because this is an important week. and this is an important life.

this week is national eating disorder awareness week.  

it was on my second read of this while sitting in class last night, twenty minutes before it began, that i started writing this. and by started i mean finally came back to it because for better or worse this is a topic that consumes me on a daily basis. i'm aware. i am hyper-aware and i wouldn't trade it for the alternative for anything. i would not trade places with my seventeen year-old self, my twenty year-old self.

i am where i am supposed to be and i'm becoming the person i was born to be.

i kept staring at the word recovered in what mackenzie shared. i sat in my brown, plastic chair and looked at the letters.

i think about food all the time. all.the.time. i think of the things i put in my body i never would've wanted ten, twelve years ago. high fiber oatmeal, whole grain cereal, broccoli, carrots, melons. very simple, good-for-you foods my body would've rejected. i plan my meals and my snacks. but some days i don't. some days i am so consumed by stress and anxiety i eat four pieces of chocolate and two sandwiches and feel very not-like myself. and i don't let myself off the hook for any of it.

i reject self-forgiveness. it takes active effort to forgive. and some days i would rather sleep.

sometimes i still struggle with, do you want this sandwich because you're truly hungry or because you're having a horrific day and warm bread and cheese will make you forget the bad stuff? that's the thing, food does not make you feel better. food makes you forget, but it doesn't last. so you keep eating. you eat yourself into 293 pounds. 

my life is a constant search for balance, my need and hunger for it. and it is a hunger. i am in the middle of so much change right now. change that is big and exciting and scary and wonderful. and i can only control certain parts. i am trying really hard to try and fight less. i'm working on letting the universe guide me more. this takes work. life takes work.

in high school when i would binge the point was to not feel. that was the goal. i was feeling too much and i had to stop it. i wanted to feel anything other than what i did. i was a sad person, lost in every way imaginable. i threw myself into doing well at school because this was something i could control.  

all of the thinking and fear and berating myself, i was able to shut those things off by eating. this never lasted, which is why i had to keep doing it. i had to keep eating and consuming and numbing and would thus feel absolutely horrible and then deliriously happy for a few stolen moments. there was a dark, sad, twisted happiness i felt from food. 

food becomes a weapon when used like this. because the underlying reason for it is to cause self-harm. i couldn't hurt the people hurting me, but i had to hurt someone.

i chose myself. 

in high school when i would starve myself the point was to feel clean. i would starve myself until my stomach groaned and begged me to feed it. i would eat nothing all day and in doing so excuse the previous behavior. the behavior that caused my body to reject the thousands of calories i was shoveling into it. our bodies reject what is not good for us. 

in my class last night we work shopped an essay i wrote on italy. the fourth-to-last line, nearly everyone brought up. this is what your essay is about. this line right here. what is behind this line?

at those outdoor cafes, in that scorching kitchen apartment with cobalt blue walls, i trained myself how to eat: with the goal of nourishing my body, not berating it.

one girl said, this is the solution to a problem i haven't been given.

she was right. the essay needs work and she was right in saying this was the point.

another girl said, everyone has a "ground zero," a place where we all start playing catch-up. 

maybe italy was my ground zero, the place that marked my before and after.

the biggest thing i took away from being in italy was i learned how to take care of myself by learning how to eat. i had to train myself. and i was and still am willing to do the work this requires. i felt a peace during those five weeks i wish i could've bottled and brought home in my suitcase. but i often forget that i did bring home this lesson, this strength. 

take those five weeks and do the same things here in chicago. do what you did there. love yourself the way you did there. pray the way you did on your terrace. learn to let go. that, that is where you will find answers. 

some days i am able to do a lot of these things. those are beautiful days.

here i am, at 28, still working through all of this. but i have become the polar opposite of what i was in high school: i'm now someone who is living. 

this is an important life and it's mine to build.

in this life there are equal parts hard work and healing. sometimes they aren't close to being equal. but there is healing in talking about these things. there is healing in walking and writing to let go of these things. and in the consuming there is growth and healing. if we allow them.

gentle urges.

Follow the tugs in your heart. I think that everyone gets these gentle urges and should listen to them. Even if they sound absolutely insane, they may be worth going for.
-Victoria Moran

amen.

(via)

a list of letters.

dear downton abbey and parks and recreation,

i MUST catch up with both of you. this weekend. this weekend.

dear ray meyer fitness center pool,

thank you for giving me what i needed this morning: a lane to swim 10+laps, p!nk on the stereo and how it felt to hear her voice and my breath under the water. but most of all, how it felt to feel my arms changing, my body changing. 

dear body,

thank you.

dear homeland, 

you're so good. SO GOOD. and saul, sigh. i'm in love and i don't care who knows it. 

dear bowling abilities i had in high school,

you're gonna need to show up tomorrow. and do a little dominating.

dear universe,

i love that things like this exist.

dear dawson's creek,

don't ever change.

dear lavender i saw peeking out of a vase last night,

thanks for making me smile. you're in my top three. i love you.

dear brain overflowing with things you want to write about,

keep going.

dear knots in my neck and shoulders,

take a friggin' hike.

on saying no.

i was recently asked to attend a depaul event to read an essay of mine that was published in the university's literary magazine last spring. 

i said no.

jim looked surprised when i told him.

i can't keep going back to that girl, not even to read about her for ten minutes in front of a room of people.

i don't want to read that essay again.

i don't want to do something, so i'm not going to do it. period. end quote.

wow, doesn't that feel good? why is it so hard to do this? why is it so hard to listen to ourselves?

when you put everyone else's voice at a louder volume than your own that is all you can hear. if you don't make your voice a priority nobody else will. this is your job, nobody else's.

being a part of the magazine was flattering and lovely. it felt nice to be asked to come back, but my gut reaction was to say no.  

that was my answer.

i'm letting that girl go.

this is part of my plan. and listening to myself. saying, thank you, but i can't is something that takes practice. but i've gotten good at it.

no is a complete sentence.

it's really hard to say it, especially when you want nothing more than to please the world. but it feels so damn good when you finally do.  

i am my own world. that is my priority.

 

please yourself and you'll please the world.

i believe.

pictures of people laughing should sometimes be the goal.*
pancakes were made for sunday mornings. and vice-versa.
 baby showers are twice as fun when you win the first two games. 
they're also fun when you sit at the table with old relatives from italy, but for a different reason.
cravings for chinese food should not be ignored, neither should the instinct to say no.
the fact that shows like parks & recreation exist restores my faith in hollywood.
a friday night of just the right amount of pizza, too much wine, and one of your best friends is bliss.
talking to strangers is a good thing.*
love really is everything i prayed it would be.

  
*almost always

life, as of late.

on love, a neverending story. the good kind.

i didn't find love until i was twenty-five.

it took me this long to take the baby steps of finding myself. i had to change my life in every single way. the way i was living was not a life, not in the slightest. 

love with a man didn't find me until i was twenty-seven. this is okay because this has been my path. it was supposed to be this way, even on the days i've convinced myself i made things harder than they ever needed to be. 

a lot of us do this.

we make things harder for a lot of reasons. none of them are worth the sadness they bring, or the joy they rob us of.

for the longest time i was the fat girl in my group of friends. this was my security. i used humor to beat people to the joke. whatever you're thinking about me, believe me, i'm thinking worse. so i'm going to make you laugh before you can do/say/think anything else. try me. i dare you.

i ate. i cracked jokes. men stayed away. it worked.

i didn't have a boyfriend during high school. i went on my first date at twenty. i was jealous of anyone who had someone and was in love. it would take me a long time to know these two are not always conjoined. i was lonely and i was jealous, but at the same time i didn't want it. i didn't think i deserved it. 

but i woke up one day, quite literally, and changed my mind. i wish i knew what part of my brain or my heart it was that wanted to change and wanted to feel and wanted to start wanting things other than greasy food and bags of chocolate. because the first thing i would say is, what took you so damn long? do you know how much time i've lost?

greasy food and bags of chocolate never made me less lonely or sad. they never made me feel enveloped in warmth and love.

i started taking care of myself. i started listening to myself. i had to start asking questions. i decided to do this. i had to crawl at first.

i lost weight, then more weight. i got a little bit of confidence. i'd see a man looking at me at the gym and would become so self-conscious i would leave. i stopped going. i'd sneak greasy food in my car and bags of chocolate at work. i gained the weight back. i needed that security. people were starting to see me and i couldn't have that. i wasn't really ready.

i eventually learned to stop doing this. with years, years of healing and screaming and crying. and a green chair in the office of a former chicago cop. it's a walk i take daily, towards the life i'm building for myself.

i wanted to find love, but i didn't want to be seen. and that's a tricky game. it doesn't work that way.

i spent my whole life being told i was too much, too needy, too fat, too loud, too sad, too demanding. i settled for crumbs from the people i allowed into my world. so i worked really hard to be less. 

but i've found myself with a man who wants more of me and constantly asks for it. the universe is wonderfully funny like that.

i watch this man in the kitchen with his daughter and my heart feels calm for the first time in a painfully long time. i've finally stopped holding my breath. the ones who came before ben, i could never breathe with them.

we accept the love we think we deserve.

i wish i wrote this. 

few things are truer than this string of eight words. 

not everyone is able to love the same way. as much or as fierce. but this doesn't mean they don't love just the same. it's just different. 

but at times the different is a lack, an apathy. and it's deliberate. this must be paid attention to. 

but this is hard. it's hard because we care. we are programmed to care and love each other and give, give, give to everyone else and call it love. i'm giving to this person which makes me feel good because it makes me feel needed which makes me feel wanted which makes me feel tired and sad but it makes me feel needed which makes me feel loved. so i'm going to call it a day and call this enough. 

this is never enough.

nothing, truly nothing in this world will ever get done if we don't love ourselves enough to say no when we feel the difference. and this is coming from a person who deliberately kept herself at 293 pounds to push people away.

this day is tricky. i used to hate it. and i hate the word hate. it takes a lot of energy to be angry and bitter. thankfully, i found something that completely changed my perspective. i read an interview with queen latifah, someone whose confidence and spirit i admire, years ago in which she talked about how much she loved this day. i just love that it's a day that is all about love. period. 

it has to start with ourselves. crumbs are for the birds.

on being still.

the other day i watched the most recent episode of a show i have a strong like/dislike relationship with. i don't know how else to describe it. there's something about the honesty: at times it's absolutely perfect. and other times it feels hollow. 

i've come far enough that i'm able to very quickly notice the difference. and i refuse to stand for it.

the main character said something that was sad and heavy. and beautiful.

i just want to be happy. 

she said it twice.

i just want to feel it all.

i was lying in bed at 10:30 at night watching this moment between this girl and a man be still with each other. everything felt still. 

i felt her sadness and desperation. and i felt his exasperation at not knowing how to respond. i have felt all of those things, sometimes all in the span of one moment.

it took me a really long time to learn what this meant, i just want to be happy, i just want to feel.  

to be aware and awake. and the wonderful and dangerous thing about this is that i cannot turn it off. i cannot stop wanting to feel. even on the days i pray and beg not to have to.

i want a lot and i won't apologize for this.

the want part is something only certain people understand.

it's taking an entire lifetime to learn to listen to yourself. 

it's remembering that no is a complete sentence. saying no to the things that bring you absolutely no joy is all you need to say. but there is a difficult dance of guilt and obligation and together they try to drown out your no. don't let them. 

let yourself feel. every single part of what's happening. you can't pick and choose only the black and white parts. breathe through the gray.

be still.