When the topic of conversation in class was about finding meaning in life
I struggled to find a reasoning behind why
I choose to keep fighting
the same **** voice that keeps on illuminating
the parts of my heart that don't need extra lighting
For reasons of staying safe
secure enough to keep from igniting
any other demons that make joy seem uninviting
My heart is tired of trying
to heal
My feelings boil over
like a *** of forgotten water
forcing me to clean up a mess that I did not ask for
I am tired
But still refuse to be fired from life itself
Why do I keep fighting
If my life is not something I admire
I have sisters who wage wars on their bodies too
trying to reach a place where they feel like they are somebody to some body
and not a disease
that strips them of all they were created to be
We are tired
Yet I ride waves of urges so familiar to the ocean of darkness that my heart rages
because I just want to feel free
because my future family and clients need me
because honesty is the key to living authentically
And if I'm being honest then I'm able to see
past the reality
that is my eating disorder
I desire more
which means that I am more
as my worth does not come from being the best me for others
but rather it comes from a deep understanding
that my life is my own and not my own
equally
Realizing that my hands are strong enough
are big enough to hold
even the pieces of my soul
that fail to fit the mold
of what is normal
But why can't normal have permission to be broken
Instead of whole
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC
Weekly goals written on the board
share one common thread of hope: that we would live another day, another week.
Faces of worry, guilt, and shame are universal as we verbally state where we want to see ourselves in seven days time.
"Purge free for at least one day."
"Refrain as much as I can from body checking."
"Get in at least 3 meals a day."
"Find and use positive coping mechanisms."
"Affirm myself three times for every one time that I say something horrible about myself."
While it is easy to write these hope-filled words on a board, the actual challenge is staying true to them.
Hours of therapy can only make us aware of the areas in our life that need healing.
The healing process, however, lays in our own frail, cold hands.
Living a life married to ones eating disorder is a life lived in a mirror covered box with no apparent way out.
But mirrors lie.
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 12:11 AM UTC
You tell me that it is wrong to look at myself the way that I do
Yet you, too, have your own toxic thoughts regarding you
You ask me if I've prayed about it and I say that I have
because prayer is the only thing that calms the voices in my head
And you are there for me when you want to be but not when I need you
Your spoken words and 'i love you's seem to pass right through
You ask me what you can do and I don't have the words to say
Again my broken record of a mind recalls what happened on the day
When I learned that my feelings have no value and that people never stay
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
Forgotten again
no surprise
people change like seasons
yet I remain
undeserving of love
nobody stays
i'm too hard to handle
too much of a pain
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 1:15 AM UTC
Bruised wrists
thighs slashed
feelings inside can't get out otherwise
healing begins
but scars reopen
blood runs red
pain never forgotten
Aug 30, 2015
Aug 30, 2015 at 12:50 AM UTC
My Tuesday visit wasn't a visit at all.
Rather it was, yet again, another chance for you to tear me to shreds.
I wish that as tragedy and heart ache continue to strike
I would be better equipped to handle it.
Now I have no words to say.
No love to give to you.
No hope left.
Family is no more.
It never was there to begin with.
It is what I deserve.
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
Your hand in mine
we walk into the places that lack radiance,
the places I've never shown anyone before.
Comfort me, you do.
Elusiveness my fallback.
I emptied you of your love,
your company no longer given.
Manipulation of the heart,
regret is my companion.
My hand now emptied,
though not just my hand but my heart,
places that used to be occupied by forgiveness,
though forgiveness no longer given.
Your heart turned grey with the passing of each day.
My being no longer wanted.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 4:06 PM UTC
Dark rooms
White lies
Spark lost
Soul dry
Innocence gone
Girl, young
Hidden cries
Lost night
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
It's funny how years go by,
yet relationships remain the same
Countries separate our bodies
but our hearts can not be contained
As I sit here in my favorite spot I've had since I was three
the memories of God's faithfulness come flooding back to me
Fish caught, meals shared, a telling of life's stories
Hugs given, tears cried, no need to take inventory
For the love here is as strong as those stormy waters,
though docks break and boats sink they can not separate His daughters
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
Years of shame, a forgiving heart
Yet nothing can undo what was said to her
You are a worthless, undeserving child
You are
I am
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC