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.