Here and Now

I need to eat something, and so the fight within my mind begins. The first argument is usually that I'm not hungry. I'm so accustomed to living with the symptoms, that I don't recognize the most obvious body signals. Still, my mind tells me that I need to have a reason or an excuse to eat. Everyday I talk myself into it. I have to. I want to live, so I eat, but the fighting is madness, and it is tiring. The opening and closing of cupboards and refrigerator doors, sitting at the kitchen table with my head in my hands, the mindless eating over the sink, it is all so old, so familiar, so boring. My inability to just disappear at times pisses me off. "Don't see me," I want to shout! My belief that I was strong enough to starve myself made me feel untouchable. You can't take what you don't see... The struggle is what tells me I'm alive. The passionate anger I feel toward this eating disorder is what makes me believe that I will win. Hell, I AM winning...

Play Me The dissonant chords spill down my spine the ominous sound of winter wind as the metronome ticks back and forth You are all at once darkness and light the sin of silence as your hands pound against my keys Did I feel you touch me? I can smell the salt of your skin on my fingertips to remind me Fasten my dress and drive me through winding roads tell me your dreams as I trace your palm the lines that intersect with mine... Angela Minard 2011©

This is a photograph of the Kansas City Plaza lights. Merry Christmas! I'm the first one awake as usual. Even when the boys were little, I would have to turn on the Christmas music and stomp around the house to wake them all up. The anticipation of the day gets me every time, even now that the boys are older. Last night I cooked a big turkey dinner, which they all devoured. I can't believe we barely have any turkey left! Today we will go over to the in-laws for brunch and exchange gifts. I'm really enjoying my time off work. I've done lots of yoga, and knitting. Shopping for Christmas isn't too big of a deal. We only buy for the kids in the family, so it is pretty easy. I miss baking with my mom, and seeing my side of the family. I hate that they are so far away, especially during the holidays. I will keep this short because hopefully my boys will be up soon, but I wanted to wish you all a wonderful holiday! Sending all my love:)

I look down at my hands, unrecognizable as my own, gazing around surroundings all at once familiar and strange, searching my mind for my last conscious memory. In a flash of rememberance, the room begins to spin, and I shut my eyes tightly, until the red fades to black and I can once again breathe. New memories take me by surprise. It is a smell, a look, a touch, or something they said to me and I'm gone. I want to stay, but somehow my mind goes on automatic pilot, protecting the child that I was. I think that I'm doing so much better until I have another episode, and then I feel like I'm back at square one. Why can't these memories stay buried like so many others? It seems unfair to have to be brought back to the past time and again. Do I do this to myself, and why? It is a constant battle to stay in the present, and I work so hard. As I sit here, I realize that I'm blaming myself for the memories, as if I want to torture myself, and that is not true. I have th...

"Marching is not forgetting what is behind you and walking away. Marching is KNOWING what is behind you and purposefully, and methodically moving in the other direction." This is a quote from my dear friend Eve, and I thought it was brilliant and wanted to share. It took a long time to know and acknowledge the past and what happened to me. I tried to forget, but eventually the truth caught up with me. I think sometimes people who haven't been through any kind of trauma expect you to forget about it and move on. I've had comments from people on this blog that felt that way. Knowing what happened to you and choosing to move forward is essential to healing. I will never forget, but the pain does lessen with time. There is peace in the truth of knowing.

I have all of these words and feelings that bubble and rise to the surface. I feel like a volcanoe on the verge of erupting, and yet I don't even know what that means, or what it would look like. I've always had trouble naming the feelings, although I feel them all so intensly. It is major work to keep them bottled inside, and yet that is what I've always done. I try to ignore them and push them away. Everyday I go through a myriad of emotions that pass through me like electric currents without an outlet, and today I feel worn out by them. My sleep is frenzied, as if I'm running with no place to go, a longing to find what is missing. Today I read a blog post by a young girl who was brutally raped and my heart aches for her. I want to reach out, but what words of comfort can I give? The rapist was caught and pleaded guilty. She made the choice to face him in court, and I realize that I have so much unleashed anger, with no one to direct it at, although I don't know ...

Dancing Alone ...so I daydream into this night fighting sleep like a child though my eyes grow heavy The thoughts are fluid moving in slow motion as your face fades in and out the memories bittersweet and though I try to hang onto them they slip from my grasp You play like a broken record through my mind and I'm lost in the music Dancing alone... Angela Minard 2011©