Wednesday, September 23, 2015



I am 
not a part 
of this make believe 
suspended within a week
a month 
a year
meaningless is my voice 
Maybe I wouldn't recognize you
away from these walls
breaking apart

I am
watching you crumble
you don't hold me anymore
in stillness
my palms
reaching out to you 
are empty

nothing to offer...

I am
not a part of you
meaningless is my voice

Angela Minard 2015©

Wednesday, September 16, 2015



I remember 
how my breath would hover
between hope and longing
the curious loneliness of watching you sleep
missing you while you were dreaming
without me...
carefully trying to nestle beneath your lifeless arm
placing your hand to rest against my heart
silently pleading
"I am here"
my own arms 
never enough
Never enough...
to keep my wanting contained

Angela Minard 2015©

Sunday, September 6, 2015

Giving and Receiving

I want to follow up on my "Friendships and Loss" post, because although that loss was painful, and occasionally stings, I do not dwell on it any longer. In the past few years I have developed a circle of friends who rally around me, love me unconditionally, and continually make me laugh to the point of aching cheeks and throbbing belly. It was difficult to have relationships with people when anorexia was my constant companion, so I didn't have many friends. I know it was confusing and painful for anyone close to watch me struggling, and I lost a couple of friends in the process. Friendships, and relationships in general are important to me, and maybe because I spent so many years building walls, I crave true connection. I feel loved because I allow myself to feel love. I'm hugged so many times a day that I lose count. How great is that?! Working in a yoga studio definitely doesn't hurt. Those yogis are huggers! They also tell you that they love you, and they mean it. I'm in a very loving environment daily, and that has fed my starving soul. On my birthday, my friends took me out for meals, they sent me videos singing me "Happy Birthday," they gave me sweet, hand written cards, thoughtful gifts, and my feet were rubbed during savasana! This year I embraced it all because life is too fragile not to allow yourself to receive such beautiful gifts. It is only through loss, I suppose, that you can truly appreciate the abundance of love and life that surrounds you. Fearing loss is my nemesis, and my fear often gets in the way of appreciating what is right in front of me. I am blessed with so many people whom I love, and I feel such true caring and love in return. As much as my feelings can overwhelm me, even the good feelings, I'm learning how to receive. The quote below is so powerful because all of my life, although I felt I was a giving person, I was not. I could never ask for help. I found it weak, and shameful. I never wanted to seem needy, and so often my needs were not met. 
I'm learning...always.

"Until we can receive with an open heart, we're never really giving with an open heart.
When we attach judgment to receiving help, 
we knowingly or unknowingly attach judgment to giving help."
 ~Brene' Brown

Saturday, September 5, 2015

Friendships and Loss

I had a dream about a former friend the other night, and although I can't recall the details of the dream, upon waking, the loss was once again fresh and raw. I moved through my morning routine with the ache in my chest as I fed the dog, prepared coffee, and sat down at the computer. It was then that I noticed the date, the breath catching in my throat. It was her birthday. Our birthdays are precisely a week apart, and our wedding anniversaries exactly the same, except for the year. She was my maid of honor, she was at the birth of my first son, I sat on the crumpled bed in her room and cried with her when her dad passed away...we shared so much, and the loss still causes both pain and anger. 
It is strange how the mind works, and I wonder if on some subconscious level, her birthday registered in my brain, even though it hadn't seemed to cross my mind at all. It has been 5 years since we have spoken, and I have changed in many ways, as I'm sure she has as well. It wasn't my choice to terminate our friendship, and I will probably never understand, but in my heart I still wish her well, and a very happy birthday. There is a certain amount of grace needed when learning how to let go because no one likes to lose. I often let this incident feed my fears, holding it up as proof that I'm not good enough, when in reality it had nothing to do with me. It feels good to let go of that ownership, because I was not the one who failed. Relationships are work, and the amount of pain involved in the loss of a friendship is often overlooked. I made mistakes, but I was always willing to fight and put in the work. I'm proud of myself for that for what it is
worth. I have amazing friendships, so if you're a part of my life, don't think you can get rid of me so easily!   

The artwork above is a Japanese Haiku written by Issa

"A world of grief and pain,
flowers bloom,
even then"

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Strong Arms

I keep looking down at my arms. Right now I hate them. They seem fleshy, doughy, ugly, and I'm sad about them...or am I? I'm increasingly uncomfortable in my skin lately, and yet doubtful that it has much of anything to do with my physical form. There are changes that I'm longing to make in my life, but they aren't practical changes, and in fact are impossible at this time, and so I'm stuck. It is a heavy, claustrophobic feeling, and because I'm learning to recognize the distorted way that my mind works, I'm almost certain that these feelings are spilling over into how I feel about my body. I might as well cry about my arms, because I can do something about them. I could work on changing them, just so I can feel productive, and not worry about the parts of my life I can't change. This is how eating disorders work. It will attempt to sneak in, trying to find the weak spot, and I'm strong enough and smart enough to recognize it for exactly what it is, which certainly doesn't make me feel any better. I'm still uncomfortable, and want to feel better. When I was new to recovery, nothing made me more angry than having my treatment team tell me to "sit with my feelings." It still doesn't sound appealing, but from past experience, I trust that I will find my way through. I'm exactly where I need to be, and for whatever reasons, so I may as well hold on tight with my meaty, substantial arms. At least they are good for something, right? 

Monday, August 31, 2015

How It Feels

This is dissociation as I experience it~

Sitting with a group of friends, I'm surrounded by their familiar laughter. I vaguely feel the muscles of my face contort into the shape of a smile, although it feels somewhat ghoulish, and I'm aware of a floating sensation in my limbs, hollow, and yet strangely weary. The rise and fall of conversation is barely an echo that I'm desperately trying to grasp a hold of within my mind. I am a stranger in these moments of separation, watching with detached curiosity before I slip into oblivion... 

I'm learning to catch myself before falling...
Counting the length of my inhales and exhales, or naming everything I see that is the color blue, anything to remind myself that I am a part of this world. I've stopped asking myself why because the reasons are many, and complicated. I can't always figure them out, and sometimes I think they are more internal than external. If I tried to avoid the triggers, I would be a recluse, and even that wouldn't solve the problem. I think that part of the reason I love yoga is because the teacher is constantly cuing you back to your body, back to your breath, and back to the sensations within and around you. I need constant reminders or I drift away. I daydream, fantasize, or catastrophize, and I wonder if it is because I somehow think this will help me control my environment, or prepare me for any and all situations. FYI, it does not! It only causes crazy amounts of anxiety and stress! I think back to only a few years ago, when deep depression was all I knew, and it is a different beast. I will take this over depression any day, but I'm one to never be satisfied. I always want more, or better. I often beat myself up because I think I want too much, but I'm working on challenging those thoughts. I'm always telling my yoga students that they are deserving of care because I know how deeply those words touched me as a student. 
We are deserving...
I am deserving of a life free from dissociation, depression,  and eating disorders.  
I'm finding a way. 
It isn't perfect, and that is also okay. 
I'm on a journey...
an adventure,
 and like all adventure stories, there are monsters and dark nights. 
There are also beautiful winged creatures, 
and one day I trust that I will fly...

 "Since the earliest period of our life was pre-verbal, everything depended on emotional interaction. Without someone to reflect our emotions, we had no way of knowing who we were." ~John Bradshaw-"Healing the Shame that Binds You"

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Today Is My Birthday

Today is my birthday...

the final year of this decade in my forties.
It has been tumultuous to say the least. 
I clawed my way through, 
sometimes barely hanging on,
but here I am! 
I would like to say it was a beautiful ride,
but not so much...
At first glance, 
you may have even wanted to avert your gaze, 
but there was quiet celebration 
if you could focus your gaze long enough to see the details. 
The celebration in no particular order, because I find them all to be miracles...
  • Finding my voice, which meant finally speaking out about being raped
  • Going to therapy
  • Getting treatment for anorexia which meant going inpatient and being away from my family
  • Surviving two suicide attempts{Feeling my feelings was overwhelmingly painful, and I wanted to die.} I'm thankful that I was not successful. 
  • Finding yoga and an accepting community
  • Continuing to work through the process of trauma with my amazing therapist and nutritionist
  • Graduating from yoga teachers training.
  • Teaching yoga, and especially serving the community of people struggling with eating disorders and PTSD. 
  • Working through continuing panic attacks, and symptoms from PTSD. {I decided to go off of all pharmaceutical medication two years ago, and there have been some ups and downs, but I have learned many tools to deal with my anxiety. That does not mean that I may never again need medication. It was beneficial to my recovery, and I will never rule it out}   
*I was just offered a job to teach yoga in a hospital based intensive outpatient eating disorder treatment facility, and that has been my dream ever since I discovered the power of yoga for recovery from my eating disorder. 

**49 is feeling good! 

Monday, August 3, 2015

Friend, Not Foe

I am deeply and suddenly exhausted in a way that I think comes from surviving and living my life, which we are all doing in our own ways, but as a person with mental health issues, I am constantly having to find and use healthy coping skills. I am a highly anxious person which I think probably surprises many people, because I hide it well. My co-workers are always telling me how calm I am, but on the inside, I'm often tied in knots. I have been struggling with panic attacks, and intense worry over losing the important people in my life.  I hide because of shame. I have suffered since childhood with dissociative episodes, which means that it is common for me to lose chunks of time, where I remember nothing. It is how I coped with trauma, but now it is maladaptive, and no longer serves a purpose, and yet many things still trigger me to dissociate. I use a lot of energy trying to stay grounded, but also I'm worn out from the anxiety over whether or not I'm going to have a panic attack or dissociate. I have found many healthy coping skills such as yoga, meditation, deep breathing, and general self care, but I still fight my demons on a daily basis. 
I was on medication for many years, which I hated, and although I have generally done very well without medication, I'm back to looking in that direction to get some relief. I haven't decided yet, but it is an option I'm considering. I feel disappointed in myself that I don't handle stress in a "normal" way. I even feel angry in the amount of effort it takes for me to manage all of my symptoms, and then criticize myself for being whiny and ungrateful when other people suffer more than I do. Inside of my head there is constant arguing going on! I catch my negative self talk, and work on re-framing. I work hard on recovery, so I will take credit for that. I also have a deep passion to help other people to find their way through recovery, and that brings immense satisfaction.  
I realize that life is ever changing, but sometimes doesn't it seem like the universe is careening out of control? Maybe it is just me...
My dog is sick, my husband has a brain tumor, I worry about my kids lives, my jobs keep me running, and there are so many things going on at one time. I get easily overwhelmed, and I think too much about the small details that I lose sight of the big picture. I will handle whatever comes my way, because I have an excellent track record, but damn, it sure is terrifying at times! I am grateful for the people in my life who support and love me. I have an amazing life, and I am the one who allows fear to get in the way. I want to improve upon how I deal with stress, because I know it can be better. I have come such a long way, and I easily brush that aside because I'm used to kicking myself. Doing the best I can never seems good enough...
I need to treat myself more like a friend because being at war with myself has certainly never worked. 

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

The Feeling Of You

The Feeling Of You

As I bow my head
your scent rises from my skin
surrounded by
the feeling of you

as if I could capture your essence

to carry
like a smooth stone
in the palm of my hand

I wrap the comforting weight of your arms
around my shoulders

breathing in the chiming sound
of our laughter

and the lingering warmth
which is
the feeling of you

Angela Minard 2015©

Artwork by~ Amanda Cass
"A Place to Dream"

Friday, July 17, 2015

No One Listens

No One Listens

We pack our emotions into used cardboard boxes
labeling them with permanent black ink
without tender care
no crinkled tissue paper
or newspaper print

We haphazardly toss them
tape them
and try to forget

We arrive at our destinations
slamming car doors
eyes to the pavement
seeing nothing
shoulders caving in on broken hearts

We stride in brightly
 wide smiles and cheerful hellos
fucking liars
hiding behind name brand clothing
make up
job descriptions
dressed up to sound prestigious
fancy fucking words
flow from our lips

We make it sound so pretty,
don't we?

Angela Minard 2015©

Artwork by~ Audrey Kawasaki

Monday, July 13, 2015

The Weight of Fear

I swallow more tears than I shed. 
It is rare for me to have a "good" cry, and I'm being sarcastic when I say that. It is not that I don't cry at all. I almost cry a lot! I feel the tears forming, and I do everything I can to keep them in. 
Because of this, I'm beginning to feel the weight of holding it all inside. There is nothing wrong with my life. I am probably the happiest I have ever been, but even so, my heart races, I have sudden panic attacks, and I become scared of everyone, even the people I adore the most. I do my best to hide these fears, because I understand how irrational they are. Hiding your feelings is a death sentence, or at least it is for me. I build fear like a fortress surrounding myself, and then, to tear it down, I set myself on fire. I'm quite the expert, except that I used to be so numb that I didn't recognize the chaos and damage I was creating in the process of trying to kill the pain. The last time I cried was toward the end of a yoga class over a year ago, and I could feel it coming. I fled to the studio bathroom, sobbing uncontrollably, half hoping that no one would notice, but a dear friend watched me leave class. I crouched down in the stall, unsure of exactly why I was so emotional, but when she wrapped her arms around me, I felt comforted, and more than that, understood, without explanation. I was grateful for her quiet presence. 
Crying alone is lonely! 
In therapy sessions, I try to hold it in even more, because I know I will not be comforted. I suppose they are trained to just sit there and stare at you, saying nothing, and waiting for you to stop. I'm sure it is all about boundaries, or maybe I'm supposed to learn how to self soothe. It is not that my therapist isn't caring, because she is, but it feels awkward.  

I almost cry in yoga all of the time! I understand the emotional need for release, but I feel ashamed of any emotion that I have labeled in my mind as negative. Maybe if I cried more, I would panic less? It is worth a try, I suppose!, so if you see me in tears, simply smile and give me a thumbs up, or even an encouraging hug. I most likely have no idea why I'm crying. Perhaps it is only the left over weight of fear...

Sunday, July 12, 2015



Slipping between shadow and light
lucid dreams
cool sheets
warm pillows
sun seeping between cracks in the blinds
bouncing from floorboard to ceiling
your breath
so soft
 I sigh...
we swallow tears
and rise
wading in a river of sparkling stars
between our toes
cool moss
thick winds blow
short lived
stormy summer skies
swollen clouds
swollen eyes
swollen hearts
we are

Angela Minard 2015©

"Change comes like a little wind that ruffles the curtains at dawn,
and it comes like the stealthy perfume of wildflowers hidden in the grass."
~John Steinbeck

Wednesday, July 8, 2015

Life Lesson

Often I come here, unsure of what to say, only knowing that there are feelings within that I am compelled to put into words, or at least this blog is my feeble attempt. 
As I'm sitting here in front of the computer screen, my sweet husband is softly snoring on the couch, and golf is on the television in the background. It is mid afternoon, cool and rainy, and what should seem peaceful, has me instead filled with worry. 
This is my downfall...
My inability to enjoy the present moment, as it is, without jumping into the future, my fears, and what ifs...
I love so intensely that I'm hyper aware of just how devastating it would be to lose the things I hold close to my heart. The simple sound of rain, while my husband sleeps peacefully near me is so perfect and lovely that it swells inside of me to the point where it can no longer be contained, and yet, I try. I suppose this is what causes my pain, or perhaps the fear that I am not strong enough to survive such tremendous loss. There is no way to prepare for such things, and so why I do this to myself is beyond me. As soon as I acknowledge the amazing gifts in my life, the next thought seems to be fraught with worry that it will all be taken away. 
This is life, 
and it is a guarantee that no one will make it out alive, 
or even unscathed. 
I will lose, 
I will gain,
 and my work here is to continue to notice and be grateful for each magical moment, 
 each magical person that fills my life with this much love. 
The lesson? 
It is not meant to be contained... 

Artwork by- Jimmy Lawlor

Tuesday, July 7, 2015

Fractured Time

Fractured Time

The world grows loud as you slip away
thoughts like mercury
quickly separating and running back together
images flash
bile rising
as the darkness pools behind your eyes

The return is silent
scenery changing
as if waking inside of a soundless dream

Thirstily gulping handfuls of cold water
icy shame washes through you
Frantically searching your mind
but all that remains 
is the darkness

Angela Minard 2015© 

This darkness is lonely
Desperately weary of living 
like this...

Thursday, June 25, 2015

All You Know

I'm getting over a particularly nasty bout of the stomach flu, so perhaps that is what has me feeling out of sorts. I like for things to make sense...I mean, who doesn't, right? I woke up yesterday feeling lost, which made no logical sense in my mind. I have been heading in a purposeful direction for quite some time, but suddenly I'm grasping. I'm either on the verge of tears or maniacal laughter at any given moment, and I'm exhausted.  A strange interaction that I had on Facebook seems to have triggered something inside of me, which I'm trying to figure out. A woman that I'm "friends" with posted something about how she thought it was a great idea to do drug testing on anyone who is applying for welfare assistance, like applying for welfare isn't humiliating enough!? She asked how others felt about it, and I happen to disagree. I rarely get into discussions like this on Facebook, but feeling strongly,  I made a few comments, in a very calm manner. Many of her comments disturbed me though, one of them being that she has no compassion for drug addicts. It also bothered me that she assumes anyone needing assistance is a drug user. The more I thought about her callous comments, I decided that I didn't care to be "friends" with her, so I unfriended her. As I write this, it sounds childish, and I probably don't screen my friend requests very well. The next morning there was an angry message from her calling me a baby for unfriending her. Ahhh, a "baby!." That is something I often say in my head when I'm beating up on myself, so it was a particularly painful blow. I can call myself a baby, but you fuck off!  After that, I also blocked her, but it left me with a creepy feeling. 

I'm going to be taking a hiatus from Facebook, and I'm definitely deleting the app from my phone. I like to see what is going on in the lives of the people that I'm unable to connect with in person, but I struggle as it is with boundaries. I tend to absorb the energy of the people around me, and take on those feelings as if they were my own. I enjoy connecting with people, sharing my story, and helping others to find their way through this recovery maze, but I don't want to end up losing myself in the process. I've reached my limit. I love where I am in my life. I love who I am becoming, and where I'm going. There is so much more, but I need to protect myself, or I am going to be eaten alive. Social media is wonderful in many ways, but it has a dark side, like everything in life. I've reached a saturation point, and I crave a break. When even your own status updates cause eye rolling, you know you have reached your limit, plus my house is dirty! 

This blog is connected to my Facebook, as well as a couple of other pages that I run, so I will not completely disappear, but I will be limiting my time. I am going to spend the rest of my summer enjoying my family, kissing my dog, teaching yoga, practicing my hugging technique, and sharing my heart in the best way I know how, which is all I know. It is all you know too.

Monday, June 8, 2015

Like the Lotus Flower

They say that the most stunning flower of all, the lotus, grows in the filthiest part of the pond, feeding on its filth to produce its beauty. My therapist also likes to say that strength comes from falling face down, sucking mud, and still being able to rise up and move forward.  I try to remember this when the pain and shame cause me to feel dirty and flawed. I work through it every day, and some days are easier than others, but I am healing and creating beauty through the practice of yoga. There are still days when I put on my yoga clothes, which are not forgiving, by the way, and I look into the mirror, and I don't love what I see. Some days I even think about staying home and hiding instead of walking into a class full of people, where I'm exposed. Recovery is like that. I'm not this women who recovered perfectly from anorexia, and never looks back. I would like to be, but then again, each time I look back, I learn something new about why I sometimes fall into disordered thoughts or behaviors. It is never about weight, or food, or appearance, but what else I'm trying to control or avoid. During those moments in the mirror, when I'm struggling with the bitch in my head, who I know very well is me, I still walk out the door and go to the studio, and I get on my mat. As soon as I center myself, feeling the solid foundation of the earth beneath me, all of that crap falls away. I never feel more beautiful than when I'm flowing with my breath, and it has absolutely nothing to do with what I look like or if the postures are all in perfect alignment. I often tell my students to first feel the posture from the inside. For me, this is where the yoga begins, with breath, creating space in the body, rooting into the present moment, expanding and contracting, dancing with the breath. When you can pinpoint how a posture makes you feel on the inside, you can recreate that feeling anytime you need it. My therapist who doesn't even practice yoga, helped me discover this by moving me through postures during our sessions. She would say, Do a pose that makes you feel strong, or safe, or joyful, or whatever emotion she is helping me to tap into, and it helps because I'm not always skilled at knowing how I'm feeling. I checked out of my life by denying strong emotions for a long time, so it is still new to me, and sometimes I lose my footing. The mud is always there, but I have faith that like the lotus flower, I will not only rise, but bloom. 

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Destination Unknown

Destination Unknown

warm sun
behind your eyes
golden light
slow and drowsy 
thoughts like honey
flow sweet and smooth
unaware of breath
of body
like a seabird gliding
over sparkling waves 
through a cloudless sky
destination unknown

Angela Minard 2015©

"Don't believe what your eyes are telling you.  All they show is limitation.  Look with your understanding.
 Find out what you already know, and you will see the way to fly." ~ Richard Bach "Jonathan Livingston Seagull"

Tuesday, June 2, 2015

Scene of the Crime

Scene of the Crime

I am bleeding
dank, putrid carnage
the rich color of soil
that I have nurtured

I imagined returning to this place
erasing my fingerprints
setting the building on fire
witnessing the devastation 
from afar
as if I was the criminal

There are signs everywhere
and this journey is no different
The highway sign
an unexpected reminder

Throbbing warmth 
pooling suddenly
I shove both hands between my thighs
trying to tell you
Pull over to the side of the road
but instead, 
voice lost
I hold my breath
waiting for the pain to recede

I can smell them...
rotten, burning flesh
the stench of shame

Touching thumb to pinkie finger
ring finger
middle finger

I am here
I am here
I am here

I am not the criminal

I look into your eyes
not asking you to turn away
no longer a child reeling with confusion
I am here

I am not the criminal

Angela Minard 2015©

Saturday, May 23, 2015



I wonder if you are riding through the soft green mist of late spring
the color of your eyes...
Closing down my sleepy lids
I breathe in joy
giving it all away
to you...
I drop my head back
lifting my gaze
to the blinding white heavens 
spinning above
the clouds cover the expanse of sky so fully 
I have to imagine the velvety blue beneath
and I do...

Angela Minard 2015©

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Ocean Lullaby

Ocean Lullaby

Have you ever been startled
by your own sweet voice 
as you awaken from a dream?
Hauntingly strange
and yet familiar
shattering the silence of sleep
as if you had never forgotten the lyrics 
to your own soul


before slipping beneath the waves
The metallic taste of salt on your tongue
like a symphony before drowning

Angela Minard 2015©

Tuesday, May 19, 2015

The Ceiling Remembers

The Ceiling Remembers

You can't wait to get me off the phone
and although your voice is sanity
I let you go
because I'm not even sure
who speaks

"Hold still!," she hisses

I'm afraid of the shower in the basement
mold grows...
There is nowhere to get clean

I let you go
because I'm not even sure
who speaks

To my rosary beads:
"Forgive me father, for I have sinned"
over and over
"I will not tell"

Promising to forget
how my eyes do not close
and the ceiling remembers
my secrets

Angela Minard 2015©

Thursday, May 7, 2015

Ashes to Ashes

Ashes to Ashes

How can the heart beat
in so many places
all at once

tiny fire
little star

drowning in a midnight ocean

Pulses of light 
extinguished billions of years ago

Merely a distant echo
to be felt from lifetime to lifetime
without ever connecting 

We illuminate the infinite universe
and with a single exhalation


Angela Minard 2015©

Photography by~ Stephanie Dalton Cowan