Here and Now

This summer my oldest son, Christian, is staying with his grandpa and uncle in Florida. I sure do miss him! He will be working his first job and bonding with men, while my mom comes here to help me paint and organize my house. Since I started working full time five years ago, keeping up with four boys and also keeping up with house maintenance has been difficult. Of course, I also have to mention that therapy and blogging take up a large portion of my time! Anyway, thought I would share a poem that I wrote this morning. Wishing everyone a wonderful weekend. Take care:) Missing Christian I’ve come to know that nervous yawn When my eyes gaze into yours and stay too long Am I the critic Condemning blue black hair Cringing inside at the clothes you choose to wear Are you still the boy whose questions never cease Eyebrows furrowed Cursing the darkness Refusing to sleep Where is the girl feeling every frantic kick Afraid to take you home Leaving gentle kisses along the back of your neck Now ...

"I'm stupid." How many billions of times throughout my life have I said those two words to myself? This poor self-concept began in the first grade, when my teacher would say those very words, and then she would put my desk in the hall, where I would remain for the rest of the day. During a parent-teacher conference, she told my mother that I was retarded, and would need to be placed in a school for the mentally handicapped. What was it about me that made her think this, I'll never know. I do know that I heard that story repeated more times than I care to remember. My mother was outraged, and enrolled me in the Catholic school where we also attended church. Later, when I was really struggling with math, she took me to a children's hospital for extensive testing, and it was then that I was diagnosed with dyscalculia , and proprioceptive dysfunction . In my mind, this was the actual proof that I really was stupid, and I'm still trying to break myself of this neg...

My husband wonders why I do this. He doesn't understand why I would want to share so much personal information, especially with strangers. In the beginning, the writing was a way to sort through all of the thoughts and feelings that began to surface after I told my husband and therapist that I had been raped as a child. I was so protective of all of my secrets, and I think it was a way of keeping something for myself when everything else had been taken. Eating disorders thrive in silence, and hiding behind the secrets made me feel safe. Through writing, I began to slowly let go of the shame that I had carried around for so long, and it felt good. What felt even better though was the response I received from people that I didn't even know. I would hear how my story or a poem that I had written touched someone else, or had helped them to feel less alone, and for once in my life, I felt like maybe I could make a difference. I was finally being heard, and now I feel that I can no l...

I'm so angry and sickened beyond belief over the Supreme Court's ruling that child rapists cannot be executed. Justice Anthony Kennedy wrote in his majority opinion, "the death penalty is not a proportional punishment for the rape of a child." WHAT THE HELL!!! That statement is just so unbelievable. No, it is not proportional. Child rapists should be tortured first, and if not put to death, at least put away for life. Instead, most often, they are given a slap on the wrist and set free to rape again. It is so sad that the rights of a criminal come before the rights of a victim, and especially children, who are unable to protect themselves. Being raped as a child took away so much of my life that can never be replaced. Thirty years later, I'm still trying to work my way through the pain. I'm tortured daily by the horrific memories of being raped by two young men who forced me to say that I liked it before they would stop. It never really ends though, does it? ...

"The only way out is through The faster we're in the better The only way out is through ultimately" Alanis Morissette I'm not sure why I thought that I could just stop taking my medication, but three weeks ago, that is what I did. I was having some side effects from my dosage being increased, and it's also very expensive, so I just stopped. My therapist was not happy with this decision, but I really thought that I would be okay. I was wrong. The panic attacks and jumpiness returned, along with sleepless nights and flashbacks. What ultimately sent me back to the pharmacy though, was the draining loss of all hope. I'm tired of disappointing myself and others by continuing to sabotage every effort that I make to get well. I'm not sure what it is that I'm so afraid of, but I do know that I have to push past the fear instead of becoming paralyzed by the unknown. There is a comfort in slipping back to nothingness, but with each slip, I'm also finding a d...

Breathing Room I dare not breathe too deeply Afraid of what is buried beneath the dark branches Spread below the cage that holds my heart Captured in the hollow cave of my throat Waiting to swallow me whole Angela Minard©

I didn't want to go to therapy or see my nutritionist on Wednesday, but I forced myself to go, and I'm glad that I did. My therapist reminded me that this is my therapy, and that we can go at whatever pace feels comfortable to me. That made me feel better about wanting to slow down our trauma work for awhile. The issue that I'm having right now is safety, or rather, my perception of what makes me feel safe. I'm not feeling safe in my body because of recent comments that have been made, and that is very frightening to me. It has definitely fueled the eating disorder, and I know that I need to challenge these misperceptions. The truth is that at a low body weight, I am less able to protect myself. Starvation leads to less awareness of everything, including my surroundings, giving me a false sense of security. I am just now realizing that I have used starvation as a way to feel powerful and in control of my safety. My nutritionist has suggested that I take a women's se...

Dave and I had a couples session with my therapist last Wednesday, and I have felt shut down both mentally and emotionally ever since. The session was good, but it was also intense and exhausting to discuss topics and feelings that I have always avoided in the past. Silence can be a hard habit to break, but I'm learning to speak up when something upsets me. Dave made a comment to me last week that brought to the surface so many different emotions. I was walking away from him, and as I did, he said, "Can I have some fries with that shake?" It triggered the eating disordered voice, saying that I have excess baggage, and it also triggered those feelings of my body being looked at in a sexual way. I immediately let him know that I was upset and we were able to talk about it. I know he wishes that he could take back those words, and he would never say something like that if he knew it would hurt me. He just thought that he was paying me a compliment! I have a therapy and nutri...

The hummingbird holds a special meaning for my husband and I, so in honor of him, and also, because it is Father's Day, I thought that I would share this story. Twelve years ago, my husband was diagnosed with a benign brain tumor called an astrocytoma. Although benign, the tumor is touching his brainstem, making total removal, as of yet, unsuccessful. He has had two craniotomies to remove what they can, and surgeons have said that they will be unable to perform a third. Radiation treatment is the next treatment option. Fortunately this type of tumor is slow growing. When Dave was in the hospital, after his second surgery, drugged up on morphine and in horrible pain, he awoke from a restless sleep, calling out for me. He asked me if I had seen the hummingbird that had been flying around the room. I told him no, that I had been asleep. Excitedly, he described his vision of a hummingbird, filling the room with beautiful colors. The brightest most brilliant colors he had ever seen. He...

It has been over a week since the incident with the men in the truck, and it has definitely had what I feel is a negative impact on my recovery. My therapist reassures me that this is only a temporary setback, which she says is understandable, considering the amount of trauma work that we have been doing. I want to believe this, but I'm also finding it difficult to see around the logic that I am less likely to attract attract male attention, and therefore, less endangered, when I am underweight. I find this to be very reasonable. So reasonable, that all I can think about is how much I want to lose weight. I realize that perceptions are made out of experience, and we all make inferences out of them that influence our decisions, so this is the origin of my struggle. During therapy this week, we talked about the rape, and how it coincided with the beginnings of puberty and my changing body. It makes sense that gaining a more womanly figure would make me feel less safe, and the comme...

Last night, we took the boys and my mother and father-in-law to a Royals game. It was a beautiful evening, and even though we lost, we had a really great time. With incredible persistance, our youngest son scored a practice ball, and then later in the game, a foul ball. The look of surprise and delight on his face was definitely the best part of the evening!

I'm working with a student this summer who has a dual diagnosis of both autism and obsessive compulsive disorder . I have been trying to come up with ways to tie his academic goals and strengths in with some of his current obsessions. Here are some of his latest obsessions, to name a few... National Geographic , typing lists, watching movie clips on the computer, collecting animal facts, and listening to the Davy Crockett theme song over and over again. This weekend I was thinking about how I could incorporate some of what he loves in with his curriculum, and it popped into my head that he could learn how to blog. He has excellent computer and keyboarding skills, and he can follow both visual and written instructions, so I knew that he was capable. The next question was content, and it didn't take me long to come up with a subject in which Sam has the most knowledge, so today is the introduction of Sam's Animal Facts blog, hosted by Blogger . Today Sam learned how to f...

Girl In A Ditch She parked her car on the side of the road and sits in a ditch all alone Cross legged, on a blanket, with a book in her hands Appearing to be unaware of the critical, curious stares We exit and wait at the tracks for the bothersome coal train to pass Wondering aloud "What the hell," with a laugh secretly hoping that you'll have an answer but all that you say with pessimism is, "We will be waiting forever" Looking behind, behind she will stay In the back of my mind, recalling the day We drove right past the girl in a ditch Angela Minard 2008

Beyond The Back Door There is a weighted effort to keep the soles of my feet attached to the floor of this house that is the distance between hell A place that must be believed in a mind that tries to tell lies to the film of filth that covers my flesh and hides in the distance of back doors and swings Within the placid silence of night I fear they are waiting for me Angela Minard 2008

"The 1000 Journals Project is an ongoing collaborative experiment attempting to follow 1000 journals throughout their travels. The goal is to provide a method for interaction and shared creativity among friends and strangers. Those who find the journals add something to them. A story, drawing, photograph, anything really. Then they pass the journal along, to a friend or stranger, and the adventure continues." For more information about the book or documentary, go to http://1000journals.com/ I started a journal for survivors of sexual abuse to share their story, poetry, and artwork. Here is the cover and scanned pages from Jessieh Speaks , a seventeen year old sexual abuse survivor who is wise and gifted beyond her years. ~The cover of Journal 2800~ Jessieh's journal pages

This is a recent picture of my husband's grandma, Marie, getting ready to enjoy a fully loaded hotdog at George's Hotdog Stand in North Boston, New York. Isn't she beautiful!

I recently discovered a wonderful poetry site Gloom Cupboard that spotlights new writers. They were accepting submissions, so I sent in some of my work. One of my poems is now being featured, so go check it out!

The first week of summer school has ended, and I'm feeling quite drained at this point. There are four students in the class, and three have autism. Transitioning to a new school and classroom with unfamiliar staff can be challenging for these students, but all in all, it has been a very successful week. There is one student in particular, who really keeps me on my toes! His favorite question to ask me is, "What's the Plan?" He needs to know the activities for the entire day. Writing his shedule out for him so that he can check off each activity and see for himself what comes next, really helps to ease his anxiety. We use picture schedules for our non-reading students so that they too can see what their day is going to look like. I also started doing occasional respite care after school for the most adorable sixteen year old boy with autism . He loves video games and eating, so he fits right in here with my house full of pre-teen and teenage boys. He came home with me...

I want to recover from this eating disorder, but with recovery also comes the body of a woman, the curves of a woman, and that terrifies me. The other day I was walking out of Target when a pickup truck with a few men drove by. "Nice ass," one of them hollered out the window as I pushed my cart through the crosswalk. There is a certain safety that I feel when I'm underweight...an invisible feeling that somehow comforts me, and I don't have that anymore. Now I feel like the target of depraved men in trucks. This vulnerability is leading me to choose restriction rather than food more often than not, and I can see no way around my own ambivalence. I was no safer in the body of a child, so why do I do this to myself?

This is how I'm feeling when it comes to my eating disorder at the moment. Never will it end Reiterative persuasion Condemnation, suffocation Compare, weigh, measure Decidedly undeserving Consistently returning to the scene of the crime Never will it end

I am just sickened and saddened beyond words after reading this story that Rachael at DNA Diaries posted. http://www.tcpalm.com/news/2008/may/23/st-lucie-teacher-has-class-vote-whether-5-year-old/ It is beyond my comprehension as to why Wendy Portillo is still being allowed to "educate" children, even after admitting that she had emotionally abused a five year old child who she knew was in the process of being diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. My heart just aches for this little boy.

1. I'm a huge Barbra Streisand fan. 2. I was studying voice and musical theatre until my life was changed by a new little person that we named Christian. Singing was one of my greatest passions, and now it is strange that I no longer feel that way... although I still love to sing in the car! All that I used to dream about was being a big broadway star. Now I just dream of being a published writer. I dream big! 3. I'm afraid of being buried alive, probably due to the horrible asthma that I had as a child. 4. I'm addicted to lipgloss. My favorite is called Sexymotherpucker by Soap and Glory. 5. When I was seven years old, I fell off of my grandparents clothesline and broke my arm because I thought I could perform my own high wire act. 6. I love a good tornado warning, so I'm lucky that I live in Kansas! 7. I have a tattoo on my lower back/aka a tramp stamp. It was an anniversary present that I gave my husband last year.