Here and Now

I have been writing on this blog for about six years now, and I rarely go back through old posts, but I was looking for a poem, and came across a post that I had written a few days before my first suicide attempt. I shared it with my therapist this week. I cannot even count the number of times that she has told me that if I didn't allow myself to feel pain, I would also be unable to feel joy. I wasn't sure that I believed her, but I now realize that all of my suffering was caused by my attempts to deny my feelings. My feelings often overwhelm me, and the depth of my emotions can be frightening, but I'm grateful to be alive. I'm grateful that she didn't give up on me, because she was right...even with the pain, there is an abundance of joy, and I'm blessed to still be here to feel every bit of it.  Here is the post that I wrote~ I step through your door, into the safe familiarity of pictures and books...the window where I've watched the rain an...

Artwork by~ Gabriel Moreno Eight I was taken back to when I was eight years old.  I am sitting now  tall and strong... you would never know... I don't want to imagine an eight year old girl.  I squeeze my eyes tight,  so tightly that sparks of silver shatter the darkness,  and my breath becomes so ragged that I can't find an end or a beginning.  I open my eyes and focus on the spinning fan above me.  I tell myself I'm safe.  Over and over  until I am here once again.  She is tiny,   small and afraid.  Her eyes are large,  dark pools of fear.  I don't want to touch her.  I step away,  away,  away... When I find my way back into my breath,  my ribs are tired and sore.  I'm not sure where I am,  so I rub my fingers together until I can find my way into the room.  My head is tingling,  purple lights throbbing from the c...

Photograph by~ Lucy Reynolds Elevator Dreams I miss you as soon as I step outside your door Waiting for the elevator to open wide is lonely... only I am left to hear the echo of my voice lost inside the darkness I never want to let go but I do trying to be the first to pull away Quietly I apologize for everything I am not I am not yours... Angela Minard 2014© "I unhinge my wishes, stringing them back together with desperation and love and the thin barbed wire of longing until they take on the substance of poems." ~Sarah Elwell Photograph by~Lucy Reynolds

What does it mean to be comfortable in your skin? As someone who has both battled an eating disorder, and also have many friends who struggle, it is a common thing to say and to also hear. We think that if we could only be a certain weight, we would be "comfortable," but I will tell you that this is untrue. What we are uncomfortable with has nothing to do with the size of our bodies. What we are uncomfortable with is being present. It is impossible to find comfort when you are continuously running from yourself. How often do we sit with ourselves in silence, being still and aware? Today I took a yoga class with a teacher that I love, but don't often get to take classes from, and she said as we were settling into Downward Facing Dog, "Fill in the blank...I am grateful for...," and immediately I thought, "I feel grateful for my strong and resilient body." Oh, how I made my body suffer, trying to find some shred of comfort...my heart became weak, se...

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'm moved and amazed by how we touch others; how we pass throughout our days unaware of the impact we make,  and how even the simplest of gestures can change the course of a day.  When we are in pain, and filled with despair,  we don't realize how we would be missed.  Imagine believing that our pain was endless... how do we ask someone to stay?  How do we find the will to keep going when all we can see is darkness ahead?  It is difficult for someone who hasn't felt such infinite hopelessness to understand wanting to end your own life.  I lived in silence for so long,  turning away from all that I didn't want to see.  I would awaken each morning, and before I even had a chance to grasp the light,  shame would wash over me, and it took everything I had inside to face the day.  My suicide attempts were planned, and yet also impulsive.  I would obsessively think of ways to end my life,  allo...

I was searching for some old pictures of the boys to post on facebook for "Throwback Thursday." and stumbled across an old picture of myself wearing a bikini. It is ironic since I am planning on a trip to the pool with a friend today. I inhaled sharply, and quickly shuffled past it, but it wasn't fast enough to avoid the blank look on my face, the sharp collar bones, and outline of my ribcage. A friend had taken my picture at the public pool where I spent the summer with the boys. I had already given birth to all of them, and I was wasting away. I would go for days living on apple slices, and taking dozens of laxatives to get rid of everything. I wanted to be clean...empty... Today, I will put on my swim suit. It is not a bikini, although I could wear one if I wanted. My shoulders are strong; no longer sharp and bony. I have curves and more than enough flesh to cover my ribs. There is a light in my eyes, and more importantly, I am alive. I am alive...