The Rescue

Music has always spoken to me louder than any word, poem or voice.

When nothing else can get through to me, you can bet a song will break my resistance.
There's just something uniquely captivating about music.

A few months ago my roommate and I had gotten tickets to see Tyler Ward in concert at Webster Hall this past Wednesday. Not just that, she had gotten us Meet and Greet Tickets to talk with him before the show because she has been severely in love with him for years (though I did not know this until five minutes before we met him, when she was about to faint!) She just cracks me up. Anyway, Tyler was as lovely and his voice and a truly grateful for meeting us... he was a refreshingly genuine musician who had not let fame eat away at his character. Best of all, he wore a cross necklace around his neck and an I Am Second bracelet on his arm. However amazing he was in person was slightly downplayed to exhaustion from a hectic week of school and work... I had hit a wall by Wednesday night. I was not in the best mood due to lack of sleep, I was feeling guilty for not taking care of myself as I should have for that week and I was frustrated with a mid-term paper hanging over my head to finish that night. Ugh. I wanted to enjoy the concert so badly, but I was just so tired and run down I knew I would not enjoy it to it's full potential, but I stuck it out anyway...

To my surprise I was able to enjoy the show much more than I had anticipated on my journey there, mostly because I practiced a little DBT method my therapist suggested... this is the day and the moment you have been given, so what are you going to do with what you have been given? I stopped focusing on the exhaustion and tuned into the rhythms surrounding me and the very energetic Tyler Ward jumping around on the stage.

The Rescue stole away all of my anxiety

("you really have not done well on that paper you have to finish tonight,

 you know you have not eaten as well as you should have today, 

How on earth are you going to sleep tonight?...)

and negativity

("my back hurts so badly from standing for five hours I could saw it in half, 

it's going to take so long to get back on the subway, 

there are so many people crammed into this tiny studio room 

that there isn't enough oxygen for all of us, 

was two opening bands really necessary?")

The ED-anxious-mind was silenced.

Mr. Ward came out for one more song with just his guitar. While introducing the song as one of his first songs ever written, he began to weep. Oh great here it comes...my eyes have an instinct I like to call "tear empathy"! I tuned in for the last song with everything I had and the tears began to fall. Here is the YouTube video Tyler made for The Rescue featuring videos submitted by fans about their insecurities, anxieties, setbacks, and failures and how

we overcome and have been rescued.

after that I have no words.

rescued and broken,

C

the world and a world within.

it has been one of those weeks that I just can't seem to comprehend.
overwhelming, exhausting, draining... you all know the story.

recovering from an ED is an entire war of it's own... you all know the story.

not only are you trying to keep up with loads of schoolwork, maintain relationships (new and old), be a kind roommate, do your job as best you can, get the sleep you need, manage your anxiety and have a little fun amidst it all...

deep inside of you, there is another body fighting off a disease.
you wish you could just push it back down in there and say,
"not today, not today, I've got too much to do to deal with you."
but you know that, in pushing it further down, it will only scream louder and the battle will claim victory on your body and mind...once again.


no, I won't let you.


And with that defense,
comes a call for more strength, more than you will ever know.
Not only are you trying to just... live life normally.
You are learning to live life normally all over again.
You are functioning with the rest for society,
while you are re-learning how to function at all.
It's scary, and uncomfortable.
those who surround you could not possibly understand.
...
I don't remember who I was,
and so I'm starting over.
I think about that girl when I was thirteen and she seems like a Disney princess.
I think about that girl in the pit of anorexia and she seems like
a piece of dust in the wind.


She just blew away, her presence no one noticed,
her despair no one could see,
because she was just swept away,
a weightless body and vacant heart.

You know the story,
I know that all who have dealt with this, know this story all too well.


So I am writing this to relieve this battle from my chest tonight,
and to take a break from these midterm papers...
To somewhat just cry, because it's hard.
It's hard to have a
whole world living inside of you that is hidden from the "normal world"
and you have to live and fight and breathe
in both at the same time.

It's okay to let the world inside you cry,

and it's okay to let the outside shed some tears too,
sometimes... you just can't help it

when you have to study for midterms and also have to recover, every day.
I'm not sure which is more difficult at the moment...

But I do know the truth in this song I found on Monday.
One that has played on my iPod at least five times per day this week.
It is not on YouTube yet for me to share,
but the lyrics are enough.

I do know....

The Sun Will Rise

"I can see the wait there in your eyes

I can feel the thought in your sigh

Your knuckles are bruised from a losing fight

One way down a dead end street

Broken glass underneath your feet

You think the day won't break the sunless night

The sun will rise

The sun will rise

When you've lost your lights

The sun will rise

It'll be alright

It'll be alright

I've been in stuck in a storm before

Felt the wind raging at my door

Couldn't move, couldn't breathe, Couldn't find a way out

Somehow my clouds disappeared, 

Somehow I made it here

Maybe just so you could hear me say

The sun will rise

The sun will rise

When you've lost your lights

The sun will rise

It'll be alright

It'll be alright

Although you can't see it

So hard to believe it

Sometimes you just need a little faith (All you need is a little faith)

There's an answer to your prayer

And I swear that there'll come a day yeahh

The sun will rise

The sun will rise (The sun will rise)

It'll be alright"

-Kelly Clarkson

the sun will rise,

in both worlds.

it will rise,

C

make it possible.

strong enough for...

it was a most glorious day.
I am not sure why,
but I woke up knowing it was going to be sunshine.
and it was.

another glimpse of me showed up today.
a quality of her that I knew was deep inside, but had been hidden.


I had just completed my challenge
given by my dietician every week.
today, it was a drink of blended goodness from Starbucks.
may I suggest the Salted Caramel Mocha Frappaccino?

I left Starbucks just about bouncing off the walls from

caramel, chocolate, espresso, a great counseling session, successful morning at work,

and the fact that I was about to go down to SoHo for an art class,

my favorite part of Manhattan.

After taking three steps down to the 6 train station,

 I turned around because something caught my eye.

There was an older African-American mother 

standing at the top of the stairs with her little one in a stroller. 

Businessmen and women were whizzing by left and right not paying her any attention. 

I did something that caught me a little off guard.

the fact that I even noticed her at all surprised me, 

after living with an eating disorder you become numb everything, 

even things right in front of your face that used to catch your attention.

I walked back up the stairs without even thinking.

whoa, who is this person? 

oh yes, it's me.

"Hey! Do you need help getting that stroller down the stairs?"

She just smiled real big and nodded at me.

And so I grabbed the bottom of the stroller,

Starbucks in had and 10 pound bag on my shoulder 

we slowly side-stepped our way down the stairs.

Everyone just continued to whizz down the stairs right by us in their own usual world.

I stumbled a little and about lost my breath, I was carrying a child.

The little girl in the stroller didn't even flinch.

she was holding onto the railing as we went down

singing, "Down, down downnnn."

She trusted me... she didn't even notice my size.

Her mother just said, "Uh Oh!" and didn't question my ability.

She didn't doubt me. and on we went.

I started laughing at the irony of the situation.

Here I am, just about the most pipsquweak girl on Lexington Ave.

and I am the one helping this woman carry her stroller down the stairs!

What's wrong with this picture?

It's sad no one else even cared to stop and help her with the simple task,

but I am glad that I had the privilege of lending a hand.

Because it showed me an instinct that I once had,

and proved to me that it was still there:

She was not lost

She was coming back

She was powerful

She was a caring young woman

She can be trusted

She can feel and smile

She was strong enough for someone else... and for herself.

strong enough,

C

grilled cheese and savasana

I remember the first time that it really clicked
My best friend, mom and I (the two most important and inspiring people in my life)
went out for an end-of-summer dinner at a little cafe at the beach.
We sat and joked and laughed and all ordered the "gourmet grilled cheese"
I can't remember whats all in it... but I remember it was cheesy gourmet,
a masterpiece that was just fighting my ED in the face,

"Yeah! What now?! Whatchu gon' do about it foo?"

(Giving food a ridiculous dialogue eases the discomfort)

I have no idea what this means...
but it looked appropriate

I hadn't restricted at all that day, in fact, I remember getting into the car with my mom on the way to dinner and saying, "I did so well today... let me tell you what I had!!!"
And even though I had eaten normally all day, I wasn't going to restrict at dinner...
I was going to plow on through the day and be proud of myself.


After dinner we all came back to the house and carried on with our usual
laughing and chatting about... with L (best friend) in the room, there is never a shortage of chatter.
We were going upstairs to watch a movie or something when we ended up
somehow (I had no idea how)
deciding that, instead, we needed a moment of relaxation.
And when I say relaxation I mean... a full-on relaxation: a savasana
Within thirty seconds L and I were laying on the floor.

L: "We're taking a SHAVATS-STANA"

C: "L,there is NO T in Shavas-ana?"

L: Well how do you say it then? Yes, it is ShavaTsTana."

C: "Oh whatever, just lay on the floor!!!"

I started talking about this cool "eye pillow" that they use at my yoga studio
to rest on your forehead during Savasana... so L decided it was imperative
for us to have a legitimate savasana if we were really going to do this thing properly.
We gathered our resources... being a deck of cards, a candle, and a T.V. remote
and stacked the items on top of our "third eye" to fully surrender into the savasana.

My dad came in an saw the two of us laying down on the floor,
palms facing up,
bellies giggling,
decks of cards and T.V. remotes on our heads,
legs propped up on the sofa (for increased lower back support)
bursting with laughter
and doing everything BUT "savasana".

"What are you two doing now?"
"SHAVATS-STANA!"


And you know what happens next.
Yes, Dad got down on the floor and tojoin our "SHAVATSTANA"
Legs propped up and all, we all laid in that room just relaxin' away.
Now, we were not bursting with laughter,
we were howling...

Mom came in (who had stepped out to talk on the phone)
and was unable to verbally express her feelings towards what she saw.
The three of us, doing savasana... with household items on our foreheads,
heaving to catch our breath from laughing so dangerously much.

And then it clicked...
I was laughing
I was really, really laughing.
And I remember it.
We were hysterical.
In that moment I realized
that grilled cheese made me laugh.


Okay, so it was not "literally" that one food item, but it was weeks of feeding myself with the things my body needed, it was the ability to sleep through the night, it was the ability to let go, it was the effort I had put into recovery... it was me... letting myself be fed again. 
And fed to the fullest of joy. I remember that laugh, I probably always will.

And so now two months later...

I am in serious recovery.

not just that kind of recovery.

weekend recovery.

ha!
Goofy Miss L came to visit me on Thursday in my new home
and we had a whopin' Manhattan-Reunion-Party unlike any other.

(first we realized we must be real grown-up girls now because this was a monumental weekend to our friendship... 

being that it was the first time we had visited one another at one of our "houses"

which means...YIKES we're GETTING OLD!)

It was phenomenal to hear another voice from the past that knew me
like the back of her hand,
but also good to just have... a friend that didn't really care.
Someone what didn't remind me of anything E.D.
because she doesn't belong in that world and I'm trying to say goodbye to it forever.
With that comes some challenges, of course,
some things she just can't understand...
why everything is planned,
why I have to "think ahead" for dinner
why going out for a sundae at midnight makes me sweat
why I take so long to order...
why I have odd habits
it's a process that I am still in.


But she has been there through it all,
before, during and after, and before, during and after again...
and she always will be.
I'm exhausted from the lack of sleep,
laughter and tears shed this weekend
but it was well worth it
to be fully engaged with my best friend,
more myself than I ever have been,
to be transparent,
to be fueled,
to be loved and to give love,
to go to church and cry because I'm so grateful I'm still here, today
to remember
and to truly be in the moment...not drifting off into outer space.
Gosh now I may need to go take another mini savasana.

always got my back.
from then 'til now.

be still,
C

five years.

Do you know the days when you just

know

that five years down the road... you're going to be alright.

Not just alright, you're going to be healthy.

Not just healthy, you're going to be happy.

You're going to be free.

You're going to be at peace.

I've had that feeling a lot lately,

so much a part of me wants to rush right through these

years and get to those times of freedom.

In reality I know that things will never be perfect,

and I will always have to be on guard against

the ED, the terrible friend.

But, you know, in five years...

I will be thankful that I didn't rush right on through

the healing.

I'll be grateful that I took the steps, 

I did the work,

I felt the pain, I cried the tears,

I yelled for help, I dug deep within,

I fell and I got back up.

Because in five years I will be able to say,

I did it. I conquered this thing. 

and now here I am.

Life will never be void of failures,

tears, worries, mess ups, let downs, start overs,

broken hearts, lost jobs, anxiety and fear.

But I can choose to let them not win.

"She is going places,

She just doesn't know where or when yet"

...but in five years you'll see.

you'll see,

C

the voices from the past

"Recovery isn't about regaining who you once were...

but rather finding yourself as you are at present.

Let it be me. Let my life be me."

It's terrifying starting over sometimes. I mean like... really, truly, starting over. Finding this quote reminded me of the hope I have in beginning my journey again, defining myself again.

It's scary to think about going back home for Christmas break and seeing the people that knew me when I was so sick... or seeing people from High School that knew me when I was "healthy" then saw me go through a period of "unhealthy" and then be back at...almost-healthy-and-working-daily-at-it. Or seeing the people that knew me as "the ballerina"... then "the runner"... then "the biker"... or "the book nerd". Now, I am not defined by any one of these.

I don't know who I am exactly 

but I am finding out every day.

Just like I am in Kindergarten,

I am learning my favorite colors,

whether I like Jell-O,

what my favorite movie is...

what it feels like to go out to coffee with friends and laugh until your drink comes out your nose,

what it feels like to really focus my eyes on something,

what it feels like to just sit. yes,  just sit on the couch.

what it feels like to wake up in the morning and be, happy.

what it feels like to wear heels all day long and never have the urge to lace up my running shoes,

what it feels like to dream,

what it feels like to know whats inside you and remember it tomorrow,

what it feels like to miss someone,

what is feels...

exactly, I'm learning how to feel.

and so it's scary... facing the past, being reminded of the pain.

being reminded of the times I have forgotten,

being reminded of the unconscious days.

being reminded what it felt like to just, exist.

being reminded of the people who watched, confused.

and just didn't understand... couldn't possibly understand the pain.

Though there are two voices from the past, from the the joy, from the tears, from the pain, that walked through it alongside me... enjoyed years with me before sickness, and are now supporting me and watching me as I well... go off to Kindergarten again.

"Bye Mom! Bye Dad! Miss you today at school!"

Yep, mom and dad.

They are the two relentless voices, that don't remind me of the pain.

They don't remind me of "who I was" or "who I should be" or "that dancer I should have been" or "that doctor I was destined to be" or "that star student I was in high school".

They don't remind me of the judgmental stares, or the self-conscious anxieties.

They remind me of who I want to be.

They remind me of my life I have been given, by both them and my Savior.

They remind me of the person I am becoming, who I am pressing forward to be.

Not who I was, not who I was supposed to be,

but who I am right now.

That's exactly who I am supposed to be.

NYC momma, look out!

My mom visited this weekend.

It is so nice to be so transparent.

It's a sickness that is hard to talk about with "just anyone",

because they could never possibly understand,

never understand the years of pain I am growing out of...

but my parents were there, they went through it all with me.

Maybe not within me, within the pain,

but they were there when no one else could be.

Tonight, after my mom left, I attended a late yoga class.

While we were laying on our mats preparing for the opening Vinyasas,

the instructor said,

"Now begin to deepen your breath,

even if you don't need it at the moment, breathe for someone else.

Breathe for someone that needs your breath."

and it reminded me of my mom and dad,

They were breathing for me when I couldn't breathe for myself, 

literally and figuratively.

I could not be more grateful.

Even though I still need all of the "breath" that I can get right now,

and there are days when I still need to borrow some oxygen,

I had the desire to give mine away tonight 

because someone shared theirs with me,

and it saved my life.

Now, I have the chance to find myself.

Once my lungs become a little stronger

and my breath reaches deeper and deeper,

I'll breathe for someone else,

I will pass along the blessing.

Thank you for breathing for me

even when it hurt,

C

put it on cruise control

sometimes, you just have to put your body in "cruise".
Let go on the gas, let go of control, and just listen.

That's the gear I'm currently driving.

There are moments during the week when I feel unstoppable
I am powerful, fearless, relentless in the morning.
and then the afternoon rolls around...

"Oh you've eaten quite enough today. You're not really hungry for that snack are you? I mean dinner is right around the corner, you can make up for it there. I mean if you don't snack now you can have ice cream later, oh wait no... that's not good, don't do that. do it. don't do it. do it. oh wait... did you just drink that mango juice? You know that has calories so now you definitely don't need that snack later. And you had a cookie. OoOoOoOo a cookie.... I'm tellinnnnnn'. "

SHUT.

UP!

ED Voice.

SHUT UP!

It would be easier to just skip it, it would require less thought to not figure out what I was going to make for a snack, it would be a "coping mechanism" to restrict, it would be just like the old times when my anxiety was particularly high that week... but I don't want this to be old times. I want to fight this.

I want it, I want it, I want this!

I looked at my nutritionist today and asked, "When will I ever have to not think about this? Will it ever stop? Will I ever just be normal?"

I wish she had a definite answer, but that's the price you pay. It may always be a battle, it may not be... there is no telling. However, she did say, "Think of this snack as a pill... it's your medicine right now. The quicker and faster it is the less you have to think about it, you just have to do it. It's your medicine."

So, here I am in cruise control.

When my anxiety is particularly high because I'm thinking about all I have to do that day... that week, or if I'm beginning a new job, or if I'm still trying to meet new people in this ginormous town... I just have to put it in cruise control.

and take my medicine.

You just have to do it, C.

You gotta do it.

Even if you have to close your eyes to eat that cake,

close your eyes and do it.

you will be proud of yourself when you did.

you conquered that.

And one day when you're in manual,
rather than cruise control... it will be even better. Believe it.

Okay so I said to eat all that cake, 

BUT THIS ONE!

Because if I were the artist of this

masterpiece, I may have to kill anyone who eats this.

Just saying. Amazing!

eat your sushi cakes,

in cruise control,

C