pray to God for strength~

I miss you sweet girl. I pray that you have found solace from the demands of this disgusting disease…Comfort from the storm. And a soft place to finally lay your weary head. Your life will not be forgotten, your death will not be in vain. Here is to your Homecoming, love.

R.I.P

That damn dark chocolate...

ED hates chocolate…Winter…well, if you put anything remotely resembling dark chocolate covered ANYTHING in front of her, prepare for it to be consumed like it is going out of style, like it is being discontinued, never to be found on the shelves again after this sighting. I will devour it. Period. ED hates me…He hates the fact that I have a sick sweet tooth. That I love to eat. That I enjoy food. And not just carrots and celery...no FOOD~ Sugary, gooey, chocolate dipped, fat ridden food. I look around at all the women around me and feel such guilt. Such shame. I hear him telling me that I am the only one who comes back from a weekend at home with a Costco sized bag of dark chocolate covered pretzels and devours nearly the entire bag in three days…He tells me that I am not worthy of wearing the new clothes I bought because I don’t deserve them and I should starve before I wear anything new. He tells me I should cut myself because I told myself I wouldn’t eat sweets after getting home and then in moments of intense weakness I eat them. Lots of them (called ironic processes- the more you try not to think about the chocolate “hiding” in the cupboard, the more you hear it calling your name…)

I am tired…sick and tired of this. Of loathing myself. Of not wanting to get out of bed in the morning. Of wanting to cut my wrists with everything and anything I find on the sidewalk as I walk to class. Of endless suicidal ideations running through my racing mind. Yep, I am following somewhat of a meal plan. And I am STILL eating all this shiz on top of it…and no matter how many times my dietitian tells me that I am still prolly “hyper-metabolic” ED just screams…YOU FAT LARD YOU NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT! You are disgusting…

And I am breaking down…I don’t want to deal with it anymore. And I don’t know how to stop. I feel so out of control. So weak. For eating. For indulging. I don’t know what people see…All I know is I see a giant pig. I feel like a tub of lard. And I am terrified right now. Terrified of my body…But more terrified of the all these feelings and emotions and strings of hatred running through my tired mind…

Someone throw me a life line…

Surrender~

I haven't posted in a while...I am back in school and all the writing I seem to do is for school...blarg.    I am taking a poetry class for my one last required Humanities class and find myself loving it. I am writing poetry left and right...and mostly during wee hours of the morning when I SHOULD be sleeping or in other classes when I SHOULD be listening...oops. But I wanted to share this one with you~ May your paths be easy today, your burden light <3

 

 

Surrender

Feet pounding the pavement, I run for all I’m worth.

(Since that is all I am worth)

 A number, a mileage, a weight on the scale

Be faster, be smarter, be skinnier than a rail.

Smaller than her? Tinnier than that?

All I see staring back at me, all I feel…

Is fat.

This is no laughing matter, it’s no mental trick

I loathe every cell, the sight makes me sick

You told me all I’m worth is the size of my waist

In that case, I’m down for the count, in for the chase.

This is no longer a game, I will win first place in this race.

Mile one flew by, followed by root marker three.

And before she knew it, she was sprinting free

Free from the comments, the pressures, the stares

Throwing all caution to the wind, shrugging off all of her cares

The miles kept on passing, time flying by

Don’t stop now sweet girl, for if you do you might die.

But if you don’t, well then my dear, of this I am certain.

You will not make the final scene, life shall draw the last curtain.

Thus, each day I straddle the imaginary line

Between life, so uncomfortable, and death so divine.

Carry on now brave soldier, keep up the good fight

Your burden is oh so heavy, but His yoke is easy n’ light.

Forgiven is the word tattooed on your wrist

Don’t ever say, “When I’m gone I won’t even be missed.”

Your life is worth something, it was everything to me.

I already paid the price, I died on that tree.

“This isn’t going to be easy, God, I’m scared to death can’t you see!”

“All you can do is your best,” He replies.

“Just let go and trust me.”

If you're goin through hell...

I want to scream. I want to cut. I want to eject it all from my body and erase everything from my hips, my stomach, my thighs…I hate it…I hate the pictures…my full face…my butt...my tree trunk legs…

I am not used to this body, this life…My Mom keeps saying that this is normal~ That this is living life~ Not just existing. I am not sure I like this though…It.Feels.So.Wrong. So uncomfortable. So uncertain. So vulnerable. And I feel full~ All the time. Never wanting. It is so strange. To eat. To NOT withhold. To go against the grain, the judgment, the comments about others bodies, and the ceaseless talk of the gym…the obsession I crave… to lose lose lose lose. To do the opposite of what ED wants me do. To refuse to be a slave. To give in. “Ah screw it!” Bring. It. on~ I will definitely have seconds! Two, please! More! Hungry~ Mhmm! Yup! Sure!

The whole time…”Ummmmmm…HELLO! What the H. E. double hockey sticks are you doing!!!!” runs through my head… ED is angry…furious. Smoke pouring out of his ears…quite a sight I must say.

Yes-to food. To a surprise lunch with my brother in Spokane. And then out to dinner. Then getting froyo cause I have to have a H.S. snack somewhere…Then the next day to breakfast out at my favorite coffee shop~ To less running. To a switch up in my daily routine. Saying YES. To all of the above. To life. To full. It feels so abnormal. I can’t look in the mirror. Denim makes me cringe. I am constantly berating myself. I am terrified all the late night ice cream and snack runs are going to catch up on me. Surely positive…that I look huge. Only seeing one thing… Heinous. Yes, I am able to do all I want. Run, walk, hike, bike, swim, kiss, love, hug, move, lift, withstand, fight, push back, comfort, lay, dance, rest, jump, twirl, skip, smile, cry, laugh, yell. Which also means saying yes to nourishment which equals energy. Which is realllllly freakin’ freaky. But this is the trade off. Can’t have one without the other. Tried it. Been there done that. Then why do I keep trying to duplicate the same experiment to see if I get a different result? Why, the definition of insanity of course! Doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result.  Hate that. Well I’m done pretending that if I put zero in ten will come out. It don’t work that way. Fuckin’ wish it did. But it doesn’t. Get it through your thick skull, Winter. Accept the things you cannot change, change the things you can, and be wise enough to know the difference. Oh yeah…and surrender. Quit bein’ stubborn. Thanks. Me. Cause if you hadn’t have gone with the flow, you wouldn’t have gotten to spend that time with those you care about. You would have ditched them all for ED~ And you would have been lonely and sad. And those around you would have been sad and disappointed. And pissed. And I’d rather have ED pissed at me then those I love. I have hurt them ENOUGH. And by saying YES to this way and not MY way, I was able to live in the present. Though it is uncomfortable and definitely scary, I have a feeling life in recovery is always going to be slightly terrifying…But that is the beauty of faith…God promises to give us everything we need…even though we will not be necessarily comfortable. At all. This was made clear to me when I went to church this Sunday morning, the last time before I head to school. Before I left, I prayed that God would speak directly to me. Needless to say, I bawled the whole time. Thanks God…I wanted to hear you…but not THIS loud. The message was on Acts chapter 16~ Paul and Silas are planning on heading to Asia to preach, droppin’ by the city of Bithynia on the way. But God had another plan. The Holy Spirit re-routes them, sending them to Macedonia after Paul is sent a vision of a man asking for their help. They meet a woman named Lydia from the city of Thyatira and she knew the Lord and her heart was opened and they baptized her and all was great! Then they met this other chick who was demon possessed. Yipes. She followed them around and ran her mouth and Paul got pissed and finally commanded the demon out of her. Well, when the masters who were allegedly makin money off this broad found out, they were not pleased. They brought Paul and Silas to the magistrates and the officials ordered for them to be severely beaten with rods and imprisoned. Not quite as fun as hangin’ with Lydia! Yet, while they were chained up in stocks sittin in prison, they were singing hymns and praying, havin’ their H.S. snack I am SURE and suddenly there was a GINORMOUS earthquake and everyone’s chains were unlocked! WOOT! The prison guard was pretty disturbed by this and was about to off himself cause he knew he would be in big doodoo with his bosses, but Paul yelled, “Hey! Don’t hurt yourself! We are all right here, just chillin! Put the sword down, eh?” And then they told this dude about Jesus and the guard took them home and cleaned their wounds and fed them and he too believed in the Lord and his household was saved!~

How cool is that!? Paul and Silas thought they were going to go to Asia to preach, but God was like…NOPE! I got better things in store for you! Even though Paul and Silas were beaten, thrown in prison, and prolly not too happy…they STILL, through it all, brought God glory and used the shit they were going through to reach others for Christ. KUDOS DUDES!  

The pastor began sharing again, in his low, consoling, understanding, ‘he’s going to make me weep really hard now’ voice about how he knows many of us are in a tough place in our lives as well~ Asking, wondering WHY? He then invited those of us who were going through a rough time in our own life- with family, health, LIFE etc. to stand as he prayed for us. By this time I was in the butt-ugly sob stage, snot shooting out every which way, and mascara leaving little happy trails down my cheeks (NOT pretty!)        I coulda sworn he was talking directly to me. Winter was way too embarrassed to stand up. But God made me stand up. Thanks again God. Others laid hands on and prayed for me. At first I was freakin’ out inside. But eventually, the peace of God suddenly came over me. Cause He’s got me. Always. It could be so much worse. Yep, life is scary right now. I am fearful and untrusting. But He hasn’t dropped me on my head yet…and He has spared me thus far for some crazy reason. My life didn’t take the direction I ‘planned’ it would, but God will and can use what I am going through for HIS glory~ So I wanted to take this time to encourage all those going through a hard time around me too that inspired this piece~ YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE~

If you’re going through hell, KEEP ON GOIN! I am here!

And I want to thank all of those who have continually checked in on me throughout this struggle. THANK YOU~ I love you!

~Let us be the Paul and Silas of this generation~ Bootypops and cat calls for Jesus! J

There will be dancing

I broke every single rule I have for myself today. I slept in. I got up. I went back to bed. I rolled out of bed just in time to drive my mom to work. I didn't work out. I didn't shower. I didn't touch the messy bun my hair was in, the same way i slept the night before in. I didn't go to my regular coffee shop. I didn't get my regular. I spent money...on myself...$8.67 to be exact. I got a latte. I couldn't  decide between the iced scone or the jumbo muffin. So I got both. And I ate both. And I didn't chastise myself afterwards. I didn't cut myself. Though I may have pinched. I forgave myself. Though I may have repressed what I just did. Then I walked. I didn't run. I stopped frequently and took on my surroundings. I said hello to everyone I passed. I talked to strangers. I laughed out loud. I cried in public, allowing the tears to fall. I used a public restroom and didn't hover over the toilet seat, probably contracting all sorts of diseases. Lol I dipped my toes in the water and walked barefoot around the lake. I stopped and thought and pondered and allowed all the thoughts and questions of life to lap against me like waves. What if I have destroyed all hopes of having a family? What if I can't do this? What if I can't do this? What if I have bent all relationships past the point of reconciliation? What if I never find love or am incapable of opening my heart to it? What if I eat myself to death? What if I gain 50 pounds? What if I can never trust myself again? What if I do nothing productive in this life? What if Iose mom? A family member, someone I love? Why do I hate myself? Why do I loathe and fight and desperately try to master my body, pouring every ounce of myself into working it down, running it dry? Why do I love the pain and live for the depth of satisfaction I gain from the loss? What is bliss and will I ever know it? Will I ever be able to allow myself to? Why do I second guess and question everything? Why would I rather eat muffins and chocolate than carrots and celery? Why can't I be a plant and produce energy by photosynthesis? Why are these feelings so intense? Why can't I fix this for them? Why must they suffer? Why can't I just take it on for them? Why must I feel I should do so when HE already has? Why can't I trust Him indefinitely, completely, totally? Why am I walking this earth? Why do I deserve life? What can I give back? What is my purpose? What will God use this broken, scarred, glob of questioning, uncertainty, and doubt for? Will I live to grow old and grey? Will I make a difference? Will I bring glory to God? Will it always feel this unstable? This breakable? This fragile? Will you give me the strength to stand up for what is right? The ability to say "I was wrong, I am sorry, will you forgive me?" and not punish myself afterwards? Will I ever be able to let a morsel of food pass my lips without calculation of ever gram? Will there be joy? Will there peace? There will be struggle,but will there be victory? I know there will be dark, and there will be dawn. And by God, there had better be dancing. 

CHEERS~

                                                                     CHEERS! Here is to:

To the Porta potty so conveniently placed right here on my running route…the moment my body decides…it’s GOTTA GO! THANK YOU!

To the cool, dripping beverage that doesn’t explode all over when I’m just freaking parched and need a drink now~ THANK YOU

To my bed…which never turns me away or yells, “GET YOUR LAZY ASS UP!” at me. Thank you…my head does that enough on its own.

To the makers of Greek Yogurt…thank you.

To the inventor of coffee…THANK youuuuu

To the shower…after a long, hot day… THANK YOU

To the mother who brings her screaming child into the store…thank you (not)

To the producers of anti-#whateverissueyouhaveinserthere meds…THANK YOU~

To the Starbucks that lets me come into their humble abode and sit with my laptop and use their free Wi-Fi and not purchase a drink cause I’m broke…THANK YOU!

To my mascara…for making my eyelashes visible…thank you!

Ibuprofen and Midol…Thanks a million.

To Enrique Iglesias…THANK you…just for being a fine specimen of a man…thanks God for creating such a lovely…package.

For the ability to see, hear, smell, taste, and touch…thank you. Cause to lack one of these would really blow.

To whomever helped Amanda Bynes and Lindsay Lohan into rehab…thank you!

To the royal baby being born already...freakin’ thank you!

To the smell of books, freshly mowed grass, baby heads, and gasoline…mmmm thank you.

To password resets. Thank you.

Sincerely, forgetful

To all things in life that present themselves and then prove that they should not be attempted or experienced within two seconds and does not cause me to sit and dwell on them…agonizing what to do! What to Do! Thank you!

To the writers of The Office…thank you.

Thank you cozy old sweatshirt I have had for ages, for asking me for nothing but a cozy hug all day ‘ery day.

Thank you Subway for giving me a cheap, healthy, and scrumptious alternative to fast food when I am busy and need to eat…AKA too lazy to cook.

Thank you acronyms like AKA for making long drawn out phrases simpler…unless I don’t know what you stand for…then you suck.

Thank you gummy worms for being a delectable explosion in my mouth. That’s what she said.

Thank you ‘that’s what she said’ quote for being awkward and overly used.

Thank you dog that doesn’t chase me down the street and give me sever urges to punt you in the muzzle.

Thank you word ‘muzzle’ for being a fun word to say and not rhyming with anything, really…accept fuzzle. Oh…wait…puzzle…shiz.

Thank you bee for not stinging me…now I KILL YOU.

Thank you Target for being the best stores ever…and seducing me with your delightful balls of red and white and super great deals!

Thank you pickle…for supplying me with a month’s worth of sodium..yet for being so crunchy and satisfying!

Thank you mustard/hot sauce combo for making my mouth scorch with pleasure!

Thank you Facebook for letting me post my randomness….and thank you friends and readers for lovin’ me despite all my weirdness and reading my writingJ

'THAT girl'

This last week or so, ED has been pretty brutal on me.

“You are eating too much, you fat cow. You are gaining weight. You look so disgusting. Why are you eating that?”

I have had the 19 voices in my head screaming at me constantly…:/ You see, they get especially loud when my routine is disturbed and I am pushed out of my comfort zone. I feel like I am caught in a tornado, twisting, pulling me this way and that…my heart wanting to be normal…my head so loud.

Yesterday afternoon I met up with my boyfriend, Jeremy, and my mom and  walked around downtown Coeur d’ Alene, ogling all the booths set up for Art on The Green~ Strolling around in the sun after it had rained for 48 hours straight, donning iced coffee’s from Java, holding hands, smiling from ear to ear, I was carefully avoiding the place in my brain beating me down for how much I had eaten lately, trying to avoid adding up the calories, the feelings of guilt, and the plans on how to restrict later.

So I practiced just being~ Just walking, looking, finding. Love, peace, joy, happiness. Knowing that I have two of my favorite people beside me, my bestie B. Jane Fierce and Jeremy, who I can go grocery shopping with and manage to have fun! Not knowing where it is going to go, but willing to put my heart on the line. Trusting. Letting the breeze take me where it may. When a thought hit me like a wind gust.

I may not be the skinniest, the prettiest, the smartest, the richest. But by God, I will be understanding, outgoing, caring, considerate, intuitive, adventurous, trustworthy, honest, true. If nothing else, I will be ALIVE, dang it. I will not be ‘that girl’. The one who wears so much frosting to the beach that she looks like she should be heading to prom instead. The girls who spends two plus hours getting ready in the morning, doin’ her hair, finding the perfect outfit. The girl that subsists solely off of coffee and diet pills. No. I will NOT be that girl. But I will be the girl who always has a book that she is reading and a suggestion for a perfect coffee shop, quite but classy. A girl who cares more about her family and friends than how many pairs of shoes she owns. The girl who wears her tennis shoes everywhere instead of stilettos cause you never know what mountain you gonna have/want to climb. I’ll be that girl people-watching, making up stories about their lives in my head- and then I will drift far, far away, making up my own plans, desires, and theories about my own life. My hopes, my dreams. And I will stash them in the back of my mind, allowing them to skate across the surface of my heart. And I will lay my head on my pillow at night and fall asleep listening to the gentle hum of hope. Of promises of a FULL life~ And yes, I will be that girl who is tucked in bed by 10 pm…cause it’s the early bird that gets the worm. And it is the dreamer that finds the gift. Life~

Rosewood grace~

So to be honest, I am still struggling with feelings of intense shame and guilt after eating. I find myself endlessly judging everything I put into my mouth, doubting my metabolism and fearing my body. I don't know if anyone else can relate at this point in their recovery, but it is getting frustrating, tiring, and is depleting my spirit. So one way I am going to try to capture, challenge, and change these thoughts and re-frame them when they invade is by simply stating " thank you." I want to begin practicing saying thank you each time I nourish and refuel my body. Giving thanks to my higher power will place me in a state of gratitude, not guilt, thus taking away power from the negative voices that plague me following meal and snack times. By taking the next right indicated step of feeding myself, I am choosing to live a more present and full life. Because an empty shell just produces an empty life. And I got stuff to do! My most unstable relationship is with myself, my worse critic is my own inner voice. * thank you God for the strength this food provides, the mental functioning it gives me. For energy, passion, zest for life. For memory, concentration, warmth, sleep, positive demeanor, and attitude. Food is not the enemy. It is my medicine. And I will be ok as I take it in the prescribed amounts my dietitian recommends. My body wants to work for me, I need not be afraid of it. Thank you God that you always provide ENOUGH. For you satisfy my soul in every way: spiritually, mentally, emotionally, and physically. YOU are the bread of life. Ease the voice inside of my head, reprimanding me and calling me a failure for maintaining my weight and sustaining my healthy body. That voice is not yours- it's baratement not of you. Help me to always remember " What is in front of me meets my needs. I will accept this food as nourishment for my body and mind. May my life be enriched by these gifts I am receiving." That's for all you Rosewood peeps out there!! #everymealrosewoodgeaceohmygoshneveragain :) luv u all! ***win***

The Human Rugburn~

You are a rug burn of a man. You drag me around, give my heart whiplash, leave me burned and take an indefinite amount of time to heal. The problem…I am related to one. I’ve probably still got a few numbers of em saved in my phone. I go back to them. Time and time again.

Put down your bottle of booze, your video game controller, your skateboard, and step away from the office desk. Look me in the eyes. What do you see? And if you say the color brown…so help me. No. What you see is a story. Of fear, pain, triumph, doubt, longing. Behind those eyes there is a tale written is our soul, etched into our being. A code waiting to be cracked, a treasure, yours for the finding. But it won’t be easy. The map is hard to read; the path is long and takes great patience. And at times it can be quite treacherous. You will encounter perilous waters, steep mountains, dark valleys, and various other roadblocks along the way. There is no easy way around, over, or under it. Only through it. So don’t even try to find the easier, softer way. Because all the men who have tried that crap on me have just added to the pain. You can either wade through the shiz, or walk away now. The risk is great. But the pay off can be greater.

Pull up your pants, get the smirk off your face, quit suckin’ face and listen up. We are not another story to tell, a prize to be “had”, a cherry to ‘pop’, or something to be conquered or tamed. We are not just another notch in your belt (which you should really purchase and utilize to keep your saggy pants up!) We are human beings. Not just curves and a pretty face. We are delicate, yet resilient. But we can only bend so much before we break. When enough blocks are removed from our foundation of trust, our Jenga towers will come tumblin’ down. And it takes a long time to try and rebuild. And every move is painfully uncomfortable. So here’s to you player. Play on. But not with this girl.

You enter the darkness, the smell of booze on your breathe.

That dazed look in your eye, is this happening again?

I close my eyes and the same sounds come right back

It feels like a train runnin’ right off its track

Your slurred words make no sense, you keep fallin’ asleep

I brace myself against the force of your fist

Against my teeth

You use me up, you walk away

Never will life now be the same

I can’t stand myself for what you did

Don’t want to wake up, don’t want to live.

So take your memories and cheap tricks

Your lies and your shame

Take it all, I fold.

I’m done playin’ this game.

To the women…

Don’t just sit there. Don’t bemoan yourself…Don’t you dare ask me, “Why oh why do I attract such losers? That’s a cop out. You attract all sorts of people. However, you gravitate towards the players, the heart breakers, the bad boys. Why? Because that is what you know. We accept the love we think we deserve. So go get a piece of paper. Make a list of qualities you want in a partner. List them all. Now, step back and look at it real closely. Are you willing to be all those things to him? Open? Communicative? Honest? Gulp~

Next, are you ALL those things to YOURSELF? Are you honest, open, and intimate with yourself? Respectful? Not to mention, even kind? Or do you stare at yourself each morning in the mirror as you get ready and curse your very reflection. While putting on your mask made of makeup each day, do you slap on some self hatred, as well. Then finish it off with a spray of negativity and unworthiness?

Cause I’m pretty sure a relationship takes two to tango. Dating is not just a one-way street. You got to make peace with yourself before you can ever find someone who will cherish YOU for YOU. Because you have to discover and accept YOU before he can see you. ½ plus ½ does equal 1. But I am pretty sure you want to be TWO whole people bound by the privilege of love, not one weird, sick, needy and blubbering mess of a human…Just a guess.

So yup…dating is hard. I don’t understand guys. I sure as hell don’t appreciate players. But I don’t think I am a walk in the park either. I am confusing and indecisive and PMS constantly. I snort when I laugh and cry for no good reason. I am a work in progress. I am quirky and adventurous, which places me on the ‘somewhat fun to hang around with’ scale. So if you wanna join me in my attempts to navigate and muddle through this mess called life~ GREAT. But it won’t be pretty or contained. It will be a tornado of pink puppies, shrieking wildebeests, elephants, and long armed orangutans. An upside down rainbow with all colors of the spectrum. But if you are brave enough, you just may find a pot o’ gold at the end. Who knows…

Wet underwear

I have been out of treatment for a little over two weeks~ It is going well, don’t get me wrong. Being free and out of the “prison” is superb! An accomplishment in itself. But it is freaking hard… I realized this after a random panic attack snuck up on me like a ninja the other night. Finances, family, boys, loneliness, self doubt, hate, horrible body dysmorphia flare ups, and a whole lot of life just caught up to me. Which resulted in me having a long n’ good chat/mental breakdown with my mom- my biggest support, my best friend, and luckily for me, my courteous roommate.

After meeting with my therapist on Monday, I have come to the conclusion that the first two weeks…HELL the first two years out of treatment is going to be like having to endure wearing a pair of wet underwear. Yep you heard me. Moist undies. You took the plunge into the freezing cold water of recovery…and now you’re stuck with a drippin’ hiney!

Some just eye the water hesitantly, testing the waters with their big toe…maybe stick their foot around in there…and then decide it is just too cold. The water too murky. So they go back to their sick, but comfortable lives. Others wade in, up to a certain point (usually around my girls!) until it gets too cold…too scary. They miss their “safe” lives. So they quickly scurry out, returning to what they know. The brave ones just plunge in…they feel the heat threatening them. They are sick of sweating, gagging, and choking on the fumes of the toxic poison that encases their lungs. Tired of barely existing. The pain of staying the same has finally become greater than the pain of changing. So they plunge into the waters of recovery. They swim around for a while and find that it feels really freakin’ good. They eventually get used to it, the new temp. The new fish. Their arms and legs begin cooperating, paddling in unison, slowly getting used to working again.

Many of us finally made the decision to plunge into recovery. Forget the slow, timid descent into the waters, we finally just jumped. Underwent huge changes, immense healing, and painful growth. And are now better because of it. However, once we reach the island of life outside of our ED’s and a treatment center, we are left with the aftermath…the big, bad world with all its twists and turns. All its challenges, joys, problems, and gifts. And it feels like I’m wearing sopping’ wet underwear. Uncomfortable, clingy, annoying. The fear, self-doubt and anxiousness rides up my arse and gives me one hell of a wedgie.  Setting boundaries, making amends, using my voice, feeling things I haven’t felt in a long time…or ever. Dealing with life on life’s terms.  While walking around with a big wet spot on my backside that I swear screams to the world,

“LOOK AT ME LOOK AT ME! I HAVE AN EATING DISORDER! IM A FAILURE!”

False. Sorry. I won’t hear it. Yep, this is hard. I am scared. I don’t trust myself, my body, or the nice guy tryin’ to just get to know me. Heck, I don’t trust anyone most of the time! But I do trust my H.P. That guy got me through a hell of a lot. And I trust the council of my team~ The one I left in Arizona (#loveRW) and the one I have established here. And I trust that this too shall pass. It will be hard. It will be awkward. Because trying to live normally after a life filled with instability is like trying to swim upstream. But I think, no, I know, its gotta be worth it. So, to wrap up, I’d like to quote a bad-ass movie fave of mine…Finding Nemo,

“Just keep swimming, just keep swimming! Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming.”

THANKS Dory! J And thank YOU for reading! <3

Much love

WinterGrace

Beneath Your Beautiful

~Beneath Your Beautiful~

Beneath your beautiful

There lies a profound emptiness
A distraught heart
An unquenchable desire to be found
A precious little girl desperately wanting to hear

‘You are beautiful’

Beneath your beautiful

Are the fragmented memories
The filthy feeling creeping along your flesh
Flashbacks of hands upon you
All the lies, the broken promises
Praying for it to be over
Inwardly cringing when he says,

‘You are beautiful’

Beneath your beautiful
Screaming, fighting, battling
Yet nothing but dead silence escapes her lips
Running, hiding, wasting
But the soul-less feeling inevitably remains
Filled with vial unbelief when she hears

‘You are beautiful’

Crying, dying, bleeding                                                                                                                                     

The blood seeps from her veins

She whispers to the crimson tear drops

‘You are beautiful.’

Beneath your beautiful

Broken she stumbles, grasping for anything familiar. Stable.
One mistake after another, another failure added to her list
Another tally mark on her wall of shame
Another slit upon her flesh
Too afraid to ask for help, fear shrouds her muddled brain
She slips away from reality into the black oblivion.
The peace, the quiet, the calm.

It is so beautiful.

Beneath your beautiful

The shell cracks, the light bursts forth
Frigid air hits her sensitive, paper-thin skin,
The ice running through her veins begins to unthaw.
The new born slowly peels away the layers,
Eyes squinting, lungs gasping
She emerges from the cocoon
Tries to take it all in
The view
The world
Beautiful

Beneath your beautiful

She stumbles along on wobbly legs, relearning how to walk yet again.
Every sound so sharp, every texture so descript
Every feeling so powerful she fears she will be swept away
The tides of the ocean of emotions, overpowering waves crashing onto her.
Reliving is terrifying, the rebirthing…is beautiful.

Beneath your beautiful

Upon the horizon, against the sun
An image slowly floats toward her
Un-identifiable yet un-mistakable. Unbelievable.
The presence consumes her.
Undeniable, unimaginable, unforgettable, unconditional,
Beautiful.
The love she’s always longed for.
The purpose she’s endlessly searched for.
The place she’s feebly fought for.
She is seen. Heard. Understood. She is fulfilled.
She is blessed beyond reason and cursed with a passion.
To tell you along with the others stranded and fading,

‘You are beautiful’

 

How to talk to an Anorexic...

YOU LOOK SO HEALTHY

What? Why? You look great! What’s your secret?! What do you eat? What diet are you on? Like no carbs, sugar, bread or anything?   

How did it start? Did you just…stop eating? JUST EAT! Go eat a cheeseburger! Or five…

I’m surprised you don’t smoke pot or anything…you know…to give you a heartier appetite!

You look like an Auschwitz survivor…

Do you have cancer?

You don’t pray enough…If you were a better Christian…just give this up.

 

These are all comments I have heard throughout the progression of my battle with an eating disorder. The stigma that taints those with anorexia, bulimia, compulsive eating, or EDNOS is like an awkward purple elephant sitting in the middle of a room full of people.

What, do you just not LIKE food?

The funny thing is…an eating disorder has nothing to do with food. Weight. The scale. Yet that is how it cleverly disguises itself~ cloaked in labels and numbers, endlessly obsessing over calories in, calories out. But if people only knew. This is no diet. No ‘fast’. I sure as hell did not wake up one day and just decide to contract anorexia, despite the notions of others. It is not fun shit. Anorexia is but a symptom of a much deeper issue. Trauma, self hatred, loathing, shame, control, competition. FEAR. These are but a few of the signature events that sprinkle a fellow ED sufferer’s life. I’ve been around the block a few times. I have seen people walk through the doors of Inpatient treatment centers suffering immensely, but rest within a normal weight range. Yet still, the misconception is that in order to be “sick” with an eating disorder, you have to exhibit physical ramifications.  You have to be diminished to skin and bone. However, some of the sickest people I have met are above a “normal” BMI, their mental well-being in a horrific space. They are then ejected prematurely from the intensive care they desperately need because their weight is deemed “stable”, according to the standards of Insurance companies.       

F insurance companies. Because the scale cannot measure the internal suffering this insidious disease produces. My job as an insider to these people’s life stories, their pain, their shame, their incredible courage in opening up and accepting help, seeking life outside of the misery, is to educate others. Not only for myself, but for those who have trudged the path with me. Warriors.

Remember, you know my name, you don’t know my story. Everyone struggles with something. Not one of us is perfect. But there is beauty in the breakdown.

We will not regret the past, nor wish to shut the door on it....

Thursday night Process group~ There sits the girl in the corner trying unsuccessfully to stifle her sobs, openly stating how FAT she is…how much food she has to eat…how badly she wants to be off of restoration~ She screams, she is just done.

She is so in her disorder.

It is so sad to see. Triggering as hell. But it brings me right back. I have so been there. I know I need to take pity and try to come from a place of understanding. Sometimes it is so hard to do though… Bless them, change me. Because that kind of talk can be as captivating to me as a bottle of gin is to a drunk. God, keep me sane.

For those of us who have traveled the road a bit further than those just beginning, we have had a glimpse of that glorious view. Recovery.  And there is NO going back. We can see what life can be, if only we stick to it. The promises that are being revealed, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly, in our lives. Don’t stop before the miracle happens~

I look back at how far I have come, from the blubbering mess, depressed and crying hysterically over how HUGE I felt, (which I still can and will go back to, don’t get me wrong!) afraid of every food, crying over dessert challenges, pinching, grimacing, loathing every aspect of my outward being. Drinking Boost, Ensure, and Resource like they were going out of style. 1,2,3. Up to five times a day. Oh, how I despised the liquid calories running down my throat, burning my stomach as the cement-like formula landed in my gut like a concrete boulder. The agony. The degrading situation of having to beg someone to let you into the bathroom and then watch them flush for you. Not being able to have your sharps so you can shave your legs, for goodness sakes, for fear that you will have a mental break down and harm yourself or another. Being served your food and babysat until you’ve finished EVERY crumb, for if not, you would be with yet still another cup of resource (AKA liquid lard). Looking forward to coffee in the morning, even if it was just decaf. That being the only motivation for finishing your meal 99.9% of the time. Being threatened with a feeding tube or accused of exercising in secret because your weight is not increasing, yet your stomach is quite visibly protruding, trying to get used to being fed 6 times a day- knowing in 3 days even more food will be added to your meal plan and not even comprehending how you will physically be able to get it in and keep it down. Accomplishing that first day of a meal plan increase, pushing through it, and lying down that night just trying to breathe past the pain. Praying to God for the strength that tomorrow will be better, easier somehow. Getting letters from home that make you weak at the knees and long mournfully for normalcy. For freedom. Therapy sessions that bring up such painfully disgusting memories that ooze with shame and regret. Delving into the past which is, in all reality, equivalent to jumping into a pool of knives, silenced as they pierce your heart and tear at your soul. Listening to others life stories, feeling their self-hatred and sadness coursing through your heart. Wanting desperately to take it away.

“God, remove this cup from me, from them.” Questioning WHY- Why is this happening? What have I done? God save me, save us, from this Hell.

Watching people you share intimate moments with, live side by side 24/7, struggle-cry-walk through the sea of their own shrieking demons. Watch them leave pre-maturely due to insurance cutting them off- How unfair. Seeing the looks of hopeless desperation across their face. Not understanding why I am still here, why they have to leave. Feeling so undeserving. Having your heart crushed as you see your brethren in this battle for life pack their bags and head into the big world, into the battleground-fighting for their very lives, like David with just a slingshot and some stones against Goliath- the armed Juggernaut  wielding a mighty sword. Knowing all along that they can do it- seeing the strength they have but having that same sinking feeling. Doubt. You are unequipped and ill prepared. Pouring your heart and soul into that loved one, but having to let go and disconnect when they fall victim again back into the captivity of Ana or Mia. The brutal thing about recovery,  about working YOUR program, is you have to be selfish. Because at the end of the day, you can’t take anyone with you. It comes down to you, God, and the treatment team. You begin to experience laughter, joy again. Such foreign sensations. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry with relief. But alas, also comes the depression, the pain, and the anger. For you cannot feel one without knowing the other.  But when you are hit with that sudden wave of ecstasy, nothing in the world feels better. Not that first drink, that hit, that shot, that run, that starve, or that purge. Sheer pleasure tingles throughout your entire frame.

You will meet many brands of human on your journey. There are those people you literally cannot stand. They make your skin crawl, their voice raising the hair on your neck. They are entitled. Their stay is to them but a vacation, sucking off the teat of mommy and daddy’s trust fund. Hiding food, sleeping through groups, spreading rumors, and being genuine assholes. Ignore them. They are not ready. They have not hit their bottom yet and that is OK. With time they will see how much they are hurting themselves, hurting their loved ones. That they could have a whole life ahead of them if they were to just let go, for it is theirs for the taking. Don’t allow them to suck you into the undercurrent of ED.

There are the ones that walk through the doors that will trigger the shit out of you. They talk constantly about how much weight they have lost, how sick they were, how much coke they snorted, dope they smoked, heroine they shot whilst living in their cave of a home, glorifying a most heinous existence. The ones that are gorgeous and thin, everything you vainly attempted to be. Well-known and successful, they reside close to their family, returning each night after a day in their frequently sought-after career to their beloved dog and boyfriend, living in a gorgeous, yet tastefully decorated apartment. But did you know? Do you remember how they got here? Oh yeah…they have an eating disorder, an addiction. Their lives have become unmanageable. They presumably have all those things, yet are still not satisfied. They still have that black hole in their chest, threatening to overtake them with darkness if they do not squelch the insatiable emptiness. They hate themselves just as much as you do. They are suffering. Not one person is on a higher playing field than another. We are all in pain.  No one’s trauma is worse than yours, body sicker than hers, mental capacity more compromised than another. We all ended up in the same place, Inpatient. The highest level of care available for one with an eating disorder. Because you were this close to death. To compare is to despair. Focus on yourself and your recovery. Cause once you get sucked back down into that rabbit hole, there ain’t no turnin’ back.

And then there are your gumbas. Your besties. The kindred spirits you meet. Your brothers and sisters in recovery, fellow warriors against the wicked forces of ED. Prophets against the plague of Black Death. The love you have for them is immensely overwhelming. You will sob with them, laugh with them, hate their disorder and want to junk punch them in the face at times. But then you sit down, scream it out, yell, cuss, and say your peace. And move the fuck on. And you become stronger because of it. Because you have both lived in silence for too long. You would do anything for them. You pass the long hours of your day making bracelets for them, placing secret notes in their cubbies, making their bed. They fold your clothes, lend you a stamp, play with your hair, walk with you to your looming dietary appointment, distract you with game after game of contact as you pick at a hard meal, snuggle with you while watching a movie, trade clothes, do your makeup, pray in the art closet, sing Taylor Swift, serenade one another with Aladdin’s “A Whole New World,” quote Bridesmaids with incessantly, plan out your future around, both lamenting the fact that you haven’t seen a man in 3 months. You celebrate the ever- anticipated bowel movements, cheer them on as they drink their Metamucil, buy bookstore rings with (poppin’ tags at treatment! Boom!), pass notes to, vent about how much so and so is annoying the bat shit out of you, steal extra salt packets for, swiftly move your place-setting by so the techs don’t catch you, puzzles, color princess pics with, pray for during late night chat sessions, nail painting parties, crying fits and spells of hysterical belly laughter that you haven’t experienced in years. These are the moments that tie us together, the bonds that cannot be broken.

People are put into our lives that usually remind us of someone or something in our past. They give us the unique opportunity to revisit the painful memories and make peace with the situation. Some are tests from God, showing us our weaknesses, the places in our hearts we need Him to come in and weed out. Others are our angels who come into our lives and teach us our purpose. Who inspire us, who risk opening their hearts and arms to us, who stand by us and love us unconditionally. Not for what we have done or are doing now, but for who we are yet to become. They can see the potential within us, the person we are destined to morph into. And even if for only a short time they walk in our lives and we scarcely cross paths, they paint our stories with their unique experience, strength, and hope and change our destiny for the better. Forever.