Choosing Life

I was talking with my friend Jenny on the phone last night, and I was telling her that I was struggling with eating. She said, "You know it's not about the food. It's about wanting to be alive." I had to take a moment to let those words sink in. Every time I don't eat, it is like telling myself that I don't want to be here. Every time I don't eat, it is like choosing death. I may not always want to deal with the pain, but I do want to live, and to truly be alive, I have to acknowledge my feelings, and become one with them. My feelings do not own me...I own my feelings. I have so much to live for.

One of the things that I'm really excited about is the new blog, Cycle Of Healing. People are beginning to share their stories, artwork, and poems. Using your voice truly begins the cycle of healing.

Contact me at cycleofhealing@gmail.com to submit your artwork or writing. All submissions may be anonymous if you would like. This blog is a place for survivors of any trauma to write, make art and speak out about their lives.

Your Body Is Not Your Voice

I know that I'm headed for nowhere good when I start lying about food that I've eaten, and making up meals that I know I haven't had. It's only a fabricated sandwich here or a make believe bowl of cereal there, right? I want you to see, and yet, please don't look too close. I want you to silently take note that my clothes are fitting more loosely, but please don't ask me if I've eaten. It's the dance I know so well. It has taken me awhile to figure out that when I start to pirouette, the routine is already coming to an end. I don't quite know when to take a bow. I do feel confused by the fact that even at my most happy, I find myself waltzing with the enemy. The beloved pair of toe shoes cripple my feet when the satin ribbons are undone, and yet I continue to dance in them time and again. "Your body is not your voice," she often tells me. I have somehow always found a way to let my body do the talking for me. After the rape, it was through the wheezing, gasping sounds of my breath, and the consecutive trips to the ER in the middle of the night for asthma attacks. I wanted to tell, I did. I wanted to tell...
"Your body is not your voice."

Cycle Of Healing

Art by Jenny Sawle

I'm honored to be a part of a new blog called The Cycle Of Healing, that was started by Jenny Sawle, Eve Judy, and Heather Jerdee.
It is a place for survivors of any kind of trauma to write, post art and speak out about their lives. Please contact us to become an author and contribute to the blog. Everyone is welcome.

*Note: If you want to submit writings or images anonymously please email them to us at: cycleofhealing@gmail.com

"Our experiences and our trauma cannot be the definition of who we are when we are in a like-minded group. Being in the presence of those who share a common bond allows us to become our own people and to realize that the abuse does not define us, it is merely a part of us."

It is possible to speak out and heal from PTSD, the trauma of rape, child sexual abuse, child abuse, incest, physical abuse, emotional abuse, spiritual abuse and neglect.

Self Care And Making Appearances

This has been the perfect day. I slept in until 10:00, and then hung out by the pool with some friends all afternoon, and tonight Dave and I are going out. It is summer days like this that make me so aware of how hard it is for me in the winter. The cold, the dark, and being cooped up inside all fuel my depression. I need to live in a warmer climate! Yesterday after work, I took two yoga classes, came home, ate dinner, and then slept like a baby. I'm learning how to take better care of myself and being able to listen to what my body needs. If it needs 2 yoga classes in one day, then heck, I'm going to listen. I've been waking up in the mornings, fixing coffee, and then doing some weights and yoga poses before I get ready for work. It is a nice way to start the day.
Self care is a funny thing. I went for years obsessively exercising and restricting my food, but I thought that I was taking care of myself. I'm meticulous when it comes to my appearance. Isn't that self care? When does caring too much become harmful? I don't like to be seen or walk outside of my house without makeup. It is part of my perfectionism, and caring too much about what other people think of me. In therapy we talk a lot about hiding behind a mask so as not to reveal the truth about ourselves. I still care about my appearance, but it is ok for people to see me with bed head, or without my makeup. It is funny, but when Jenny, Eve, and Jessieh were here, I didn't even take a shower and fix myself up before letting them see me in the morning. It says a lot about how safe I felt with them. I'm even going to post the pictures of us from that morning even though I have some morning hair and makeup:)

Together



Jenny and I



Eve and I



Jessieh and I

Work And Other Stuff

I'm in the computer room at work today, and it will be the only chance that I have to even sit down or breathe. My student is only good when he is on the computer. This morning I have had to restrain nine times, and he has been in the safe room twice, and it is only 9:30. Today I had someone observing me, so I was nervous about that, but they said how amazed they were with how good I am and how positive I am with my student, even in difficult situations. That made me feel great, because sometimes I feel like what I'm doing doesn't make a difference. Today I feel competent in my job. What an incredible feeling, and it has really made my day:)I'm relieved that I don't have to work tomorrow though, because I'm physically worn out. I'm planning on taking two yoga classes today just to de-stress. I love the deep stretch class because of how wonderful and loose my body feels afterward, but I also like the yoga flow class because it is a great workout.
I had therapy yesterday, and the session felt productive. I also really needed the hug that I received from her. I'm a glutton when it comes to physical affection. If I don't get my evening snuggles from my husband then I feel deprived! Anyway...I love days like this when my I'm validated. It definitely helps with my self esteem issues. I hope that everyone is having as good of a day as I am:-)

I'm Hungry

"Not until we are lost do we begin to find ourselves." ~ Henry David Thoreau

I'm sitting here waiting for the dinner that my husband is cooking.(Okay...so he doesn't always sit on the couch and watch golf;-) Anyway, back to the hunger, which comes with more frequency than I'm used to, and which also causes me a great deal of anxiety. The frequency is because I'm more active, and the anxiety is because as much as I do like food, I'm also afraid. I'm not afraid because it could make me overweight. No...it's not about the food at all. It is about the feelings that come with eating, and the feelings I can get rid of when I distract myself with hunger. This isn't some new insight into anorexia that I've just discovered, but it is something that I have to keep reminding myself of, because otherwise I get into the obsession that it IS about the weight and what my body looks like. I'm hungry..., and it is acceptable to have hunger...to have needs, and to realize that I'm not insatiable. I'm not a bottomless pit of endless desires that will go unfulfilled. I can attempt to eat without fear, and that is what I'm trying to do. I restrict everyday, and although it is definitely not to the degree that it used to be, it is still the denial that creeps in on a daily basis. It makes me sad that I have the need to inflict pain on myself. It is such a dichotomy to run from pain, and yet cause myself pain. I'm hungry..., and I will continue trying to fill myself full of all the things that life has to offer. I know that there will be joy and grief, sorrow and indesribable beauty. I want it all, because I'm hungry.

Out Loud

I often have flashbacks and dreams about the sick details of being raped, but I can hardly ever say those details out loud. I have told my therapist some things, but up until now, I never knew that I had also told my mother, and that when I told her, it was out of anger. Anger is a difficult emotion for me to be honest about, and I tend to shove it down as deep as I can get it. My mom said that it was before I went into treatment for the eating disorder, which means it would have been about four years ago. At that point, I had not told my therapist much of anything other than it had happened. I was in a dissociative state when I told her and I don't remember it at all. I haven't talked to my husband about it yet, but she said that he was there, and that later when she came back downstairs, I was sitting in his lap, crying. That tells me that I was back inside the mind of an eleven year old girl. I don't like to think that I'm angry with her about it. As I child, I don't remember blaming her, but on a deeper level, if I'm honest about it, there is anger, it is just hard for me to access. Hiding behind the dissociation, I could safely express it, and so that is what I did. Hurting someone intentionally doesn't feel very good, even if I didn't know what I was doing. It is definitely something that I will be discussing with my therapist tomorrow. I'm not quite sure it is something that I'm able to wrap my mind around. I guess there is a part of me that felt it was important for her to know. I think that it may be important for me to be able to hear myself say those same words out loud.

Old Baggage

Yesterday felt like the longest day for some reason. I kept myself so busy, thinking that would help, but as busy as I was, I still felt boredom creeping in anytime I was still. I've had a ton of energy, taking four yoga classes in the past two days, keeping my house clean and laundry hampers empty. I have barely slept, but still feel wired. I miss my husband, and though he will kill me for saying this, mostly all he does when he is home is lay on the couch and watch golf, so it isn't like he entertains me all day or anything:) It is just his presence that I miss, the fact that I feel lonely, and although I know he will only be gone for a few days, I still feel the strangely familiar ache of being left. Why is it that the past, and the actions of someone else have the power even to this day to cause me pain?
My parents divorced when I was eight years old, and my brother was four. My dad for the most part dropped out of our lives with only the occasional weekend visit. There were many times that he would promise to come and pick us up, and then not show or even call. It hurt, but eventually I became immune to the sadness and loss, or at least I convinced myself that I had. It made it hard to trust or believe any of his promises. Mostly it was his promise to change. He was much too interested in partying, and children didn't fit very well into his lifestyle. In recent years, he has told me how much he has changed, and continues to try to communicate with me, but I find it difficut to let him into my life. He has lost my trust, and I do feel guilty, but I'm so afraid of being let down again. I'm always trying to talk myself out of the fact it was painful. I tell myself that it doesn't matter. I have an amazing step father, so the fact that my real father was absent made me feel as if I should't complain or let it affect me. The truth is that it left scars, and I'm afraid that people will go away, just like he did. My poor husband takes the brunt of my abandonement issues, so his absence leaves me feeling vulnerable. In many ways, I'm handling everything in a much healthier manner than I have in previous years. One year I got very drunk while he was gone, calling my therapist, and crying hysterically into the phone. She made me call a friend to come stay with me, and by the time she arrived at my house, I was already passed out on the floor. That is definitely not one of my proudest moments! This time, I'm not getting drunk or starving away the feelings. I'm actually acknowledging them and giving myself permission to feel. I can see how far I've come, and that does make me feel proud of myself.
Tomorrow is Father's Day, and I'm not going to mourn, but celebrate how wonderful my stepdad is, and how very blessed I am to have his love.

There Will Be An End

I'm finished with the dark of my bedroom where the red glow of the alarm clock taunts me with the time. I didn't sleep the night before either. He is gone, and sleeping alone feels empty and strange. I fill the coffee maker with water, emptying the grounds from the night before into the trash can, and wait to hear the gurgle and beep so that I can pour a cup. I hear the television blaring from the the basement, letting me know that the boys are still awake, which makes me feel less alone. They are watching American Pie, and their laughter comforts me, so I carefully carry my coffee down the stairs. I have an In Style magazine, so I prop myself on the couch, turning the glossy pages, although I'm restless. I decide to get on the computer to type out these words. Writing cures the boredom because I don't really want to think about my therapy session the day before. I'm afraid to process the feelings. I cried, which I rarely do, and afterward I didn't feel any better. It wasn't hard enough to make a difference because I pushed my fists into my eyes to make it stop. Behind the tears are feelings that I can't name. Looking at my therapist, she has questions in her gaze, and they are questions that I have no answers for. I could say that I'm sad or angry just to say something because the silence in the room is audible. My session ends, and sometimes I feel as if I'm running out of time. I want there to be an end.

Yesterday a co-worker told me that she had been reading my blog, and for a moment I could hear her painful silence. She bravely told me that her brother had sexually abused her for years, and she had never told anyone. She was able to break her silence, and it was in that moment that I knew my journey of healing was actually helping others. I do believe that the pain will eventually end when the truth is set free, and that hope is what pushes me forward. There will be an end.

The Truth And The Denial

"Denial is an addiction," she explains, and all that I can do is nod my head up and down. I often do this... a habit I suppose, because the words have to languish, floating like the seeds of dandelions, planting their selves into full thoughts. Her eyes mirror my reflection back at me, the light behind her glowing like a halo, and I want it to not be the truth, because then I will have to face every hiding place. There are the voices in my head, daring me to speak, and I shrink inside of myself. The guilt and silence behind the curtain of my pain, I cower.

You barge through my doors, never knocking, and here I am, camouflaged behind a laugh and a smile. I tell you what you want to hear because I'm afraid that you will leave. It is inevitable, an enventuality one way or another.

She is the surrogate moving away from me. "Do you not want to come for awhile?" "Do you need a break?", and those words frighten me. Maybe I don't have anymore to say. Maybe I don't have anymore to say...

Insights And Clarity

I'm sitting here trying to find the words to explain my visit with Eve, Jenny, and Jessieh. Actually there are many words ... surreal, thought provoking, heart wrenching, and above all, filled with love. I think because we had such a limited time to spend together, we tried to fit in as much talking as we could. I have never sat down and talked with other sexual abuse survivors, and as painful as it was, I learned so much. I was challenged, understood, validated, and loved by these three amazing women. I'm still trying to process everything that was said, and I'm sure that those insights will be another post entirely. I find it fascinating that all four of us are dealing with food issues and eating disorders. My therapist says that is very common among rape and trauma survivors. Three of us also suffer from dissociative identity disorder. The commonalities between all of us made for a lot of "aha moments," and moments of clarity. After they left yesterday, my heart and mind were so full that I took a three hour nap. Now I miss them, but I have no doubt that we will see each other again. Here are the links to their blogs. Jenny's Blog~ Jenny Sawle , Eve's Blog~ Let The Freedom Continue , and Jessieh's blog~ floats in the flood

A Quick Work Time Post

I'm at work, and writing this post during the student's computer time. I had such a great weekend. I was off on Friday and cleaned my house both Friday and Saturday, but then I had all of Sunday to do whatever I wanted. I woke up early on Sunday and went to the 7:00 a.m. yoga class, ran some quick errands, and then baked chocolate chip cookies. It was a nice, relaxing day. I am so excited to see Eve, Jenny, and Jessieh, that I could hardly sleep last night. I woke up at four in the morning, fed the dog, and had lots of coffee. I'm pretty wired!
I also want to say that I've done better with food this weekend, even though I was busy and would forget to eat sometimes, I tried to make up for it later in the day. I'm not as happy with my body as I would like to be. Yoga is helping, but I added some light weights and sit ups to my routine so that I could tone up my arms and my stomach. Dave keeps saying that I'm getting older, but I still feel like that is no excuse to get all flabby. I know that is probably my eating disorder talking, but I'm not overdoing it. Well, that is all for now. Computer time is over, so I better get back to work. Have a happy Monday:)

Sparkles

A few posts back, I said that I wanted to clean my house, because I knew that if I did, it would make me feel better. Well, I cleaned from top to bottom, and I do feel better! Now that I feel better, I also feel the need to analyze why. It used to be that when I cleaned, it was a way to avoid feelings. I kept so busy with my kids, my house, and my anorexia, that I had no time to deal with the fact that I had been raped. I find it interesting that as soon as I started going to therapy and dealing with both the rape and the eating disorder, I totally let my house go. I became almost immobilized by fear, anxiety, and the unknown. I lost myself in nightmares, memories, flashbacks, and panic attacks, all the while, still trying to starve away the pain. You would think that there would be a weight lifted after telling a secret that you have kept for so long, but it is not like that. Telling a secret makes it real, and I never wanted it to be real. What does this have to do with a dirty house? Well, while I was keeping my dirty secret, the best cover was to be perfect...to look perfect, have the perfect home and well groomed children, but once the secret was revealed, why bother with the facade? Now everyone new that I was dirty, and I felt dirty. Telling doesn't mean that all of a sudden you feel cleansed. No, the shame is there, waiting to eat you alive. I'm still working on shame four years of therapy later. It is a long process, but all of a sudden, there is an overwhelming need to wipe away the grime. It doesn't fit into my life anymore. Things need to change, because I'm changing. I don't need to hide behind the dust and the clutter anymore. I look around, and everything sparkles, and if you know me at all, you know how much I love sparkles!

Hip Hooray For Friday

Good morning Friday! There was a gentle and quick rainfall, some rolling thunder, but I can see patches of blue, and bits of sunshine peaking through. It is nice not to have to work on Fridays this summer. I had a light sleep last night, in and out of strange dreams, and I could feel part of me anticipating today, the weekend, and what I want to accomplish. First off is yoga, some shopping errands, and then the mundane chores around the house, which I plan on trying to make somewhat enjoyable. Music is the only thing that can help with that. I'm also waiting on my friends Eve, and Jenny to let me know if they will be making a road trip to visit me next week. I'm really hoping that they can come. I have actually had dreams where we have all been together, so if and when it happens, it is going to be amazing! This will not be the first time that I have met on-line friends. I have met two others, and we keep in touch all of the time, and I consider them two of my closest friends.
I really need this weekend to re-energize myself after a tough week at work. I'm determined to make a difference with the child that I'm working with, and I think that is why I don't request a change of placement. He is one of the most challenging kids that I have worked with, but I'm not ready to give up. Well, I'm off to start my day. I'm wishing everyone a wonderful weekend:)

***Update***

I just talked to Jenny, and Eve, and my beautiful friend Jessieh, who are all coming to stay with me on Monday. I cannot believe we will all four be together! I haven't looked forward to something like this in a long time, and it makes me beyond happy.

The Peace Within

My gaze drifts toward the window again and again, as if there is something hidden beneath the pale blue sky. My mind wanders away from what is now, I'm tied up inside the silence of the past, and I remember what it was like to be unable to speak. It is like quick sand, swallowing each flailing limb, as it creeps upward, closing around your throat, seeping into your mouth, your nostrils, and finally filling your lungs. "Don't fall in," I tell myself, but sometimes I still do, and for awhile my voice is lost. The world grows dark, closing in around me until I'm nothing but a speck of dust floating through the white noise. It used to be my safe place when my mind couldn't find any peace. Now it is lonely, and I don't want to go there. I'm fighting to find the peace within.

Loss, Anger, And Pushing Forward

It has mostly been a weekend of silence, just like my therapy session where I found that I couldn't talk even though there is so much that I need to say. My husband worries when I get like this, and I know that I will snap out of it. I always do, but the ups and downs of being me can be difficult to comprehend and deal with. It gets tiring. I feel the deep loss of a friend, and I'm finding it painful and hard to get over. It makes me feel so horrible inside, and as if I can never be good enough. Although I have said that I'm not going to let it affect my recovery or state of mind, I guess it has, and that also makes me feel angry with myself. I should be strong enough. I cannot deal with it when people are angry with me, and I can't stand to feel anger in general. Tomorrow is Monday, and a new week to start over, to make an effort, and to love myself. I want to clear the clutter, to clean my house, because I know that will make me feel better. I need to do it slowly instead of killing myself by trying to do everything in one day. I need to ask for help. I want to come home from work, take my yoga classes, and tackle it room by room. It takes effort for me to even make a plan.
I want to thank my family for always loving me because sometime I feel so unloveable and I also want to thank a new friend, Eve for her blog and her wonderful self, who is so positive and teaching me so much http://letthefreedomcontinue.blogspot.com/ and Jenny whos strength and honesty constantly amaze me http://jennysawle.com/ They lift me up:) I will keep trying to better myself and to matter in and to this world.

Tongue Tied

I started summer school, and it has been a rough week. Transitions can be hard on the kids, but I was hoping that since most of our staff is the same, it would go more smoothly. I've had to restrain the kiddo that I work with at least a dozen times for being aggressive, and was literally punched three times today, which always manages to shake me up, even as many times as it happens. I'm physically exhausted when I get home, and I'm only working for half a day. I'm counting down the days until it is over because I need a break. I'm in a bit of a slump, and feeling down in the dumps(hey, that rhymes:) I had a therapy session yesterday, and I was tongue tied. She kept asking me what I wanted to talk about, and emotionally I felt like I couldn't speak. I was frustrated because I feel like our sessions always need to get to the bottom of something. I know that is probably expecting too much. I hate to complain so much, so I think I will wrap up this post. Everyone take care:)