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

21

yesterday, I celebrated turning 21.

wow.

I still have not really wrapped my head around the year that I have had.

Sitting around the table with three other girls that have come into my life bringing joy and passion, I nearly lost my breath a couple of times and had to catch myself. I just could not believe I was here, 21, living… laughing,

 

just finished final exams with three semesters left of college,

experiencing my first "drink" (yikes.) without counting the calories,

sharing "boy stories" and welcoming epiphanies offered through another,

laughing (and not grieving) over mistakes we have made,

thanking God for always starting a new path when we didn't follow the first time…

and, dare I risk the claim…. happy. Yes, I was happy. 

I am happy. I remember what it feels like now.

… each marveling at how our life catastrophes and victories had miraculously brought us to Manhattan, at the same time, place, church… and leaping off point in life.

I'd say that was quite a lot to take in a your 21st birthday celebration.

I laid in bed that night numb for a new reason,

overwhelmed by the thought of where I was this time last year

and how far I have come.

This year I was not laying in bed

dreading going back to school, setting my alarm clock to get up and run the miles away, wondering if this was all there really was, feeling guilty about having cake two nights in a row, hiding from the judgment of others by avoiding friendships, rolling around unable to sleep because my body was in "defense mode"… wondering if this was it…

This year I was laying in bed 

thinking of the victories I had won, thankful for the strength I am gaining to press on through the hard days, grateful for the confidence I am learning to establish relationships with once again… resting assured that tomorrow will come, proud of all the birthday dessert I have enjoyed (or working on it), rubbing my belly sore from all the laughter, re-reading all of the birthday wishes and beginning to believe again that people really did care, basking in the pride of successfully finishing another semester, anticipating the year to come, washing away the lies I had believed all week, 

curling up in a tiny but growing ball and embracing my body, 

thanking it for sticking with me,

thanking my mind for growing stronger,

thanking my heart for remembering how to live, even when I had forgotten how. 

For most people, I'd say their 21st birthday was "the big one" because they could go buy a dirty martini (which is disgusting) and not have to worry about getting carded… but, I'd have to say mine was a little different. 21 to me was not a celebration of a number, but rather a celebration of health and second chances.

I will never stop celebrating those two things,

no matter what the years or scales say.

I'm 21, I'm happy, I'm still learning, but I'm living.

in celebration,

C