new

recreational, creative, personal, non-ED, sociological, story-telling blog

for all of you that may want to add a little more following in your life :)

storiesofjai.tumblr.com

continuing rising,

C

body

"The body does not belong to us. While it lasts, we must use it as a trust handed over to our charge. Treating in this way, the things of the flesh, we may one day expect to become free from the burden of the body. Realizing the limitation of the flesh, we must strive day by day towards the ideal with what strength we have in us."   - Satygraha, Gandhi

Dear C,

Are you treating your body, today,

 as though it is a token of honor entrusted to you?

One day… it will be no more.

Now…

what really matters?

strength,

C

this girl

is on fire.

a power ballad has never sounded so strong since Aretha herself.

no commentary needed. i'm feeling a little on fire these days.



one day at a time,
burning away the ED from my
body, mind and spirit

with fire in my eyes.

not.

backing.

down.

let it burn,

C

standing on bittersweet

I read this passage while finishing up a marvelous book, The Book of Bright Ideas, by Sandra Kring. Lately I've been feeling a knot coming up in my stomach slowly releasing an anxious murmur as it rises to the surface...

"Who will you be without me? Do you really want to let me go? Will you be able to control anything? Will you run in the other direction and make me a puffy stomach? Will you spin out of control and wind up the same way… confused and not knowing which step to take next, because you are so wildly out of control? Do you really want to say goodbye to me as a friend… when you are not sure you have someone else better to spend the day with? Do you really want to do this to yourself? Are you ready to live with the consequences of letting me wither away and wash thorough your system just like that breakfast you just enjoyed? I made you think didn't I? …. you didn't think about what it would be like to lose me as a companion. Bad companion or not… when I leave, I will still leave a void. Some kind of void. Actually, a pretty damn big one. Who will console you when you are sad, worried or having a pretty shitty day? Are you ready for the empty hole I will leave when you let me go? Oh… and you were so anxious to bid be farewell. A little bittersweet, eh? A little more bittersweet than you were prepared for… "

~ ~ ~

From The Book of Bright Ideas by Sandra Kring: 

"…I realized that I wasn't standing at the magic tree anymore. I was standing at the place they call "bittersweet". That place that, if you could find it on a map, would be the mountain that sits between happy and sad. And I thought bout how when you stand on that mountain, you can almost feel God's hand on your head and you just know, deep down inside, that even if you don't understand everything that happened to cause those mixed feelings, you still know there was a good reason for them happening.

…then I smiled and reminded [Aunt Verdella] of what she and Winnalee had both once told me. That you have to go on believing anything's possible, or else, what's the point?"

on the mountain of bittersweet.

and believing anything is possible.

it is, it is, it is, it is, it is, it is...

C 

    

tallest mountain

children forgive themselves for a lot.
they slap their friend…
say they are sorry
and move on.
we lose that ability with age.
with life.

forgiving myself is the last big mountain I have to climb
lately I have realized that it may be the largest of all.

sure, the physical weight was a battle enough.
ha, I thought that was all.
so naive.
but, what about finding out who you are again?
starting from the very beginning
while still able to look back
on a young woman and late-teen you don't know anymore,
shaking with anxiety and dwindling away from life's threshold
on an early teen who was strapped to a
ballet barre yet the first to jump at cheesecake without even a wink,
on a child that refused to wear shoes in the summer
and dressed up her cat in babydoll clothes.

all women dear to your heart,
but yet so strange and so distant.
almost like a childhood friend you hope to
meet again later on down the road.

how do you forgive yourself for stealing away years from your own life,
the only life you have?
robbing your body
confusing your mind
starving your spirit
and just...giving up all hope.
I honestly thought this was it.
I was trapped forever.

Now, looking back on the trap,
I become sick on my stomach wondering what could
have been if it had never happened
if I never knew how to restrict
if I never allowed anxiety to control me
if I never feared help
if I ever… opened my eyes.

oh, forgiving myself may be the tallest mountain there is.
every new situation that is uncomfortable, there lies a "what if…"
every question of my future, there lies a "what if…"
every comment on my weight, there lies a "what if…"
every day of feeling lonely, there lies a "what if…"

… but what if this was all meant to be?

I ask myself that in writing,
because I will be honest,
I don't yet believe it in my heart.
I still see a mistake.
I still see stolen years, relationships, giggles,
memories, hobbies, life, heart.
But maybe after I'm over the mountain
I will meet the childhood friend I hoped to cross paths with again.

Maybe I will believe this was all meant to be.
Maybe I will forgive.

at the foot of the tallest mountain,

C

beauty is pain

fighting isn't easy
but, you would think "getting better" was.
what about fighting to get better? how's that?

i've been too silent
too in my head
pushing through the next few months
meeting goals
thinking through numbing out
and fearing the results

i have not written because
i'll be honest
it's hard to put it to words
other than
i'm exhausted

anyone who has been here knows.
i am completely, utterly, unconditionally
spent.
not physically.
not emotionally.
but wholly.
it takes every moment
every ounce of energy
it takes everything
every piece of your life.

every piece of your life that was once
swallowed by depravity
the same
depravity that hungers after your healing
as every moment of
"normalness", happiness, and joy tries to sneak into your heart
and body

surrender one piece to depravity again.
just a little bite, a little snack.
it is like sinking sand.

it had been a normal morning.
normal is sometimes all i can ask for through this.
nothing had been restricted,
no excuses had been made.
i was calm, collected, strong and bouncy.

i glided out on my lunch break at work and
i heard the voice. dangerously familiar.
you're not hungry, you don't want lunch.
you'd be silly to eat your lunch you packed because you're not hungry
why don't you save it for later?
maybe you'll be hungry in two hours.

it was one of those moments.
i almost slipped
i almost fell for it's tricks
i almost thought i didn't have the strength to fight it.

depravity stealing me…

i sat down on a sunny bench
folded my legs, closed my eyes and hugged my knees
weighing to consequences of my choice
and a sweet squeaky voice appeared in front of my closed eyes:

"oooooOOOOOooooo Look Momma! She's so beauuuuuuutiful!"

i shot my eyes open and saw a little
black girl bouncing from head to toe being dragged by
her mother down the sidewalk.
the mother glanced back at me and flashed a smile
at me and then at her daughter.

oh if she only knew.

funny how life just works like that.
i pulled out my lunchbox
and thanked the angel.
beauty is pain, sweet girl… oh, if you only knew.
but i pray you never know that pain.

to sandwiches and soul sisters.

to brokenness and beauty.

to taking chances and accepting discipline.

to your strength within.

until next time,

C

whole

I am more complete.
I am more alive.
I am safe.
I am home in my skin.
I am
{on my way to being,
not-too-far-from
and beginning to taste the meaning
of what it feels to be}
whole.

this I will not fear.
I will not fear being whole
I will not fear that responsibility
I will not fear that feeling, skin deep
skin surface
internal sensation.
this fullness I will accept as a gift.
a memory of the past,
a taste of the future,
a new outfit
of a value beyond Madison Avenue.
this I will not fear,
this gift I will allow myself to indulge
a birthright to being whole
someone tried to take away

I dont know her, the one who stole it

but if I did know her,
I cannot imagine the emptiness she must feel.
Because I know what it feels to be almost empty
to feel as though there is room within your body
to fill with the best treasure you can find.
an abundance of storage
for just the perfect fit
more room to fill
and less possessions to hang on to
to get attached to
but if you could only find that one treasure
once you find that one treasure
to fill all the empty space you saved
you made
you will capture it all and stuff it inside

but it will never come
one treasure is not the answer

it is all the jewels of life
yes, it's not that easy
it's difficult
but you have denied all of the small treasures
turned away from shimmering stars
and crystals of delight
to remain empty.
to remain the same.

because love is to difficult to trust

and then be broken

so you wait for the one thing that

will not hurt when you treasure it

you wait for what is to come
perfection
that will never come

this i will not fear

it's here right now
the jewels that have tried to enter
when will you open your skin

and begin to whisper

I am more complete.

I am more alive.

I am safe.

I am home in my skin.

I am

{on my way to being,

not-too-far-from

and beginning to taste the meaning

of what it feels to be}

whole.

being still one year & still I know.

still i know

be still and know next year {inhale} next year it will not be this way. 

be still and know you have come far

be still and know one year is not enough time

be still and know one year is behind you

be still and know one year is ahead of you

be still and know the memories have no control over you

be still and know the past, is the past

be still and know this is not forever

be still and know there are millions of people struggling, feeling pain they, too, didn't ask for 

be still and know you are strong enough

be still and know you will make mistakes

be still and know bravery is built

be still and know crying brings another layer of armor

be still and know this is only a season

be still and know there is purpose in pain. there is pain with purpose

be still and know there is life beyond, why did you ever stop believing 

be still and know it isn't over

be still and know you cannot rush pain… thus, cannot rush healing.

be still and know tomorrow is another change

be still and know you are not alone

be still and know you are not alone

be still and know you are not alone

be still and know.

be still and know you have to be still

you can be still

you were made to be still.

you long to be still

you grow from being still

you fear being still

but you must

be still.

face. the. fear.

let your being, be still.

listen to the declaration of your body

listen to your inner teacher

she knows more than you think

be still and know

you are strong enough

be still and know

you can be still.

one year ago you said

you can.

you would be still.

and still it doesn't change.

only time

in time,

C

1-in-20

…click to read more about this

humbling, startling & brave

project.

thank you Carrie.

 all of us thank you,

C

let hope.

darkness trembles 

because you have the  power within to conquer.

do not fear darkness.

rather, it fears you. 

claim that.

xo,

C

the part of me

my anthem. 
ignore the fact that it's about some loser guy.
irrelevant.
same thing.
it's loser E.D.
declare it.


all of us have at least one part that
it didn't take away.
find it.
grow from that.
use it as kerosene.
light the rest of your body,
your mind,
your spirit.
there is a part of you that can help find the rest of you.
and to that truth we hold on.
hold on.



(please excuse the cheesy sing-a-long lyrics, ha!)

dedicated to M :)

this is the part of me,

C

wounds

Thursday night, I read this and got chills all over my body.

Friday night, I read this and tried to bury it beneath the surface of my heart.

Saturday afternoon, I read this and I wondered what it would be like to not question my wounds.

to not try and figure them out.

Sunday night, I read this and my wounds surfaced again and they got scary.

Monday night, I read this again… my wounds surfaced...again.

I was terrified again.

My wounds are deep.

Deeper than I can see, deeper than I know, multiplying every day… 

even the days of healing.

and endless abyss of discovery…

it cold, confusing, uncomfortable and appearing on my skin.

Then. This afternoon, 

I read it again.

I wanted to hide those wounds appearing 

on my skin so badly I could burst into a million pieces. 

but sitting right there in the park, whisper:

"Your heart is greater than your wounds.

You have to let go of the need to stay in 

control of your pain and 

trust in the healing power of your heart."

you must live your wounds through, 

through the skin, through the surface,

 through the darkness.

and so 

I read this again moments ago and got the 

chills, tears, longing, terror, acceptance, all at once.

I invite you to experience the same. 

Read for weeks on end,, until it becomes true.

I will do the same.

Live your Wounds Through

by: Henri J.M. Nouwen

You have been wounded in many ways. The more you open yourself to being healed, the more you will discover how deep your wounds are. You will be tempted to become discouraged, because under every wound you uncover you will find others. Your search for true healing will be a suffering search. Many tears still need to be shed.

But do not be afraid. The simple fact that you are more aware of your wounds shows that you have sufficient strength to face them. 

The great challenge is living your wounds through instead of thinking them through. It is better to cry than to worry, better to feel your wounds deeply than to understand them, better to let them enter into your silence than to talk about them. The choice you face constantly is whether you are taking your hurts to your head or to your heart. In your head you can analyze them, find their causes and consequences, and coin words to speak and write about them. But no final healing is likely to come from that source. You need to let your wounds go from that source. You need to let your wounds go down into your heart. Then you can live them through and discover that they will not destroy you. Your heart is greater than your wounds.

((… your heart is greater than your wounds.))

Understanding your wounds can only be healing when that understanding is put at the service of your heart. Going to your heart with your wounds is not easy; it demands letting go of many questions. You want to know "Why was I wounded?" "When?" "How?" "By whom?" You will believe that the answers to these questions will bring relief. But at best they only offer you a little distance from your pain. You have to let go of the need to stay in control of your pain and trust in the healing power of your heart. There your hurts can find a safe place to be received, and once they have been received, they lose their power to inflict damage and become fruitful soil for new life.

((soil for new life.))

Think of each wound as you would of a child who has been hurt by a friend. As long as that child is ranting and raving, trying to get back at the friend, one wound leads to another. But when the child can experience the consoling embrace of a parent, she or he can live through the pain, return to the friend, forgive, and build up a new relationship. Be gentle with yourself, and let your heart be your loving parent as you live your wounds through.

may all of these surfaces,

these wounds,

these dark moments,

these weaknesses,

these battle become 

soil for new life.

may we live through these

to find new life.

may we have strength enough to live.

live through,

C

… to stop searching

a poem:

Having loved enough and lost enough,

I'm no longer searching

just opening,

no longer trying to make sense of pain

but trying to be a soft and sturdy home

in which real things can land.

These are the irritations

that rub into a pearl.

So we can talk for a while

but then we must listen,

the way rocks listen to the sea.

And we can churn at all that goes wrong

but then we must lay all distractions

down and water every living seed.

And yes, on nights like tonight

I too feel alone. But seldom do I

face it squarely enough

to see that it's a door

into the endless breath

that has no breather,

into the surf that human

shells call God.

~Mark Nepo

what would it look like to stop searching

and only stand still

face the door

face fear

accept what we cannot change

rub against challenge

be refined into a pearl

and stopped questioning 

the waves and tides engulfing our entire bodies

and stopped looking back at the shore 

wondering what it would be to return

questioning whether there is another

safe shore in the future

what if we just listened to the sea

what would it look like to stop searching

I wish I could be that still in the water

knowing I was one day going to be a pearl

but rocks hurt.

they hurt really bad.

read this everyday,

C

a cry for

needed: your creativity.

and experience.

I need some healthy, reasonable,

maybe funny, creative,

wise, impressive, edgy,

powerful, in the words of Beyonce… fierce

comebacks for "low-weight comments".

I'm about at my wits end and quite frankly

want to wear a baggy sweater in mid-May

to avoid people who think they

have no social boundaries at all 

and take in upon themselves to make comments

without even knowing me

or knowing what I've come from

or knowing what I've been through

or knowing what I'm fighting.

I know some of you have experienced the same.

help before my boney ass strangles someone.

at my wit's end,

C

movie star

City at Night Photo by: James Maher

wildfire. burn.

what if time

 

sea glass

she's still there.

she will surface again. someday.

surfacing stains

decide.

decide with me,

C

dear morning, i don't know where to begin.

what happens when you take the time to address the day,

address yourself and your immediate emotions and intentions,

before beginning anything else.

minus brewing coffee.

today, I have begun an experiment of letters.

a new form of discovery and seeking

peace connection and clarity.

we will see what happens.

a little insight to what is on, in or around my mind

when I first begin the day.

the thoughts are as foreign to me

and they may be to you.

but this is an experiment.

and so be it...

if this is "alive", how much more extravagant is truly living?

kitty fur.

if there is one thing that can make you feel better
when you feel like
your skin is crawling
your mind is racing
your heart is pounding
your hands can't remain still
and your stomach is screaming.
it's fur. sweet, precious kitty fur.

because unlike feelings and emotions.
kitty fur, never changes
and it never stops feeling
warm, soft, nurturing, cuddly.
it's always the same
and the heart under the fur always loves you
always, always, always.
no fights, no hurt feelings,
no distance, no pressure.
that fur just downright loves you dammit.
and you know…
sometimes we all just need unexplainable & ever-present love,
no matter how independent or satisfied we claim to be.

so this was the face that brightened my day.

my sweet fur:

okay, so my love is hundreds of miles away.

but i'll take what I can get,

even just a photo text (dictated by Dad)

to say happy monday

I miss my kitty fur.

Is it weird to say their presence just makes

the painful recovery days a bit more tolerable?

Not at all… Because I know you all know exactly what I mean.

and thats all I have to say about that,

C

give back your heart to itself

i really should read poetry more often.
or better yet, write it.
chills follow.


Love After Love
by: David Walcott


The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. 
Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you 

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror. 
Sit. Feast on your life. 

once again.

I cannot respond with words.

tears maybe,

C

let it heal

a wise instructor read the following poem in class

this weekend at the nyc yoga journal conference.

this needs no preface. just soak. i still am.

Let it Heal By Ruth Forman

Listen to the song and let is tell you how

be quiet be quiet be still

let the angels put their hands on where it hurts and

smooth be quiet be still

ask for prayers around you and bathe in song

be quiet be quiet be still

sit in children's laughter twice a day

be quiet be quiet be still

leave your thoughts for another time

wrap yourself in daylight

knit yourself a friend tighter than you imagined

let good people close to you

move away from those that suck from you

be safe be quiet be still

if you have no hands

write

if you have no feet

walk

if you have no voice 

sing

and a chorus will carry you

if you have no eyes

see 

if you have no arms

hug

be thankful be quiet be still

and the pouring come upon you like holy water

and the healing a new plant

break the ground

emerge clean and willing

sorry and thankful

new and quiet

rejoice

like children at kickball

wise like grandmother's on the stoop

ready to live

and whole

ready

and

whole.

wrap yourself in daylight,

C

the control of a mess & the mess of a control

I read this post this morning from Carrie.

words I found to be an echo of my rant to my therapist yesterday.

A much more eloquently written echo.

"It was like I found a volume knob for all of the noise in my brain and to turn down that chatter, I just had to turn down my eating and turn up my exercise. I knew that the eating disorder didn't help me cope, not really, but it was how I made a crazy, anxiety-provoking world kind of cohere. It gave my world organization." -ED Bites

so much control,

one more hour and maybe I'll have something. maybe.

so predictable,

carrot sticks = good mood, brownie sundae = you feel like shit, easy as pie.

so manageable,

no, sorry I can't go out for your birthday dinner I have…ehh, homework.

so "harmless",

oh come on, it's not drugs or alcohol.

so validated,

I'm being so healthy eating spinach, it iron! I feel just great!

so dependable,

I follow these rules, I shall feel like this all the time.

also known as… feel nothing.

Life is messy. And painful. The eating disorder, while painful in its own way, is neat. It has a type of "payoff." -ED Bites

for a quite lengthy period of time,
this is how I made sense.
this is how I functioned.
this is how I lived.
well, existed at least.

it was the same everyday, so much "the same" that I can now hardly
remember a single "good day"
yes, I can remember the times I was scared out-of-my-mind
I probably didn't even feel those moments at the time
but I now remember
and as I gain more and more of me
I feel more and more of
where I have been
what I have been through
and even scarier…
what I am leaving behind.
the control I am leaving behind.


there lies the question: who will I be without this?
what will I look like?
sound like?
talk like?
feel like?
dream like?
or even smell like?
the E.D. makes all those answers unimaginably clear.
it's like magic.
everyday, every hour, every minute.
it's the same. it's neat. it's not messy…messy, like life.


messes terrify me.
even recovery has its own pattern, if-you-will
though how you will feel, what emotions may come up the next hour,
and how you will react when "the sh*t hits the fan"
is far less predictable,
there is still:

Monday: Nutrition meeting

Tuesday: yoga

Wednesday: email follow-up food diary

Thursday: therapy

Friday: catch up on life, REST night

To-Do Every night: Journal: 

how food made you feel,

when you felt comfortable

and when you didn't.

During the day: notice when you are anxious

when you are happy, 

when you are feeling the best

and the worst.

everyday, every hour, every minute
it has been recovery.
my top priority.
it can be an excuse for being "tired"
(IT'S A HELL OF A LOT OF WORK!!!)
it can validate a whiny mood,
the process can provide structure
and the thoughts of controlling food are ironically similar
only this time, food = increased health.
DUH. we're learned this already.


but this week I've been wondering.
what comes next?
what will I do with this messy
wild, glorious world without
the E.D. and then… without the life of recovery?
It's like losing a job,
divorcing a husband,
moving locations,
going back to school late in life.
Who will I be now?
What kind of world am I jumping into?
When is it right to let go…
… to let go even of hiding behind recovery.

When I come out from behind the curtain
what will I look like?

sound like?

talk like?

feel like?

dream like?

or even smell like?

I hope I look like Beyonce, 

sound like Adele, 

talk like Ellen Degeneres, 

feel like a warrior, 

dream like Mother Teresa 

and smell like fresh ground coffee.

Just for kicks. 

I probably won't be any of these things.

because they are not me.

they are tangible, real-life examples for comparison.

but they are not me.

I know they are only an example of a maybe 

to give my mind and body peace of the unknown.

since I let go of the volume knob

since I threw the file folder out the window

since I took off my armor

since I decided to see

what a messy world of mistakes 

and sadness 

and imperfections looked like.

up close, without any protection or secret hideout.

but also since I let go,

I also get to see a world of
beauty

compassion

giggles

& miracles.

it's give and take.

give and take.

but seeing one miracle just

may be the thing that makes 

feeling,

eating the brownie sundae

instead of carrots for once,

chuckin' out the file folder,

and stepping out utterly vulnerable

completely worth it.

this week I hope you join me 

in fighting to let go of 

the control,

the control of a mess.

which turns into a mess of control.

this we have learned.

be encouraged.
this too shall pass,

C