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

wildfire. burn.

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

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

the damn cookie diaries

there are so many things I could write about tonight.
but honestly, it would probably all come streaming out from
my hands in a jumbled disaster that I would not even be able
to put a title on, other than "shit my eating disorder says"
(let's hope no one ever makes an incredibly offensive parody on this one)

I've been wanting to write for days, but all I get is crazy little snid-bits of thoughts
that are literally now scribbled all over my planner,
my post-it note stash, grocery receipts, frequent buyer cards,
basically any form of paper I could get my hands on in the moment
when a thought hits.
Yes, I have an iPhone, but I don't believe in writing what truly matters
with your thumbs… you gotta put your whole hand into it sis-tah!
Anyway, one of them turned into a list entitled:
The (Infinite) Commandments of an Eating Disorder: Thou shalt not
That one got a little touchy though and is still in the
"let me sit here and think about this in a couple of days" phase, 
so you may get to munch on that in a few days.


Another longer spontaneous rant came as
the product of a cookie.
yes.
only in recovery world will one 
ever be compelled to journal about
a freakin cookie.
at what point does this become funny?
I'm leaving this as is: a stream of consciousness, if you will.
I only share this because I am sure that most of you
reading have been assigned to keep a "food journal" at some point
or another (or will do so in the near future)
that includes both a record of nutrition and… feelings. oh the F word.

I will warn anyone before reading this that this post does discuss

a simple "snack" (a cookie if you have not already guessed it!) and

a bit about the struggles of gaining weight. 

So please do not read any further if you think it

may be a trigger for you… I certainly do not intend to trigger anyone

by any means. Yet, I know that I had benefitted greatly from reading/hearing

raw, unedited thoughts of someone else who has struggled with

the battle before… and it made sense to me, it helped me make sense

of my own rants, it helped me know it was okay to rant, to get angry,

to write every SINGLE thing you felt and most of all it helped me realize

I was completely and utterly not alone.

...

~March 4, 2012~

After having lunch today it was like all of the "hunger" just disappeared. I knew this was reality and that it would come and go as any normal person expereinces but it just got really frustrating again, because I knew unlike any other "normal" person… I had to push through it, I still had to eat… I couldn't trust my body's hunger. This was my medicine.

It was difficult to dismiss the "oh you've really let yourself go now" thoughts that began to come : "Oh no wonder you're feeling full and a little gross right now... you've been sustaining for days... what did you expect after eating all that and cheering yourself on for doing so well?" I knew they were lies, I knew in my heart that I had done well, I had done my body a favor... but I also was reminded of the discomfort. The discomfort that will come with gaining weight. It sucks quite frankly. Absolutely sucks. Gaining weight doesn't fell good to anyone, no matter if you need to or not! It feels tight, cramped, uncontrollable, yet controllable at the same time… strange, indescribable, unpredictable… and completely against everything I have ever practiced or set out of achieve. Let's face it, never in your life have you picked up a magazine that says, "GAIN 10 LBS THIS SPRING! GET READY FOR BATHING SUIT SEASON! SHOW OFF THAT CAKE! WE'LL SHOW YOU HOW!" 

HA! No. 

And now I am sitting here waiting on a friend to get coffee knowing I will have to get a cookie or something to go with it because its right around "snack time". I want to want it. I do. But I don't want it right now... it feels forced, uncontrollable, uncomfortable, so. not. hungry... but I know I have to do it, because if I don't... I will feel guilty for giving in, I will have to write it down for my therapist to see, I will have thrown in the towel and said "YOU WIN TODAY" and I won't do that. I want to right now and it seems tempting… maybe just this once, you've earned a slack. No. I won't. 

I got the damn cookie and it was good. Yes, I was full and it took about every grain of strength I had to decide to do it, but I did. I pushed through it. Because it had already been a day of struggle I, of course thought about it for an hour… cookie, cookie, cookie, Mr. Cookie in your tummy. But it passed. Just like everything else has in the past. I feel okay at the moment... not great, I'll admit, but I'm here. 

I'm here fighting off the frustration (for the millionth time) of "why do I even have to do this, how did I get here… are you really writing about a freakin cookie right now?" And I transitioned into just being grateful. I have what I need to fight through this.... everything I need. I'm not great, but I'm okay. I ate the damn cookie and I won't go to bed feeling guilty tonight. I'd say it was damn good too... and big. Enormous, giant, with sugar on top...so what? I don't curse much, but I'm feeling particularly infuriated towards the E.D. tonight… oddly and uncharacteristically bitter, but I don't hate the feeling. Who else has to sit here and write their feelings about a damn cookie? This freakin sucks. 

And that's all I have to say about that. Humph. I will win.

next time I'm bringing him with me.

love and damn cookies,

C

firing Mr. Fix It

i've decided that my tool box needs a makeover.
or rather… I just need to buy more tools.
for the past two or so years, I've only had one
and we all know what that one tool is:
the ED all-in-one wrench.

The ED wrench could fix almost anything.

a broken heart,

a dreadful, snowy day,

loneliness,

lack of direction,

late night studying,

a mid-term exam disaster,

frustration with a body part,

a big bump in the road,

a terrible hair day,

friendship troubles,

monsoon weeks,

a longing for home,

a loss of a loved one,

an unknown turn just ahead,

a ding in my front bumper,

an "I feel gross" day,

exhaustion from late nights,

a heart crying out for something…

anything.

It helped me not feel any of it.

Numb, paralyzed, just a walking existence.

Barely existing.

The one tool in my toolbox helped for awhile,

in fact, it helped for much too long.

I mastered how to use it,

welcomed the power I felt when it was in my hand,

finished the day with it under my covers,

held it in my hand on the couch,

clung to it for dear life,

ran miles with it... carrying it like a baton

and perfected hiding it beneath my smile. 

No toolbox needed at all,

it came with me everywhere

and was the cure for all life's problems, worries and fears 

in one little tool…

until it transitioned into my best friend and constant companion,

even on the "good" days.

One little Mr. Fix it.

I've decided to fire Mr. Fix it.

don't let the overalls fool you.

There isn't one tool to fix everything.

There never should be.

There never has been,

but lies have told us otherwise.

Lies have told us numbers are the only thing that make sense,

Lies have told us that its okay to not feel anything,

Lies have told us that there is no other told this powerful,

Lies have told us we are invincible,

Lies have told us, the more you use the told,

the more effective it becomes,

Lies have told us we might as well forget about being able to concentrate again,

Lies have told us this is the only way, the only cure, the only tool.

Wrong. 

There are so many other ways,

so many other tools:

funny movies, disney coloring books, knitting, a cup of tea, skyping with a friend, taking a nap, listening to a healing playlist, looking through an old photo album, going for a walk, laying down and taking ten minutes to breathe, standing on your head, just going outside, painting your nails, going out to get coffee…

What if you are frustrated with the mirror?

why don't you walk away and come back in twenty minutes in a new outfit?

What if you are stressed out with studying?

why don't you take ten minutes to paint your nails, clear your head?

What if you are feeling lonely?

why don't you call a friend who lives far away?

or maybe mom, she will always answer.

What if you are discouraged with recovery?

instead of giving in, why don't you lay down for a little while

and color, read, or write a letter.

What if your are just having a downright bad day?

why don't you go out and get coffee ,

there is nothing that won't fix

(but make sure you have something with it,

because you KNOW coffee does not constitute a snack)

What if you are having a terrible hair day?

instead of beating yourself up on the inside,

why don't you do your hair in pig tails…

pig talis are always cute and pin back frizz like a charm.

What if it seems like everyone around you in dating someone?

why don't you watch youtube videos of sexy guy singers

and not feel the slightest bit guilty about it

because you are single, HELLO!

Or… watch a Madea movie and make yo'self proud of your independence.

What if you are so anxious about something you cannot stand it?

why don't you take a nap, and reset your body?

What if you have an afternoon to do absolutely nothing?

why don't you paint, or find something to spark your creativity?

What if you are challenged to go to a restaurant?

why don't you welcome the opportunity to try something new?

What if you have the busiest day of your life ahead of you?

why don't you take 5 minutes in bed before you get up

just being and breathing deeply, to set the tone for the rest of the day?

What if you fall off your bike?

why don't you take this time to rest,

and start over?

What if you are having a tough time with your recovery meal plan?

why don't you sit down an write a letter to yourself

that you will read next year, thanking yourself for

drinking the boosts and eating twelve jars of peanut butter…

because you are much healthier now,

believe it.

Why don't you fill up your toolbox,

oh heck make it overflow,

with tools that are healthy, helpful, fun, 

creative, unique…

instead of allowing your old Mr. Fix it to handle it 

by hammering away your emotions.

oh, and get a cute toolbox,

fire Mr. Fix it

C

what is in yours?

beating still

I don't know why I couldn't tell anyone.
Maybe it was because I was scared to say it out loud, then it would be real.
      because I can't fully remember the day, but I do. Oh I do. 
      because I am terrified someone will demand medical help.
But my heart is stronger now,
stronger than before.
my heart is beating.


I have verbally told one person.
I just had to say it, tell someone, get it out of my head
away from being trapped behind my teeth
away from sinking too far down, knowing it would be only for a little while.
the words ached as they drained out, but...
It relieved me.

Grateful, humbled, in awe, broken,
I am healing and I am beating stronger.
And now, I decided it was time to… well, write.
write and relieve, so that I don't re-live

Last night in yoga class we ended by laying down as usual.
One hand over my heart, one hand on my belly.
I was working on calming my brain from listing everything I had to do afterwards
and battling away the thoughts of,
"Your pants feel tighter, don't they?
Good… bad. Good… bad.
Yay? Nay? Ugh… shut up. Didn't I tell you that five million times today?"

Something stopped my thoughts in their tracks,
my heart beat.

All of the sudden I became aware of my heart beating, drumming, expanding, contracting, moving, pounding, singing, breathing within my chest.
I stilled my hand over my heart and let the beat take me to that place I feared,
the memory that came,
that past fear, ache…
now,
a world of gratitude.

Oftentimes when I get overwhelmed or frustrated,
I have recently began to close my eyes and place my hands over my heart.
Because I remember to be grateful it is there, it is working,
it is pressing on
and so am I.

Two months ago, I had a revelation that nearly paralyzed my body for an entire night. It was a Sunday again, seems to be the day of emotion. I was probably feeling a little anxious about the coming week and I was in church swaying, lost in the music and I felt my heart begin beating really fast. Of course I reacted in a nervous panic, an any other ED conquerer would…What's going on? Why is it doing this? Am I going to pass out? I feel fine? I ate today… what is that? Why is this happening? Nothing happened, it was just telling me it was there. I was there. Immediately my mind swept away to February. That pain in my chest radiating down my arm, unable to breathe normally for days. It had come over me like an electric shock on the way home from my grandmother's funeral and wouldn't let me go. I was terrified. I slept with my mom for a couple of nights, refused to go to the doctor, took more "heartburn" medicine than any human should take and blamed the coffee, hardly slept in fear of not waking up, googled possible diagnosis and absolutely, positively refused to even think of: heart attack. 

The ED told me lies, but fed me terror. I've never been so scared. Yet, during these days… I was numb. Didn't even know how scared I was, yet writhing on the inside. Crying for help, asking for a saving grace. I didn't want this to be the end, but my body refused to feel, no part of me could shatter it. I didn't want to face the doctor's questions, they terrify me. I didn't want to believe the pain down my arm was anything but a pulled muscle. I didn't want my friends to ask why I went to the hospital. I didn't wanna scare momma and I didn't want to tell dad I knew this disease was responsible for it… the battle I didn't know was doing this to my heart.

A few days later, after resting, laying off the caffeine and regaining strength from the loss of emotions over the previous week… the pain subsided, the memory would not leave. Every time I had the slightest offbeat, my body quivered. Could this be it? Still, the woman who could still feel the slightest bit was terrified… so she pushed it further and further down. I don't want to deal with you now.
Hidden.

 It wasn't until I was in the dermatologist office weeks after the pain when I picked up a little "Women's Health" magazine in the waiting room. Ironically enough, February was Heart Health month...I was flipping through and the bold letters of a page caught my eye "I had a heart attack and didn't know it…" It took me ten minutes to force myself to read the article. Yes, yes, yes and…. yes. But no, I won't believe it. I won't. 


I didn't believe it then, but I lived.
It's still beating.
Now, I believe. I'm ready… to look it in the eyes.
To write it for my eyes to see, to rid me of the pain.
EKG's later… it's still beating.
Screams, laughs, hard days, nervous hours, downward dogs,
doctor's visits, loud music concerts, late night silences,
early morning "motivation showers"…. it's still beating.
Tears of joy, it is still beating.

That Sunday night… wasn't a "scare".
It was a gift. A reminder.
It was a cleanse. Yes, I survived a heart attack,
one that should have never happened.


But,
everyday as recovery gets harder then easier then harder again,
it beats and beats and beats.
You're not finished. You're only beginning this life
just beginning to beat and beat…and beat.
you are new, but it is
beating still.

another chance.
my heart says

Thank You for another chance, 

C

for a heartfelt post of gratitude: read.

message

from tonight's service at Hillsong NYC.

It doesn't matter if you are at rock bottom, Jesus' arms are long enough to reach you and lift you out. When He asks to you hop of board with Him, He isn't asking that you fly the plane. He just wants you to agree to be on board. That's it. Just get on. When you cannot fly yourself, He will fly for you. Just get on. It will be okay.

It will be okay.

It will be okay.

I promise,

C

i can do this

It's killed me to not have written in a week. It's been hard to find time recently to really sit down and process my thoughts. As discussed in my previous post, I've been struggling between pushing my emotions aside and saving them for tomorrow or dealing with them right then and letting them distract me from my everyday life. I hate to let them consume me to the point where I cannot even leave my apartment.... thankfully, I have not let that happen yet, except for the days when I really do just need to rest.

How deep do I allow myself to dig when I have to function as usual the rest of the day? ... Gosh, now I understand why so many choose to escape for a couple of months to learn how to think clearly, eat normally and sift through the pain without any other distractions.

With that said, many of the "normal" everyday things keep me going. Even though there are days when I think I cannot function in both "worlds" today, I know that I could not bear to be isolated from the elements of life I grow to love more and more each day. Because so much of what (and who) is around me slowly walks me back to the life of a "normal" twenty-year (almost twenty-one, AH!) old.

Even when I feel like I cannot recover and live as any other college student would, I am reminded of the things in the universe that keep my heart beating and feet walking in a forward direction... even when it is uncomfortable.

waking up to the smell of coffee grounds and saying hello to my roommate

receiving positive feedback on a paper I labored over for hours

being invited out for dinner and a movie by a new friend

finding out three people at church live just around the block

skyping with old friends that have truly not forgotten

conquering tripod headstand in yoga on Sunday morning

waving to the laundryman on the street that none-other-than an Indian version of my grandpa

writing a paper I have absolutely NO interest in, but one that challenges my brain to think outside of herself 

passing by Free People on the way to school wishing I had all the shoes in the WORLD

getting a text from my boss that says, "You're a ROCKSTAR! THANK YOU!" (not even kidding)

sitting on my bed with my roommate laughing at 90s music videos

visiting a new part of Manhattan every week

eating ice cream at midnight and not even caring

waking up to a new morning with no regrets, it's a new day

yesterday was yesterday

all of this says, "I can do this."

Last week in therapy, after rambling on with thoughts, thoughts, thoughts, worries, revelations, questions, stresses, blessings, on-and-on-and-on for 45 minutes... my therapist looked at me and said, "well... you've had a full two weeks."

Well... okay, when I try to cram two weeks of regular emotions and recovery emotions into 45 minutes, I guess it does sounds like a lot. If it just sounds like a lot, you can only imagine how it feels. Sometimes at night it is overwhelming and then in the morning it is gone. While in class I can silent the voices (finally, a skill that was acquired slowly), and while in church I feel as though the all the angels are speaking into my soul at once. Sometimes I leave paralyzed, other times I am fighting back two years of tears, sometimes I leave not knowing where to put my foot to take my next step. If you sit me down with my thoughts for an hour and a half, play music in the background and have people praying for healing of all categories all around me...you wind up with a very emotional little girl.

Just when I think I can't handle all that I am dealing with on the inside,

all of this says, "I can do this."


I am strong enough to sift through these strongholds, because I built them with my own strength. I have within me the strength it takes to tear them down... ones that didn't even need to be built in the first place. I have the smile it takes to energize the day and the wisdom required to be successful in school. I have the armor necessary to equip me for battle and the courage it takes to say, "Okay, so that wasn't my best effort, but I will try again tomorrow."

all of this says, "I can do this."


all of this says, "I am doing this."

to begin this week,

you can do this,

C