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

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

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

the waters within

I've hit that point where I can't even write for five minutes without changing my mind. The point where a couple of minutes go by and everything changes: up, down, left, right, joy, tears, love, pain, numb, crippled, giggling, screaming. Emotions: it feels all so new to me.

I won't go back and recount the days since I last wrote, since you most likely all know the feeling of complete recovery chaos all-too-well. One day I'm on top of the Empire State Building waving Hello to cloud 9 and the next I am curled up with my head between my knees wondering if I will ever be free of this.

Step-by-step, I know the answer is yes. This is only for awhile.

Sunday afternoon I felt the sudden urge to plop down and scribble out everything that was swirling wildly in my mind trying to find a crevice to leak out. Thankfully, I had my school binder in my purse (the size of a suitcase) and ran into the nearest Starbucks that appeared to show any sign of an open barstool (ugh, Manhattan coffee addicts…)

I decided it was time to let the words surface, come what may… dare I discover what was in there. dare I bring these torrent rivers to surface. I decided instead of trying to make sense of everything in a blog post, I would admit I have no idea WHAT I am making sense of right now and just...share the ranting river of words. Because I know that you all have either been there, felt that, done that, conquered this, or are getting ready to experience the strong currents of the recovery river.

Hang on… A wise friend told me, It will pass, It will get better.

February 19, 2012

I am probably going to be incredibly late to church in writing this, but my heart tells me this is exactly where I need to be and what I need to be doing at this moment. While it was on my mind. It scares me a little to be sitting in a public Starbucks, actually the one right by church, pouring out my gut onto the page. What if someone comes in that I know from church? What if they ask why I am frantically scribbling in my flowered binder? What if they see my late snack I am finishing up so that I didn't miss one today, because that is priority? How do I tell them: "oh yeah… I'm coming I just had to stop because it was snack time and I felt the sudden urge to write?" Oh wait… that actually sounds normal, right? It's not weird for someone to stop because they needed a snack. People get hungry, believe-it-or-not. It's not peculiar for someone to get "the next great idea" and sit down to write it out. This is New York City after all, for all they know I could be writing the next Gossip Girl season. It's okay, you're okay. So what if they see?


I feel like everywhere I go this weekend it's E.D. Sometimes it has been positive (get-outta-my-face-and-shut-up that actually is a good cookie and you know it) and sometimes its been a dog I want to put a muzzle on (you're tired, go to bed… I'll take care of you, you don't need that bedtime snack, just lie… you need sleep. NO!) I don't want this to consume me, but its so hard to disassociate myself from it when I constantly have to wear my invisible armor. Food is everywhere, that's a fact. Sometimes the kind of food that talks… "you're stressed, run away from me… you know you should really stop wanting me, I'm no good for you… You don't need me. Hellloooooo, don't I look good? How long has it been since you had me? Would you be proud to tell your dietician that you ate me?…" It's really quite loud and obnoxious when I'm having a somewhat quiet day, which would be today… Somewhere in the idleness of a peaceful mind it knows exactly how loud to speak in order to get my attention. This is certainly where the distraction of a sweet furry friend would come in handy. (sigh)


I want something else to define me. Not numbers, not how many snacks I need, not "challenges", not even recovery itself, not school, not work, not even what used to: coffee, running, dancing, painting, perfect grades, long-curly hair… but rather something new that has meaning, that I can openly share, that radiates from my skin, that brings tranquility to my spirit instead of lies. Something that just doesn't temporarily fill up the vacant room. No, THAT would be an eating disorder. 


Such an easy filler… food is always there (or not there). "Food" defines everyone, in some way… but all of us differently.  It's in your control, you can take week long breaks from it, you can have it all to yourself, it mops up any tears with its presence or absence, controlling it doesn't cost you any money: so easy to alter, cut back, tweak, reject, accept, ignore… Yeah, It doesn't necessarily cost money, but it can cost you everything. Food, sustenance, affects how we function, our ability to think, our capacity to feel…a gift to our bodies that we have the chance to taste, feel and be a part of. We gain a richer experience of receiving energy, of functioning properly, of being able to… well, be alive.


Doesn't that make anorexia seem outlandish? I like that word outlandish. The most outlandish thing in the entire world. If we have this key to life, why don't we use it? Why wouldn't I want my heart to pump blood? My brain to think as clearly as possible? My fingers to feel what my hands touch? My organs to expand and contract with breath and activity? My life to be full, to be energetic, to be well… living at all. Living outlandishly.


All of this came about as a result of this morning… this Sunday morning in yoga. Unlike any other day, my heart sank when I stepped into the studio. It startled me. I had no idea why the feeling came, but it was too real to ignore. I felt an uneasy presence. And rolling out my mat, I saw her. There was a woman in the back row laying down that I immediately knew was the source of the unexplainable troubled heart in my chest. Tears welled up in my eyes and my hands started shaking, sweating. I tried to lay down and not turn back. Unfortunately, there were mirrors in the studio and even though I was in the front row, I could see her reflection the entire hour. My heart grieved and ached for her. I couldn't judge her, though ego begs me to, I couldn't… I knew, I knew how much pain she must feel and I wanted to reach out and rescue her, ask her if it was worth it… tell her there's more.


As I struggled to revert my attention inward, the glances of fellow classmates kept directing my attention towards… oh my… for once, I knew I was not the "smallest" in the room (not like that even really matters), but in this case I noticed because I knew. Everything about her emanated what I knew, the past, the struggle, the disorder. 


I knew it had been the cause of my heart to hit the floor, because my spirit craves freedom from it… now, it makes me uneasy, it makes me squirm, it makes me run for cover, I want no part of it. And I want that for other women as well, not only myself.


I saw the veins protruding, a familiar disguise. I saw the thighs as thin as the calves, the sunken eyes, the withered hair, the glossed over grin, the two 26.2 water bottles laying at her side, the knee brace concealing an injury, yet she was still going. I don't describe this to point her out, I describe this because it was me. I knew her once. And I didn't want to ever meet her again.


What scared me most was: she was a grown woman… possibly mid-40s. That was my worst fear, that was what made my heart sink through the floor. I don't want this to be my future. I don't want to still be here. Do I still look like that? Do I want to look like that? Heavens no! I wonder if she is married… if she has children… if she knows how dangerous this is… If she wished for something more? If she wanted out just like me? If she had struggled since a young age? If she ever knew true love? If she ever went out at 3 a.m. for cheesecake with best friends because it was fun? If she ever considered taking a day off running? If she wanted to… live? 


I ask these questions, because I don't want to ever have to ask them to myself again. I don't want to be here in mid-life, I don't want to be here again. In fact, I found myself staring in the mirror hoping, praying, blinking again, hoping for the pounds to just appear. Please, oh please… please come. I don't want other women grimacing at my presence, I don't want the instructor standing by my side for strength support, I don't want to know what this is like 20 years from now. I won't, I can't, I will not, I stop here, I will fight the fight, I will pick up my armor every morning, I will take time to recover, fully. I will make it a priority, I will accept mistakes and allow grace. I will take this day to fuel the fire within my spirit. A fire that has been there for a very long time. I will led it spread like wildfire.

along the banks of the waters within,

It will spread like wildfire.

until the day all that is left is

me.

pure water within.

what if

~

What if you sat in complete silence for an hour 

with no one and no noise but yourself, 

could you face the thoughts of your mind with courage and not run away?

What if you wandered for an entire day without a plan in sight?

What if you kicked the ED out of your body

 and let other things in your life fill the vacant space?

What if you let go of control and turned away your old friend 

when she asked to come back?

What if you didn't let the fear of a broken heart shield you from love?

What if you let past wounds heal, fully stitch them up and close them off 

instead of using cheap glue?

What if you didn't plan for dessert following dinner, 

would you still allow yourself the offer if it came?

What if you said yes when you felt like saying no?

or

What if you said no when you felt you obligated to say yes?

What if you sat in your bed and read for an entire afternoon

 and didn't change your "meal plan" just because you 

hadn't been bustling about as normal?

What if you didn't let your reflection define your day?

What if you didn't buy a fashion magazine in 2012? 

You already know there will be some article in there, 

no matter the magazine, about losing weight… 

you're already good at that, you don't need the formula.

What if you welcomed awful hair days

and realized they made great hair days all-the-better?

What if you listened to your body's exhaustion and went to bed at 9:00?

What if you didn't set your alarm clock one morning?

What if you drank that second Boost for the day? I bet you would still live.

What if you told a stranger your story without fearing judgment...

just because something within you knew they needed to hear it?

What if, instead of cringing inside because your yoga pants felt tighter, 

you acknowledged it and became grateful

 that you had the nourishment you needed for that day?

What if you left your bed unmade and a dirty dish in the sink?

I bet you could still clean it up later.

What if you took five minutes everyday to
close your eyes and see what your mind sees instead of your eyes?

What if you didn't look in the mirror for 24 hours?

What if you burned those jeans?

What if you went to a restaurant without knowing

 what was on the menu beforehand…

 and ordered the first thing that sounded good,

 before the little voice convinced you otherwise?

What if you stopped assuming other people 

were always looking at you… judging, staring, wondering?

What if you made a point to make eye-contact with everyone 

passing on the street that day?

Because connections hold us together.

What if you walked into the kitchen and picked up a

 brownie because mom made them for you… 

even though it wasn't your planned snack? 

What if you could imagine, by the end of 2012, being… fully recovered? 

What if you believed?

What if you didn't count up or down, forward or backward?

What if you heard and listened to words instead of numbers, 

both in your head and on the scale?

What if you didn't let "you look so good!"
translate into "look at you... you've really let yourself go."?

What if you stayed out all night laughing and 

spending time with a friend spontaneously…

 without being anxious about your routine or your plans the next morning?

What if you did let someone's comment on your weight

or body tear your heart in two?

people are people.

What if you broke harmful habits and tried something new?

What if you let yourself have a day of grace just this once?

Or, what if you chose to not slip even for a day and 

choose to believe grace has already been given to you abundantly 

and this was a day to push through the pain?

What if you lived by a mantra?

What if you woke up each day and went to bed everything saying:

I am healthy

I am strong

I am alive

… fully alive.

yes. I think that will be my mantra.

What if you tattooed this on your heart?

What if you knew you were fully alive?

what if, what if, what if

what if you let these questions fill your year with growth?

C

the choice

Do not have expectation,

take challenges as they come 

and allow yourself enough grace.

This is the day you have been given,

you can choose to give it up

and later remember nothing.

or you can choose to live 

and have meaning

and have life.

clearly, they chose to live.

just choose,

C

conquer: be patient and trust

It was July 23, 2011. I have it written down so that I will always remember.
I had just started a new medication and facing the extreme "side-effect" anxiety.
I knew that sometimes the medicine worked, and sometimes... it only made it worse.
I was terrified and miserable for days worrying, 
"Am I different today? Is it getting worse or am I just paranoid? Am I supposed to be dizzy?"
I spent days sifting through the emotions of my body adjusting to the medicine
and I had begun to think I was going to give up, I couldn't keep feeling like I was walking on air.


I still don't know how, but I got up to open the coffeeshop that morning (aka 4:30)
and I just happened to feel the need to grab "The Inner Voice of Love" by Henri J.M. Nouwen
on my way out the door. I usually had about thirty minutes alone with only 2 customers at 6:00 a.m. so I figured I might as well read.


I was completely defeated and beginning to lose hope. I didn't understand... I had already had this massive breakthrough, I was ready to do this. I was ready to get better. I didn't want to feel submerged in the depths of the disorder anymore... but this was all getting too blurry again. Would I ever make it out?


And then at 5:45 a.m. I had finished all of the opening work I flipped open the book.
Prayer answered. 

"Receive All the Love That Comes to You"

by Henri J.M. Nouwen

While you may feel physically and mentally strong, you still experience a forceful undercurrent of anguish. You sleep well, you work well, but there are few waking moments when you do not feel that throbbing pain in your heart that makes everything seem up in the air. You know that you are progressing, but you can't understand why this anguish keeps pervading everything you think, say, or do. There is still a deep, unresolved pain, but you cannot take it away yourself. It 

exists far deeper than you can reach.

Be patient and trust. You have to move gradually deeper into your heart. There is a place far down that is like a turbulent river, and that place frightens you. But do not fear. One day it will be quiet and peaceful.

You have to keep moving, as you are doing. Live a faithful, disciplined life, a life that gives you a sense of inner strength, a life in which you can receive more and more of the love that comes to you. Wherever there is real love for you, take it and be strengthened by it. As your body, heart, and mind come to know that you are loved, your weakest part will feel attracted to that love. What has remained separated and unreachable will let itself be drawn into the love you have been able to receive. One day you will discover that your anguish is gone. It will leave you because your weakest self let itself be embraced by your love.

You are not yet there, but you are moving fast. There will be a bit more pain and struggle. You have to dare to live through it. Keep walking straight. Acknowledge your anguish, but do not let it pull you out of yourself. Hold on to your chosen direction, your discipline, your prayer, your work, your guides, and trust that one day love will have conquered enough of you that even the most fearful part will allow love to cast out all fear.

For some reason I remembered this passage this week. 

And once again, I opened up my book and relived July 23rd.

I can still remember standing in the coffeeshop crying my eyes out 

because once again I knew

once again I needed to be reminded... one day the anguish would be gone. 

There is hope.

Prayer answered, November 13, 2011.

And still I know I am not yet there. 
Sometimes I don't even feel like I am moving fast, 
while other days I feel as though I am "back to normal"
Then a hard day hits when I go to bed realizing 
I hadn't put everything I could into recovery that day
"keep moving as you are moving"


I wonder if I need extra help and I wonder if I am ready for all of this.
I wonder if it is too much for me to handle alone
And then,
"Keep walking straight. Acknowledge your anguish, 
but do not let it pull you out of yourself... 
dare to live through it."

I worry that people can see that people know,
that they judge.
I have nightmares about disordered thoughts,
that wake me up and try to make me believe the lies.
"the most fearful part will allow love to cast out all fear."


I catch a taste of that love every Sunday.
I move closer and closer to recognizing the taste of love,
remembering what it feels like to love... and to be loved.
Tonight, I had to rush out of church in time to catch the subway back with a new friend
and I ran over to say goodbye to a God-send, Hilary.
"Oh okay girlfrannn you go and run, text me this week, okay?
Love you girl."

I almost tripped on my skirt.
But my instinct reacted quicker with a smile.
"Love you too, Bye!!"

Step by step, love is conquering the fear

Love from other people, Love for myself,

Love for other people and Love for life.

Step by step, be patient and trust.

"keep walking straight"

conquer.

"keep moving forward"

conquer.

"there will be a bit more pain and struggle"

conquer.

"move gradually deeper"

conquer.

"allow love to cast out all fear"

conquer.

be patient and trust,

C