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.

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

(longing) to have won

this is the hardest thing I've ever tried to do.

the longest battle I will ever fight.

I want it to be over, to have won.

to not have days when I feel as though my organs are screaming at me,

to not second guess myself, to not second guess anything,

to not have have days of doubt

to not have moments when you question, "Can you really do this?"

Yesterday, I was seriously questioning whether I could 

do this on my own… whether I was really recovering

or just pretending, just thinking I was.

Have the challenges been enough, 


will they ever be enough for rescue?

Filled with doubt, conviction and frustration,

I began typing. And walked away.

~ ~ ~

Beginning again,

a new day. I sit down and realize,

yes. those doubts were real.

yes. you made some mistakes.

yes. you were struggling yesterday.

yes. maybe this week wasn't the best for growth.

yes. maybe you have some strong realizations.

yes. you were probably over thinking some things.

yes. you should have gained control over the negative thoughts before they became too strong.

yes. you had a weak moment, hour…. day.

maybe even week.

yes. this is a battle, a silent yet deafening battle.

but yes, guess what?

you have the ability to acknowledge all of this.

If you didn't have these doubts, realizations, epiphanies,

guilty moments, uncertain days,

hours of longing to just be… normal,

you would not be moving forward.

Acknowledging that you took a few steps back,

is better than plunging forward into numbness.

This isn't going to happen in a week, C.

This is reversing years of work, this is relearning 

how to live.

Let the longing spread like wildfire

to fuel the flame of a better week,

the light of hope,

the beacon of healing.

Do not let 

guilt govern your days,

or bad memories rule over your nights.

Go forth with the longing of victory.

Go forth with certainty to succeed.

Go forth and say, "This is a new week and I can choose to do better."

Go forth and bask in the victory of what you have already won.

Go forth and claim more light offered to you in the day.

Go forth and forget the doubt of yesterday.

Yes, you are longing,

aching, yearning, pining, hungering

to win the fight.

Yes. where there is a will,

there is a way.

there is a way.

there is a way.

I want it to be over, to have won.

go forth.

longing and able,

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?

you is...

repeat this three times every day 

and see if you don't smile brighter in the 

mirror.

and if you have yet to see The Help 

or read the book,

I demand you do both.

There is more healing in this story

than I can explain…

healing the whole world needs:

warmth and love

kind, smart, important,

C

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 question

I am a professional what-iffer.

Usually, my what-iffing leads me into a downward spiral of doubt,
worry, negativity, hesitation, yadayadayada.

The beginning of the New Year was yet again
and emotional day.
Once again I was left breathless in trying to tame
my emotions when reflecting on a year
where I went from barely hanging on to being alive.

Looking back on where I was last year at this time

making the decision to leave school and stay home a semester,

extremely ill and in complete denial, working myself into the ground, 

sleeping only four hours a night, 

caking a smile on my face, exercising incessantly,

spending most of my time alone or working…

I have never been filled with more hope and
gratitude for being given a shot at full recovery.

Over Christmas break I went home to visit my family for the holidays
where I would say goodbye to one year and welcome a new beginning…
in the place where I both ran to and hid from the world
and myself only one year prior.

I knew it was going to be a difficult journey home.

I was anxious about being faced with clouds of 

past "sick memories" hovering over everywhere I went.

Lets face it … holidays = lots of food and dessert.

I knew my mom was going to be pushing cake

and brownies on me whenever she could and I would have 

to beg myself not to squirm in my skin at the thought.

I was uneasy about going to church and putting on the

famous "perfect face" I had worn all my life… the one I've been working on ditching.

I feared seeing people from my past who were 

the source of much anxiety, unhappiness and loss.

I was terrified of anyone commenting on my weight, 

even though I hadn't notably fluctuated that much since September,

I didn't want anyone to say anything at all… 

yet, some people just can't help not to comment on weight. 

Grrrrrrrrrr. 

So, my only hope against the nervous energy was an appointment
I had scheduled with my therapist from this past summer.
...the one who had first led me away from denial
and onto the road of recovery:

the raging storm of challenge, happiness and hope.

I wanted her to see what she had helped create…
the woman I am coming to know. 

how far I have come, yet how far I have to go…

now I can be honest about both.

The transparency I am beginning to show, speak and not fear.

The confidence I am gaining every week and how
I am learning to express who I really am,

as I break through the numbness to discover who I really am.

Her enormous, swallowing hug was almost enough therapy to call it a session.

I just knew this was going to set my mind more at ease towards the coming weeks. 

After I got done telling her all about my new adventures

in the City… the failures, the lessons, the growths, the fall-backs,

the victories, the joys of apartment dwelling and the friends I have made…

we talked briefly about the holidays… because everyone knows 

it is the toughest time of year for ED recovery.

And now that I am honest with myself, 

I was feeling the quivers I had heard everyone talk about.

But I guess it is better than not feeling at all.

She asked me what "my plans" were for the holidays and I

paused and said, "You know… I don't really think we have any…"

Whoa.

what?

I sort of smiled to myself as I noticed the irony of that statement.

Back in June I began to see a therapist for "anxiety and OCD"

…okay yes I do struggle with both, 

yet they were certainly second to the ED hiding beneath my skin. 

The most maddening quality to my OCD life was… planning. 

My mind was constantly going five-hundred-miles-per-minute

making plans for the rest of the day for no reason at all.

She had be talk through why I might be inclined to planning

so obsessively and it all led back to control, stress and perfection.

Once I got the OCD under control with the help of medication,

she challenged me with an all-too-familiar,
yet entirely different, "What if…" question.

"What if you woke up one day 

and didn't plan anything the whole day?"

"HELLO! No plans?! I don't know if I can do that…"

...and now here I am looking her in the eye saying, 

"…no plans" and it is not bothering me one bit.

Oh, how far I have come…

~ ~ ~

Now, months later, my new therapist in Manhattan has been

helping me confront and question my life-long struggle with 

perfectionism.

That's a big cookie to crumble… like Grand Canyon sized chocolate-chip!

Though I was undoubtedly born a perfectionist, 

being a "preacher's kid" since day one has certainly contributed to my 

"obligation" to put on a pretty smile no matter what…

If you have to hide your frustration or exhaustion, then so be it! 

"Just be pleasant" seemed to be the overarching rule of the PK's.

And I was good at it… I still am could be good at it.

I am choosing now to not hide behind my smile, that's too easy.

I've done that all my life.

The real challenge is to ask myself how I really feel,

what I really want to say… sure, don't go around frowning

or cussing the world! Haha, that is certainly not beneficial to anyone!

But rather… How am I truly feeling today?

Am I tired? It's okay to say you're tired.

Are you frustrated? It's okay… it's normal to be aggravated sometimes.

Are you just feeling quiet today? It's okay to not do everything.

Are you really wanting to spend time with these people 

because you truly enjoy their company? It's okay to not agree with everyone.

Are you struggling today? It's okay to say "no" and cancel an obligation.

all of these things I denied myself for years.

Before going home for a holiday break, I was expressing my

anxiety about going back to church and home… seeing all of the people

that have watched me grow up and have seen all of my "transformations".

I knew they would ask questions... some I would be unable to answer.

And I knew they would want to know how I was liking the City.

And I had convinced myself they had expectations of what I had been

accomplishing and doing since I moved.

Even people that barely knew me... who only know me as the "PK".

I was terrified to put my smiling mask back on...

to just revert to my old ways of 

"be pleasant, be pleasant! No matter what. It doesn't matter how you really feel!"

My therapist looked at me and shot me with more of
those "What if…" questions I was a professional at cultivating. 

But these were ones I had never, ever asked myself:

So, what if you didn't put on a smile? 

What if you listened to your heart 

and didn't feel obligated to go? What if you said exactly what you were feeling? 

What if you were entirely honest?

What if you stopped yourself before putting 

on the mask and asked the non-masked girl 

the question?

What would happen then? 

Could you do it?

oh dear… could I?

There's only one way to find out.

With all of these "What if.." questions being tossed 

at me in a different format than I was used to... a more constructive format,

I decided to create a list of my New Year's "What if" Challenges

instead of the typical list of resolutions.

While sitting on the airplane traveling back to begin 

a new year's journey in the City,

I wrote a list of "what if" questions that provoke a thought pattern 

of helpful challenge instead of a doubtful fuss.

It is both my plan to thrust my thinking towards recovery

and my initiative to end the battle with harmful "what ifs" in 2012.

Maybe, just maybe, next year the what if's will be entirely transformed.

I can only hope…

yet, no matter what this year brings, 

I will hold onto that hope.

Because of how far I've come, because I am now able to effectively process my thoughts, because I have learned to face my struggles, because I have been blessed with the tools I need to recover, because I have found hope again… a long lost companion, that I don't intend on letting go.

Complete New Year's "What if" Challenge list coming next post.

Until then Happy New Year,

Happy New Beginning,

Happy New Goals of Recovery,

Happy Second Chance,

Happy New Discoveries,

and Happy New Hope,

C