Just As I Am

Disney: What Will You Do Next??

2012-02-25T13:12:00.001Z

So the word 'Disney' conjures up beautiful starlit castles, a world where 'dreams come true', its the happiest place on earth. Disney brought magic to my childhood (and to adulthood if I'm honest) capturing my imagination and sucking me into a tale almost as wondrously as Barrie or Carroll or Dickens. We are heading towards Disney's one hundred year anniversary - which, to pinch one of Disney's own advertising slogan, begs the question - what will you do next?

Well apparently Disney next aims to further humiliate and shame children who are overweight or obese in their new attraction (and thats debatable) 'habit heroes', in which children join a somewhat waifish woman with protruding collarbones and a rubber muscled man in a quest to defeat 'bad habits'. In basic priniciple this isnt an entirely bad idea - except for the fact that what Disney terms 'bad habit' are for the most part serious and complex physical health problems, psychological difficulties and emotional inadequacies. Bad habits are personified into characters which can be defeated. So we have the characters representing obesity delicately named 'lead bottom' 'snacker' and the glutton'.

Tell you what Disney, why not take this into schools, save the bullies the trouble. Just add in 'four eyes' and 'ginger minger' and you're good to go! Seriously - if you were ever bullied you know the relief that summer break brings. Imagine your parents taking you off to Disney land - for a treat, only for you to find yourself in the middle of a so called educational attraction that draws attention to those areas of insecurity you already carry. Beyond this - obesity is not necessarily related to habit. It isn't always something children have control of. And whilst its important that parents vary foods and feed their kids well and schools and families introduce fun exercise - children should not be worrying about this stuff. That aside, how ignorant and dumb do you have to be to assume that armed with 'broccoli spears' and 'positive peer power' obesity can be erradicated, as though there were no correlation between emotions and food.

Oh and there's more....

Not content with hitting out at 'fat' kids Disney is caricaturing a whole host of issues kids face and in doing so turning the kids who come to Disneyland dreaming of being princesses and pirates into the bad guys. There's 'insecura girl' for example, shoulders slumped, under a rain cloud, looking incredibly unhappy and lacking self esteem. And she is a bad habit villain to beat?!? Perhaps insecura girl has problems at home, parents getting divorced, is naturally quiet and is picked on by others, perhaps she has learning difficulties or judging by the image has some sort of restricting eating disorder behaviours - these are huge emotional and psychological traumas, issues which children require time and talking and love to deal with - but no snap out of it kid - Disney says drop that habit - have a broccoli sphere and a plastic smile.

And there's more too. Duchess of Doom (too much negativity) is also another villain. Yes its important to be able to make the best of things and to learn to push forward and find the light in the dark. But its a little condescending and ignorant to say the least to assume negativity is simply a bad habit which needs to be stopped. One in ten children aged 5-16 will experience a mental health disorder (Mental Health Foundation, 1999) This figure is rising. Odds are Duchess of Doom type villainous kids are suffering from depression, anxiety, maybe ptsd, how about low self confidence due to physical or learning disabilities - again anorexia is a clear possibility!

Disneyland is meant to stand for a world where everything ends well, good triumphs over evil, if you dream it and believe it it can happen - you can be anything you can imagine. And these kids are going in to find themselves, not in Jasmin's eye colour, or Buzz Lightyears jumping power, but in the insecurities and accusatory shortcomings of villains. And more than that, they are then lectured under the pretence of fun into believing that all their problems can disappear if they just snap out of it and have some willpower. Beyond being insensitive and inappropriate - this is poorly researched by people with a lack of understanding of the depths and complexities of mental health problems, weight problems, personality traits and their causes. And until these people get their facts straight - they should really keep their thoughts to themselves and take that broccoli sphere and stick it in the hole they speak from!!!

N.B. Interestingly the website version of 'habit heroes' is currently 'undergoing maintainence'!

Pro Recovery Project - Becky Henry

2012-02-24T21:16:00.000Z

Today Becky Henry jumps on board with Anne-Sophie's Pro Recovery Project (clicky) which had been spreading awareness and inspiration for the beauty of recovery throughout the whole of February. You can find Becky's inspiring contribution reposted below or on her blog (clicky) which is well worth checking out.

FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 2012

Anne-Sophie Reinhardt's blog series on Reasons For Recovery

I’m collaborating with other writers in a blog series for the month of February. The theme is: Reasons For Recovery. Anne-Sophie Reinhardt at Fighting Anorexia asked several of us advocates to blog about the topic. I'll be sharing mine today, February 24th 2012.

As most of you know I am the parent of someone who has fought an eating disorder for about 12 years now. I have not ever been in recovery myself so I speak from the perspective of a parent who has fought these horrific illnesses from the sidelines, the trenches and anywhere else I can put myself.

I'm on a mission to improve the lives of all impacted by these most deadly of all mental illnesses. One life at a time. I start with the family members who are walking around with their hearts ripped open from the pain they have observed in their loved ones who are being taken over by one of these monsters.

As part of that mission I am doing what I can to help raise funds for research. The AED and Hope Network 1 Family $1 Drive for Eating Disorders Research idea came to me one morning while meditating. There are approximately 70 million people worldwide suffering from eating disorders. They all have at least one person who cares about them. The idea is that if each of those carers donates $1 to this fund then there will be millions for research scholarships. Here is the website http://www.aedweb.org/Get_Involved.htm when you click on the purple words AED and Hope Network 1 Family $1 Drive for Eating Disorders Research you will be taken to another page. On this page put your dollar amount in the box next to the words, "Scholarship Fund"and your donation will add to the others and soon we'll have some answers.

In that role of helping the caregivers or carers I often suggest that they make a "Top 10 List" of things that they enjoy doing, that bring them peace and joy. The purpose is to help them get their oxygen mask on so to speak. To get their cup filled up so that they are equipped to not only function well themselves but also to be an effective support to their loved one who is so sick.

So today I am sharing my "Top 10 Reasons for Recovery! "

1. There are people who care about you and want you to live.
2. You are special because you are alive.
3. Life in recovery is amazing.
4. It gets better.
5. You have talents and gifts that are unique and the world is waiting for them.
6. Your true self is waiting to be released.
7. Your dog/bird/spider/lizard/cat/pet.
8. Having FUN!
9. Enjoying life and food and yourself.
10. It would make Becky happy to know that Ed lost and YOU won! Truly.

Thank you all for being recovery warriors and for spreading the word about the 1 Family/$1 Research Scholarship Fund so we can have some answers and HOPE for a world without ED.
Becky Henry, CPCC
Hope Network, Inc.
Speaker, Coach and Award Winning Author of: Just Tell Her to Stop: Family Stories of Eating Disorders

Becky@hopenetwork.info
952-451-5663

Websites:
www.JustTellHerToStop.com
www.hopenetwork.info
Coachbeckyhenry.blogspot.com

Connect with me here:
twitter.com/HopeNetworkBeck
linkedin.com/in/eatingdisordercoach
http://www.facebook.com/HopeNetworkBeck

Pro Recovery Project - Benjamin

2012-02-24T10:55:00.002Z

Today Benjamin joins in Anne-Sophie's Pro Recovery Project (clicky) running throughout February with words of insight and information. Click here for Benjamin's blog or read the repost below.

Wednesday, 22 February 2012

It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves

There are many ‘eating styles’ and many of them can actually help us to stay healthy - but some are driven by an impulsive fear of becoming fat or bigger. These can damage our health in permeable ways and are called eating disorders. The most common disorders are Anorexia Nervosa, Bulimia Nervosa and Binge Eating Disorder.

The causes for the development of an eating disorder are very complicated but research has suggested that both biological and psychological causes are prerequisites in the development of an eating disorder.

There are a broad array of eating disorder treatment options but regrettably most of that is contingent on where one lives and how much money someone has as many of the treatments can be quite costly.

I am the mind frame that the success of a treatment is very dependent firstly on one's mind frame. Some have suggested it is the path up to the road that is the journey to recovery and self discovery.

I will say that an eating disorder is never based on the symptoms. It is not really about calories, food, weight and body image...but it's really about self-worth, self-esteem, insecurity, control and the diffidence associated around one's identity.

Eating Disorders are worrying and tumultuous illnesses that sufferers and loved ones need to 'nip in the bud' at the first stage of discovery.

There are many reasons to recover from an eating disorder, but in this post I will focus on the aspect of psychological freedom.

Nothing beautiful has ever been achieved except by those who dared believe that something inside of them was paramount to individual circumstance. This illness can plague, tarnish and jade the emotional faculty and instils within sufferers a ubiquitous obsession, infatuation and anxiety that can tarnish almost every element of one's being. I have spent numerous, mundane hours pensively exploring my mind, recognising my tendencies, frailties and strengths and recognising that despite all the perceived "benefits".... I wanted freedom. I wanted to be able to have the freedom to make an impartial action, to take an impartial, rational stance. I wanted to be able to sit down without that lingering impulse that is symptomatic of an eating disorder. Tranquillity, peace and serenity cannot be induced with a oscillating and unyielding eating disorder. There's no control in an eating disorder, but merely the illusion of such. The eating disorder controls us and it becomes so intertwined with our psyche that we start to identify with it and we start to believe that it is us. Although it is of course us, it should be differentiated from our normal, rational and healthy psychological state.

The road of recovery is a journey of self-discovery. We recognise our values, qualities, desires, strengths and weaknesses. We advance within ourselves, we question the pressures that the inane mass media invoke on us, we question those comments from others about our appearance and we ask ourselves why we deservefreedom. The most striking question that we ask is what it means to be happy and what founds the most impassioned, long lasting and healthy form of happiness?

Your belief determines your action and your action determines your results, but first you need belief, confidence and desire. Life is temporal, beautiful and amassed with opportunity, love and friendship. We only have one flight from the nest into the sunset, let us make our passage, our expedition and our reality as peaceful, free and content as possible. Be the person you want to be remembered as, defy pressures external and internal, love you, allow yourself to be loved and find oneself.

EDAW Goes Greek: The Message in the Myth

2012-02-22T03:25:00.001Z

I have been plagued (no pun intended) with the story of Pandora's Box for a few weeks now.
And this week, involved and surrounding by campaigns and projects for Eating Disorder Awareness Week. I recognised some connection. Something I guess that some who suffer from eating disorders can relate to. Maybe this analogy isn't for everyone - but I'll tell you the story and then tell you where the Greek fits into EDAW!

So Pandora was a beautiful woman, borne and moulded from clay, who received the wedding gift of a stunning box - trouble is, she wasn't allowed to open it. Pandora became obsessed with what might come of opening the box. She imagined all of the wondrous things that might come from going into the forbidden place. She envisioned such beauty, jewels, gorgeous gowns and treasures and became convinced of the precious contents of the box. And one day - she opened it. Expecting gold and gems and glory to lie within, imagine her horror and disappointment when out of the box flooded disease, poverty, misery and death carried on the wings of tiny moth-like creatures who bit and stung Pandora until she wept from the pain. She closed the box - but it was too late. Pandora couldn't bare the agony of the horrors that swirled around her, relentlessly attacking.

Then Pandora heard a quiet small voice coming from the box begging her to listen, to let it out - and though she feared what might come, the agony that engulfed her, she was sure, could be worsened by nothing. Pandora opened the lid once more. All that remained in the box, was hope - it fluttered and danced from the box, silvery and delicate, shining rainbow wings and gently kissed at Pandora's wounds and bringing healing. And though Pandora's world had been exposed to pain and suffering - she also learned the beauty and joy of hope.

See while there are exceptions.
My personal belief is that eating disorders are very often symptomatic of something else. Maybe its trauma, maybe its insecurity, maybe it is about your body, maybe its genetic, however you understand it, very often there is something that shaped that vulnerability to an eating disorder within you. For many of us, we find ourselves first engaging in some form of ed behaviour, feeling like we're the only one in the world who does this. For me,in the beginning, it was like looking over the edge of the cliff and wondering if I dared to jump, wanting to free fall because it could only be better than the place I was already in. Pandora was so tormented by the unknown, by spending her days staring at something that promised so much, but couldn't be reached.

My eating disorders promised me freedom from the pain I felt. If I could just lose enough weight I could disappear from view and I would be safe. If I could just binge enough I could fill the hole in my heart where I had been hurt so deeply. If I could just purge everything then the sensation of maggots crawling inside of me, the feeling of dirtiness and worthlessness would subside. The promise of if only I could reach 'enough' do 'enough' there would be treasures. Except - these promises were empty just like Pandora's. My eating disorders didn't bring freedom from my pain, they didn't lessen it, they complicated it, intensified it, multiplied it, they didn't stop the sensation of maggots or heal my hurt - they hurt me more. Pandora's box promised treasures, wonders, jewels, gold, beauty, gowns - precious things - things Pandora wanted so badly. But when she opened that box she learned the emptiness of those promises and experienced a pain, a torment that brought her to the bottom of herself. She couldn't bear the hurt.

Pandora heard hope calling - and all she had to do was choose to let in it.
I heard hope calling - and all I had to do was choose to let it in.

Hope is calling
- all you have to do is choose to let it in.

See like Pandora's box, eating disorders bring us the end of ourselves, to a depth of agony that is so intense, engulfs with such insatiable, unrelenting, merciless hunger that things can't get any worse. So listening to hope, giving hope a chance, letting healing wash over you isn't really a risk at all.

Pro Recovery Project - Arielle's Words

2012-02-17T06:16:00.000Z

Championing recovery today as another fabulous contributor to Anne-Sophie Reinhardt's Pro Recovery Project is the amazing Arielle. Check out her blog which is full of information , resources and inspiration including her contribution to the project here and reposted below.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Pro-Recovery Project: Arielle's Words

Anyone who knows me, who has read my blog for the last 4+ years, and has watched my motivational speaking videos knows that I am PRO-RECOVERY. Being pro-recovery is part of my very essence. I'm happy and excited to be part of Anne-Sophie's Pro-Recovery Project, which is showcasing one recovery blogger for each day in the month of February.

Well, readers, today is my day. And it's your day too. The day is waiting for you. Don't make it wait too long.

Anyone can tell you to recover. You have to choose recovery for yourself. But what's more - you GET to chose it for yourself. It's YOUR gift. It's YOUR reward. I always like to share a little something I call Arielle's Mantra:

Recovery is possible.

It's not a guarantee. It's a possibility.

It's not simple. It is difficult and sometimes seems impossible.

It's not a one-step process. It's a multi-step process complete with twists and turns and bending roads...and roads you didn't even know were there.

It's not the same for everyone.

It's not always a happy process. It's not always a sad process.

It IS empowering.

It's not about pleasing other people. It is not about them.

It's about YOU.

It's not about perfection. It IS about emotion. It IS about honesty. It IS about self-discovery and self-affirmation.

It's not about what you don't have. It's about using what you've got.

It's not about hiding. It's about finding and displaying.

It's not a quick-fix. It's a lifelong plan set into motion by truth and nurturing and self-love.

It's not about external factors or environment. It IS about what's within.

It is not crazy. It IS real.

Recovery is possible.

This mantra has its own tab on the top of my site. It deserves its own tab, because this right here is a mantra to repeat - over and over again. It's not only my mantra for you, it's my message to you.

When it comes to eating disorder recovery, there are many different kinds of people. There are those who believe in full recovery, those who believe in full recovery – but not for themselves, and those who do not believe in it at all. I think full recovery is possible for everyone. Will it happen for everyone? No. But is it possible? Yes. You get to choose to take the steps to do it. To put your plans and goals and hopes and dreams into action. The dream of New Life FREE of an eating disorder is an excellent, worthy dream that can become a reality.

There are a lot of factors that influence a person’s ability to recover, but real recovery from an eating disorder happens, and it happens every day. It’s not a matter of beating the odds, but of beating the eating disorder.

When influential folks say that full recovery from an eating disorder is unlikely, I get angry. When they imply that full recovery will happen to one in a million (or some equally incomprehensible number), I get upset. When they focus on all the people who have NOT recovered instead of those who have, I get emotional.

It’s difficult to promote recovery to those struggling with eating disorders when they are constantly being told that the odds are against them. Why bother trying at all? If you are already deemed to be (and doomed to be) a statistic from the start, what’s the point in paying money for treatment/care/counseling or getting support from friends/family/services? Isn’t it all a waste?

The short answer is: NO. Not only is recovery completely possible, it’s also worth every effort. Whether you’re involved with a whole treatment team, simply seeing one therapist, using an alternative support system, or going it alone – recovery is possible, real, and wonderful.

I know this, because I’m a recovered individual myself. It wasn’t always an easy path. I worked hard, used support, created support I didn’t already have, and kept climbing.

Today, I’m happy and healthy in body and mind. I've been fully recovered for some years now. I live my every day, a woman who is transformed from the girl she used to be. I think things start to disappear one by one as we recover. I think the more obvious pieces go first. We get to a healthy weight (whatever that is for us and our respective disorders). We let go of behaviors. We stop berating ourselves. We stop looking for perfection. We stop seeing perfection where it doesn't exist. We let go of pain. We let go of the past. We slowly let go of the thoughts, a day at a time, until we realize one day (like I did) that they're not there. They don't accompany me. They don't hide out in my mind waiting to come out if the opportunity presents itself. Call me “fat,” call me “ugly,” call me “stupid,” tell me I "shouldn't be eating all the food" that's on my plate... and I'll still be serene and confident in myself, in my recovery, in my body and my way of life. The change has taken place. I'm okay now. It's a beautiful reality.

I can't promise you that during some terrible, sad, or scary time in my life I won’t for a split second remember how I used to cope. But I can promise you this: I'm done with my eating disorder and I'm done with the thoughts, and if one ever does re-appear in my head, it'll be gone and I'll be on my feet no matter what life throws at me, because I've found the secret. I've learned to stand.

There have been a few times I've been asked, what are your top reasons in favor of recovery? Or is it worth it? Or more often, how do you know you're recovered?

And this is the answer I always give:

- Because my life doesn't revolve around food, exercise, feelings of hunger, my own image in the mirror, the way my clothes fit, what people say to me regarding appearance or success/failure.

-Because I actually have a life.

-Because when I wake up in the morning I am content, not filled with despair.

-Because I don't have to work at it. It is now natural.

-Because I can help others without being triggered by them.

-Because I live by what I’m writing here.

-Because I like my body.

-Because I even, most of the time, LOVE my body.

-Because I am at peace with issues of my adolescence.

-Because I can eat without over-thinking.

-Because I don't binge or purge or starve myself.

-Because I don't even WANT to binge, purge, or starve myself.

-Because I don't care what the number on a scale says and it used to incredibly define me.

-Because I am a healthy weight.

-Because I appreciate myself instead of hate myself.

-Because I feel free.

I am here in the moment and not afraid to eat, look, live, love. And you can do it too.

The length of time isn't what's important. It can take 3 years or 30 years. The goal is to get to the point where you can say, “I'm free” and mean it. Don't give yourself a deadline. Don't beat yourself up for slip-ups. Just. keep. trying.

Understand my main point: being "recovered" isn't about always being happy 100% of the time—it's about knowing what to do when you're not.

No matter how many cons there are to your dilemma, one big pro outweighs them all: you getting better, you feeling better, you learning to live life again.

Put more faith in yourself than in your eating disorder. Don’t underestimate your power to move forward and stay there. It all starts with you.

(For more inspiring words and encouragement in the recovery department, visit Fighting Anorexia - and remember, once February comes to a close, Fighting Anorexia will be publishing links to every blogger who participated in the Pro-Recovery Project!)

Oh, and one more thing - just a friendly reminder:

Pro Recovery Project - Anne-Sophie's Homage to Recovery

2012-02-16T00:04:00.000Z

The latest blogger in the Pro Recovery Project series is Anne-Sophie, who concocted this beautiful idea about sharing all the amazing reasons why we should fight to recover and be grateful for recovery. Check out her site here and see what she has to say reposted below xoxo

A homage to recovery

by Anne-Sophie

in Blog

Why should you even care to recover?

When the first thoughts of recovery started to occupy my mind back in late fall 2010, this questions was constantly going through my head. I still saw the life I led as too good to give up.
Why should I throw everything away, leave my husband for months and fight against this mysterious beast inside? Why should I give up a body that was so unnoticeable and therefor tolerable in order to gain weight and loathe myself even more?
Why should I change anything if life would always be sad and bleak? I could just go on like this and pretend that I am fine. I was still functioning and I would certainly know when to stop.

Eating disorders might kill others, but my anorexia would never kill me.

Knowing what I know now, I am terrified by these deceptive thoughts that are so horribly dangerous. Had I continued a few months longer on this path of self-destruction, I would have lost my life. I was in a state of confusion, sadness, emptiness and carelessness. My perception of reality was completely distorted.
I am glad I woke up just enough to start the process of healing before a disaster might have occurred.

When you recover, you give up a lot of things. You feel like you lose your life, everything you knew or thought you knew about yourself. But the truth is, you don’t.
You leave behind all the negativity that has surrounded you for so many years, in my case more than a decade. You give up destructive patterns and life-threatening behaviors and you transform yourself in ways you could have never imagined before.

I know that when you are in the midst of your eating disorder, you feel like nothing makes sense, life is just a series of horrible days, everything seems grey, bleak and hollow. You are, to put it mildly, in hell.

It is hard to imagine anything other than this. It is almost impossible to believe that life can be colorful, that feelings don’t have to hurt, that being healthy is not an unachievable goal, reserved for other, luckier people.

When friends, therapists or nutritionists tell you that your life can turn around, they lie, right? When they want to help you, they actually just want to hurt you. When they share their concern, they just want to make you feel inferior. When they tell you you need to gain weight in order to survive, they only want to fatten you like an animal.

Oh, how I know these thoughts, and how wrong they are. So utterly, utterly wrong.

I wish I had learned sooner that the people around me truly loved me and that they were incredibly scared of this disease that had captured me. I wish I could have cared. I wish I could have seen how rich life could be and how precious every moment is. I wish I could have opened my eyes and my heart to all the beauty surrounding me.

But now, one year into recovery, I have lifted my point of view and what I see is bombastic.

Today I see what everybody around me had been talking about for so long. I feel the vibrant lust for life that others experience and I am, for the first time ever, thrilled and grateful to be alive.
Working on myself and letting go off my eating disorder has completely changed every single aspect of my existence.
I feel the hope and the opportunity that each day embodies. I wake up full of energy, excited about the possibilities of the day. I am no longer the bundle of weakness I was a year ago, but full of energy and drive.

I can be spontaneous and make plans without them interfering with my ridiculous workout routine. I am able to drink a cup of my beloved Mocha at Starbucks without my eating disorder reprimanding me or calculating how long I’d have to slave away at the gym in order to burn the calories I consumed.
I am able to enjoy simply sitting on the couch with my husband, cuddling up to him while watching a movie. I love talking to a friend without having a guilty conscience that I am not exercising.

I appreciate my husband giving me a delicious chocolate mini cake for Valentine’s Day without freaking out about the calories and I enjoy every single bite while eating it.

I learned that I am not just a hollow shell, but I have potential and I have so much love to give.
I can be creative again using the space in my mind that used to be taken up by my eating disorder. I started to crawl out of my shell and actually learn to have self-confidence. I started to believe in myself and in the work I do and therefor have been more efficient and productive than ever before. I can even say that I am proud of myself without feeling ashamed.
I feel deeply, intimately and madly in love with myself and my body; a body with curves, imperfections and flaws, but so unique and forever mine. By learning to love the person that I am, I was also able to begin to love my husband on an infinitely deeper level. I am now a much better wife and lover.

I now notice the beauty in so many things that used to mean nothing to me. My taste buds have been in a state of ecstasy in the last year because of all the different, new kinds of food they were allowed to experience.

I learned to express anger, frustration, disappointment, sadness, agony or even joy without binging and purging. I don’t feel bad about feeling good about myself. I am no longer paralyzed by fear. I learned to confront it and practiced kicking it in the butt by doing it over and over again.
Problems don’t seem to be unresolvable anymore, they simply are challenges that can be mastered and that provide me with a chance to grow as a person.
Recovery teaches you many things, not only the art of eating regularly. When you recover, you learn life-changing skills that help you in all aspects of your life.

But the most important thing you learn when you heal is to take care of yourself and to rescue yourself from a fate threatening to take your life.

Today, my life is anything but hellish and this can be true for you too. And that is exactly why you should care to recover.

Pro Recovery Project - Tracey - Why Recover? Why Breathe? Because Not To Do So, Is Death.

2012-02-13T04:08:00.004Z

Why recover? Why breathe? Because not to do so, is death.

Carrying on from the beautiful words of hope and wisdom of the bloggers involved in Anne-Sophie Reinhardt's Pro Recovery Project (clicky) - Today is the day for my two penneth!!!

I chose this as my title for the skimmers and flickers of this world, because of all the things I am about to share that is the plain, simple, raw, naked truth and if that sentence is all you read – I’m good with that.

“Freedom from obsession is not about something you do; it's about knowing who you are. It's about recognizing what sustains you and what exhausts you. What you love and what you think you love because you believe you can't have it.”

~ Geneen Roth ~

It took me a really long time to accept that I had a problem - that I had eating disorders. Partly because that kinda goes with having a voice in your head telling you that the destructive behaviours are what is best. But mostly because for the bulk of the time I was sick I didnt 'look' like I had an eating disorder. I was an appropriate weight for my height and later - overweight. And because I didnt look sick I convinced myself I wasn't. But some things cannot be hidden and living in torment can only be contained for so long. What I want you to know, whoever you are, however you eating disorder manifests is that eating disorders dont discriminate, and they often dont lead you to an emaciated frame.

In fact according to 'Eating Disorders: The Journal of Treatment and Prevention' fifty per cent of those who present for treatment for an eating disorder are diagnosed EDNOS. EDNOS (Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified) means that the individual has eating disordered behaviours but does not fit the criteria for anorexia, bulimia or binge eating disorder - a primary reason for this is often due to the individual's weight or BMI being higher than that detailed in the diagnostic criteria. THIS DOES NOT MEAN THAT PERSON ISN'T AS SICK AS THOSE WITH OTHER ED DIAGNOSES!!! According to experts such as Carolyn Costin (eating disorder therapist and survivor and author of '8 Keys to Recovery from Eating Disorders) people with EDNOS are often some of the most sick clients that professionals treat. Wherever you ED is at, whatever your size or weight - its already bad enough!

In the years I suffered from eating disorders before I chose to fight to recover I lost a lot to them. They cost me my teenage years, my dignity and friendships. They made a liar of me, a thief of me and landed me in thousands of pounds of debt. The most devastating thing I lost in my eating disorders – was my self. And I’m sure that reads very cliché, corny even, but it’s true. See, you don’t get to have a life and an eating disorder. Maybe you’re reading this reassuring yourself that this doesn’t apply to you and that you have both. You really don’t. Eating disorders mean dying and death – and even if that death isn’t a heart stopping one, it is still devastating.

I am by nature, a bubbly person, a chatterbox, a bit quirky, creative, with this thirst for knowledge and exploration of the world I live in. I love people, love to hear their thoughts and ideas - my friendships are so precious to me. I had likes and dislikes I had carried from childhood. I have favourite things. I had dreams and hopes for the future. I had little things I did that were uniquely me. All of that got swallowed up by my eating disorders. I no longer knew who I was. My eating disorders took the place of my self. I quoted Geneen Roth because what she says is true. And for me recovery began the day I realised what sustained me and what exhausted me. And realised that I had to take responsibility for my life, for my wellbeing and for my recovery.

I didn’t choose to be eating disordered, I couldn’t help that. But I could help myself to change, to fight and to recover. And I’m going to be completely honest with you – it’s not easy, it’s exhausting, it takes time and energy and effort – and there are tears. But then my eating disorders did the same and then some. The difference was recovery also brought hope, proof that I was capable, laughter, I remembered that I loved Casablanca Lilies, that I hated wasps, that I could be soothed with the teddy bear I’d had since I was born, that I wanted to do a job that allowed me to help people, that I wanted a family someday, that my favourite colour was green. Recovery brought me – ME.

And if that isn’t enough for you here are some more reasons why recovery is worth it …

·  Your body is a vessel which carries who you are – you cannot ‘be’ without it.
·  There is a whole world waiting to be experienced and explored and sick doesn’t travel well.
·  NEWSFLASH! Eating disorders kill people, sometimes it takes years, but sometimes it takes months. The only way to stop your ED killing you is to choose to recover.
·  You are the only ‘YOU’ in the world and I truly belief that the rhythms of this world alter with the loss of every stitch in life’s tapestry. And because you are the only YOU – you are worthy beyond all measure.
·  Recovery teaches you life skills. It shows you that failure, that thing you feared for so long, doesn’t mean what you think it does. Failure is giving up, giving in or not even trying. Trips and falls are all part of the journey.
·  Getting together with friends is so wonderful and joyful – and it’s all the more amazing when you’re not freaking out about calories or trying to hide bloodshot eyes.
·  You have talents and hope and dreams, even if you don’t connect to them now, recovery allows you that and in that connection, you can work and learn – take a course, get a job, and succeed in whatever you choose to.
·  You can take back your morals and values. Regain your dignity, your self-respect and learn to like who you are and even learn to love yourself.
·  You can come to realise how capable you are to manage your emotions, your thoughts and that you can take control over your behaviour – that you are strong enough to do that. You can learn new ways to cope, to relax, to process life events and these ways will be healthy, nurturing and productive.
·  Food becomes the fuel that allows you to live out your day as you choose, it’s the BBQ on the beach with friends, it’s the meal out to celebrate your birthday – and it’s not scary – it’s fun and it tastes good!
·  You set yourself free. And that’s how this works. Yes we all need help and support to do this, often medical supervision and sometimes intervention – but you choose to engage with that and that’s the most empowering thing in this. In sickness, whether you accept it or not your ED runs the show, in recovery – it’s all YOU!

Life is full of choices. Some are easy, others not so much. But there are always choices. You are not responsible for getting sick and it’s sad that any of us experience that agony. But you are responsible for what you do today, tomorrow. And you can choose. It’s your call.

“You save yourself or you remain unsaved.”

~ Alice Seebold ~

Pro Recovery Project - Rachel

2012-02-11T00:52:00.000Z

The ever fabulous Rachel shares her journey of recovery and why recover rocks (here) and also re-posted before. Read and know that recovery IS possible!!!

Pro-Recovery Project - Moi ♥

For the month of February I have been asked to join a Pro-Recovery Project, which has been initiated by Anne-Sophie from Fighting Anorexia.

So this is what I came up with when I talk about recovery from an Eating Disorder.

There are a lot of misconceptions about whether real recovery exists. Perhaps some of these thoughts stem from the fact that it is difficult to imagine that a person who has been at such conflict with themselves and their body, can ever be remedied, and certainly not fully. Is it maybe a difficulty to think that someone with an Eating Disorder can unlock a very difficult place within themselves and walkthrough said door towards a pathway leading to full healing.

From what I have seen, the human spirit is far more resilient than we maybe think. We can see this in many different places and in many different situations. Take for example a documentary I watched just the other night. It was about the desperate struggle of young children who were born into brothels in Calcutta’s red light district. A very inspiring young woman, Zana Briski, developed a relationship with these children and using the power of photography, asked these children to quite literally capture the world around them. Zana’s idea was to use photography as a medium for translating to us and the wider world, what it is to be part of such an environment. The project aimed to free these children from the tight grasp of a dark and seedy underworld, and release them into a space of hope, aspiration and freedom. On watching this documentary, I couldn’t help but wonder where does such resilience, power, and determination come from? These children had found a way of talking and using their voice through even just one image captured on film. It is clear that such resilience exists because these children showed in all its awe the capacity of humanity in the fight against adversity.

Recovery from an Eating Disorder may seem a ridiculous thing to compare with the fate of street children in India, but in fact there are more similarities than we once thought. I might not have been born in a brothel, quite the opposite, I was born into a very loving, caring and generous family, where my parents were together and myself and my younger brother were given all the possibilities my parents could offer us. Yet, out of the seams of the underground, it would seem I was to develop an illness that is a Western curse, that of an Eating Disorder. I would not suffer and struggle in ways these children did, but I cannot help but think that my suffering, if I am fair to myself, was no different than these children. This could never be a literal translation, and yet the horrors of suffering through a disease such as an Eating Disorder, surely is comparable given its sheer depth of suffering. Maybe the connection for me came when I watched a young boy with the camera he was given. He did not stop taking pictures and whilst his willingness to engage floundered, which of course can be forgiven, he continued. He forged a path forward despite all the odds. I would like to think that I did the same.

An Eating Disorder isn’t something to be gently put aside. At our lowest points of illness, there are no words that can satisfy the starved dogged hunger within us which encapsulates the experience. I also don’t think we could ever truly understand the daily battle the street children faced, and yet, we were given insight into a hidden world. As I type these words, I want to focus on the path each of us can furnace from nothing but rubble. The plight of these children was mentioned, expressed, portrayed, but the documentary was about their growth. Recovery from any affliction or suffering is about healing. Using nothing more than a camera and print, these images set these young children free. I too want to focus on the letting go, the freeing of myself from disease, and to not focus on what it was but what it became.

What became is full recovery from the wasted landscape of the profoundly messy world of an Eating Disorder. I hesitate to name my disorder. The limited boxes used to group Eating Disorders are far too restricted for it to have any meaning. What I will say is that recovering from my Eating Disorder, has been the hardest thing I have ever done, and will ever do, in my life. I reframe from modesty at this point because I am increasingly and incredibly proud of how far I have come. I can understand why other writers or journalists find it necessary to talk about just what illness is, because with that comes the sensationalism of what there now is. The shock value compels the reader further. You won’t find that here. Instead I would like to tell you what recovery has given me.

The day I chose to eat, was the day I chose to turn my life around. The day I chose to accept my body for what it is, is the day I chose to turn my life around. And the day I chose to let go of any remnants of this illness, is the day I fully recovered. Over the years I have written at length about how I personally define recovered life. I know there are a lot of sufferers who have their own interpretation of recovered, because let’s face it; anything is better than full engulfment in the illness. For me however, there are a number of distinct factors that incorporate being recovered. The obvious for me were weight restoration to a point of health, eating a healthy, balanced and varied diet, with no safe foods or foods I feared. There was then the social integration back into life, the letting go of compulsive and obsessive behaviours, sleeping enough, and finally, the living. A lyric speaks, we might all be alive, but not everyone lives. And that is the key to recovered life; the actual living. To look at me, talk to me, spend your days with me, you would never have thought I had a live threatening disease a number of years ago. Maybe if you asked about how I experienced my twenties and how I spent my days and nights existing you would. Madness aside, and the importance of life highlighted, I have learnt an awful lot. Life lessons too few master. I have learnt to appreciate the tiny drops of hope and faith I find in people or places. I can spend a day with a camera and my environment and feel full contentment. I can, each and every day, feel grateful for the life I live. I can see that others, who suffer, regardless of what, when or for how long, can also recover fully. I have found a passion in life I don’t believe we are given in manufactured parts. Passion is careful carved into our daily living. We find an outlet, an expression. Some of the most wonderful minds, and creative geniuses’, are those who have suffered hardship and this takes me back to my discussion at the beginning of this, about the children in Calcutta.

Hardship, suffering, pain, trauma, adversity, is different for us all. But what comes out of that is maybe similar. Maybe the people we become are similar. We are our individual selves, but we are assured and confident in that. We have hope, a huge capacity for hope itself, and the belief that in the end, ultimately, we are going to be okay, because if we have endured what we have, we can come through anything. In liberating ourselves from those chains and allowing ourselves to believe, our faith in both ourselves and humanity itself evolves. We are no longer isolated, alone, feared, frustrated, immobilised. It sounds cliché to write that we are liberated, not bound by self doubt and wrapped around the tight grasp of our mind and our surroundings. We cannot change ourselves by changing our environment in the literal sense, it can help of course, but we carry ourselves with us as we walk through life. On repeat in my head used to be a quote I read from “Prozac Nation” by Elizabeth Wurtzel; “How can you hide from what never goes away? (Heraclitus).” We can however dare to dream, to imagine and to envisage what our recovery can be and will be and what we want it to be.

I dared to dream. I dared to picture the life I so wished for. And as I dreamt of those things, I strived for those things. With a lot of determination, and a fierce resilience to all the thoughts in my mind, I surpassed my demons, my adversity. I set it free amongst the tops of mountains and roof tops. I sang in the rain, jumped in the puddles. I climbed caves, and jumped off bridges attached to a bungee. I got my degree, I followed a career in psychology. I spoke about my cause, I endeavoured to be a voice to those too ill to speak.

I lived.

I survived.

I am alive.

I live.

And that is being recovered ♥♥♥

Pro Recovery Project - Jess

2012-02-09T23:09:00.000Z

Today the Pro-Recovery Project, brainchild of Anne-Sophie, (check out her blog here) continues with some words of lived and learned wisdom from Jess, reposted below. Check out her blog here.

Why recovery is STILL worth it

I was invited by Anne-Sophie from Fighting Anorexia to participate in a recovery advocacy project. I, along with Anne-Sophie and a list of other great bloggers, are posting this month on our reasons for recovery. Though I have written on the reasons I entered recovery several times on my blog, one particular entry of mine stands out the most. In August of 2010, I wrote a very short post called "Why Recovery is Worth it". Here is what I said:

"Why recovery is worth it:
In recovery, you realize your body is special.
You are worth saving.
Life is too short to be miserable, sick, and hungry.
Food has a purpose.
It fuels your body to give you the energy to live.
You will remember what it feels like to hope and to dream.
If you're healthy, you can actually begin to make them come true.
When you're free from your eating disorder, you are free.
Your thoughts are your own.
You don't have to answer to anyone.
You don't have to lie to people or live a double life.
You don't have to feel guilty.
You don't have to hate yourself.
Food is not the enemy.
You don't have to be afraid of food.
Your hair will stop falling out.
Your stomach will stop growling.
You won't be light-headed.
And you won't gain a hundred pounds.
Eventually, you'll stop fighting with the mirror.
You will begin to trust yourself.
You will begin to take care of yourself.
You will begin to love yourself.
You can start over.
It's not too late.
You are worth saving. "

After rereading this post today, I've realized a number of things:
1. I still believe every word I wrote back in August of 2010, even if I don't always follow my own advice. I know that I should, and I'm trying to do better.

2. I believe I am worth saving. I believe you are worth saving too.

3. Sometimes, dedicating your life to recovery once is not enough. Sometimes we fall down. Sometimes we need reminders. Sometimes we need to take a step back, reevaluate where we stand, and learn the best way to move forward. We need to dedicate ourselves forever, not just a moment in time.

4. Transformation is not a future event. It starts now. Today. Don't say you'll begin recovery tomorrow or next week or next month or when you've lost another five lbs. Do it now. None of us have any promise of tomorrow. Life is too short, too beautiful, too precious, and too fleeting. Even if your world is so dark you can't possibly see that right now, I promise you, it is.
Recovery is possible. Recovery is worth it. Recovery is necessary.

I also once said: "But I've realized recovery doesn't mean boring. It doesn't mean normal or mediocre or bland. Recovery just means healthy. How can I be spectacular and different and unique if I'm dead? Anorexia = another statistic. Anorexia = death. Dead means dead. Dead means it's over. No more chances. No coming back. But with recovery comes hope. Hope means good things will come. Recovery means energy. Energy means I can do all the things I want to do. Recovery means promise. Promise means a chance to be all the things I want to be. Recovery means life. It means more than life. It means to be alive. Unique. Special. Free."

Are you ready for freedom?
What will you do today to take steps toward recovery?
What does recovery mean to you?

Pro Recovery Project - Matt Part Two

2012-02-06T19:42:00.000Z

Today Matt jumps on board the pro-recovery project party bus with his two part blogging session on his reasons to recovery - check out Matt's blog here and please find a repost of his post part two below...

Reasons For Recovery Blog Series – Part 2 (My Turn!)

Today it’s my turn to talk about reasons for recovery! In case you didn’t know, I’m collaborating with some other writers in a blog series for the entire month of February. The theme is simple enough: reasons to recover. Special shout-out to Anne-Sophie over at Fighting Anorexia for starting the conversation that turned into this little project and for doing most of the organizing.

Beyond the guilt, shame, and self-hatred of any eating disorder is a person who is entirely capable and worthy of giving and receiving love, and fully capable of recovery. The eating disorder tries to convince you otherwise, and will do anything it can to stick around. It poses as your best friend, but in truth, it wants to kill you. In fact, eating disorders result in more deaths than any other mental health condition due to the physical effects they have on the body. Usually when someone enters recovery, there are a myriad of excuses, barriers, and reasons (some real, some exaggerated, some fabricated) which stand in their way. Let’s say someone had to go into a sixty day inpatient treatment program, how do you think that someone would react to such news? Most people do not respond with enthusiasm.

Whatever things came to mind about taking sixty days off of life to go inpatient, they’re probably many of the same things that others would think and say. Maybe it’s just working a support group into the schedule or going to therapy. What I have heard the most from others who are struggling in recovery is “I can’t” followed by a long list of obligations other than recovery. Things like work, school, or relationships are often at the top of the list. None of these reasons, though, address the most important factor:

An eating disorder left untreated has the potential to kill you.

You cannot work a job, go to school, pursue a career, or have friendships or relationships if you are dead. No amount of excuses or barriers changes this fact. When treatment is being considered and I hear someone say, “I can’t!” I want to shout back “Not only can you but you have to!” Setting aside barriers and excuses, recovery comes down to a simple choice: life or death. I don’t know anyone who can honestly say that their eating disorder has ever brought them happiness. If you are reading this and currently suffering from an eating disorder, ask yourself – how does your eating disorder make you feel? Does it bring you legitimate happiness? On the contrary, the responses I’ve gotten from others are that it has brought them nothing but misery and often has ruined their life. My experience was no different. So, when considering the pros and cons of recovery, it’s a matter of choosing between continuing to be miserable and possibly die, or to have a chance at being happy and living.

That was the turning point for me, anyway. The push to do all the work necessary to recover was that anorexia was turning me into the kind of person I didn’t want to be. I was hurting friendships and relationships with excuses and lies. My grades were falling. So much of my time and energy was devoted to losing weight that I didn’t have much time for anything else, and all I had to show for it was a sunken face and an aching pain in the muscles around my heart. The choice to recover was the choice to start living my life again, for me.

While the choice may be easy, however, carrying it out can be much harder. Once again, we encounter, “I can’t!” Early in recovery, it feels impossible to eat normally without giving into whatever disordered eating behavior one has been engaging in. No matter how difficult something may seem, though, it’s neverimpossible. That word is reserved for truly unachievable things. For example, I feel comfortable saying that it’s impossible for me to fly under my own power – I’m not a superhero. By comparison, eating three meals a day without purging them doesn’t seem quite so difficult.

A lot of people with eating disorders struggle with negative self-talk. I think this is one of the most important things one can do: to counter it with a correction and remind oneself of what’s true. The eating disorder makes you say, “I can’t do this! It’s impossible!” but we count that with, “I’m having trouble doing this. It’s very hard for me, but it is not impossible.”

It’s almost like learning to speak a new language – the language of recovery. The eating disorder inserts its own voice into your mind and thoughts, masquerading them as one’s own. It has a very limited vocabulary, consisting of words and phrases to make one feel bad about themselves. You could almost say we get tricked into speaking this language, engaging in negative self-talk and focusing on arbitrary numbers like weight or caloric information instead of how we feel. The language of recovery, though, has no room for self-deprecation, negative self-talk, or the futile effort of measuring self-worth with a scale.

And it’s a language completely worth learning! I consistently find myself applying the things I learned in recovery to other parts of my life. The way I relate to people, the way I respond when others act unskillfully and feelings get hurt, and in my ability to challenge myself to do things while recognizing my own limitations.

It’s never too early to start recovery. Life is too short to spend another day, hour, or minute at war with your body, risking your health and possibly your life.

Pro Recovery Project - Matt Part One

2012-02-06T19:40:00.001Z

Today Matt jumps on board the pro-recovery project party bus bringing some fabulous guy power with his two part blogging session on his reasons to recovery - check out Matt's blog here and please find a repost of his post part one below...

Reasons for Recovery Blog Series – Part 1

In case you didn’t know, the last week of February is Eating Disorder Awareness Week. Of course, I consider every week a week for eating disorder awareness (and advocacy, education, and prevention!) Still, it’s nice to have a week reserved to try and plan events around, and I’m happy to announce that I’m collaborating with some other writers in a blog series for the entire month of February.

The theme is simple enough: reasons to recover. Special shout-out to Anne-Sophie over at Fighting Anorexia for starting the conversation that turned into this little project and for doing most of the organizing.

The first post in the series comes from Abby Cooper, and I really love what she had to say. Her post is about the feelings – good, bad, and in between – that come back as you progress through recovery. Too often, an eating disorder can both be the cause of pain and also the remedy we turn to, until it’s impossible to remember which came first:

Yes, it’s true that the eating disorder behaviors cushion the intensity of the feelings you don’t want. But they also mute the ones you do. It strips you of your vitality and humanity. You can’t pick which ones you can experience fully. So you have to let go and let them all in. This seems scary to someone with an eating disorder. But the way to do it is to ease in: notice, allow, don’t judge. You’ll notice the more obvious feelings first, and the more practice you get, the finer ones will slip through. It becomes a game of sorts-“I don’t know what I’m feeling” turns into “I’m sleepy!” or “I’m hungry!” or “I’m hyper!” or “I’m lonely” or “I need to create something.” You get better at feeling.
And it’s awesome.

You can read her entire post here.

I think she has some really wonderful insight here. ED behaviors sometimes become a reflex response to any unpleasant emotions, but as the body heals and nutrition is restored, emotions and thoughts become easier to manage. Take away those numbing reflex behaviors, though, and suddenly you feel more of your feelings instead of handing them over to ED to cover up. It can be overwhelming at first, but I agree with Abby – it’s totally awesome.

Stay tuned for more posts on the reasons for recovery throughout February, along with a few regular updates!

Pro Recovery Project - Susa Joins In Sharing Her Story

2012-02-04T04:00:00.001Z

A beautifully written hope filled account of Susa's experiences in recovery. Check it out here (you should check out her awesome site anyway!) or please find the reblog below. And remember join us - share your experiences of the beauty of recovery - for more details check out http://fightinganorexia.com/pro-recovery-project/,

Freedom Ballet

I recently met a lovely, bubbly person, Anne-Sophie on the Net. She is blogging from Switzerland under the title Fighting Anorexia and sharing about her battle and victories over an eating disorder that had her in its gloomy grips for fourteen years. Anne-Sophie also travels abundantly, leading an intercontinental life – the title of her second blog. Her communication is clear and inspiring. She starts her podcasts stating “they are about life”. And surely they are – a life where we dare to feed ourselves so that we can go out and do things that really matter. With no degrading, accusing or insulting self-talk.

Anne-Sophie put up a challenge. Writing out reasons for recovery and about the sparks of hope that keep you going. My disordered eating started when I was a fifteen. My ballet teacher told me to lose weight. All of a sudden, food became my enemy. The less I ate, the better person I was. Entered self-hatred and frustration. The result: binge eating. I would eat uncontrollably, afterwards feeling sick and so painfully ashamed. I never vomited, but “controlled” the situation with fasting and hours of sports. This was my horrible secret for fourteen years.

Then came happy changes in life and I was able to eat normally. A stressful situation, a need to tone up for a fitness exam, slowly but surely brought my old demons back. From 2005 to 2010, I gradually ate less and less and subsequently became severely underweight. My body mass index was 15, the anorexia limit being 17,5. In the summer of 2010, I didn’t want to put on a gram. But started recovering anyway, merely because I was afraid to lose my husband. What man would love a sack of bones?
In one and a half years I have put on about half of the weight I should. It has been a rocky road, with ups and downs. Today I am becoming positively fed up with this eating mess. I want to have energy to do what I want. I want to be healthy and be done with cramps and pains, constantly wondering what the heck is wrong with me, and deep down knowing that if I just fueled myself the way I am supposed to, all the troubles would be gone.

The sparks of hope on this roller-coaster ride back to a life are important to remember. When the bad day comes and I feel like the fattest person on earth – how petty and not-so-true Susa does that ever sound – I pull these precious drops of gold out. I feel strong enough to go out and do sports for a longer time. I get that lovely boost of fresh air and the pleasure of a good jog. When you are anorexic, you never know when your energy levels could plummet. Recovery means being able to go eat out and have a social life. This can do wonders to your couple, too. Sharing food is such a normal part of our life. I can have a body that doesn’t make people uncomfortable – when you are sickly skinny people start making open, rude comments. Now men are noticing me again. Flirt has returned. This feels soothing. I am able to think about other things than food – disordered eating takes so much energy, counting calories and worrying about maintaining the routine-filled system.
I also carry a timid hope that one day I could truly love myself and body the way I naturally am. I would love to go back to take a ballet class. Ballet gave me an eating disorder – now I want to claim my life back, and have ballet too. But just as a way to celebrate Susa!

I am writing about this very personal issue – now in detail – because I hope that by doing so I could be of encouragement to others. That my suffering – and now I am actually in a better place health-wise than in years – would serve a purpose. I never wanted an eating disorder. It is no one’s fault. It just happened. Presently, I am tackling the final obstacles to break out. I would like to be a fighter partner to whom ever needs one. We’ll exchange messages and support! Just write me.
Here is my story… handle with care. What is your point in life needing some freedom ballet?

Art by Susa

Pro Recovery Project - Let's Recover Together Team

2012-02-03T23:21:00.002Z

Day Three brings more words of wisdom borne of experience courtesy of the awesome Let's Recover Together Team reminding us all of what happens when you let go of ED and start living instead!!! I have reposted their wisdom below, but do check out their site here

In honor of Eating Disorder Awarness Month, we are taking part in the pro recovery project and hoping to spread awareness about eating disorders and eating disorder recovery. It may seem scary to get help and start to recover. At times,recovery can be stressfull and challenging and the ED thoughts can be overwhelming. The ED thoughts may convince you that you dont need to recover. Making the choice to recover is a life changing expereince. It may be hard to let go of your eating disorder but in the end,it is for the better.

Many times during my recovery,I was afraid to let go of my eating disorder and truly experience life. It was scary,as the eating disorder was something familiar to me,something I took comfort in. It was not until I started my journey to recover and started to let go of my eating disorder that I truly understood the value of living a ED free life. Recovery can be scary because we are enetring the unknown and leaving our ED’s behind. lot of times,the ED thoughts only tell us the negatives about recovery or we only focus on the negatives.

Here is a list of all the positive things about recovery. The next time you are doubting recovery,take a look at this list and be reminded of all the good things that come from letting go of your eating disorder and starting the journey to recover! Letting go of your eating disorder is an important step in recovery! This list is taken from our “tips for recovery page” and can be found there as well! We are here for you every step of the way! We can recover together! <3

Positive Things About Recovery

More head-space for hopes and dreams

Stopping the cycle of negative, shaming, depressing, sick thinking
Getting lost in laughter
Regaining trust
Having eyes full of Life
Finding an identity outside of food
Enjoy food?? YES!!
A social life? THAT TOO!!
Discovering worth beyond the number on the scale
Life less interrupted (without going to treatment and whatnot)
Having a less judgmental head
Better body temperature regulation
Self love
Self acceptance
Physical activity for FUN
The option to procreate
Experience emotions, not just be numb
More energy!
More joy
Family and friends aren’t that worried anymore
In the morning, not dreading the day to come
Freedom from the insidious monster (Ed)
Physical strength, weariness diminished
Negating the lies that are screaming when confronted by a mirror
No more body comparisons
So much less anxiety ( when further along in recovery )
A mind for beautiful creative thinking, not calculating calories
Glow-y skin
To help others
Enjoy Life
Making goals
Beating death
Having pride for accomplishments (well deserved)
Gratitude for little things
Confidence
Motivation
Having Hope
Genuine smiles
Being able to inspire someone
Saying NO when necessary and not feeling so guilty
Things can actually be funny
Progress not perfecktion
Breaking problems into baby steps, more manageable, higher chances for success
Being able to relax
Eye contact
Staying in the moment

i also want to add something i have gained from my drug and alcohol recovery. These are the Promises that are included in the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. With just three years sober, much of this is true for me. Here they are:

If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and self-pity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows.Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change.

Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us

. We will intuitively

know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.

Please check out the Fighting Anorexia site which started this pro-recovery project! Together we can spread awarness about eating disorders and eating disorder recovery

Pro Recovery Project - THE Abby Cooper

2012-02-02T23:49:00.000Z

Day Two of the Pro Recovery Project, brain child of Anne-Sophie Reinhardt (clicky) and Abby Cooper is sharing a little of what recovery means to her and the unexpected treasures she found along the way. Check out Abby Cooper's Blog Here and find her contribution to the Pro-Recovery Project below... (the woman is wise!)

Something You Get When You Recover From Your Eating Disorder That You Didn’t Even Know You Wanted

Feelings.

When I was early in my recovery, feeling my own feelings wasn’t easy-or even desirable. I had internalized a false message that my natural sensitivities made me weak, and therefore they were less worthy. I felt like who I was was not acceptable. Because of beliefs like these, my eating disorder had developed to an intensity that I was no longer receptive to the world like I had been before.

I had gotten to the point in my disorder that before I even could recognize a specific emotion, I had an urge to use my eating disorder behaviors. I didn’t think I was emotional anymore. Those ED urges replaced “excited,” “sad,” “longing,” “desire,” “comfort” and left me with only my eating disorder. The eating disorder felt preferable-it felt less painful. I was less of a mess, less sappy, less all over the place. Of course my life was a big mess in a whole different way, but: I was more numb. It felt easier.

I never intended to numb myself out to my entire life, however. Recognizing, feeling, and valuing your feelings is both a necessary step in recovery and a wonderful part of living. One thing I’ve learned to appreciate in recovery, that I would have never appreciated if I had never had an eating disorder is this:

You can’t feel the best feelings without allowing yourself to feel and tolerate the most painful and uncomfortable ones.

Yes, it’s true that the eating disorder behaviors cushion the intensity of the feelings you don’t want. But they also mute the ones you do. It strips you of your vitality and humanity. You can’t pick which ones you can experience fully. So you have to let go and let them all in. This seems scary to someone with an eating disorder. But the way to do it is to ease in: notice, allow, don’t judge. You’ll notice the more obvious feelings first, and the more practice you get, the finer ones will slip through. It becomes a game of sorts-“I don’t know what I’m feeling” turns into “I’m sleepy!” or “I’m hungry!” or “I’m hyper!” or “I’m lonely” or “I need to create something.” You get better at feeling.

And it’s awesome.

Yesterday, I woke up lonely. I felt a bit mopey and not interested in any of my usual solitary activities, like reading or drawing or goofing around on my piano. I felt sad. And I didn’t do anything to STOP that feeling. I allowed myself to feel sad. I called my brother, we talked about it, and then we joked around a bit. The feeling didn’t stop me from having a nice moment with him. Then, around mid afternoon, a friend called and invited me over. ELATED! was the next feeling I felt. I felt it just as much as I had felt lonely. I decided to get outside before I went over to her house to boost my mood, and move around a bit. I really FELT the sunshine and the brisk air, and I really FELT my body move as I got some movement in. When I drove to my friend’s house, I played music, and really FELT that music, and let it put me in a better mood. And when I arrived at my friend’s house, we had an awesome time just hanging out. I drove home that night feeling connected, loved, grateful, and warm.

I got all of those things in one day. And it was perfect.

I could have never had that day if I still used my eating disorder.

So, am I sensitive?

Yes.

Do I feel a lot of things?

Yes.

More so than other people?

Probably.

Is that weakness?

No.

It’s strength, because I know what I had to work through to be able to get here and accept and embrace this part of myself. Those feelings allow me to be in relationship and connect to life.

Not only is connectivity to your feelings possibly the biggest reason to recover, it’s one of the biggest and best reasons to be alive.

fightinganorexia.com

Pro Recovery Project

2012-02-01T10:19:00.001Z

Below is a repost of the fabulous Anne-Sophie Reinhardt's description of her new pro recovery project which begins today (see link above or repost below) Check it out and get involved! ...

Pro Recovery Project

by ANNE-SOPHIE

in BLOG

Recovery is hard and sometimes, when every day is painful, we can lose sight of why we are even trying to get out of this vicious circle. Giving in often seems easier than continuing to walk on the path towards a free life.

Sometimes we need someone who can open our eyes to the beauty of life after fighting for it.

This is why I gathered other Top Bloggers in the field of Eating Disorder Recovery and Healthy Body Image Advocates in order to list their reasons for recovery, their sparks of hopes for you in the midst of those bleak days that recovery brings with it.

We will dedicate the entire month of February to share the miracles of life and recovery with you and to show that fighting for health bears so many delicious fruits. We have made it our mission to spread hope and show that life after an eating disorder can be fulfilling and blissful.

However, we also want you to participate. If you have a blog and would like to share your reasons to embrace life and let go of your eating disorder, then we would be thrilled to have you join us for this project.

All you have to do is write an empowering blog post and at the end link to the Fighting Anorexia siteand you are all set. At the end of this project, I will list everyone who participated with a mention of the blog and a short summary of your post for maximum exposure and to raise awareness of all the amazing Pro Recovery blogs out there.

So, what are you waiting for? Let’s all begin to blog in order to eliminate eating disorders and the flood of unhealthy body images proclamations.

Broken and Blessed

2011-12-19T04:17:00.000Z

I found myself thinking tonight about life
about my experience of life
and how easily I remember the hurts over the healings.
And I know Im not the only one

Its a curious part of human nature to recall fastest that which hurt over that which healed
it seems then to follow that hate is more powerful than love
except of course - that it isnt.

With the extended darkness (literally!), the winter nipping air, the shapes of trees - this time of year trips switches in my mind which I cant seem to avoid and which God hasnt yet removed.
It is difficult and brings back a world of hurt and confusion and brokeness and rubs my face in it.
And I wont lie it does hurt
and its hard and frustrating.

But healing IS more powerful than hurt
Love IS stronger than hate
And brokeness doesnt exclude blessings.

And so I respect my brokeness
the tears cried then and still
the scars on my body stand as memoirs to battles fought and won might I add!
my mind holds within it horrors escaped but not forgotten and yet...

my mind also hold beautiful, colourful, vivid, breathtaking, heartwarming, spirit lifting joy and peace and love.
So much love.
And I am blessed by the path I have walked, even in the broken places, because it brought me here
to a faith that brings me on every day towards who I was meant to be
to a career I am passionate about and work I love
to beautiful people,
friends
to my sisters from different misters! who continuously encourage and inspire me.

As I type I am looking at a photo board of smiling faces of memories rich with beauty and all that is good in the world
and I know I am blessed beyond measure
and I am thankful. So thankful for that.
For the blessings
and oddly, the brokenness.

The Pen That Purged: Creative Arts and Healing Project

2011-12-14T01:52:00.000Z

I wrote this poem as a contribution to Robyn Hussa's project exploring the healing power of the arts. Robyn is a kick ass woman working hard in schools, communities, treatment centres, as well as her work online, to explore issues surrounding eating disorders and other mental health issues, to raise awareness and to educate. Do check out the normal life, normal in schools and normal the musical through this link CLICK ME. Robyn is still looking for contributions so if you would like to send your story of how the arts have helped you to heal as well as a sample of your work please email Robyn at rhussa@normalinschools.org by December 31st 2011.

My entry can be found using the link at the top of the page but for those of you who were intrigued by the excert and wanted to read the full poem here it is!

The Pen That Purged

I learned that monsters are real –

that they don’t hide under the bed, they steal you in it.

Nine months there in the place where love beats not in the heart

but on the body,

raining down hate and shame and pain;

humiliation branded, burned into purpled flesh

every secret shame, another brick in the wall,

until a fortress is built and he locked me inside.

Jekyll and Hyde gentleman who walked me home -

a trembling shell holding back tears because he'll punch me if I cry

left me to kneel with my teeth scraping the toilet seat

to sit in a bath scrubbing at a body that would never be clean.

Water so hot I began to shrink,

as I tried to disappear

but like a child hiding behind a street light –

I became more visible than ever.

So I hid my pain, purged into plastic bags, in my wardrobe.

My shame carved into my flesh beneath clothes that conceal -

wanting to tell someone that I was broken,

but choking on words that stuck in my throat.

Emotions screeching, screaming, raging inside

wielding a whip that cracks and snaps.

The child who chose self-flagellation

over re-leashing, unleashing the world of suffering that lies within.

Feeling for filched food buried beneath my bed.

Food to accept and reject in an hour or less;

until one day I caught sight of a sword

left on the floor like an abandoned remnant

of something once delighted in.

I cradled it a moment, poised about an empty page,

siphoned off the aching agony of my soul,

until it was full of feelings and ready to purge.

My pen gagged on toxic truth, my hand shook

as words spluttered to the page,

I cried as my pen began the outpouring –

gasping for air as the ghost of him tightened in my chest

as I confessed the bastard child full of hell

connected to my core with a razor sharp barbed wire cord

that scraped and breaks and gouged at me.

struggling to bear the weight of scars, and shame and self.

My pen, my prince who rode in resurrecting fairy-tale fantasies

and happy endings in which good triumphs over evil,

erupted a myriad of words from my breaking heart

a cacophony of screams and shrieks and child-like whispers

from the depths of grieving heart

from the maggot holes in my mind.

It broke the tacit chains of trauma

making words dance the Paso Doble,

recounting courtship, violence and love perverse.

Thirteen years have lapped that time

and I am free.

Free from the hold of the man who made me feel dirty,

who caused me to take a blade to my flesh,

a flame to my skin

to spend a decade and then some turning my body into a warzone.

The man who pushed the button for bulimia –

soothing of self and taking it back

binging and purging

give and take -

a sadistic pattern I know well.

And in my heaIing, I recall my friend –

my faithful freedom seeking pen

who took up a pain that twice threatened my life

and wove it into a truth I could tell in a letter

until I learned to speak again.

My pen exorcised his ghost that haunted my head

and turned hurt into hope, into self-love instead.

How Big Is Beautiful?

2011-12-10T22:07:00.000Z

This weekend I have had my cousin staying with me. She is eleven years old. We went into town today shopping for some clothes for her Christmas box and as we shopped she pointed out this cute little dress so I picked it up and suggested she try it on. She told me she couldnt wear it because she was too fat and would look ugly in it. Rebecca is a healthy eleven year old girl, her weight is perfectly healthy, and she is so beautiful, bright blue eyes and gorgeous smile, amazing personality, sense of human, bright, intelligent - and this beautiful girl thinks that her beauty isn't real because her friend can fit into age 8-9 clothes and she cant!!!

We are infecting our children with this size-based self worth, as if you can measure a persons beauty and worth in inches or cms or lbs or kgs. I convinced her to try on the dress and fetched some little leggings to go with it and she looked so gorgeous in them. I stood in front of the mirror with her and ask her what she thought. She said she liked the dress but thought she spoiled it. Thought she spoiled it!!! Needless to say we had words! I asked her if she felt good in the outfit - she did. I asked her if she thought she would wear it - she said yes. I told her she was fabulous and that she should feel sorry for anyone who picks on her because they must not like themselves.

After she left this evening I felt sad. We teach young girls to be mothers with the baby dolls toys we give them, we show how one relates to food by example and we while we teach them english, math, science, art and history - we dont teach them to see themselves, to recognise their worth. Eleven year old girls shouldnt be contemplating diets, or wishing they were smaller or literally weighing up or measuring their worth - they just need to know it. And I believe it is our responsibility to teach them. Parents yes, but teachers, friends, neighbours, wider family, churches, youth teachers, - all of us - especially women, because its us as 'grown ups' that those little girls look up to. And really - what are we teaching them??

The Climb

2011-11-30T21:13:00.001Z

Emily Dickinson once said "Anger as soon as fed is dead - 'tis starving makes it fat".
But what does anger eat?
How much must you serve?
Will it take everything you have before it dies?
And so I feed it and wait...

I am a woman who survived being abused, raped, humiliated -
who fought her way back to life
who has had to be re-taught her mother tongue
just to learn that words and wardrobe do not serve the same purpose;
just to know that feeling hurt is not the same as being damaged;
just to learn that love is a swelling of the heart not the jaw;
just to know that man is not a synonym for monster.

After years of checking wardrobes and taking the daring leap into bed I no longer believe in monsters;
not since I saw that a monster in the wardrobe never made me vomit out my heart in terror,
and the truth is - I've never had a monster under my bed - only ever in it.

You took my innocence; my childhood, my teenage years;
You dominated my life for over a decade - night and day.
You fractured me into pieces I have long fought to put in place
and I have done that - ME
And now...
And now I'm on the final climb to letting go,
to working through this,
to the end
to the beginning

I'm angry
I am filled with a raging bull - red flag waving, incensed, insane, indescribable anger that has taken who I am and tossed her aside.
And these are my feelings
I own them
and I see the healing in them
and I am so thankful for that

but I resent it also.
I resent that I am working to get out of a prison I never NEVER deserved to be locked in in the first place.
And I resent that I am feeling things that rock my core beliefs, my core values in a way which frightens and confuses me.

But I have grown up and allowed myself to grow down too!
I have peace and joy and love - LOVE - and LIFE
And I know who I am
And I know what is important in life
and do you know something - after years of feeling less than human, less than nothing -
I - yes I am important in my life.
I count, I matter, I deserved better.

You didn't win.
You don't control me.
You don't own me.
You don't get to blame me any more
and I'm not going to let you.

I may be one.
One of the ones.
One of the one in threes.
But I'm no statistic,
I'm no victim
- I am strong
I survived
I live
and I am thriving!

I Deserved Better: A Therapy Hallelujah Moment!

2011-11-23T17:03:00.000Z

i deser

i deserved b

i deserved b-better

I DESERVED BETTER

I stuttered and stammered it first. Words catching in my throat and choking me as my adult and child self jumped up and down on or kicked hard at my faulty belief system. The fortress behind wall after wall of insults, hurts, you can't, you're not, you should be - an army of soldiers each carrying its own poison marching round and round my head. These past few years have been a million things - full of beauty and pain, riches and rags, light and dark - and in this time I have worked in therapy. And believe me when I say it has been WORK. Exhausting, draining, breaking, sobbing, pushing, challenging, choking, frightening work thats has brought me to the bottom of myself, to a broken self, to meeting parts of me I didnt know existed. It has hurt even more than I expected it would. But it has been a tool for healings which I never dared to dream of. It has been a place where I could tell all I never thought could be spoken.

I walked into Helen's room almost four years ago I think. I was a couple of months out of the hospital. I was depleated, completely traumatised, struggling massively to fight negative behaviours, feeling trapped and haunted. I barely spoke. Nodded and shook my head. My hands trembled and I spilled my water, I pointed on a diagram of a body where I was hurt - I couldnt say the words. I was thirteen in my emotions, and an adult in every other way punishing myself for not being better and all the while berating myself because it was after all my fault.

These last couple of weeks Ive felt anger at somebody else, for the first time in my life - anger at another human being and not myself. I've found that hard to deal with. Because I never felt it before. I feel that healthy anger, I know its healthy because I know all that abuse, all that I experienced with Michael never was, not in any part, justified and more than that - it never was my fault. Helen asked me why I was angry. She told me it was ok to say it. And I stuttered and stammered it at first, then a little stronger and then I said it - I DESERVED BETTER. And you know what? despite the alien words and the awkward way they left my tongue - I meant them and I believed them.

I BELIEVE I DESERVED BETTER

Be-You-To-The-Full!

2011-11-22T17:19:00.000Z

This morning I had my women's group in which we have been focusing on emotional self care. We were talking about beauty, about what it means to us and about the messages we have been or can be given that influence whether or not we feel beautiful, see ourselves as beautiful inside and out.

There is something inherently liberating and simultaneously saddening about being in a room of women echoing "me too", "I'm like that", "its the same for me". There is such strength in coming together, acknowledging and accepting what contributes to our thought patterns and our perception of ourselves, but even more so in the challenging of those perceptions. The truth is we are neither fat, nor thin; strong, nor weak; possess tree trunk thighs or emu legs; we are not midgets, nor are we gangly; we are simply who we are - whoever we are - in a manner which is entirely, uniquely and irrefutably beautiful.

Living in your skin, embraces your flesh and bones, your shape, your features is essential to health and wellbeing. For women especially, and increasingly so for men, our bodies have become battlegrounds - more so for those of us who have experienced eating disorders, but on a wider plane everyone at some point has looked in the mirror and felt negativity, thought "I wish", looked at a friend with jealousy. The truth is, even with all the botox, plastic surgery and cosmetics in the world - we age every day, every moment we live lies on our faces, on our bodies be it light or dark. Our vessels display the wear and tear and enrichment of our lives. Beauty in its superficial, stereotypical form is scarcely achievable, entirely unrealistic and completely transient.

We decided this morning that to be beautiful one has to "be you to the full". Fullness of self means health, it means learning to stand up for yourself, care for yourself, let yourself love, let yourself be open to life, to hold tight to your morals and values, to be strong enough to be weak, to embrace your quirks and eccentricities. To nourish; to learn; to grow; to laugh; to live life as the person you truly are, the person you were born to be - unique awesome YOU!

Kill ED Before It Kills You

2011-11-21T23:49:00.002Z

I have read in two days of as many beautiful souls lost to eating disorders, one of which was a young lady (17) who I cared for and respected so much. This lovely bright creature fighting for herself, harder than before, taking back ground and making progress. Creative - gifted, talented, intelligent, hopeful. And now she sleeps.

There is a myth, a dreadful, poisonous lie that says eating disorders take time to kill, that the damage is done slowly and that there is always more time.
And is so far removed from reality. Because the truth is every second in that disorder puts you at risk. And yes no doubt you will know or have heard of people who have been eating disordered for many years and recovered apparently physically unscathed. And thats wonderful it is. But it is not the norm and it is not something which can be guaranteed. Its not just those with anorexia who die. Its not always going to sleep and never waking up. For many its painful and horrific and long. And writing this right now I'm crying because I hate that I know this and I hate to say this with my heart so heavy for Char and for the beautiful heart the world lost. But I write this because its true.

Nothing good ever came of an eating disorder.
And I will never be persuaded otherwise.

I know how it feels to have no strength, to fear the unknown world of 'normal' eating and to not even be able to conceive a whisper of a dream that things could be any different. But they can - they really can. And it is crappy and its hard work and there's always slip ups, screw ups, moments of despair - but also moments of elation, small successes. Polarised its Death or Life.

Choose life.
You can choose that.
You can fight for yourself.
Beat this thing before it beats you.

ED takes the life of another precious heart, just seventeen years old - all things ED must die - and for our lost stars and rainbows - we cry.

Over It? Me Too!

2011-11-12T12:36:00.000Z

I read Eve Ensler's article in the Huffington Post (link above) and she writes about being 'over it' in reverence to rape and the prevalence of rape worldwide, the apathy to rape, the millions strike that billions of women who experience rape. As I read it I felt my heart boil, bubble, swell in agreement. In my own small way with various groups and support networks, I work with women who experience that violation. And no matter how many stories I hear, how many cases don't even make it to court, and how many times I hear someone use a short skirt as an excuse for confusing men who apparently are incapable of controlling themselves - I never cease to cry for those women, to be cross with the apathy and ignorance and to be confused - a man stands in the street holding his wallet in his hand - he gets mugged - nobody blames him. A woman stands in the street in a short skirt - a man rapes her - she asked for it! Please. So I'm over it...

Oh I am over it. Done!
I am so over the word 'slut' being code for 'she deserved it'
I am over having rapists being excused in honour of the presence of short dresses or red lipstick as if a woman's wardrobe drowns out her word.
I am over perpetrators being excused as if penis made choices were beyond a man's self control. Do we really think that little of men? Do men really think that little of themselves?
I am SO over victims being violated all over again by a justice system that buys into "come fuck me" heels and a wonder-bra being a substitute for consent that screams over and drowns out the sound of the word 'NO'.
I am over the shame, pain and humiliation of rape and violence and degrading disgusting acts being a life sentence wrongly given to the victim while perpetrators walk free.
I am so over rape being accepted as 'normal' or just 'one of those things' like losing your return train ticket or getting a speeding ticket for being a couple of mph over.
I am so over the lingering, haunting shadow of a past that is not and never was created by me.
I am so over Victoria's Secret being what lies underneath her underwear and not behind her eyes.
I am over rape being another word mutated for humour - 'I've been fraped' or the theatre bar raped me.
I am over the constant, consistent reinforcing that 'she was raped' instead of 'he raped her'.
I am over my own haunting, my own once broken self being something I should hide.
I am over words being caught in my throat when they need to be screamed out loud.

Maybe you read this thinking Im over this chick on her soap box writing about crap that has nothing to do with me.

One billion women violated - mothers, grandmothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, neighbours, little girls. It could have been your mother, your girlfriend, your wife, your child. Are you over it now?

When Is It Time To Say When?

2011-11-03T18:48:00.000Z

Over the past six years, even more so the past three years, I have learned alot about relationships. About how I form and sustain relationships. I have learned to see the good in those, the not so good (yet 'normal') and also that which isn't ok. I have learned to build boundaries - some stronger than others - to protect myself and whilst hard, this has been invaluable. However, I find myself at a point in therapy where its crunch time. In my most personal relations, friendships, close family members and romantic relationships I adapt. I adapt my needs based on where the other person is at; I adapt my actions according to what I feel wont impact the other person and most terrifyingly for me I adapt my response to the behaviour of others, I rationalise and excuse that which should not be rationalised, excused and accepted. I dont want to be alone. But I also know that I cannot risk a romantic relationship and repeat patterns evident in all but one of my past romantic relationships - and the same goes for my platonic relationships.

And I know I am not alone in this - and that scares me I guess. I found myself back at the Personal Bill of Rights. I have the right to:
- ask for what I want
- to say no to requests or demands I cant or dont want to meet
- to express ALL of my feelings, positive or negative
- to change my mind
- to make mistakes and be imperfect
- to follow my own values and standard
- to say NO to anything when I feel I am not ready, it is unsafe or it violates my values
- to my own priorities
- to not be responsible for others' actions, behaviours, feelings or problems
- to expect honesty from others
- to be angry at someone I love
- to be uniquely me
- to feel scared and say "Im afraid"
- to say "I dont know"
- to not give excuses or reasons for my behaviour
- to make decisions based on how I feel
- to my own needs for personal space and time
- to be playful and frivolous
- to be healthier than those around me and not feel guilty for it
- to be in a non abusive environment
- to make friends and be comfortable around people
- to change and grow
- to have my needs and wants respected by others
- to be treated with dignity and respect
- to be happy

Now of course - as I have these rights - so do you and everyone else. But how often do I, do you, do we fore go our rights for the sake of others? There is something beautiful about selflessness, about choosing to put another before yourself and about giving up something temporarily to give to another person. But we need to look at our relationships, and what they cost us. We have the right to choose not to have a person in our lives and to be ok with that. We have as much right as anybody else to be here and I think so often disorder and illness be it eds, mood disorders, psychosis, anxiety, personality disorders - whatever, bring us to a place where we dont feel we have these rights. We can think of others, its an amazing thing, but we need to learn when to say when.

If I work my way to the place and unlock the secret - I'll let you know - but for now - as ever - Im a work in progress!!!

Thankful to Trauma???

2011-10-31T23:15:00.004Z

I was sent an interesting quote today via an email newsletter I am subscribed to. The quote was:

“True forgiveness is when you can say, "Thank you for that experience.”

-Oprah Winfrey

As Roxie and I walked on the beach beneath a glorious autumn sun, with crisp sea air biting I found myself wrapped up in contentment and gratitude and in one of those moments where you find yourself simply, beautifully, magnificently, miraculously alive. I thought over things. The past - distant and more recent. The future in all its possibility and promise. I thought about myself, about the person I am and recognised I guess more clearly than before how things have changed, how I have changed and grown and how much stronger I am; some days I even have feelings teetering on love for myself and that is an enormous transformation - a miraculous one and one which is entirely God breathed.

I have always been able to forgive others easily. Too easily in many ways and that came from a place of poor self worth, of being damaged and a trauma response. I would forgive because I couldn't see that anything bad that happened could ever be anyone else's fault but mine. A lot changed this past eighteen months or so and I found myself reflecting back. And I realised I did forgive Michael. I truly forgave him, and those around me who reinforced what he drilled into me. I forgave not because I deserved it - because I never did, not because I felt it was my fault - because it wasn't. But because I have been forgiven. And the act of forgiveness breaks those links in the chains that once bound so tight.

As I walked this morning I thought over this in light of this quote. Was I thankful for my relationship with Michael? for the breaking downs? the beatings? the rapes? the psychological scars and the broken heart? Did I forgive myself - my body, my mind for their dysfunctions? And was I thankful for the rock bottom lows, the giddy heights and all between? for the years spent starving, binging, purging, kissing toilet seats and hiding food and vomit? for the laxative abuse? the alcoholism? the paralysing anxieties? the hallucinations and delusions? Was I thankful for the tears I've cried? for the pain that I carved out of my skin? for the scars - all of the scars that remain?

Yes. Yes I am thankful. Don't get me wrong - I have no desire to experience a relationship like that again. I hope fiercely for mental wellness. To remain strong in recovery. To continue to grow, to learn, to live and love. But who I am - my weirdness, kookiness, compassion, empathy, ferocity, stubbornness, endurance, persistence, courage, outlook, understanding, passion and most of all faith - have all been shaped in part because of my experience, traumatic and wondrous, the impacts these had on me and how I reacted, the paths I have walked, the hearts that touched mine, the colours and shapes on the canvas that is my life.

Don't get me wrong - no thirteen year old girl, including myself should have to go through that. And mental illness sucks. But as with any experience we learn, we can grow and we adapt and change as people. For every mountain we reach the top off we see the world from a different perspective. For every time we fall and scrape our knees, we experience the miracle of healing. I cannot imagine how my life could have been - and believe me I spent years trying. And it's futile because it is what it is. But the person I am and the beautiful people I have in my life and the faith I hold in my heart is what it is because of, inspite of my experiences the good, the bad and down right ugly.

I am thankful. I am thankful because every crack in my heart leaks out love more freely, every break has healed stronger than before, my capacity for love and ever grown, the trust I have ever more precious, my connections with others - enriched. I am stronger. I am ever more convinced that while I am breakable I there lies within my heart the Spirit that can rebuild me no matter how many pieces I break into. And I find myself pleasantly surprised by all of this. I guess its a place I never expected, never thought possible to reach. There remains a place in my heart that will always hurt as I remember those times - and I think that's okay - I feel like it honours the experiences and emotions of my thirteen year old self - it reminds me of the lessons learned - of the importance of caring for myself, particularly my mental well-being - it reminds me to ask for help - it reminds me to keep growing and it keeps me grounded in the reality of those experiences whilst still allowing me to be free from them.

Its amazing because I guess all of this has been true for some time - I just never really thought it through before and the act of doing that has been a blessing and a fuzzy warmth in my heart.

From Hurt to Healing - From Rockets to Roses

2011-10-19T00:03:00.000+01:00

Im gonna preface this post by encouraging you to read it in its entirety - this is about healing, about choices and about an inspiring decision a nation made.

I guess today is as good a day as any to blog on this. Today Gilad Shalit was finally returned to his family in Israel - a day that has been much prayed for, much longed for and yet is tarnished with more than a bitter taste but with a fear and dread and the wretched injustice that for Israel to finally bring home a prisoner of war, she had to release dangerous convicted murderers and terrorists. As much as I cannot imagine the hurt at knowing your child's/parent's/spouse's/friend's murderer was just set free, I am ever amazed and encouraged and inspired by Israel and her spirit. Is she perfect? no. But the girl got style! For many years rockets have rained down into Israel, with Sderot, taking the brunt of these attacks. Lives have been lost, property destroyed, people terrorised, children traumatised AND YET Israel does this...

Some make lemonade when the world chucks lemons at them... Israel takes pieces of kassam rockets fired at her people and turns them into beauty, light and a triumphant cry that 'Israel Lives' which frankly functions as a kinda middle finger up at every single command to let loose a rocket! And there is such wisdom in this. Such beauty and courage in it of course and such good to come from it - but such great wisdom.

We all have choices. With whatever we live with, whatever we deal with, whatever situations we are embroiled in - we have a right to feel them, to respond the way we respond. Whether what hurts us is a rocket destroying your home or a bad morning - you can choose. And we do that with recovery. Essentially recovery is that choice to take all that energy and drive and time and dedication spent in sickness and bit by bit to draw it out and rechannel it into wellness. Is it easy? no. Is it possible? of course. From the darkest of nights stars shine. From the deepest and most painful of hurts lies the seeds for complete healing. From the shards of savage rockets come roses.

Accepting the 'Nearly-Rexic'

2011-10-17T10:59:00.000+01:00

I spent some time with a friend of mine towards the end of last week and whilst we sat catching up over a cuppa her seventeen year old daughter came in with four of her girlfriends. The girls were sitting at the other end of the room, while my friends daughter rifled through a basket of folded laundry for something to wear. My friend and I continued our conversation and I wasn't listening to the girls until I heard the words "...lose half a stone". Now this girl/woman is beautiful, at 5 ft 8 is well proportioned, healthy, bright, vivacious, fierce, witty, charming and with more going for her than I could possibly predict. Her friends vary in height and shape but are all similarly healthy, well proportioned, gorgeous and have NO medical/health reason to be losing weight. I became distracted by their conversation, and following my tuning out, so did my friend.

We listened as the girls bitched about their own figures, grabbed bits of non-existent excess flesh, spoke crap about the benefits of ice water, mentioned celeb tips, talked about 'kettling' (which I have since learned is a new exercise class involving kettle shaped weights which to me sounds completely tedious and an entirely unappealing way of keeping fit!). This went on and on until one of the girls realised we were listening and stopped talking and they all looked at us and a conversation began between, as it were, us and them.

It transpired that the girls consciously consumed *insert low number of calories here* (approx half the recommended daily allowance for an adult female) consistently, participated in their various sports/fitness activities (with the exception of their mutual dance class) for weight loss/toning effects rather than actual enjoyment. They spoke about food and of a control of food that I have heard many a time for people with anorexia, yet they remain fiercely aware of the fine line that keeps them from disorder. It seemed to me they were doing a kind of tight rope walk and while they danced and hopped almost excited and glamourously so - I was standing at the side resisting the urge to scream out warnings.

The girls went upstairs to get dressed and loud music followed. Then perhaps the most shocking revelation of all - when my friend and I began to discuss the girls and what they had said - my friend said "they're girls though aren't they". And when I asked her to expand upon that she said - "well its not politically correct or doing wonders for the feminist movement but its normal. The girls are healthy, ok they're skinny but they are still in the healthy BMI bracket, loads of women I know are like that - its a shame but its the way it is" - more or less word for word.

I was genuinely shocked. This is a lady who is very compassionate, very aware, works within health, is a wonderful mother, has marched several rallies with me - and there was this blanket acceptance that teetering on the edge of obsession, of addiction and even of disorder is normal. Acceptable. And it completely floored me. For an incredible mum to accept this fate for her daughter terrified me, I suppose because its symptomatic of an acceptance of something which to me is unacceptable. Bordering on the edge of sickness does not equate to health. Health is about balance, about good choices, about varied foods, about five a day and chocolate brownie treats. Exercise is about fitness but it should be fun, a giggle, a chance to socialise, a chance to empty your mind - whether its a hilarious Zumba class or a quiet jog in the park. Wellbeing is about wholeness, about your person, yourself, about protection and vulnerability, about living and loving it, about care - self care and for the world around you, now and for the future - about respecting yourself as an individual and a necessary, valuable and beautiful piece of the bigger picture.

Bordering on the edge of sickness does not equate to health.

Be The Change You Want To See In The World

2011-10-12T13:19:00.000+01:00

On Monday it was world mental health day and myself and my friend Sarah put on an event which was a huge success. Its funny because there were so many hiccoughs before hand, so many reasons not to go ahead with it - and we talked each other back into it so many times. But it went so well and the conversations that went on there were so empowering, so interesting and gave potential for conversations that were much needed.

On a personal level, in the past three weeks I have gained so much weight - weight that I had worked hard to let go of was regained because of some medication I have been given to deal with a physical health issue. It made me question doing the event because I felt like Id failed - even though I knew it was meds and they had to be changed its always disheartening when something you worked for so hard is ruined so quickly. But I came to the conclusion that we get a choice, even when things dont go our way, we can choose to surrender, to be victims and to remain governed by that mind set - or we can choose to embrace the situation, to deal with it as it comes, to be survivors and steer our own course.

Sometimes life feels like one thing after another, you try to stay strong but the hits just keep on coming - but for every hit that you remain standing for, for every fall you clamber back to your feet from, you get stronger. And for me, a lot of World Mental Health Day - is about changing that stigma towards mental illness of the crazy, violent, weak, victims - and showing people that we are human, strong, that we survive in spite of our difficulties and that we have life and the right to that life in the same way everyone else does. And in its other part, lies that acknowledgement and empowerment in recovery, in storms weathered and in the knowledge that we endure, that we survive, that we find our way back to life, even if it doesnt look the way we thought it would.

SH*T Storm

2011-10-08T10:10:00.000+01:00

I dont usually do this - but Im massively overwhelmed and kinda fed up so I thought Id vent and see if that helps. I advise other people to do it all the time, open my ears, my eyes - to listen, to read - but I so struggle to do it myself. To ask for help. Im like Alice - very seldom following her own advice!

These past two weeks have been like some kind of crazy military obstacle course endurance test. I was told something about my future that is heartbreaking for me, very difficult to grasp and feels very unfair. And when I try to talk to people they pacify me which makes it worse because I feel judged, pathetic, stupid. And I know Im not. I have a right to be upset. I have a right to feel hurt and I have a right to have it acknowledged that it sucks.

Beyond that my mood has taken a dip, not massive, Im still functioning I just feel a little sad which I guess goes hand in hand with my bad news. I have to have seven teeth out because of the damage the bulimia did - I hate the two gaps I already have so I cant imagine another seven and I know its vanity and I know its consequences... I know.

I love my house, the beach, this move has been such an amazing answer to prayer. But last week I started having floods. A guy came looked and it and said it would be ok - he didnt have time to fix it. I have had no hot water for five days. No heating. Then last night another flood from the 3" of water I put in the bath from the kettle and freezing cold tap so I could wash my hair and bathe kinda. It flooded. Then this morning. The toilet backed up and kept backing up so I tried to unblock it. Its in such a state I was sick in the sink. I tried to wash the sink out and that backed up.

Im exhausted. My parents are mad at me for struggling to sort things out. My mum had to take my card and my bills and pay them for me because the last couple of weeks with health issues I just havent managed to focus on those tasks.

I dropped a letter in for my social worker at the cmht and it had a poem in it - river lullaby so I could express where I am with certain situations. Its the only way Ive been able to speak about it really. Anyway she never got it - so its floating around somewhere and that freaks me out.

Im really trying to be positive - I know it doesnt seem like it. I have my dog, my cats, the sunrise this morning was glorious, the waves crashing, autumn air. I have the mental health event on monday which is all going smoothly in terms of prep so far. Despite everything since Feb I havent relapsed. I got through alot the last few months. And I got through it well. Im just tired. And frustrated because in my life here - places where I once felt safe and able to be myself - no longer feel safe because of how ill I got this time round and the consequences of that. I am more guarded - and I hate that because it took me so long to accept who I am and to kinda like who I am - and then to not be able to just be me with people I love feels so sad.

I am here
I am alive
I am blessed
I am strong enough
I am

2011-10-04T05:41:00.000+01:00

...so envelope me,
hold me tight and dry my eyes
- delegate my heart

River Lullaby

2011-09-27T00:49:00.000+01:00

River Lullaby

My memory beats in rhythm with my heart.

Spilling out snapshot flashes of life like a flick book's muffled cries.

Controversial plastic shell, elastic strap, stick insect mattel covetted for months until Santa dropped it down the chimney, almost as fast as she sprogged and regained her figure

- the originally scrummy yummy mummy set to spread low self esteem.

My daddy said anyone can crank out a kid like she did,

as my mother ground her teeth to protest on behalf of her traumatised frame.

Strange, I almost became one of the lost - before I grew cells and self,

another fragile foetus swinging on a noose

from gallows where once a vagina failed to stayed closed.

Little life curled tight self soothing sings al na tivke iredem bim'nucha

My memory beats in rhythm with my heart

as I lie beneath my shroud of sadness filled with down shrinking from the light of day

I want to tell you that I love you,

that my heart brays, beats, bleets, breaks, aches for you.

My soul, spirit, self thrice chorus al na tivke iredem bim'nucha

as waters flow from deep to deep

where danger dances and solace is sought

from beyond the fruitless orchards and willows weeping

branches reaching out for you.

My memory beats in rhythm with my heart

surrounded by madonna, whore and all betwixt

spheres of life protruding, pronounced, announcing themselves;

in streets where bundles, terrors, cherubs, banting, brat and bairn alike

shriek, scream, squeal, shout, squalk, squabble, sing

in a cacophony that makes my heart weep and ache in longing

to sing to self in solitude al na tivke iredem bim'nucha.

My memory beats in rhythm with my heart

pulsating thoughts, dreams, hopes of you through the whole of me.

Brought to my knees I seek wisdom, guidence, strength to let you go.

The river is waiting for you, you who I hold tight in my caul

trying to trust, seeking strength to hakshev le'ivshat haga'lim

holding the thought of you,

the love of you,

the hope of you

tight in my arms crooning my lullaby of lament

al na tivke iredem bim'nucha

2011-09-25T11:07:00.002+01:00

Un-Woman

2011-09-23T14:38:00.003+01:00

truth - beautiful, raw, uncompromising, unyieliding truth radiates into a world with cynical eyes so sensitives the shutters come down fast. The proverbial 'they' cannot handle the truth which in the most cliched of manners remains entirely accurate. We like to pretend that we are honest, empathic, that we validate feelings when they aren't fact - we are afterall the modern enlightened society in which women can have it all and men know how to load a dishwasher. That which is natural shrinks in importance from the buy buy buy and the every increasing demands of keeping up not only with the Jones's but the Smiths, the Husseins, the Duprees and the Bernsteins. Family comes second, children a kind of social pension one takes out only when the clock starts to scream. To want anything different to that is foolish and looked upon with pity as though woman's right to choose negates the ability to choose the archaic. And when that choice no longer exists, when the role of mother becomes an improbability, an impossibility - you're blessed - be the best- more education, climb that ladder, lose yourself in career and life, free to go out dancing, to travel, to to to to to - to pretend that nothing is missing. No ear will hear the truth without offering some excuse some clause, some bright side or silver lining or else some snap to rub reality in your face and banish the tears from your eyes, as if to mourne or grief or ache were a weakness. Foundation builds a blush, a shimmer, splish splash paint that pops a mask on tight to tell the world im ok, its alright, because the truth uttered from lips with only meet a barage of heartless cutting comments that bring shame on emotions. I am not fragile, I am not weak, nor am I pathetic or ungrateful - but my heart hurts for the one my body was built for, for the seat build into the curve of my hip, for the nourishment of my breast, for lips to kiss away tears, for the ears meant to hear a name for me, that never will be uttered by a mouth that will never form.

Size/Weight or Health? Impact on Identity!

2011-09-18T21:05:00.001+01:00

Ok so borne out of my ability to turn the channel I got drawn into the car crash tv - specifically into 'pushy and proud' a programme which highlight some *politely put* questionable parenting attitudes as well as some healthy parenting attitudes and the impact these have on their children. This weeks episode focused on junk food and featured from the family who live only on junk food, to the mother whose teenage girls are tagged as being severely obese despite the fact that she feeds them healthily and confiscates the junk food they hide in their bedrooms. What caught my attention the most was a mother (Sharon) and step daughter (Kate) who embrace their weight and size not simply as it is - but also as who they are.

I am a total believer in health at every size. I believe when one focuses on their health as a motivating factor for lifestyle changes the results are a healthy food intake, sensible enjoyable exercise and an overall contentment in our bodies and ourselves. However these two ladies felt they wouldnt be who they are if they were slimmer. Sharon weighed 37 stone (this was after losing four stone for her wedding) and Kate (weight undisclosed) was a UK dress size 20. Neither felt any shame or embarassment about their size and despite being offered a gastric band surgery several times Sharon had declined them all.

I was discussing this with a friend of mine and she said she thought it was weird, but their choice. To me its disorder. Plain and simple. In the same way sufferers of anorexia often cling to thin, and embrace their small, emaciated frames and the disorder that led them their as being their identity, so Sharon and Kate embrace their large, supersized frames and the overeating and poor diet habits that led them there. What concerns me is that the identification of disorder for these ladies and for many others, my self included, is scarce, rare - because as a society we expect eating disordered people to be underweight. Whilst those with typical eating disordered frames and appearances are tagged as being unwell and in need of help, those with larger and/or less obvious eating disordered frames and appearances are tagged as being greedy, lazy, having made poor choices and rather than being offered help and support are more often that not offered so called 'quick fix' surgeries' or, as shown during the program - made fun of.

Sharon was actually featured on a morning tv programme under the title of 'Britains fattest bride' accompanied by Kate in a bridesmaid dress. Both of these women seem like lovely, bright, beautiful people, but at 37 stone asserts she believes in fat and healthy, but in reality the health problems when one is overweight negate that ability especially when this lady would like to have children and has been told by medical professionals she should not try for children until she has reached 20 stone at least and while Sharon cried and grieved about that, she didnt seem to make the connection between that advice and being unhealthy.

As a woman who doesnt really know what my natural frame is having been eating disordered throughout my teens with the consequence of being overweight and despite losing weight still remaining overweight into my twenties I feel a tug on my heart. I was fortunate in some respects. I knew what my issues were and what my eating disorders were about certainly by my late teens, it didnt change things at first but I wasnt deluded. The delusion demonstrated particularly by Sharon scares me because she deserves health and life and children - but also because there is so little recognition and provision in the UK and Ireland of eating disorders in men and women who are overweight. There has to be a distinction between poor lifestyle choices and eating disorder and their subsequent applications to men and women who are overweight/obese and in response to that - there has to be services made available to treat those problems in the physical but also at the root in the psychological.

By the end of the program, following her stepdaughter confronting her Sharon began to cry, she expressed worries about not living, she disclosed memories about a time in her life when she would pray to die in the night. After the program Kate, dropped to a size 18, Sharon's weight stabilised at 37 stone but she is looking into weightloss surgery. Regardless of whether this was a response to the experience of being recorded for national television or of Kate's confrontation or perhaps being in a space where the focus was on that which isnt comfortable to discuss - weight, size and diet. While I am glad Kate and Sharon are actively seeking healthier lifestyles- weightloss surgeries worry me greatly on many levels.

With the growing interest in and availability of treatment for those who are obese in terms of dieticians, support with lifestyle changes, exercise classes, goverment guidelines and such, there remains a void in which those with eating disorders who dont fit the diagnostic criteria or simply dont 'look' eating disordered, very rarely have access to services and when they do the provision is often insufficient, time restricted or irrelevant in terms of its practical application. Size doesn't matter. Weight doesnt define you. But health - health matters and in order to be healthy one needs the veil to lifted, their feelings to be validated, their support to be appropriate and the changes made for recovery to be sustainable.

From the Heart

2011-09-18T20:14:00.000+01:00

I have taken care of a friend of mine this week. This lady is very unwell mentally (anorexia, bpd, anxiety,ocd, depression) as well as physically (brain surgeries and heart attacks recently). This past week has been heart breaking, exhausting and draining. Oddly enough not because she is sick or because of the demands of care that that sickness requires, but because the lady has lost all hope and the attitude of her head and her heart embodies a depth of negativity I dont think I have ever experienced in another human being. I'm a rescuer, though I choose to fight against that these days, but I'm maternal and this friend of mine very child like. All the parts of me - the friend, the sister, the mother, the christian, the rescuer, the nurse, the therapist, the straight talker, the realist, the optimist, the artist, the child - every part worked simultaneously this week to care for her. More than that to build her up, to speak of light, to promote independance, to distract.

She told me she felt that everything bad in the world happened to her, nobody liked her, nobody wanted her, that she's dying and she deserves it etc. So I told her the myth of pandora's box. When all the evils and horrors and hurt had been unleashed one thing remained in the box - HOPE. And so it is with her. She disagreed.

It got me thinking about our attitudes.
I have seen women, friends of mine, grow out of the most appalling, painful situations and be lighter and brighter and stronger because of that journey.
Nick Vujicic was born with no arms and no legs but his attitude brought him to a place where he inspires people all over the world.
And when I reflect on my own journey and struggles - the times in which I have struggled the most I have held a negative attitude and had only a slim grasp on hope. Then there are the times when I had faith, held onto hope and looked for the light and even in the most dreadful situations felt an abundance of hope and peace.

The key is hope.
I have hope for the hopeless. I do not believe in hopeless cases.
I believe in miracles. I have seen miracles. The fact that I am still alive is literally a miracle.
And we can choose that.
Hope isnt something that leaves us or is taken from us - its something that is everpresent - even when we refuse to see it, let go of it or dismiss it - hope remains.

My friend has lost hope to a degree which frankly terrifies me.
But I hope for her. I always will.
The tattoo on the bottom of my back reads 'dum spiro spero', 'while I breathe I hope'.
And I do. And I will.

The Art of Letting Go

2011-09-16T02:27:00.002+01:00

I saw my psychiatrist today and she said something which really struck me hard. Very much like that proverbial lightbulb flickering to life, my heart jerked inline with the reasoning my head has been screaming all week. She said some people never catch a hold of life, that perhaps they were never meant to and so they dont stay here long - thats life. Some people grab on tight and live. She said 'the little one' was the former and that while it was beautiful for me to care for her - I have to accept the reality that in all likelihood she will not live much longer. Even as I write this my eyes well up. I dont believe in hopeless cases, but then there is such a hopelessness in hoping for something that was never part of the plan, never written and for her never wanted.

I wasnt going to share this - I wrote it after therapy while she slept upstairs inspired by checking on her and seeing her sleep in the wake of Dr Os words - wisdom - yes wisdom Im sure. No I know - she wont take hold, dont ever think she did take hold of life and my grip on her hand slips and weakens - I wanted to take her with me - I really did - I thought I could - but she wouldnt take hold and it wouldnt have mattered anyhow. I return to AA. And with the echoes of my doctors words I realise that nothing I have done, could ever do could have caused her to fight for life, and in my heart I know I hold hope for her, I have to - and I love her so much - but I am letting go and waiting.

O Broken bud fresh and frail,

a glass cocoon holding life force fierce

your inner beauty calls to me

draws me close to you

to carry you in the cup of my hands

and coo words of encouragement to your still frame.

O Broken bud bright and brave

scorched and scarred

but living still

dont you hear the voices calling you forward?

O Broken bud traumatised and torn

ripped from your roots

left to lie

to wait

to die

O Broken bud failing fast

born with beauty that shines unseen

given life -

fleeting?

- meant to last?

a world of water waiting

O little flower locked within a broken bud

loved with ferocious strength

tended to, nurtured, hoped for

the moment when you set yourself free.

waiting, waiting waiting,

wishes lost to withering

love lost to loathing

prayers lost to perishing

hope lost to honesty

the futile out pouring of water.

Waiting.

Tug of War

2011-09-14T03:16:00.000+01:00

I found you outside the hospital door
bag of bones wrapped in head cocked faces
tied in tight with a sympathetic smile.
You shivered and shook
- lanugo does nothing for keeping out the cold.
I grew wings for you
to hold you back,
to rescue you,
to give you shelter.

ungrateful child - arent we all
never seeing or knowing what is given
just wallowing and swallowing in gulps like
baby birds who refuse to take the chance to dive from the nest.

I was never sure if you crashed
or if you concocted a free falling melodrama for my benefit
so I would see the ferocity of your scream
SAVE ME

my heart regrew a caul with you inside
my eyes cried tears for you
lips whispered silent prayers for you

you fought like an alley cat, wild child, like a girl
a girl who knew what to do
to make the world divert from the sun
and you tore the caul till in spilt all I had down my chest like a vomit echo from yester years.

and now youre back
the mother in me holds you
the sister in me berates you
the friend in me encourages you
the nurse in me cares for you
the woman in me shrinks from you

stolen dark hours howl about the house
begging me to lift my head a while
the light of night brings me to my senses
and gently I roll back the caul that has begun to grow about you again

I Am An Emotional Creature

2011-09-09T14:29:00.000+01:00

This is inspired entirely by Eve Ensler's new book of the same name. In this book she expressed girlhood. In relation to females but also in relation to men and the 'girliness' they too are forced to supress as they grow. Click for Eve's Book

For me personally, girlhood was something that became very tainted and quickly ended and on reflection my sensitivity and the emotional expression that was not visible in my family became something which set me apart and therefore something which I learned to hide in order to fit in. My girlhood came in flashes in my teens, even following the abuse. It came in rebellion, in the alterations I made to my appearance, in my fierce love for my friends, in the heart felt reactions to every cruelty, every wound, every bleeding heart.

I choose to reclaim my girlhood.
This isnt about feminism or womens rights - its about choice and freedom and embracing the self in its entirety.
This is for the girl I was, am and will be regardless of age.

Its my body, my money, its up to me what I do with it.
But everyone else is wearing it.
I cant help the way I feel.
Blonde
Red
Orange
Brown
Purple
DMs purple with pink laces
school skirt altered in the textile lab 3" shorter
hormones racing, zipping, vibrating, fizzing till the top pops
stairs made for stomping and storming
cackling laughter crackling down the telephone wire
clothes left on the bedroom floor abandoned for a girl crisis.

You cant read my mind
read my lips
read my body
read my journal sandwiched between the midrift covering cottons gran bought for Christmas and the skimpy lace thong I'd be grounded for buying

Mother's mattress sanitary towels tossed aside
for shamefully purchased tampons
instructions included

and time has passed
and masks have fallen
and I find you there in the muck and the mire
and dust you off
until

I see your face - all mothers lipstick and glittering pink eyeshadow
and the smile that stores secrets in a treasure chest.
Your legs shake like bambis but you get to your feet
and nestle yourself into me warmly, strongly until you fall right into me
and you run and you run and you run and you run and you run
right through my veins
giggles throbbing through my pulse
pajama parties and homemade perfume radiating in my eyes
and there you are
and there I am.

My Story

2011-09-07T01:55:00.001+01:00

I wrote down my story for Hungry for Change CLICKY TO CHECK OUT THE CAUSE in order to help raise awareness about the diversity of eating disorders. I'd forgotten I'd written this actually and went back to it on my computer and couldnt find the full version but I thought I'd share this here anyway - if for no other reason than an excuse (like I need one) to plug Hungry for Change, as well as the therapeutic activity of putting it out there where people I know could see it! Breaking the silence baby! One day at a time!

As a child I was healthy, in both my weight and its correlation to my age and more importantly in my attitude to and relationship with food and displayed no eating disordered behaviours at all. I developed early; I got my period when I was ten, and had C cup boobs by the time I was twelve. I liked my body. When I was thirteen I met a guy who seemed perfect. He was charismatic and funny and so beautiful. He was also five years older than me and was not how he first appeared. The first time he hit me he punched me once in the face in front of our friends. I don’t want to detail exactly what happened in case anybody who reads this has similar experiences and is triggered by it. But suffice to say whilst the physical abuse escalated quickly, the emotional and psychological abuse had begun long before I even noticed it. He made comments about my personality, my clothes, my body – he would be silent with me as though I had upset him and I would rally round him begging him to tell me what I’d done. Then suddenly he’d ‘forgive me’ and I would be so grateful. I would berate myself for the way ‘I hurt him’ and think of ways I could make it up to him. I genuinely believed that I was the problem, that I was the reason he behaved the way he did, after all he was the amazing guy I met to all of our friends, so it must have been me. My body became a big part of his manipulation of me. He would tell me how much he liked me in skirts, so I’d wear a skirt, then he would tell me how I looked like a slut, so then I would cover up. When I covered up he would complaint that I never wore anything he liked, all the while consistently ensuring I believed this was all my fault.

On January 7th 1999 he raped me. People often underestimate the power of rape and the depth of that violation. He made my body the canvas for his rage, perversion and misogyny and in response I recognised the danger my body put me in, I began to see my body as the enemy. He had manipulated me to such a degree, as is often the case for victims of domestic and sexual violence, that I didn’t consider for a moment that he might be to blame. I blamed myself, my actions, my body, and my inadequacies and felt somehow if I could just be better, kinder, more considerate, more obedient, more attractive, less attractive, quieter, and more attentive – if I could just not be me then it would all be ok. That first rape marked the beginning of an eight month ordeal of rape, perversion, humiliation, physical violation, emotional abuse, psychological beatings and things that I dare not commit to print in these circumstances. He was breaking me down; while I was with him I did the best I could to please him; when he attacked me I tried to stop my body’s fighting instinct so it would hurt less. I blamed my body for fighting back. As time went on my mind would take over I would dissociate, click out of reality while he did what he did. He left me in the end, on reflection I think I’d become so broken my body did stop fighting back, I no longer cried, my mind developed a way of taking me somewhere else while he did what he did and I honestly believe now, that it stopped being fun for him – I don’t think the fantasy worked without my opposition.

Away from him I pretended I was fine, piled on the makeup and tried desperately not to let the mask fall away. Alone I began coping in ways I didn’t understand; in ways, that for a long time I thought were unique to me. I didn’t want to eat anymore. I was brought to such a place where I felt undeserving of nourishment. And beyond that – I wanted to disappear. I didn’t want to be thinner, or more beautiful, or more desirable. I wanted to fade away completely so nobody would see the disgusting worthless creature I felt I was back then. Ironically as the weight fell from my body I became more visible not less, people asked questions and their interest in my body, in my weight triggered me and in many respects saved me from what may have developed into chronic anorexia nervosa. I couldn’t fade away, but I still had all these intense raw emotions inside a fourteen year old who had no insight or understanding of what had happened to her.

I felt dirty. It was an unbearable feeling of maggots crawling inside me and while rationally I knew they couldn’t really be real, that didn’t matter because I felt them and they intensified and reinforced his voice in my head telling me how dirty and disgusting I was. And somewhere in that mass of feelings I began purging and shortly afterwards, binging and purging. The world was different even in the late 90s; eating disorder awareness was poor and for me personally I had no idea people did what I was doing. All I knew was that it wasn’t normal and that it must be kept secret. My weight ‘stabilised’ back to a ‘healthy weight’ and people stopped watching my body, they assumed I was fine. I wasn’t fine. I was falling faster and faster into bulimia finding a kind of warped release in myself destructive behaviours, which were rapidly becoming more and more compulsive. On the surface I was a ‘normal’ teenage girl – make up on, hair neat, a little rebellious to say the least, though simultaneously obsessed with getting good grades, I took part in drama club productions, smoked behind the old technology buildings, spent a lot of time in my room at home. Inside I was tormented and traumatised, trapped inside a body which I perceived to be dangerous, poisoned and infected with filth and maggots and completely overwhelmed with the depth of emotions I felt, all the while knowing that if I told anybody what was really going on that they’d see how awful I was, they’d know what I made him do to me and I would disappoint them all.

The four short years that passed from thirteen to seventeen brought me to a place where my head was filled with negative messages and destructive thoughts, my wardrobes were places to hide bags of vomit not to store clothes, food was tasted in purging not in eating and I was trapped in a hellish existence where fear was rampant, genuine happiness a distant memory, while self-destruction and self-loathing became normal. I had begun self-harming mid-way through my relationship with Michael and after once frightening myself at fifteen by going a little too far I had searched online to see what on earth was wrong with me that I did these things and in doing so came across a forum filled with people who did the things I did. This pro-recovery, support forum still exists and it is too many of those members that I owe my life and to my everloving, ever present God that I owe everything, my life, my self.. It was in this forum that I recognised that my behaviours were actually bulimia. And first began to take on board those small challenges that chipped away at my resistance to recovery.

At sixteen I began to receive treatment from the community mental health team for depression and anxiety before later being diagnosed with bipolar disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder. Despite all the people involved in my care at this time being lovely people and amazing professionals, nobody noticed my eating disorder. In a setting where the DSM IV is like the Ten Commandments, why would anyone suspect bulimia from calloused broken knuckles and hamster cheeks in a girl who was a healthy weight and actually beginning to become clinically overweight? In fact for me the first professional to recognise my bulimia was my dentist; after roughly 45 seconds of looking in my mouth he asked me if I had bulimia and I swear my heart almost stopped beating!

I believed in God and despite everything that was going on and my lack of understanding of the whys I trusted in Him and my relationship with Him is what ultimately saved my life - in more ways than I can tell. I made it into university and moved to Leeds under the misguided notion that this was a new beginning and that all my issues, dysfunctions and illness would be left behind. It turned out they caught that train with me. Behind toilet stall doors and my bedroom door in halls my behaviours continued and began to escalate. I continued to gain weight in spite of my purging; in large part because I was using weight gain products in hindsight I think to make myself repulsive and therefore safe perhaps. Self-induced vomiting became insufficient and I began abusing laxatives. I ran up roughly £3000 in credit cards and overdrafts buying food to waste, laxatives and tums. My teeth became irreparably damaged and incredibly painful. I was at this stage binging and purging from four to nine times a day; my eating disorder had replaced my life. Finally I stole laxatives from a supermarket because I felt I needed them but didn’t have the money to pay for them. I was a mess. My throat constantly sore, I felt permanently unwell, frequently in intense pain either from my teeth or stomach. In terms of my eating disorders I was at rock bottom.

I was by this stage actively involved in the support forum I mentioned and received a huge amount of support and encouragement from the girls. I made a decision to fight for my life and for myself instead of destroying myself. In all honesty the weeks and months that followed that decision were hellish, peppered with slip ups, uncomfortable, painful, and exhausting BUT entirely worthwhile. I reduced my laxatives down until I finally flushed (literally) the last of them. I began to retrain myself to eat better, I worked with a therapist, and I was honest with those involved in my care and allowed myself to let them in and to trust them. It wasn’t magical – I would meet my friends for lunch and be so terrified to eat because I was afraid of messing up and purging, but they supported me. I learned to develop healthy coping strategies. I weaned myself off the weight gain products. By 2006 I was firmly in recovery, not cured, but strong in reclaiming myself. Some days were harder than others and I still had all these feelings that had originally caused my eating to become disordered and later the bulimia. I bit the bullet and began seeing a trauma therapist and in the early stages of our sessions I identified the profound damage to my self-esteem, confidence and self-worth and began a confidence building course and joined an eating disorder support group to help strengthen my recovery.

Going to those groups early on was so difficult, particularly with the eating disorder group. A large number of those there were very much what people expect an eating disorder sufferer to look like. They weren’t, for the most part emaciated but they were very visibly unhealthy and slight. I felt like a fraud sometimes. And battled with not feeling ill enough and the notion that I didn’t fit in there. But in time that settled and the group became a great source of hope and encouragement for me. As time passed I got stronger, I learned to manage well enough so I didn’t need group. I also learned that the consequences of and damage from eating disorders cannot be avoided my retaining a higher weight. I was medicated for acid reflux and irritable bowel syndrome which sometimes are no problem to live with, other times the pain and discomfort is ridiculous. I underwent hours and hours of painful dental surgery and still have teeth that are damaged and in need of fixing. I was also diagnosed with pernicious anaemia – as a result of the damage my ed did to my body it can no longer absorb vitamin B12 from food, so I have to get shots which vary from one month to every three months depending upon blood test results. My eating disorder took my teens and a part of my twenties, it cost me friends, wound me in substantial debt, made a liar of me. It ran its course in the same destructive, devastating manner it does for all sufferers regardless of how far from the stereotype I was.

I am now almost twenty six. I have been without eating disordered behaviours now for almost six years. My food intake is balanced for the most part though I do remain over weight; my weight no longer increases but rather was maintained and in the past eighteen months has begun to decrease at a healthy rate as I work through the trauma that causes me to cling to the false safety of a bigger body. I have no desire to be thin. I no longer have a desire to be repulsive. I seek only to be healthy in terms of mind and body and I am getting there. I actually feel proud of myself for the wars I have battled and the obstacles I have overcome to reach this place. I don’t love myself yet, but I kind of like myself for the most part. I found my voice and I have learned to use it. That’s what telling my story was about – using my voice in such a way that somewhere, sometime, someone might read these words and realise that I am as much the face of eating disorders, for want of a better analogy, as the talented, yet sadly emaciated Karen Carpenter. Eating disorders are illnesses which do not discriminate. The indicators lie in behaviours, emotional responses, personality changes, mood changes, in the subtle markers, and not just in the obviously emaciated frame. Personally my belief is that a first time purge (or any other disordered eating indicator) is already eating disordered enough to need addressing. And while of course, professional treatment may not be given in early stages, support is available online and all around you – reach out, it’s already bad enough.

Tears from the Heart

2011-09-07T01:45:00.000+01:00

Tonight I had some more Child Protection Training - this time for the kids work at church.
It doesnt matter how many people's stories of abuse I hear. Whether it be through training sessions like this, from clients, from friends, from people I know online, in books - I cry for each one. I cant help it. And it has nothing to do with my own experiences and I dont feel any shame or the need to hide the tears that well up in my eyes whenever I hear such stories. Each one in its own raw painful circumstances, experiences, its own personal hell, each individual a heart battered and wounded and then each person's own journey, healing, reconciling, silence and the breaking of that silence. Not everyone gets those. Isnt it worth tears?

I spent alot of my life apologising for crying. As a child my nan used to tell us 'dont let the b******s see you cry'. As an adolescence, tears in front of others would have betrayed me. As a young woman I was told I was 'a soft touch' 'a cry baby' 'too emotional'. As an adult, as a woman, I dont, wont apologise for my tears. And while I have learned to hold them back, particularly with clients when it is inappropraite or unhelpful to them for me to cry - later when I reflect the tears come. I know they are some who feel tears should fade with experience, that you should distance, that you shouldnt be emotionally involved. BUT for me there is a difference between an emotional involvement which negates ones ability to practice, to support, to help another and the emotional involvement that comes a result of a human interaction, especially one which is so emotionally charged and heartbreaking as experiences of abuse.

I cry for joy. Mine and others. Sometimes I laugh so hard I cry. I cry at films. Tears are not a physical admission of emotional or mental weakness but a physical manifestation of the human experience of deep emotion and for me perhaps the real fear should be not in crying for the pain others suffer, but in the day those tears stop?

I Thought of You

2011-09-04T00:57:00.000+01:00

I thought of you today
as the sand peppered wind whipped my face taking away my breath a moment.
I remembered your last
And then I remembered it all
You were nothing but a blessing within a blessing
own own babouska, russian doll, pass the parcel princess
give give give give give.
and the ocean whispered words into my ear in your own tongue
but when I turned you werent there.
I wondered sometimes what would you be, what would life be
but all the what ifs and wonderings in the world cant turn back time to a place and a space where I could hug and tell you to take take take take take before its too late.
Instead as the world around cradles me tight and calms my whirring mind with the shushing of a seaside lullaby I hold my memories like precious pearls and gaze in awe of them.
There is loss without sadness now, remembering without tears and a sisterhood that, as before, no sickness, no dying, no death can destroy.
I soak up the salt water from my toes like roots drawing up the healing liquid into my centre as my lips, no more bitten and chewed, smile - because I thought of you.

Possibility

2011-09-02T16:31:00.000+01:00

I saw this video today through a violence against women activist forum Im a member of and just wept.

I know that life isnt about having children. I know that my sole purpose in life is not to have children. But this is my hearts cry, articulated in a manner which is far clearer than I could ever hope for.

With another gynae appointment coming up in three weeks time and not really feeling able to express my fears without being chastised because I'm 'only 26' or because there is more to life.

I know these things I do, but this is so real, doctors and tests and probes.

Though I weave my logic to ease myself, I cannot help the natural cry from somewhere within me that calls and does not pay heed to reason or logic.

I guess what I do hope for is precisely that which this poem expresses - the possibility.

The Scars

2011-08-30T17:13:00.000+01:00

As with many a post these days I begin - as I was walking along the beach this morning! Roxie was running around playing and the tide was out. When the tide goes out here it leaves behind 'the scars'. The scars are these vast stretches of rock that are only visible when the tide leaves. They are hidden otherwise. And when they are revealed, like this morning, at a glavce there is a kind of ugliness where the water has worn away at the surfaces leaving dark brown pools, blackened sand and carcasses of small sea creatures that once lived. But look closer and there lies such beauty and beyond that beauty a wisdom that I guess kind of struck me today.

You see 'the scars' demand attention, they are so prominent on the sandy beach that you cant help but see them. But when you see them - really see them, theres patterns and textures, pleats and folds of something thats been there such a long time and remains. There is history. How many before me have gazed at them? And those little pools are not brown up close but clear - clear and filled with life. Life grows on the rocks. Plantlife adorns it like fine robes. And the pools of water spill into each other and flow back to the sea. The water is living and flowing and alive.

And so our scars are. Be they the physical scars of self harm, the physical manifestations and damages of eating disorders, alcoholism, drug abuse, the emotional scars that remain imprinted on out hearts, the psychological scars of times we would wish to forget. Yes we hide them, cover them up, feel ashamed of them or repulsed by them at times. BUT there is a beauty and life in them. When you show your scars, when you make yourself vulnerable in that way you reveal the beauty of a healing that turned that wound to scar. By letting others see, by teaching them through them, reaching out to them through them and allowing the possibility for life to comes from those scarred place there is light and life and love.

When we you our voices, our experiences, our scars (literal and metaphorical) there is an out pouring of wisdom that comes from living, of hope that comes from experience of healing and of light that comes from the reminder that dark days, no matter how enduring, do come to an end. We only have to open our eyes to that; we only have to alter our perspective; we only have to make a choice to see things in a new light.

Grow Old Not Up!

2011-08-29T19:04:00.000+01:00

Over the years there has been much talk of the inner child. Of what she endured and how she felt.
My inner child for a long time was this creature to be feared, to be resented, to be ignored.
As time goes on I learned why she did the things she did, felt the way she did and I got to respect her.

And now I find myself in a place where I am thankful for her.
Where I embrace her as a part of me.
And that embrace no longers feels awkward but, natural.
I dont have to explore her, hold her under the magnifying glass and scrutinise her.
I know her.
I am her. She is me.

I guess what I realised today was something quite beautiful and magnificent and that was my ability to play. To have that child run fre within me.
To be silly and joyous and carefree I guess even just a little while.
And Ive had that before - but only ever with other present.
Be it my gorgeous girlies playing twister or jumping in the sea off the shores of Piran.
Or children, god children, cousins, nephew, friends children.
Always in scenarios where my playfulness runs with that of others as though only when the consensus is child like craziness can I run free.

This last couple of days I have felt that childlike essence grow stronger within me, until that kind of giddy silliness, and I dont know rose tinted glasses wonder washed over me.
And for once I didnt question it.
I didnt pour over it trying to make sure it wasnt some precursor to mania.
I just was.
I just am.
This morning I was on the beach with Roxie I took off my shoes and socks and rolled up my trousers and went into the sea with her splashing around and just playing with her.
Despite rolling up my trousers i was drenched up to the waist and some how splashed my top too.
It wasnt until I was putting my shoes and socks on I realised Id forgotton that other people use the beach!

And for perhaps one of few times in my life I didnt care.
Not because I was with friends, not because I was entertaining children, not because I was manic - but because I dont need the opinion of strangers as to my conduct.
I didnt care what anyone thought - I just- played and enjoyed Roxie and nature and being alive and for me thats just such a precious thing.

I dont think its a sickness/ mental illness thing that we lose that freeness, that unrestrained joy of childhood, but rather that we, most of us, replace it with approval from others, with being accepted, with being held in others esteem rather than being concerned with how we value ourselves.
I have missed my childishness.
I have missed that joy, that brightness and that obliviousness to the world around.
And no life isnt about playing and running free.
But God gave us such a beautiful place to live in - why have waves if you can't splash in them?
The world is a prison or a playground depending on how you look at it
And I guess Im hoping I can retain and treaure the child I was within me and every now and then, let her out to play.

Song of Silence: Rape and Recovery

2011-08-26T01:47:00.001+01:00

1 IN 4 WOMEN SUFFER RAPE OR ATTEMPTED RAPE.

THE MOST COMMON RAPISTS ARE CURRENT OR EX HUSBANDS OR PARTNERS.

YOU PROBABLY DIDNT KNOW THAT BECAUSE ITS SOMETHING WE DONT TALK ABOUT - START TALKING!

(Rape Crisis UK)

So Ive written before about music. More specifically about Jenni Schaefer's song 'I Miss Me' and shared that I had embraced that as my theme song for a while to keep me look at reclaiming myself, knowing myself and allowing myself the same kindnesses, rights, respect and love I offer others.

I am still on that journey - its a life long journey because as with all living things we are ever changing. But tonight I had to write because I just heard Jenni Schaefer's song 'She Blames Herself' and just sobbed listening to it.

I know what happened to me wasnt my fault. I accept that and I am at peace with the reality that nothing I did caused it and at that time, with the knowledge and life experience my thirteen year old self had, there was nothing I could have done to avoid what happened. I have, drum roll please for amazing news... forgiven myself! Praise God!

Literally half my life spent under the weight of that time, battling with the remnants of violation, shame, guilt, humiliation, self loathing and far too many weights for me to feel comfortable with speaking out here and now - half of my life locked in that - and I finally can say He raped me, he abused me, he humiliated me, he tormented me, he manipulated me and I am not responsible for that. It was not my fault in any way and I never deserved that treatment, not even for one second. I dont blame myself anymore.

Tonight though - when I heart Jenni's song the adult heart in me swelled with warm sadness that comes from knowing the depth of such situations, the damage, the battle and yet its warm because it ends - it can end, we can fight and over come it - and its agonising and heartbreaking and exhausted but we can do it. I did it, am doing it as I continue to heal in different yet related ways.

But when I listened to the song a second time, I just dissolved into tears. The remnants of the young girl inside me just cried. Wept for the memories of the hurt, the indescribable trauma of those times with him and the years of existing, battling, living in the aftermath of what he did, how it felt and all that was damaged - seemingly irreversibly. There was sadness in those sobs, but not the kind that comes in the heart weighted, stomach knotted, consuming darkness - but the kind that comes in remembering - in recalling something past, something that had gone before. Wounds heal, but scars remain.

The amazing thing, the miraculous and incredible thing about this is the empowerment in the song too, the capturing of the odd ability one finds in recognising in others 'the signs' - in seeing the shame and hurt in another woman's eyes, in the reassuring and simultaneously devastating power of those two words 'I know'.

And what I feel now, adult me and inner child is a kind of embracing of the reality that while I know what happened to me wasnt my fault; that I wasn't to blame, there are women, girls across the world who blame themselves, who drown in shame, whose eyes speak for them to those who know the language. This has to stop. It has to. I know I cant save the world. I know Im not wonderwoman and I know I have to be careful to keep myself in check so I dont over do it. But I can do my part. I can use my voice. I can tell my story.

You know in the UK 91% of women rape victims tell no one at the time of the rape? 91% The silence has to be broken. Its no longer acceptable for domestic violence, sexual violence, partner-rape, date-rape, rape as a weapon of war and another other such abominable violation of one person forcibly by another to be swept under the carpet of "its just not something we talk about". Its time we, as a society, started talking.

Jenni Schaefer - She Blames Herself
(can be downloaded on cdbaby.com)

Blue-eyed girl

fifteen years old

hides a secret

inside her soul;

She keeps re-living it

how could he do what he did?

Friend of the family

they've known for years.

Now when she sees him

she's filled with fear

what can she do

when she knows its her word against his.

She blames herself.

She blames it all

on how she dressed,

the way she walked.

Drowning in shame.

Has so much guilt.

Who can she trust?

Who can she tell when she's too scared to ask for help?

It was all his fault and still

she blames herself

He stole her innocense

and most of her youth.

Now thats she's older

she knows the truth

so she's speaking out

and tearing down all the walls that she built.

Now when she meets a woman in the same boat as her

she feels that anger and theres no need for words.

One look in her eyes and she knows that girl's going through hell.

And she blames herself.

She blames it all

on how she dressed,

the way she walked.

Drowning in shame

and so much guilt.

Who can she trust?

Who can she tell when she's too scared to even ask for help?

It was all his fault and still

she blames herself.

It was all his fault and still

she blames herself.

Dizzy Dolls and Windmills

2011-08-25T01:59:00.000+01:00

"MUCHNESS MAINTENANCE:

Let go of the weights of life -

even if you just set them down a while.

Be spontaneous! - and remember its

not sponteneity if you schedule it!

Your heart matters as much as others.

Know you take the precautions you need

to for your mental health - so smile, laugh, live!

Learn more than books;

Seek more than numeric success;

Love - let your heart run free to love.

GOD DOESNT MAKE JUNK - BE YOURSELF

You are one of a kind - a work of art.

Never put your mind, before your heart."

I feel like lately I've been doing good, really good sometimes.
I feel stronger than I have in a long time.
Im tired alot, acutely anxious at times and I have various things going on physically and mentally but theyre being addressed.
I moved house and feel safe here.
More than that I feel immensely blessed by this wonderful place.
I can breathe here. I can sleep here - and more than that - I'm sleeping in a bed.
A bed I actually bought for myself BRAND NEW! Which is the biggest gesture of material self care ever! (and decorated my bedroom- still a work in progress will show more when done!!! look!)

I talked with my best friend (well text!) a couple of days ago.
And she mentioned something about there being something of my self that once I had but seemed lost of late.
This woman is totally my heroine, I respect her immensely, trust her implicitly and love her completely.
So when she shares these perspectives with me I always take time and think on them.
I did that today whilst I was walking Roxie across the moors.

I think in the last year maybe a little more I have allowed everything to become adult.
Everything scheduled, and with so many obstacles I have gotten bogged down and allowed myself to lose... not hope I still have hope and always have, but I think perhaps I lost my wonder, the connection to that childlike awe within me - I lost my muchness or more acurately I have allowed myself to become less muchier than I once was. (if you dont get the Alice reference you are probably going to think I totally flipped my lid at this point!)

You see my personality, the person I am, the essence of what makes me 'ME' is very much bound up in a kind of cacophony of laughters, jumbled up with heart beating rhythms, whispering winds, that giddy feeling, silliness, geekiness, little girl in mothers heels, tomboy tearing her dress climbing a tree, its dizzy dolls and the feeling before you fall, its being scared to hurt yourself but spinning anyway just for the thrill of it. Its that buzzy energy. Its this huge part of me that for a long time I have reined back in and surpressed because either I was fearful that joy would become hypermania - or shudder at the thought mania, but I think more often because I allowed myself fade rainbows to grey. I got lost in a rat race mentality, became schedule focused, lost sight of the bigger picture, repeated old mistakes with regards to not being wise about where I spend my time and energy. I gave myself over to monotony and I, not stopped, but forgot to believe in eternity, in a world beyond an exam hall, in the joy in my heart saying more about my life, than the scores on my test papers.

So today after walking, Roxie and I went into a Country show in one of the villages. I bought myself a windmill. Its silly because Id actually stopped thinking about what Id been reflecting on and was concentrating on the cute critters all over the place. I bought some lemon curd for my mum and turned around and saw this little toy stall and outside the tent in sand buckets were windmills. And in a very childish impulsive way I had to have one. As I was choosing one, I didnt feel silly not for a moment. I chose a blue one with a silvery holographic underside.

(I would have taken a pic of me and my windmill if it werent for the fact I got sunburnt and look lobster-like!)

Later on the way home I held the windmill and watched it spin gently. I was thinking about why I could do that, feel that way then. I dont think its because I was thinking about it just before. I think its because I had spent that time with nature, with Roxie, Id walked, prayed, the weights were gone and I could be - ME. So when I got home I wrote myself a note - the one at the top! I dont know if this post will actually help anyone, entertain or just bore - but it feels good to type this and for the post part I typed with a smile!

Encouraging One Another is More Cost Effective!

2011-08-21T13:59:00.001+01:00

I was walking along the beach this morning
the sunshine was glorious, the sea gentle and soothing, the clouds like cotton wool pleatsa in the sky
peace
birds singing
Roxie swimming in the sea
sand between my toes
Peace.

Often in times like today my mind wanders into deep thought about one thing or another.
This morning I was thinking about cost and benefit.
Actually inspired by David Cameron speaking about the human cost of the recent riots and the importance of that cost being compensate to some degree, monetary yes but more so by the efforts of those responsible to make gestures of apologies and such.
I got to thinking about human cost and benefit generally in life.
In each of our lives and the manner in which they entwine.
In my life.

Isnt that the measure of a life?
to have cost little but benefitted many?
to reach other people? to love them? to nurture them? to guide them?
But there is always cost.

There is the debt we owe to others for our mistakes, for our transgressions, for the moments of heartache we caused.
The grattitude we owe to those who formed the stepping stones of our journies- those who lovingly lay themselves down for us.
There is the cost of every moment wasted, every assault on our bodies, mind and soul - every second of self loathing.

Sometimes the cost is unavoidable, regrettable, but repentable.
But in these times not of economic recession, but of the rapidly depleating love for one another, of our humanity we can choose to cut costs.

To seek forgiveness to release us from the debts of our darker moments.
To have a heart of grattitude and thanksgiving to God, to those around us, to nature, to all the beauty and opporunity and richness we have been blessed with.
To not waste a second - its not about getting it perfect, its about trying your best, loving with all your heart, embracing yourself - who you are and who you were meant to be and living it. Its endurance in the hard times, courage in the terrifying storms, faith in the darkest of nights.

Loving each other - being honest with one another, lifting one another up.
Encourage those around you, support if you can, as you can.
Pray expectantly.
Celebrate your blessings.
Seek to brighten the world, to in some small way make one persons day lighter - imagine how we could make the earth shine.

Its choice.
So many times we are told cants, wonts, couldnts, shouldnt, impossible, improbable, impractical - but what if we dared to try.
Just to try.

We are all responsible for the human cost of our own existence. Imagine the human cost of your £2 primark vest top? But we are also responsible for the seeds, many or few, we sow to benefit mankind. We can choose.
And we can make that choice each day.
And that feels I guess reassuring, but more than that its exciting and freeing to know that we can choose to work to free ourselves from that which binds or we can choose to let ourselves be rendered increasingly powerless.

Aww Baby - you just look darling in your disorder!

2011-08-10T20:11:00.000+01:00

excuse me a minute... ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHH!
Further to my blog post this morning regarding a childrens t shirt reading 'nothing tastes as good as skinny feels' I now present for your outrage, disgust and skin crawling amazement - a RANGE of similar t shirts available on Zazzle. These t shirts come in a range of sizes from six months old yes thats right 6 MONTHS OLD right the way through every childhood size into adult male and female sizes - they also come in a range of colours and types of clothing - how wonderful!

I kinda dont wanna post this but Im going to work on putting a campaign together to getting rid of these products- its thoroughly appalling and with that in mind I need to arrange awareness to get some support together. Please fetch a wooden spoon to bite on now - this is painful...

"Step away from the plate and get on the treadmill"

"Eat Less"

"Does this shirt make me look fat?"

"Does this shirt make me look skinny?"

"I have anorexia... what's your excuse."

"I love being anorexic"

"We Never repent of having eaten too little"

"Fat kids love cake"

"Fat girls need love too"

"its better to look good than to feel good"

"almost skinny"

"I used to be dainty"

"I love losing weight"

"If you think im fat you should see my sister"

"I love collarbones"

"Overweight and Out of Shape"

"I'd rather be having plastic surgery"

"Please Help... need botox! My feelings are starting to show!"

"Fake is better than flat"

"I believe in boob jobs"

To all the little girls out there - "If it tastes nice spit it out dear"

2011-08-10T13:15:00.000+01:00

There are not words right now to describe the shade of reddish, purple my face has turned and Im actually afraid that the smoke billowing from my ears will set off the smoke alarm. Why? Check it out.

Oh yes people - the website zazzle.co.uk has in their wisdom decided little girls need a starvation mantra - way to tackle the apparent rise in childhood obesity in the UK. Why not bring out bulimic barbie complete with a toilet and a spare pair of knickers for when she craps her pants after miscalculating her laxatives? Maybe go the whole hog and have mattel make a set of scales in barbie pink with purple edging - perhaps it could talk im thinking phrases like "take a run fatty" or "good job you lost 2lbs - have a lettuce leaf" or maybe "mummy and daddy will love you when you're thinner." Ok yes Im going overboard and doing my little drama queen on a mountain of soap boxes act but come on!

Kate Moss made a major faux pas when she made the comment that nothing tastes as good as skinny feels. It was idiotic, foolish and poorly thought out - either that or a fantastically risky and deliberate PR stunt - after all we're still talking about it years later. (btw Kate Moss has nothing to do with this range other than her quote being used!) we're loving Kate!

Will your child immediately develop an eating disorder upon wearing or seeing this t shirt - no. But I will not accept the constant compaign from various retailers to normalise disorder attitudes, unrealistic body image and unattainable definitions of beauty. The drip fed messages that reinforce not good enough, not thin enough, not pretty enough, too fat, too lazy, thin = beautiful ,you have to change to be loved, to be wanted to be beautiful - they have to stop. These precious beings come into the world waiting to be filled, with a hunger to learn, with a thirst to grow - looking up to those around them. For those of you who have kids or have spent time with them you'll know they're sharp as tacks and dont miss a thing. We have to be careful what we put out there for them. They need to know who they are is beautiful period.

As for Zazzle, well they defend the product by saying they allow a platform for consumers to express personal opinons. Im thinking hoodies that say "Zazzle kiss my fat ass!". And needless to say - Im done shopping at zazzle no matter how pretty some of their cards are!

"I GOT THE POWER!"

2011-08-09T09:20:00.002+01:00

Ok, so now you have disco fever spinning around your head!

On Sunday my freedomfighters video topic was about taking back power from eating disorders. The last day or so Ive been reflecting on that. I have yet to meet a person with an eating disorder for whom control wasnt a strong factor or at the very least a significant part of their eating disorder- though Im sure there are exceptions that prove the rule.

Its all illusions and falsities (i may have made that word up!) of course, as is everything ED tells us. But I tried to remember control within the deepest most dangerous parts of my eating disorders - it took me about half a second. I remembered a feeling that I imagine the man in a crane must feel before he pushes the controls that swing a wrecking ball into a building - the power over survival or destruction. Its a perverse power, mostly because its never really us pushing the buttons is it?

I thought over various friends I know, have known, who have fought these disorders too, some won, some lost and I thought about the sense of power I have seen in their faces as they decline food and watch everybody else eat. I remember in myself binging and the act and its pain being lost in the wake of the relief that I had 'regained control'. Deathly illusions. But what it did make me think about was strength and choices. None of us chose our eating disorders, but we did or could choose to fight against them. So often I hear people say "Im not strong enough", and while I completely relate to that feeling, consider a moment the strength and energy an eating disorder takes. I guess the common misconception is that a person with an eating disorder just doesnt eat. How far from reality that it? The constant battles, the scales, the balancing, the counting, the exercising, the voices, the mood fluctuations, the anxiety, the hiding, the lying, the pain, the exhaustion, the damage and I could go on. How much effort and energy all of that takes.

No, none of us chose the vile, vicious voice in our heads that criticises, abuses, belittles, commands, demands and destroys; but we can choose to fight it. We have a CHOICE. And therein lies recovery. The truth is, no matter how strong your eating disorder and no matter where you believe its origin to be - you have a choice and in making that choice, you truly have control.

You can choose to take the small steps, no matter how small, a step away from ED is another smidgen of control regained. Its all progress. You can choose to pray, to take strength from faith. You can choose to reach out to friends, to health professionals and get support. You can choose to fight. You have the power and strength within you to destroy yourself- that doesnt come from eating disorder, ED just channels that, manipulates that and uses your own strength and power against you. But that power to destroy can slowly be re-rooted and used to heal.

No matter what lies ED tells you. I assure you -
YOU HAVE THE POWER TO CHOOSE.

Death by Disorder? Living with EDs Legacy: The Hidden Costs of Eating Disorders

2011-08-02T00:32:00.000+01:00

I took a phone call today from my friend Tracy's mother.
Tracy has battled anorexia since she was nine years old and during that time has also had episodes of purging, laxative abuse, over exercising and self harming. I met her in hospital almost six years ago. She is a wonderful person, sensitive, kind, loving - very hurt and very unwell - but she has one of the most beautiful hearts in the world. Yesterday for almost four minutes, that beautiful heart stopped beating. Thankfully, miraculously (and I do not say that flippantly) the doctors managed to revive her.

That heart attack is one consequence of many for Tracy. She has no teeth left and has to wear false teeth which feel very uncomfortable and have made her so self conscious she scarcely smiles anymore. She has irritable bowel syndrome, osteoperosis, pernicious anemia, kidney damage, anemia and damage to her brain - to the extent where she has had three life threatening operations to date and is currently awaiting her fourth - an operation which carries an high risk of paralysis or death.

And one of the saddest truths for Tracy is that the last eighteen months she has been doing so well in recovery, many slip ups of course - but fighting hard. To see her shrinking, so small in that hospital bed, pumped full of morphine, fluids replacing food, waiting to meet the operating table once more is heart breaking. Its such a common ignorance that anorexics starve to death - when so often it is in the living years, months, days, hours, moments that one experiences the deepest sufferings of eating disorders.

Image: Tracy 2008.

Many friends I have who have had or do have eating disorders describe experiences of an overwhelming lists of diseases, ailments and damage their body bears as a result, directly or otherwise, of their eating disorders. Some are life threatening - heart attacks for example, the majority however are enduring, painful, life altering damage to the body which remain even once one is recovered.

The damages my years under the iron rule, cracking whip of ED pales in comparison to Tracy's - and yet some days it restricts life, it brings a sadness and a heaviness we all tend to feel when we're in pain. My teeth are destroyed - even after many hours and many £££££ pounds of dental treatment and much pain and anxiety, my teeth continue to cause me problems. It seems such a small problem - but the pain of exposed nerves where vomit ate away enamel is indescribably and mind numbing until I can think of only that pain. I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome adding more pills to my cocktail, pains that sometimes have me folded in two and ironically more time on the toilet to put it politely!!! I have pernicious anemia and have monthy injections of B12 since as a result of bowel damage my body will no longer absorb it.

Indirectly - my eating disorder damaged both of my ankles and my back following my blacking out at the top of a flight of stairs resulting in two sprained ankle, back damage which still causes me pain and a cracked knee cap (apparently the hardest bone to break). In the winter I seize up - it becomes painful to get up in the morning, my ankles, despite physiotherapy and daily exercise remain weak and prone to injury.

I am very blessed. The damage to my body could have been much worse. My eating disorder could have continued for much longer. I have had alot of answered prayers, alot of support and have love poured into my life that keeps me going. Recovery is worth it - that fight to escape eating disorders is worth every tear, every effort - but what remains is beyond what people expect. Most of us are the walking wounded, our bodies bearing scars of the months, years eating disorders held us captive.

The point of this post? SICK ENOUGH IS NOW! It doesnt matter that you dont fit into the DSM IV or the ICD 10 neat little diagnosis boxes. Your size, shape, weight etc dont necessarily determine how sick you are - the damage that lies beneath the surface is often the greatest. And really, for me at least, what characterises an eating disorder and is the cause for greatest concern lies in eating disordered behaviours. If you have eating disordered behaviours GET HELP. Get support. Its not easy. It really isnt and I would be doing you a dis-service to tell you otherwise. But tell me - how easy is it to exist under the constant battering of eating disordered thoughts, being told over and over how worthless you are, the torture, the isolation, the loneliness, the life lost - that isnt easy either. But the former leads to life, the latter to death. The faster you get help, be it through doctors, eating disorder charities or self help groups and resources - the more you decrease the extent of the damage left behind. The first purge, the first episode of restriction, the first eating disordered thought - that is sick enough - it really isnt ever too early to get help. You are worth more than the pain of an eating disordered - fight for yourself - what have you got to lose?

Endings and Beginnings

2011-07-30T22:21:00.000+01:00

I apologise for my absence over the last week or so. Its been an incredibly busy time with uncle Dennis' funeral to plan and go through, paperwork and solicitors to deal with, all of my possessions to pick up and move from the old house to the new, furniture to build, my gorgeous new family member to pick up, three of four cats getting spayed, much cleaning to do, plus appointments with my social worker, therapist. obgyn and so on. *BREATHES* Its been busy and tiring with little time to spare. Its been very emotional. The sadness and grief and loss in saying goodbye to uncle Dennis, the relief in his passing and that he is no longer in pain, the stress and worry of dealing with plans and paperwork and trying to reel my dad in (he wants everything done yesterday!!!). The relief and joy and peace and I guess the wave of blessings that flows over and over me with this new house and the quiet and safety within its walls. The hope. The refreshed sight that comes filled with hope from the land of change.

I have so much that has been in my head of late to share and discuss. So many articles have come my way, several questions sent from various people regarding various mental health issues that I need to get to (if you sent me mail please know im working my way through and am glad to help!) plus a few videos to make for WeRFreEDomFighters and a couple of other campaigns Im involved with right now. There is so much planned, so much to be planned - and I feel thrilled by it. I am neither manic nor hypermanic. I dont feel under pressure or strained. I feel thankful, incredibly grateful. I feel blessed with opportunities to be useful, to be in a position to encourage and support and I guess to find the joy in the steep climb back to life.

I am blessed.

The Power of Love

2011-07-21T04:40:00.000+01:00

A wonderful friend of mine sent me a text message yesterday which contained the following.

"And so we know and rely on the love God has for us. God is love.

Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them."

~ 1 John 4:16 ~

"He has for thee - A light for every shadow.

A plan for each tomorrow.

A key for every problem.

A balm for every sorrow."

~ Amy Carmichael ~

The text came at the precise moment in which I need to be reminded of those truths. I had just put away all the papers and preparations for the parts of the funeral I am responsible for dealing with. And for some reason out of nowhere something hit me and I just started to cry, and I guess the depth of grief and the exhaustion of the last couple of weeks just filled me. Its funny that love is the greatest of all blessings and yet simultaneously carries a unique and brutal kind of pain with it. People have spoken to me in the past about the ways in which I love people and how that love manifests - parents, friends, therapist, drs and so on. They do so out of protectiveness over me and concern for me and my health. But God blessed me with a huge capacity to love and the more that love flows out, the more love flows through. Kinda like a a lake through which passes a river I guess.

Francoise Sagon wrote"I have loved to the point of madness; that which is called madness, that which to me, is the only sensible way to love." and I guess in ways I identify with that. Of course the sense you make of this quote very much depends upon your definition of madness. The consequence of loving with the whole of your heart is the risk you take in opening yourself up to hurt, disappointment, grief, pain; however the consequences of closing yourself down love are much worse. To have known; to have loved; to have been loved; to experience the comforting words of a friend, of a song, of the Father - surely therein lies the greatest joys in life.

The past five months have been intense - difficult - and I have journied to depths I hoped I would never again experience. But at the same time I have learned so much more, about myself and others and I guess about life and especially about faith. I feel some monumental road blocks in my relationship with God have been broken down of late and the freedom that comes from that is joyous and miraculous. I have for a long time been plagued by this need to be understood by others, to be able to be myself and to be accepted entirely for that and I guess what came recently was the realisation that that's not always going to be possible - and so I found myself re-reading words written back in 2005 - "I can't change others, but I can change myself, I am the only person standing in my way." When I read those words I smiled remembering the circumstances in which I had written them, but also because I felt this surge in my heart, in my spirit as if somehow someone pressed the turbo button.

I made a decision a long time ago to choose life. And I stand by that. And I dont regret it. But I think sometimes we become so distracted by the ever more complicating aspects of life and the world and our relationship to our surroundings as well as other people, that we loose sight of the basics, of commonsense and motivation and forget the simple truths. We each have a purpose on this earth and a duty to strive to fulfil that purpose. All human beings have the power to allow love to flow through them and out into the world if only they would choose to do so. Even in the darkest of moments and the deepest of sorrows we are never alone. And of course, the mind blowing awesome truth, that God loves you unconditionally, consistently and completely and always will.

To Heal My Broken Heart

2011-07-19T22:25:00.001+01:00

Some of you are aware that for the past few weeks I have been nursing my Uncle Dennis who was in the end stages of cancer. For eleven days I barely left his side, sleeping in a chair by his hospital bed so he wasnt alone. Words cannot describe the depth of fear and regret and helplessness to see a man once so independant, and adventurous and strong wasting in a bed, in a hospital fit for demolition, under the 'care' of staff who treat him like an inconvenience. I really tried to get him out of hospital and care for him at home, but they wouldnt let me so in hospital we stayed.

At 10.45am yesterday morning everything dropped suddenly - temperature, sats, bp, heartrate, his breath laboured and raspy, gripping my hand as silent tears rolled down his pale cheeks. For 33 minutes I watched him squirming and in so much pain - and the drugs wouldnt work fast enough and they couldnt give him more. His consciousness fluctuated. He didnt grip so tight. He stopped writhing. He left this world at 11.18am. Its strange because I have known the reality of his condition for so long - and yet I somehow still feel shocked as I fall into a surreal world of funeral directors and solicitors and decisions to be made.

I never once felt overwhelmed in the time he was here. Not in feeding him, changing him, washing him, fighting his corner with the nurses, trying to cheer him up - it all felt so natural and comfortable. But this feels overwhelming. I have been trying so hard since he left to focus and stay strong and keep caring for myself. But its hard yknow? People often expect so much from me, my fault totally, because I have this really dreadful bad habit of pretending its all ok, that I can do anything, that I can carry any weight. Thats not as true as I would like it to be. I had to go to his house, to choose some clothes for him and fetch his birth certificate for the registrar. On the table was a card, a card with my name on it. It just sat there waiting for me, like he knew I would be the one to go to the house. And I just started crying. I let myself cry alone in his dining room. I think I was almost afraid to open it. Its kinda like the contact, one more than I thought I'd get and thats special - so special.

I opened the card and took a breath as I settled into the chair to see what he needed me to know. This is what he wrote. His once ornate handwriting dissolved to scrawl spelled out the words I needed to know. Get on going. Dont give up. And it felt like something warm and safe and medicinal almost just scooped up the pieces of my heart and wrapped itself around them. He must have written those words the last time I took him home. That was two weeks ago. Two weeks ago, he was in so much pain, he knew this was the last leg and he took the time to write those words. Words which I know would literally have pained him to write because of the decline in his fine motor skills. But he wrote them for me. Because he knew I'd need them I guess. And I did need them - and they snapped me right back to a place I worked so hard to get to. I choose to keep going and Im not going to give up. I survived - and not only did I survive but I learned to live. I am blessed in so many ways. And oh how blessed I was to know that man. The man of a thousand stories from a hundred places, the man with the bright smiling eyes, the man who taught the three of us to seek out adventure. He's free. He's really free. And we're all gonna miss him so much. But we keep going. I keep going.

After I left the house I had to go to the funeral directors. I met my dad there. The woman helping us is so lovely and she helped me to choose the right things. We're doing it Dennis' way! And I know next week when the day comes to complete the last thing we can do for him - we're gonna smile and somewhere he's roaring with laughter and shaking his head. The Weldon kids always could make him smile.

(and yes I really chose him a harley davidson led hearse!)

Motorbikin' Mourning

2011-07-18T17:19:00.000+01:00

Motorbikin' Mourning

"You're never too old to Rock'n'Roll if you're too young to die"

~Jethro Tull~

"There is a sacredness in tears.
They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.
They speak more eloquently than ten
thousand tongues.
They are messengers of overwhelming grief...
and unspeakable love."

~Washington Irving~

The speculators made their money
On the blood you shed
Your Mama's pulled the sheets up off your bed
The profiteers on Jane Street
Sold your shoes and clothes
Ain't nobody talking 'cause everybody knows
We pulled your cycle out of the garage
And polished up the chrome
Our Gypsy biker's comin' home

Sister Mary sits with your colors
Brother John is drunk and gone
This whole town's been rousted
Which side are you on
The favored march up over the hill
In some fools parade
Shoutin' victory for the righteous
But there ain't much here but graves
Ain't nobody talkin'
We're just waitin' on the phone
Our Gypsy biker is comin' home

We rode her into the foothills
Bobby brought the gasoline
We stood 'round her in a circle
As she lit up the ravine
The spring high desert wind
Rushed down on us all the way back home

To the dead it don't matter much
'Bout who's wrong or right
You asked me that question I didn't get it right
You slipped into your darkness
Now all that remains
Is my love for you brother
Lying still and unchanged
To them that threw you away
You ain't nothin' but gone
Our Gypsy biker is comin' home

Now I'm out countin' white lines
Countin' white lines and getting stoned
My Gypsy biker is coming home.

Six Years On The Nose (literally!)

2011-07-15T23:53:00.000+01:00

Today is my sixth AA birthday. I started going back to meetings in February when my mental health wobbled, used the online meetings and face to face ones over the past few months. I actually no longer feel at risk, though I intend to keep going to meetings for a while yet to keep me strong. I havent been awarded a medallion since my third birthday because my recovery was so strong and life happened meetings no longer felt necessary. Sitting here in a dimly lit ward with my uncle sleeping beside me it doesnt seem worth celebrating almost, but I have to recognise it, I have to because of what it took to get me here. I went to a 6am meeting so I wasnt away from the hospital too long. That community of no last names has become dear to me in recent months and to have them stand with me and acknowledge the work it has taken, the effort, the tears and the joy along the way felt so special. For them to know the current ache in my heart as I try to what I can for Uncle Dennis and to feel them willing me forward, to have them comfort and encourage and snap me out of it when I sag and slump and want to give up has been invaluable.

Six years. Not a long time in itself. But Six years is a little over a quarter of my life and thats one heck of a fight. I have my medallion on the arm of my delightful nhs plastic covered chair, my lap top on my well lap! trying to type quietly. Listening to the growling breath and morphine induced incoherant murmers of my uncle as he rests. And I realise I dont want a drink. My heart hurts, Im afraid, mostly for Uncle Dennis, I feel like I'm failing him though I know Im doing all I can, Im disappointed and entirely disillusioned with regards to the hearts of professionals in general, I feel disappointed in my family, in some way I feel alone, my anxiety though fluxuating is high, Im only newly out of my last 'episode' - but I dont want a drink. I dont need a drink. Instead I want to write this post to acknowledge my achievement, close down the computer and slip my hand back into his and be me. The twenty six year old adopted niece staying strong for a man who means so much, holding his hand so he knows he's not alone, loving him quietly. The six year old adopted niece waiting to see the magical motorcycle man off on another wonderful adventure.