Here and Now

Everything about me feels gloriously weighted to this world at the moment, and so I want to hold on... My eyelids are heavy, my heart thrumming deep and slow within my chest. I can even imagine my blood flowing through my veins, slow as a cool, lazy river. I need to sleep, but I easily and quickly slip into frightening dreams, and so I fight to stay awake. I hear your voice softly say, "Don't put so much meaning into your dreams. They are not real." The lines between reality and my dreaming world often seem blurred, and the nightmares that haunt me in my sleep linger along the parameters of my mind, waiting for an unguarded opportunity to remind me to be afraid. Each night as I prepare for bed, I say to myself, "You are safe, you are loved, you are protected." The only dreams that are real are waking dreams...the beautiful imaginings of a life only you can create.  Sweet dreams...

I had therapy last night, and see my nutritionist this evening. My therapsit wants me to add an ensure to my intake, but I don't feel like I can do it, or really want to do it. They are worried about the fact that I'm burning more calories than I'm taking in. I know this is true, but I'm trying to do this in a slow way. My weight has changed a bit, but really not that much, and certainly not enough to be concerned. They are also worried that as I see my weight and body change in a positive way, it will trigger me to become obsessive. Who me?...Obsessive? I understand the concern, and I am committed to getting to yoga five times a week, but only because it makes me feel so good. Yes, I want to see some positive changes in the way my body looks, but that is secondary to how I feel. I'm going to add more food, and I know that some people think that you have to jump right into a proper meal plan. That is what they make you do in treatment, but I think doing it that way ...

You say that you are going to try a different approach in regards to my therapy. "Like an experiment,?" I laugh nervously and look down at my hands, feeling somewhat ashamed. "I'm not doing it right," I think to myself. "I'm finished asking you about how you are doing with food," you explain. "It seems that you have made up your mind to stay where you are, so instead I would rather we talk about the function of the eating disorder and what you are getting out of it." I stare at the herringbone pattern on the couch until all of the lines blur together, afraid to look up, feeling as if I'm about to fail an important test. I will try to convince you, but you will twist my words until they are senseless even to me, but still, yes, I will try to help you understand. "I need to have control over my body..." NEED. CONTROL. MY BODY. MINE. When you say that it's not me in control, but the eating disorder, I want to scream, "...

The sentences run circles around my head, and I put them here, my own personal mind dump. I don't know what I would do without the release of words, and without someone to read, and "hear" me. It is not only the writing, but the feeling of knowing that I'm not alone. I've been struggling since Thanksgiving. I'm up, down, and all over the place. I need to get back on track. I wonder why it is that I continue to derail myself, making the same self destructive choices over and over again. One thing that I've done is that I'm not taking my medications like I should be. Everyday when I take them, I'm reminded of all of the pain. I'm reminded that I will probably always need help. Sometimes I decide to go off my meds because I think that I'm fine without them, and I don't want to be reminded. I've made this mistake numerous times, and it never ends up well, so why don't I ever seem to learn? I lose all rational judgment when I do this...

I'm confused when you call my e-mails poetry. I don't write poems I try to explain, but all you do is nod your head up and down, with a knowing smile. In the beginning I can barely speak without choking on the words, so you say,"Why don't you write a poem about it?" I sigh with frustration, and once again explain that I don't write poems. "Okay then, journal about it, bring it in, or don't, but you need to write, and you need to trust me." So I write, and you read, sitting across from me in your rolling leather chair with your bifocals perched on the end of your nose. I pace nervously around your small office, or I look at all of the titles of books on your bookshelves. I'm afraid for some reason to look at you, afraid of what you will see if you look at me. This is when I realize that I care very much about what you think of me, and the intensity of my feelings frightens me. I want to please you, and out of that intention comes my first poem...

You would think that summer would be the hardest time of year for me. I was raped the summer that I was eleven, and though it is hard, autumn and winter are the worst. I remember going back to school, the smells in the air, the feel of the wind, and trying to forget. This time of year brings back the pain of holding it all inside. It brings back the fear that everyone would discover my secret and be disgusted when they looked at me. I can still feel the filth crawling on my skin, and I wish more than anything, that I was not here. I want to close my eyes and be able to disappear. It's not that I'm necessarily suicidal, although both attempts have been in the winter, and my eating dwindles down to nothing. Maybe I only want to escape from being me, and of knowing that people will hurt you. I don't want to remember. Both of my attempts were meant to obliterate the memories, and at the time, I didn't contemplate the finality of death. I still don't. Most of the time I ...

I'm barely eating. Even dinner has gone by the wayside, and although I'm so tired of being like this, there is the nagging voice in my head that tells me that I must not eat. I refused to be weighed by my nutritionist last week, and not because I'm afraid that the scale will tell me that I'm losing, but because I'm afraid that it will tell me that I'm not. I'm too exhausted to even get on the treadmill, and that makes me feel guilty. I'm worried about work, and my sleep is fitful at best. I'm being moved to yet another school on Monday. At least it is in a Jr. High, which I prefer to the younger kids, but it is starting over somewhere new, which causes me a great amount of anxiety. I'm still with the kindergartner's in the afternoons, and I'm not really loving that. All it is is potty training and chasing kids around for the most part, and not the best use of my skills as far as I'm concerned. I'm sorry that all that I do is compl...

I made it through this first week of school, and I do have to say that it wasn't all that bad. On Thursday I was moved back into the Jr. High temporarily in the mornings until I can train someone new to take my place, so it was good to be back in my old classroom where I feel at home. I'm still with the little people in the afternoons. I've been exhausted when I come home from work. I get my toes stepped on a lot, and I've been working with a biter, which isn't all that much fun, but I've managed to keep the teeth away from making contact so far! It is such a busy and chaotic environment, but I'm sure that I will adjust to it. I do like the staff, and they have all been welcoming. I have to be prepared for moving again though, and I don't do well with change. It is definitely a part of the job that I don't like. The kids make it worth it, and I feel like I've at least accomplished something at the end of the week. Lunch between schools has been o...

Every once in awhile someone, usually my therapist, but not always, will touch upon something so deep and painful that I literally stop breathing. That happened to me yesterday, and it felt like fear and freedom at the same time. Unfortunately, the fear took over, I stuffed every emotion that I was feeling back down, and now I feel close to overflowing. I love how this translates into a reason not to eat, because I'm just too full, so needless to say, food didn't go so well yesterday. Sarcasm doesn't even begin to mask the frustration that I was feeling, and I often wonder when I will get out of my own way. Today has been better though. I have a friend at work that I've really been able to talk to about things that I usually don't feel comfortable sharing, and it has helped me more than they probably realize. I'm also starting to feel more safe eating in the classroom thanks to them. I'm less and less afraid each time that I do it. One of the hardest parts o...

"Are we really going back there? Just let me know, because if we are, I want to be prepared, and I want you to be prepared too, because it is never pretty." My therapist said those words during our session last night, referring to the anorexia. I didn't have an answer for her, and I could feel her frustration with me. It sounds so simple, but I don't know what to do. I want to believe that I am in control of this, and that the eating disorder isn't in charge, but I really do know that's not true. Eating right now feels so hard and I'm not sure why. I'm losing some weight, and that feels good, so it is difficult to make the right choices. The whole weight issue is so confusing. In the past week, I've had one woman ask me if I wanted to join Weight Watcher's with her, and another woman tell me how skinny I am. How do those two conversations go together? They don't. No wonder my body image is distorted. So is everyone elses! I'm stressed a...

Today is my last day of summer vacation, and then tomorrow I go back to work. I greatly enjoyed the break, but I suppose it is time to step back into the real world of jobs and schedules. I am an Autism Instructional Assistant, so I work in my local school district with children with autism, pre-school through grade 12. Tomorrow I will find out where my assignments are to start out the school year. I generally move around to different classrooms and grade levels, depending on where the need is. I'm looking forward to meeting the kids that I will be working with, but the first few days back are meetings, so I won't actually be with kids until Friday. It is going to be difficult to get back into my early morning routine. I walk with my neighbor from 5:00-6:00 a.m., and then out of the house by 7:00. I have been walking with my neighbor still this summer, but not until later in the morning, and then I leisurely have coffee and putz around. No more of that! I feel like I have done ...

It's almost time for my therapy session, and I'm ambivalent about going. I'm doing great in so many ways, but still there are the triggers. Triggers having to do with the rape, and eating disorder triggers are combined with that. I had problems with my asthma this weekend, and that always brings up memories of the rape and feeling suffocated. After my rape, I had a few weeks where I was in the emergency room with asthma attacks, and that is what my previous post and poem was about. This weekend, it really brought those memories to the surface for me, and it took all that I had to stay in the here and now. I had a lot of help from my husband who did a great job of calming and relaxing me. It seems that I always struggle for a few days after a dissociative episode. I feel as if I'm almost unable to connect to this world, and it takes everything I have to stay grounded in reality. I know that I will have to talk about this in therapy today, and delving into the past brings...

There are days like today when food just seems too complicated,and I'm trying to figure out why that is. This morning I was in the kitchen trying to figure out what to eat for breakfast. I pulled out raisin bread, put it back. Cereal bar, put it back. Maybe I'm not even hungry I thought to myself, grabbed my cup of coffee, and walked out of the kitchen. Maybe it is the hunger that is complicated, and not the actual food. Empty feels good to me, and fullness feels bad, as if I've done something wrong by feeding my body. I feel emotional and teary today, and I'm not very good at naming my emotions or pinpointing the reasons for having them. I suppose I question the whys too much, trying to avoid actually feeling the emotions at all. I think that if I had sat down to a meal this morning, I would have cried, and I don't want to cry. I had a dream about the rape this morning, and thankfully the alarm went off, but the first thing that I wanted to do after awakening was t...

Yesterdays therapy session was really hard. The memories are hard to say out loud...and it hurt so bad. I cried all the way out of the office, all the way to my nutritionist session, all the way through the session, and then all the way home. I talked to my therapist this morning, and she said it sounds like I am grieving, and she is right. I have lost innocence to grieve over. Therapy and the whole relationship with my therapist is hard for me right now. It is a confusing relationship, and everytime that I think of it being over, I end up in tears. In fact it seems that I end up in tears about most everything lately. Although I know that I still have more work to do, I still really struggle with the whole patient-therapist relationship. She is like a second mother to me. She was the one that I e-mailed when I tried to kill myself. She is the one that I tell all of my secrets to. I trust her with everything that I am. She says that she will never go away, but how can that be true? Some...

My pick for winner of American Idol ~Adam Lambert~ I'm just kicking back tonight, getting ready to watch American Idol , and sucking on a grape Tootsie Pop. I've really been in a very good mood so far this week, and my anxiety has decreased quite a bit since last week. No panic attacks, and that has been so nice! It was just last week that I was thinking that my medication wasn't working, and this week I feel great. I got up again this morning and walked with my neighbor, and maybe the exercise in the morning is boosting my mood. I think that it is helping me to start the day with less anxiety. I have therapy tomorrow, and I'm not even sure what I want to talk about. That is certainly a change! My therapist is always saying that eventually I will only have to see her for "tune ups," but to tell you the truth, I have very mixed feelings about that. I'm very attached to my therapist. I have been seeing her for over three years, and I will really miss her wh...

I Am What I Am I try on the phrase "I am what I am" and long for it to fit. To wear those words deep inside my heart. To be proud and strong and not afraid of my own imperfections. To believe in my own uniqueness as a gift to this world. To see beyond a reflection that tells lies when I look into every mirror that I pass. To love what I hold on the inside, far beneath this skin that cages my soul. To allow myself the freedom to fly farther than my eyes can see. To be. Angela Minard 2009©

Well, our Christmas tree is decorated, and the stockings have been hung. I should be feeling festive, but I have a sore throat, and I'm losing my voice, so that is putting a damper on my mood. My husband thinks it's good that I'm losing my voice. He's so funny! This day went by really fast, unfortunately. I hate that the weekends just seem to fly by. I have only nine more working days left before my Christmas vacation. I'm off from Dec. 19th-Jan.7th, and I can't wait! We don't have any plans for the holiday's. We are staying in town. I wish my brother and parents were coming to visit or we could visit them, but money is just too tight for everyone this year. Maybe that is why I'm having a hard time getting excited about the holidays. I'm going to miss my family, and especially my mom, because we always have so much fun baking together. Hopefully next year we can all be together. I also started sorting through my poetry today. I'm trying to fi...

It is very hard to ignore the voice of my eating disorder when I'm feeling so physically uncomfortable and bloated. None of my pants fit right now because of this, and with the weather cooling off, it is really upsetting me. I do not want to have to go out and replace my wardrobe. I'm questioning whether or not the Lexapro is what made me gain weight so quickly in the first place, and I'm contemplating tapering off of it. I will be able to call and make my appointment for a colonoscopy on Monday, and I should probably wait and see what the results of that are before I do anything, but I'm feeling so miserable and impatient! I have to stay very near a restroom with all of the MiraLax that I'm having to take, and I'm very frustrated with this whole thing. Even more frustrating, I think, is the fact that I have brought all of this onto myself. If I had known that refeeding and restoring my weight would be so hard for my body to handle, I honestly don't know i...

I feel so full, and full feels horrible, ugly, and the F word ( FAT ) that is not supposed to be a part of my vocabulary, but that is ridiculous, because it is a word that flies through my mind constantly. My therapist has suggested that I look at what other feelings are present, and being the good patient that I am, I've done just that, and here is what I've come up with. My mom left yesterday, and I know it sounds silly, but I feel like a deserted child. I hate when people leave. Everyone is always leaving me. Even Dave's brain tumor is like the threat of abandonment that hangs over my head like a storm cloud ready to break open at any minute. I was pregnant with my first son before I was married. I know that Dave says that he would have wanted to marry me anyway, but it wasn't the way that I would have liked it to happen. My parents moved to Florida right after we were married, leaving me here with a husband and a new baby. I wasn't sure what in the hell I was do...

Only A Dream I open my eyes so angry at you for leaving Angry that you would make me take the wheel while spinning out of control Leaving me all alone on this dark elevator Up and down searching everywhere but you are gone I know what you want but I'm not ready I still have a story or two to tell The days turned into weeks then months It will only be a few you said I'm angry at him too The bastard left me with handmade costumes unworn It's all okay I lied and never cried I was Swimming in lake water with no bottoms and having to run to a place that wasn't my home You weren't there and sometimes Oh, sometimes... I still feel naked Angela Minard 2008