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

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

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

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

this I hunger

I hunger for a day when all of this is a distant memory
when I can look back in my rearview mirror and hardly see the remnants

I hunger for a day when my mind and heart beat at the same rhythm
when my mind does not play tricky games and my heart rules my head

I hunger for the meal without numbers, don't we all?
Only vitamins, nutrients, smells, tastes, life.

I hunger for the moment when everything aligns
and all I am living for and working for has definite meaning, without-a-doubt

I hunger for the year, the full year completely devoid of disorder
when I see, feel, listen, smell more clearly than ever before

I hunger for the week when I am not reminded of those times
those times when it was hard to breathe, those times I was scared

I hunger for the moment when I can tell someone else,
healing is possible. Don't lose hope just yet. Hang on, oh please hang on.

I hunger for the day I can help, help and not be helped
because I will be strong, wise, victorious and insightful

I hunger for the afternoon when I am tired,
I am tired and I listen, I listen and I realize, I realize and I allow rest

I hunger for the month when the only numbers in my head are rent and electric bills
one woman's burden is another woman's relief, in perspective


I hunger for the week I can escape reality completely and just go
to be intuitive, in the moment, thinking about nothing else, belonging no where else
but here, now


I hunger for the holiday that doesn't have calories and sugar
the holiday that only has fellowship, home, sweet, family.

I hunger for the day when I can read for two hours and be completely
completely and entirely focused, engaged, just two hours.

I hunger for the day when I can share my story
because it is in hindsight now I can see, I can reflect, I can embrace, I can identify.

I hunger for a day when I know what hunger means,
when it isn't that strange to say... hunger.

hunger (v): a strong desire or craving.

this I desire,

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