Tag Archives: change
Aside

Inferno

13 Mar

Image

Feathers rustle as dust settles…

Snowflakes in a silent desert are… different.

These fall black.

 

There was a Holocaust here.

Who dare speak of the suffering?

 

Hair mirroring the very flames inside her.

whispers of “A Girl on Fire,”

Burned at the stake,

a spiritual pyre.

 

They knew.

she’d seen evil glow,

burning inside the Devil’s eyes.

She was the One

who’d dare glimpse the deepest dark.

 

a body consumed in the fire,

torched in torture.

Her heart: self-scalded.

Sea of Shame sizzling in the sea of flames

until the excess enkindled, the surplus seared down to skeleton.

 

Even bared bones

Don’t make it through the Crematorium.

 

Now, a scattering of ashes,

wind carries away Pastness.

 

And just as it seems

her Spirit rests beneath the dying embers:

a spark.

 

The Phoenix rises again…

This Girl

10 Oct

This girl is crying. And it hurts, but feels so damn good.

This girl is unbearably sad. But somehow believably hopeful.

This girl is caught between being scared of the darkness, yet feeling terror at walking into light.

This girl wants to run again.  Into the light. Feel the road beneath her feet, know the wind will carry her through, allow the caress of the deep blue sky to settle upon her rhythmic pounding. How she misses that…

This girl needs to heal first. To go deep again, make up for the months of just surviving on the surface. The months of starving her life away. The months of forgetting loved ones and consuming herself in her own self destruction.

This girl wants to dance. Even more. With and without people. Dance while sitting perfectly still. Shake her soul through life.

This girl wants to feel joy. That feeling of security, that nothing could possibly go wrong.

This girl wants to feel comfort again. To wrap up in fluffy blankets, settle down with mugs of tea, be okay with silence. To stand on the edge and know that there will be no fall. To allow warmth of hugs to bind her soul tighter and remind her of the goodness wrapped inside her chest.

This girl wants to give love again. And her list includes herself.

This girl wants to know her spirit is beautiful and her mind is at peace. That life will be okay no matter what.

This girl doesn’t want these things stolen again. There is a monster that lurks inside.

This girl won’t let them be stolen again.

This girl is strong. This girl will fight. This girl will cry. This girl will remember. This girl will change. This girl will breathe. This girl will eat. This girl will pray. This girl will learn. This girl will feel. This girl will give.

This girl… has too much to live for.

To Smile through the Struggle

12 Sep

Over the past few days, I’ve really struggled with my eating disorder. I’m at a pivotal point, where I am grappling with the desire to be healthy from my genuine self and the desire the eating disorder has for me to pursue thinness above anything else. Clothes need to be replaced and a new, more feminine shape needs adjusting to.

But I am trying to stay positive. There have been many “down” days this week, but tonight, this made me smile through the tears. That is going to be my goal for the next few days… that despite the inner turmoil I am experiencing on my recovery path,

 I’m still going to smile through the struggle.

In the hardest of times, we all need something to go “aww” at.

Suck on This!

19 Jul

Do not be alarmed by the title of this post. Don’t you fret:

THE FOLLOWING POST HAS BEEN APPROVED FOR

ALL AUDIENCES

BY THE MOTION PICTURE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA, INC.

THE POST HAS BEEN RATED

G

And to start off my perfectly-safe-for-children post, I’m calling the weather in Austin, TX B.S. 

And we all know what B.S. stands for, right?

That’s right…. today(and every other day) is blistery, baking, burning, broiling, blazing and boiling. With a side of sticky, sweaty, sweltering, scalding, scorching, steaming, sizzling, searing, and smoking.

Yes, it’s HOT AS HELL  … I mean “hot as h-e-double hockey sticks.” Come on, we’re keeping it G-rated here.

So with sweat pouring down my back, even in the AC, I thought, “Hoover Dam! It’s a great day for something icy, frosty and cool to drink! ….What’s that ED? Too much sugar you say?

Well, it’s time to be defiant! I don’t care if I die two tablespoons of sugar today. At least I’ll have fun doing it. So shut your piehole! Oh, wait… I forgot pie has too many calories for you. So shut your rice-cake, iceburg lettuce, Splenda hole and go away!”

Striding confidently into the kitchen, I gathered my glass, blender and ice. But then, in my moment of freedom, I had to decide, “Which frozen, frigid concoction to make?” Hmmm…. Oooh, what about Sugar-Honey Iced Tea?


No? Why not? Ugh, ok… G-rated… I get it…

Let’s settle on some nice, mellow Strawberry Lemonade:

Slurpable Strawberry Lemonade (for two!):

1/4 cup lemon juice

1/8 cup turbinado sugar

8 large strawberries

5 1/4 cups water

ice cubes

Combine lemon juice, sugar, strawberries, and 1/4 cup water in blender. Puree until smooth. Fill two glasses with plenty of ice and remaining water. Pour puree into glasses, splitting evenly. Garnish with more strawberries. Slurp! And enjoy!

Yes, that’s real honest-to-God goodness sugar in there, which my eating disorder kicked and screamed at. But, I sucked the whole glass down… and it was delicious. Ha, ED…

I win this time! You can suck my…. uhhh…uhhh…

majic trick?

chick flick?

carrot stick?

oil slick?

adobe brick?

neck crick?

realpolitik?

Fiddlesticks. There’s really no way out of that one….

Defying the Closet Dictator

1 Jul

Yesterday, I was pissed.

It was the first time I got really mad, truly angry, towards my eating disorder. For weeks, I’ve struggled with the familiar feeling of my clothes being too tiny. When sitting, I couldn’t concentrate on a conversation; instead all I heard was the familiar, sinister voice whispering, “Feel that waistband, see how tight is now… you’ve really let yourself go, Erin.”  And in yoga class, my “Ommms” turned into “Ummm…armsaretooflabby.”  I was constantly tugging and readjusting, yet failing to be comfortable. I didn’t feel like me- it felt like someone had kidnapped my body and overnight replaced it with someone 50 lbs. heavier. My already poor body image and fat attacks escalated into tearful breakdowns every few days.

Yet my eating disorder wouldn’t permit me to let go of the anorexic clothes, buy a new wardrobe, and wear sizes that are comfortable. I refused to stop eating and let the eating disorder pull me back into the hellish cycle of restricting, bingeing, and purging. But I also felt FAT, FAT, FAT. I was paralyzed by the dictatorship the ED had over my closet, yet still defiant enough to keep plugging away at my meal plan. I couldn’t move forward in recovery, but I recoiled at the idea of going back.

I felt the creepy, sickening, repulsive voice murmer and breathe down my neck every time I looked in the mirror, opened the closet door, or dressed for the day. It was torture.

And yesterday I finally realized how psychotic my eating disorder is. It was trying to make me fit my body to my clothes, instead of my clothes to my body. It didn’t matter to my ED whether or not in 20 years my bones would be so brittle I couldn’t walk, that I would never have had children because I never got my period again, that my heart would give out after so many years of abuse. It didn’t matter that losing weight to keep my anorexia attire would also mean bringing back the blackouts, the hair loss, the dry skin, the sunken eyes, the hunger pangs, the low pulse, and the hypothermia. My eating disorder is willing to sacrifice my health for the satisfaction of fitting in a size zero.

I won’t deny I still crave to be stick-thin. I look at magazines and envy the models’ slim physiques. Walking down the street, I still constantly compare myself to other girls and wish my legs were longer, my arms were smaller, and my stomach was flatter. But now I understand that my eating disorder skews my view. They probably look at me and think the same thing. I just can’t see it myself.

So I refuse to compromise my health for the insane ideal. My body simply cannot be healthy at a size zero. I can still be thin and a healthy weight, just not emaciated.

In a surge of courage, I silently declared:

I am not nothing. I am not a nobody. I am not a zero.

You will not make me a zero.

And before my eating disorder could recover from the defiant stance I dealt it, I was already gone. Left the ED at home, did not pass GO, did not collect $200, and took the direct route to Goodwill:

%d bloggers like this: