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

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

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

… 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

movie star

City at Night Photo by: James Maher

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

healer

those days come when you feel like 

everything you've worked for

you've forgotten

every lie and enemy you have defeated have 

found exactly where you ran for cover

every tear of joy you have shed is matched

with double the tears of frustration

every sign you thought pointed towards the end of the tunnel

ended up changing directions, just to play tricks on you

every week, month of growth 

seems to be followed by some of the hardest days to walk straight

every hope of achieving complete and total healing 

seems to break as easily as your fingernail.

it's been one of those days.

I knew it was one of those days where

my body would respond 

to nothing but music.

I went straight to the song.

The song that is my declaration,

the song that has always been my declaration,

no matter if I am healed or wounded,

nothing is impossible.

nothing is impossible.

Healer

by Michael Guglielmucci

You hold my every moment
You calm my raging seas
You walk with me through fire
And heal all my disease
.
I trust in You
I trust in You
.
I believe You’re my Healer
I believe You are all I need
I believe You’re my Portion
I believe You’re more than enough for me
Jesus You’re all I need

.
Nothing is impossible for You
Nothing is impossible for You
Nothing is impossible for You
You hold my world in Your hands

Nothing is impossible for You
Nothing is impossible for You
Nothing is impossible for You
You hold my world in Your hands

I believe You’re my Healer
I believe You are all I need
I believe You’re my Portion
I believe You’re more than enough for me
Jesus You’re all I need

and Listen:

through these days

learn to trust,

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?

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