Angela Minard©
Artwork by Duy Huynh
Poetry and thoughts on my journey toward healing and unlocking the silence within. Words are magic. Words have the power to heal, so find your voice, and fly
Angela Minard©
Artwork by Duy Huynh
Posted by Angela at 5:45 AM 0 Comments
Labels: Anger, anorexia, body image, eating disorder, eating disorder recovery, perfectionism, poetry, writing, writing to heal
quietly tugging my awareness skyward
Everywhere I went I could feel the fluttering of wings on my skin
like the sweet breath of angels
caressing the back of my weary neck
Perhaps I had been looking down for too long
the weight of darkness no longer screeching
but continuing to listen intently
as if silence was the monster hiding
While doing yard work on this atypically warm autumn day
I at first mistook the starlings that caught my eye
for swirling leaves
until their musical trilling filled the air
“Look up!” they seemed to be singing insistently
Pausing to rest
tilting my gaze to the heavens
my eyes widened as I watched in wonder
the transformation
from onyx starlings to opalescent doves
the honeyed sky dripping like slow rain
weightless...
cradled within the downy wings of protection
-You are safe
Angela Minard©
Posted by Angela at 2:29 PM 0 Comments
Labels: expressive arts, expressive therapy, poetry, transformation, writing, writing to heal
The Third Eye by Rutuja Padwal
I’ve been dreaming quite often about being hospitalized due to mental illness. It could be because I’m struggling with my mental health, but I feel like many of us are struggling due to the pandemic. I’m not a stranger to needing inpatient treatment, but I’m not even close to that point at all. When I woke up from that dream this morning, I was acutely aware of how healthy I am compared to years ago. I’m not only healthier, but happier. I remember back to when I was working for the local school district, and barely being able to get out of bed. I was burnt out working with aggressive students, and deeply depressed. Now I am passionate about my work, and thankful that I survived that period of my life. I think that my schedule is in flux, and that throws me off. I also know that eventually it will be more consistent again, and so I work on being patient and compassionate with myself. I still see my therapist virtually, which is better than not seeing her at all, but of course it’s not the same. We all want things to go back to normal, and the fact is that it may be awhile, or perhaps never, and that is difficult to come to terms with at times. Because of my sexual assault, and being gagged during it, wearing a mask is extremely challenging. I have worked hard to increase the amount of time I can tolerate it, but it always causes anxiety. I would rather go nowhere than to wear one, but that’s not always an option. It’s funny how that trauma, which I had really worked through, can still side swipe me, and that makes me angry. This political climate wears on me; the hate, the anger, the inequality, the racism, and on and on...aren’t we all afraid? I know I am...
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
~Frank Herbert
Posted by Angela at 12:23 PM 0 Comments
Labels: healing, mental health, pandemic, writing, yoga teacher
and flipping upside down
shifting perspectives
exploring the perimeters
a compass leading in all directions
Inhale
expanding freedom
Exhale
releasing into gravity
the outlines disappear
diving into presence
hold on tight
savor the moment
and then let it go
dancing with breath
leaning into life...
Angela Minard©
Posted by Angela at 9:49 AM 0 Comments
Labels: body image, healing, mindfulness, poetry, writing, yoga, yoga teacher
Lately when my mind drops me into the past, it is big and loud, like suddenly being slapped, sharp and stinging...too much in my body, too much hurt. I look around, and I remember the dream where I hide under the bed, shivering on the cold wood floor. A small white bunny hops under the bed to join me, and I’m no longer alone or scared. The end. Only it’s not the end, is it? It’s not a dream. I confuse waking and dreaming because that is how I survived, but even now it is blurry, past and present, real or illusion, hiding under the bed...
Artwork by Richard Jesse Watson
Posted by Angela at 6:29 PM 0 Comments
Labels: childhood sexual abuse, dreams, healing, memories, Therapy, trauma, writing
Posted by Angela at 12:39 PM 0 Comments
Labels: behavioral health, granddaughters, journaling, pandemic, transitions, trauma sensitive yoga, writing, yoga, yoga teacher
Every fucking feeling that moves
through me
Maybe
I’m not even talking to
You
around and around in circles
until I’m spinning
I haven’t been here in awhile
have I?
I’m sick of coming back.
I should know how to do this by now
everyday Grows slower
Grows darker
like a slow motion dream that I can’t wake up from
I don’t know how to stop it
No one knows
no one knows
It’s why I tell
You
Angela Minard©
Posted by Angela at 11:48 AM 0 Comments
I come to this black void and instead of emptiness, there are all of these brilliant colors, like music that I can taste and hear-
I distract myself with the familiar until the words form beneath my fingertips...
My mind flashes back to the “crazy dream.” I’m locked up in an asylum, sensing the depressant quality of being over medicated, with a tenuous grasp on reality. I’m not sure why I return to the texture of this dream-feeling trapped, misunderstood, and denied of comfort and care...it’s a worn out theme.
Eating disorders are like an asylum. Even in recovery, it’s presence looms-black and white, colorless and empty, and even in my sleep, I can feel my body, the weight and density, a liquid mass -trapped.
The Asylum: a place I would like to escape to; where I could be crazy and at the same time a hostage of my body. I would be free to rattle the chains of my own misery, completely abandoned by the outside world. A nightmare or a wish?
I’m in recovery. I eat the food, sometimes without much thought, and at times agonizingly; mouthful by mouthful.
These are the reasons I eat: my family, my dog, my job. I love those reasons, and more often than not, it’s enough.
My weight fluctuates depending on my manipulations. I can’t quite seem to leave it alone. I do not trust my body, and have difficulty being neutral, although I try. “I have a body.” That is the goal, even though mostly I’m disgusted by having a body. That disgust transitions on a scale from extreme to tolerable...I have come to accept that the disgust doesn’t have much to do with my weight, and yet the manipulation continues...
Yes, I know it’s a worn out theme. It’s mind numbingly boring, and I despise weight and diet talk. It takes up enough chatter in my own head, and so the distraction is the eating disorder; A cunning asylum, with locked doors, and sometimes thin walls of glass I can see through.
Angela Minard©
Posted by Angela at 12:15 PM 0 Comments
Posted by Angela at 5:02 PM 0 Comments
Labels: 2020, authenticity, communication, Happy New Year, spirituality, Truth, writing, yoga, yoga teacher
The me that started this blog over twelve years ago is long gone, although the strength and wisdom was centered deep inside, it took some digging to discover. Starting this blog was also the beginning of healing from sexual trauma and anorexia, although at times it felt as if all of that digging may bury me.
A couple of times it almost did...
I’m not sure why I’m here, writing I mean...
I was driving home from teaching my Monday evening yoga classes, and my mind was wandering as I watched the first snowfall of the season...wandering to the past, and I thought about the pain that I poured out on this blog. Healing is a gift I finally allowed myself. Yoga gave me the gift of embodiment, and I’m grateful that I can pay that gift forward. I rarely visit the past anymore, but when I do it’s from a more forgiving place. I’m not perfect and life is never perfect, but I’m good...life is good. I doubt anyone reads these words, but if you found your way here, take this poem as my gift to you...
Where there is an ache
joy awaits
buried beneath nutrient rich soil
the throbbing heart
the homesickness
the want
is a reminder of what holds you
Here
Right here
Don’t forget...
Angela Minard©
Posted by Angela at 9:59 PM 0 Comments
Labels: anorexia, healing, mental health, poetry, recovery, trauma, writing, yoga, yoga teacher
Posted by Angela at 11:53 PM 0 Comments
Labels: anxiety, body image, hip replacement surgery, recovery, surgery
Posted by Angela at 11:02 AM 0 Comments
Labels: healing, hip replacement surgery, learning, recovery, teaching, yoga, yoga teacher
Posted by Angela at 10:17 AM 0 Comments
Labels: anorexia, body image, eating disorder recovery, healing, hip replacement surgery, writing, yoga
Posted by Angela at 1:23 PM 0 Comments
Labels: chronic pain, writing, yoga
Posted by Angela at 8:25 PM 0 Comments
Labels: childhood sexual abuse, healing, poetry, ptsd, recovery, sexual abuse, Therapy, trauma, writing
Posted by Angela at 8:08 PM 0 Comments
Labels: demons, healing, mental health, Therapy, trauma, trauma sensitive yoga, writing, yoga
Posted by Angela at 6:23 PM 0 Comments
Labels: body memories, memories, pain, poetry, Therapy, trauma, writing, yoga
Posted by Angela at 10:32 PM 0 Comments
Labels: Anger, anorexia, eating disorder, healing, poetry, recovery, writing. therapy
Posted by Angela at 10:05 PM 0 Comments
Labels: healing, nightmares, Orlando, peace, tragedy, trauma, writing, yoga