Missing You

Missing You.
After all this time. After all the angry words. After I should be more than over it.
Missing You.
From the night it ended. Each day until now. And in this very moment.
Missing You.
Hello led us to I love you. I love you ended in goodbye. Goodbye turned into
Missing You.
Hanging Out. Making Out. Backing Out.
Missing you.
I.Can’t.Stop.
Missing You ❤

Advertisements

Memory Lane
Alcohol reduces travel time on the journey
No compass or map is needed
No sea captain, or gps tracking device.
Memory Lane has no address,
But can often be found at the bottom of a glass or bottle.
I frequent here often,
Like a wave pulled back in with the tide, I am helpless to remain on dry land.

Irreplaceable

Sometimes I get in the mood to write but struggle to come up with a topic. My search for writing prompts led me to this.

Name something you lost or gave away that can never be replaced.

For over two years I held on to the items I had no use for. Inside a storage container in my living room, the last remaining items I had purchased for my son sat untouched day after day. Brand new clothes, blankets, and tiny Simba slippers had no use without the baby they were purchased for. Useless, but still present; I lacked the ability to part with them. I bought each item in the container in preparation for my son’s arrival. Every time I bought a new outfit for him, I visualized what he would look like when wearing the outfit. I was ready to wrap my baby in a warm new blanket and welcome life into the world. All of the “things” inside that storage bin were more than just “things”, they were the image I envisioned of my baby. I held onto the “things” because I could no longer hold on to Evan. In my mind, discarding his clothes meant getting rid of all I had left of my son. From time to time I would pick up each article of clothing and think back to the joy it brought me the day I purchased it. After I had gone through them all, I would place the lid back on the container and close the lid on Evan’s memory. I made the decision to give all of Evan’s things to one of my coworkers. She was a new mom and I knew she would be appreciative. I had wrestled with the idea of donating the items for a while. I feel selfish in admitting that I could not bring myself to give my memories to a stranger. I held on to them until I found a way to be at peace with giving them away. I messaged her to make sure that she would feel comfortable receiving them. It’s not every day that a bereaved mother offers you her deceased child’s belongings. I know without a doubt that I made the right decision in my choice of who to give Evan’s things to. It was a difficult choice, but it was the right choice. I decided to give her Evan’s things because I knew it was time to let go of them. I can never replace those items any more than I can replace Evan.

Choosing my person over Ana and Mia

Hurt filled eyes sit across from me at a six person booth
I have seen this look before, but never has it made me feel so guilty
In 23 years on this earth, I have been blessed with great friendships, but none that would ever hold a candle to ours.
The Yang to my Grey, The Monica to my Rachel, The Paris to my Nicole, and all of the other best friend duos…
She is truly my other half, my roommate, my coworker, my role model, my hero, my concert sidekick, my partner and crime, and my best friend.
Unfortunately, this means my ugly secret is no longer a secret, at least not to her.
It has been years since anyone has used “eating disorder” as a term in reference to me.
The dreadful disease that has haunted me for almost a decade has been my own cross to bear for some time now.
The past few years, I have convinced myself time and time again that I no longer have a problem.
The individuals who tried and failed to help me during adolescence, have long since drifted into the past.
In order to maintain relationships with Ana and Mia, I have sacrificed numerous relationships with loved ones.
No one tells you that even as a teenager, people will eventually get tired of your bullshit and move on.
When your thoughts are preoccupied due to a life threatening mental illness, it is easy to lose sight of everything else.
I may never be able to make up for the pain I have inflicted upon others due to my eating disorder, but I refuse to let it destroy another imperative relationship.
The euphoria experienced from dropping a few pounds or hearing someone say” Oh you’ve really lost weight” will never compensate for the tears in the eyes of the person you love most.
Eating disorders may cause individuals to become self-absorbed, but the love we have for others is still 100% sincere… or at least it is in my case.
The most important advice I could offer to anyone on the outside looking in, is to never forget that eating disorders are mental health illnesses. Every eating disorder is a DISEASE. There is not one individual in the grips of an eating disorder that woke up one day and decided they wanted to become sick.
For almost 10 years I have battled the disorder that is trying to kill me. For too long I was in complete denial. I believed that adults were making a big deal out of nothing because I didn’t eat lunch in high school. Overnight trips were always a complete disaster that usually resulted in screaming matches between myself and my favorite teacher. My role model throughout my high school years was a teacher who I thought the world of. She helped me through countless situations, and for years tried to get me to seek help for a problem I didn’t think I had. If I would have taken her seriously, perhaps I wouldn’t feel as though all my hours in the guidance office were a complete waste of time.
My high school years are without a doubt where my eating disorder developed, but it only got worse from there.
College presented me with a brand new world of independence and freedom. With all of the scrutiny of my high school teacher and guidance counselor removed, I was completely free to do as I pleased.
Five hours away from home, in a college town with no familiar faces. Ah… except for two. Ana and Mia came right along with me on my journey into freshman year. My roommate usually invited me to join her for lunch every day. We never became close friends, but we didn’t have problems either. I think we mostly ate together because she did not want to dine alone, and felt that inviting me was the polite thing to do. So usually once a day, I picked at a plate of food until she was ready to go back to our dorm room.
These were the good days. The bad days were when our schedules would not line up. Frequently she would be out of town for basketball games, or go home to see family and friends. As soon as I knew I was alone I would begin to binge. I would eat everything I could get my hands on. I never kept food in our dorm, but she did. Sometimes I would have to replace food from her stash because Mia demanded I eat it. It was a very small town, but there were several fast food options. I would go from The KFC/ Taco Bell to Wendy’s to McDonalds all in one trip. Afterwards I would either purge in the shower with the water running to muffle the sound, or in the dorm with the music blaring. Luckily, I never forgot to take the trash out before my roommate’s return. It was during this year that I first realized I may have a problem. I was sitting in line at the KFC/ Taco Bell waiting on my second dinner when I realized that this wasn’t normal behavior.
I didn’t purge that night, and came back home after my first year was completed to “get better”. This is what I told myself was going to happen, unfortunately I didn’t keep my promise to myself.
After coming home, I earned my associates degree from a community college while deciding what degree I wanted to pursue for my bachelors. I have never admitted this, but I decided to get my Bachelor’s in Human Services because I thought I could learn how to cure myself. I thought that if became a psychology/ eating disorder expert, all of my problems would fade away.
Needless to say my plan did not work. I now have a Bachelor’s degree in Human Services. I spent the last 4 years of my life learning about mental health and how to help people with mental health issues. Unfortunately, I have yet to help myself.
It is much easier to hide an eating disorder when you live alone. When I returned home from freshman year up until two years ago, I was able to starve/ eat/ binge/ purge whenever I wanted.
Roughly 2 years ago my best friend became my roommate. She has lived with me for the majority of this time period, with a small break in between. I absolutely love having her here. 98% of the time, our relationship is everything I could ever want it to be. The other 2 % is when Ana and Mia push her to her limit. The first summer she was here, she was convinced I was pregnant because of my purging. I have tried to lay low; Ana and Mia do not like being exposed. Apparently, I failed miserably in my attempt. Being confronted was never my intention. I never want to see the look of hurt and disgust in her eyes again.
If it were up to me, it would be that simple. I would never cause pain to my loved ones again. My best friend would never have to question the last meal I had. She wouldn’t get nervous every time I went into the bathroom. She would never experience the heartbreak I have unintentionally bestowed upon her.
I am beginning a new chapter in the book of my eating disorder. Even though I am sicker than I have ever been, for the first time I realize that I have a problem. This is a confession I would have never made even 3 months ago.
I have no idea what the recovery process will look like for me, or even if I will be successful in my attempt at recovery. This may be the hardest task I have ever tried to complete. No one deserves to watch someone they love be destroyed by an eating disorder. I wish everyone who suffered with an eating disorder was as fortunate to have a best friend like mine. For years I have let Ana and Mia convince me that I wasn’t worth recovery, but they could never hold a candle to the voice of my person. For now that is more than sufficient. I am just one voice, and my story is far from finished. I can only hope that someone will read this and know that they are not alone. As much as I love Ana and Mia, the relationship we have is detrimental to my health. When viewing it this way the choice is simple. The toxic relationship I have with them has to be sacrificed in order to preserve the relationship that only brings me joy and goodness.
I should note that I have never been what is considered an unhealthy BMI for my height. Most would consider me thin, but I have never met the criteria for anorexia.
This is not to say that I have not restricted and gone to extreme measures to prevent myself from the act of consumption. According to most materials I have read, I do not typically meet the diagnosis for bulimia either. Someone who is not well versed in eating disorder terminology may interpret this to mean that I am simply a girl rambling on who does not actually have a problem.
The reality is that the majority of sufferers find themselves in the same predicament that I am in. Don’t quite make the cut for one of the two big ones, so it can’t be that bad right? This is probably why it took me so long to realize that I actually had a problem. The criteria for anorexia and bulimia is so specific that more than half of people struggling with eating disorders are what is known as EDNOS (Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified).
Instead of picking one way to cause extreme harm to our bodies, the majority of ED’s victims enjoy using multiple. This does not mean that these individuals are at a lower risk for health complications, or that they should not seek treatment.

The Roller Coaster of Mental Illness

Loving someone with a mental illness is like riding a broken roller coaster. The beginning is wonderful. There are no signs of the catastrophe that is looming in the distance. Like the coaster, the sufferer is often the most alluring, fascinating attraction in sight. At a distance no one would ever guess that such a glamorous structure could in fact leave them holding on the edge of their seats and fearing for their lives. The ride begins and you experience a euphoria that is unlike anything you’ve ever known. Here in this moment, the world is just as it should be. Though it is a brief moment, it will feel as though it will last forever. You reach the first loop and this is where signs of trouble begin. Something is out of place and the ride begins to shake. The ride then speeds up, on to the next straight away, and the sense of normalcy arrives again. The fear dissipates and you are able to assure yourself that the previous feeling was just a fluke. After all, how could something so well constructed have a flaw? You adjust yourself in your seat to ensure that the safety straps are secured, but feel safe in your decision to continue down the track. From out of nowhere a curve emerges that you never saw coming. The shaking intensifies and out of the corner of your eye you notice that a bolt has fallen to the ground below. It is at this moment that you begin to wonder if this ride was what you signed up for. Something is definitely off, and you question if you will be able to get off without being severely hurt or damaged. Up the last hill and into the last loop of the ride, a pit arises in your stomach. There is a continuous rattling and parts are flying everywhere to the ground. You could have never known that this alluring ride would turn into your worst nightmare. There were no warning signs encouraging you to run the other way. If you would have known of what was just ahead, you would have picked a different ride. Mental illness does not have to look like a screaming man in a strait jacket. It does not play fair and it can often be found within those we love. When we choose to ride the roller coaster, it is impossible to jump out during the middle of the ride. Those struggling with mental illness do not get a choice either. When loving someone with a mental illness it is imperative to remember that they did not choose to live this way. Ultimately if you find yourself loving a “broken roller coaster”, you do have the option to get off at any point. It is an option that many loved ones will choose. There will never be a smooth ride on a broken roller coaster and for some it will be too much. This is not to say there will not be happy moments on the broken coaster. Mental illness often has the ability to go unnoticed for long periods of time. Regardless of how ominous the ride may get, at one point in time, the rider was attracted to the roller coaster. The ride will contain highs that will be wonderful, but it will also contain lows, and dips. These are the times when it is essential to protect the needs of the rider at all cost. The rider will most likely want to repair the damaged coaster in any way possible. The rider will believe that they have all of the tools necessary to get the coaster back to normal with a few quick adjustments. In some cases this may be possible, but for most coasters the repair will be lengthy and complex. Somedays the rider may not be able to risk the repercussions associated with riding the roller coaster. There may be times when the coaster seems as though it is all put back together again, and there may be times when it seems as though no hope remains for the coaster. Anyone who chooses to be a rider of broken coasters is a brave and heroic spirit. Not everyone can be a rider, and even those who attempt will often fail. Despite the rider’s best efforts, not all broken roller coasters can be fixed. Roller Coaster parts are extremely complex and take excessive amounts of study to be understood. In order to be repaired and fully functioning, there must be an intense connection between the coaster and it’s riders…. Oh yeah… guess I skipped something… A broken roller coaster needs more than one rider to get it up and running again. There is a correlation between the number of riders and the number of reformed roller coasters. I just made that up, but all jokes aside the more people a person has in their support system, the more likely they are to heal. Everyone has ridden on a broken roller coaster at some point during their lives whether they have realized it or not. Most everyone will deal with mental health issues at some point in their lifetime. It may not be a full blown mental illness, but it will be significant enough to impact your life. Realizing you are a rider, or the broken roller coaster itself can be extremely frightening. Coasters are afraid to seek help with repair, and riders believe they can handle the coaster themselves. There will never be a broken roller coaster that doesn’t deserve a chance at a normal ride. The repair will not be easy, but it will most definitely be worth it if we manage to get back on track. As for the rider, somehow fate determined that you would get to ride this coaster. Where you go from here is up to you. No one will force you to keep riding the coaster. It is completely up to you to decide how much the coaster means to you. The easy route is always open, and at times will be so much more alluring. Trying to repair a broken roller coaster is perhaps one of the most difficult tasks a human being could choose. No one wants to find out that someone they love is suffering from an illness. Trying to repair a broken roller coaster requires a special kind of love and devotion that is found in the hearts of special individuals. It will never be an easy ride on a broken roller coaster, but without the rider, the coaster would have no chance at survival. Here’s to the brave ones that continue to ride and continue to believe in the revival of the broken roller coasters. Without you, there would be no getting back on track… And here’s to the broken roller coasters who despite their highs and lows refuse to shut down. May you all be able to rebuild from the wreckage and return stronger and better than ever.

Not That Sick

Not That Sick
This is the rebuttal you will offer to anyone who claims you have a problem. After all there are others who are much worse. Those emaciated skeletons who are visibly ill. At a glance no one can tell there is anything wrong with you. How could someone who looks so healthy be struggling with a life threatening mental illness? Years and years of suffering with an eating disorder and yet I still manage to convince myself that I do not belong in treatment because my disorder is not really “that bad”. Despite the fact that loved ones have repeatedly voiced concern, I sometimes feel like a failure on the eating disorder spectrum. Even when it comes to mental illness I cannot manage to make a commitment. For the past nine years I have boomeranged between starving, binging and purging. Instead of fitting into a nice diagnosis of Anorexia or Bulimia, I get to be the indecisive one. When someone doesn’t fit into the cozy criteria of these disorders, professionals refer to it as an Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified (EDNOS). Never have I been the skeletal goddess with a thigh gap, jutting ribcage and 00 jeans. After nine years of abusing my body I have yet to reach this desired level of “sickness”. I know this probably does not make much sense to anyone who has never had an eating disorder. If you have never had an eating disorder you are probably asking yourself “why on earth would anyone want to be consumed by a disease”. There are parts of my story that I am able to articulate very clearly, but this is not one of them. Recovery is for those much sicker than me. If I needed help then I would look much worse. The scale would be a reflection of my disease. The ones who say otherwise are clearly misguided. These are all excuses I tell myself, because the alternative is much worse. If I am sick enough to get help then I have been lying to myself all along. What do you believe when you cannot even trust yourself?

Oh, but the fire went wild

It was as if I had found something I had been searching for my whole life, yet never knew I was missing. For twenty years I had looked but until this moment I never knew what it meant to be in love. In your arms, I experienced a euphoria that was completely foreign to me. In this moment, everything was exactly as it should be. Together in a safe haven without judgment and interference, my heart felt at home.This is the most intimate night I have shared with another person to this day. I wanted to stay right there beside you forever but even then I knew I couldn’t. From the very beginning I knew there were a million reasons we would never work out but unfortunately love is not a choice. When friendships become more than just friends it is impossible to go back to where you were before. I will forever think that what I felt for you was unrequited love but that does not make it any less real. I have no regrets when it comes to falling in love with you, nor do I have any bitterness towards you for breaking my heart. When you came into my life I was a lonely, bitter and empty person. You completely changed my life and allowed me to feel again. Even though I knew it was coming, the night you told me that we would never be more than friends my heart broke into a million pieces. Nothing was ever the same between us. As much as I wanted to salvage the relationship I acted crazy and pushed you until you eventually hated me. I loved you so much that could never be satisfied with living in the friend zone. My only regret between us is that I acted so insane. You made your decision and that was that. I may never know love this strong again and I am fortunate that even though it destroyed me, I had a chance to experience it. It took me far too long to learn that “happy ending” can have more than one meaning… God I hope you’re happy. I don’t think that we ever get over losing the one’s we love but we do let go of the bitterness. People still ask me about you and I just have to tell them the truth: “I don’t know what she’s doing now. We don’t talk”. You still come to me in my dreams sometimes and I wake up to find you’re still gone. I can’t listen to Johnny Cash, Ed Sheeran or Eric Church without your memory creeping in. I hope you never live a day without hearing “I love you”. I hope that he never lets you down. I hope the way you feel about him only grows stronger over the years. I hope he reminds you how beautiful you are. I hope he never forgets how lucky he is to be married to the most beautiful girl on the planet. I hope he treats you like a queen. I hope that in 50 years you guys are still together and madly in love. I have never met someone so deserving of love. My feelings for you have not changed, but I know that I am moving on because I want you to be happy even though it is with someone other than me. It has taken me a long time to get to this point but I have finally realized that I love you enough to let you go.

Springtime Sadness

March 9th,
Warm weather has the ability to transform me into a completely different person. I absolutely despise winter with a passion that consumes my soul. The first day of warmth when I can rock the aviators and shorts is always a wonderful day. Today was a truly beautiful day, but in the midst of my excitement, I found sadness. I have discovered that grief has the ability to sneak up on you when you least expect it. I am a little more than 2 months away from the anniversary of my child’s death. 22 months later and the pain is still just as real. Though everyone around me has moved on or forgotten, I am left to grieve alone. Time will never ease pain, but I am finding that grief comes to you differently. I would be lying to say that Evan is the first thing I think about every day, but there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about him. I would be lying to say I don’t see newborn pictures on Facebook and get envious, but know that my likes and comments are sincere. The time hop app is especially hard to look at right now. Two years ago I was embracing the warm weather and preparing for life as a mother. Evan taught me to stand up for my beliefs and to fight for what is important to me. Life for me was forever changed because of my child. I am reminded of him on the sunniest days and the coldest nights. On the best days and the worst days, Evan is my heart. The loss of a child is a lifelong journey. It is a journey that you never think about taking until you’re on the path. It was 75 degrees today, but a piece of my heart will forever remain frozen. 

 

The Truth about Deception

The truth about deception 
Trust is a glass chalice 
An intricate, fragile object that must be handled 
with extreme care. 
A select few are given the opportunity to hold 
the chalice. 
Unfortunately, despite our best efforts, the 
chalice will break. 
It will be shattered into a million shards when a 
lie is revealed. 
Deception has the ability to break even the 
most durable Chalice. 
Once broken, there is no way to escape injury
from the glass.
We can choose to walk away in hopes that the 
cuts will eventually heal themselves.
The only other option is to attempt to somehow 
fit the broken pieces into something of value 
again.
Perhaps this is due to a belief in second 
chances
Or perhaps we have grown far too familiar with 
this type of pain

Things I never expected to learn about pregnancy.

And there it is the ultimate fate… A stick purchased from a Walmart in a different county at 4 am because heaven forbid someone you know runs into you while you’re buying a pregnancy test…
So there it is… Your fate determined… 20… Unwed… And pregnant. 
There will be no tears shed, because you aren’t exactly sad… Nor will you freak out… Did you want this… No way… But you realize that you can’t do anything about the situation now
You tell the father… He tells you to get an abortion… You politely tell him ” you’ll have to kill me first”
My sons life was more important to me than anyone’s opinion even at that point.
So you do it… Everyone thinks you’re really brave.. They are weirdly supportive… Except for sperm donor obviously…
You here a country music song called ” the secret ” about a guy that loses his girl and baby… You think that has to be the worst thing ever…
What you don’t know is… A tiny coffin is in your future… 
One day you see blood in your urine and you immediately run to the hospital… Upon checking in they reassure you everything will be okay… But you know it won’t. You know you and your child will never walk out okay…
They examine you and tell you you’re 4 cms dilated. You are 22 weeks pregnant… A child can not survive outside the womb until 23… 

They tell you there is a slim to none chance you will make it to 23… They want to induce you and take the baby now… 

You fight them…
At 2:45 you deliver your son… He has a heartbeat and is considered alive… You get to hold him while they come in every 15 minutes until there is no longer a heartbeat 
You get to go home later that day. You even get to carry him with you… You pick out a tiny coffin… You bury him on top of your mother the same day….
Things you never want to learn about pregnancy.