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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
I wrote this in one of my psychology classes today while discussing the meaning of life
Nov 2015 · 532
Mirrors Lie
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.
***** you, Ed.
Nov 2015 · 330
Valuable?
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
Sep 2015 · 279
Forgotten again
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
Aug 2015 · 355
Dissolution
Bruised wrists
thighs slashed
feelings inside can't get out otherwise
healing begins
but scars reopen
blood runs red
pain never forgotten
Aug 2015 · 264
Shattered
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 2015 · 347
Misapplication
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.
For LMGH. I miss you.
Jul 2015 · 253
Summer of 2001
Dark rooms
White lies
Spark lost
Soul dry
Innocence gone
Girl, young
Hidden cries
Lost night
Triggers produce memories that need to be let out
Jul 2015 · 425
His daughters
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
Reflections on a stormy, summer day. How I love Pine Beach Lodge. <3
Jun 2015 · 943
Worthless
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
Jesus, come soon.
May 2015 · 319
Waiting
Waiting is hard
Waiting for those words that I want to hear
Words that are worth more than a thousand pictures
More precious than a smile

I pray for his heart
For spring rains of grace to cleanse the darkest parts not yet shared with me
For endurance
For the pursuit of gaining so much more than a life together

I've been told that love is patient
I believe that, I do
I desire that patience
The stillness and peace that comes by releasing him to God
But is he releasing me?
That's what I wonder.
May 2015 · 367
War
War
Depleted hands
Damaged fingers
I didn't win today
My soul craves to be thin again
A constant war is waged

Always cold
Never empty enough
Food not seen as fuel in my mind
In the recovery world a meal is a victory
but I see it as failure in mine

Never understanding
how they can not see
Smiles don't mean that I'm healed
Breakdown has been achieved
My heart will remain sealed

Maybe tomorrow
I will try
To force myself to nourish
This body of mine and soul that I
So deeply want to cherish

Maybe tomorrow
I will live
Whatever that looks like
With my broken heart and bruised ribs
I will not abandon this fight
Sick and tired of being sick and tired. Ed, you can die.
May 2015 · 736
Deception
Broken promises
Deceitful words
Sanctimonious actions
Vanishing relationship
Pitiless me*
Forfeited love
Your calamity
*My awakening
I'm a little bitter tonight
May 2015 · 1.6k
Be gentle with yourself
Sweet girl
there is no need to sit in defeat
for you were made to run
not only the race of life but the long distance of forgiveness

Sweet girl
this is not all that there is to your life
the door you choose is but a choice
the correct answer not always in view

Sweet girl
life is full, overflowing with second chances
third chances, forth chances,
the number does not matter

Sweet girl
this is your chance
to love with every fiber of your being
for the reward far outweighs the regret

Sweet girl
I will be here for you
to show you what recovery looks like
as it is better to enter with a friend

And Sweet girl
please remember whose you are
as that is what helps us live everyday
remember the battle is not against flesh and blood

Be gentle with yourself
For me and my fellow ed warriors...keep fighting. The price is far too great. <3
May 2015 · 722
Sweet dreams
Sleepless nights
Thoughts of you
Write until full
Pray until peaceful
Closed eyes
Calmed limbs
Sweet dreams
New day
May 2015 · 501
I want to go home
Some days my soul craves darkness,
other days light,
but today I desire neither.

I'm not too fond of today,
and all of the weariness that came with it.
Light nor dark, I don't want any bit.

What I desire is to go home,
where I am surrounded by beauty,
life is pain free,
and I'm free to be me.

Perform I will not,
this battle will be fought.
Perfection is the enemy.
Heaven, my safety.
I want to go home
May 2015 · 831
the LORD will receive me
I dread this day every year,
and as I search the card isle
I fail to find a card that fits our story.

You see our story isn't one that I am proud of,
as this day is a reminder of what I don't have.
I see the way that you look at me from across the table,
the way you crinkle your brow.
I know I am not who you want me to be.
My life reflects the grace of God that I want you to see,
feel, know, and cherish.

I'm different.
My heart is soft and tears freely flow,
sometimes frustrating me, too.
Apologise, I won't.
The **** is broke,
and all I am left with are memories that haunt my soul.

Today I receive the pain,
the sadness that you bring to me.
I soak it in and choose to feel it,
to breathe it in, and acknowledge it.
Today I will cry,
but I will also hold on to the fact that I'm adopted,
by a God who satisfies my heart.
Though my father and mother forsake me, the LORD will receive me. -Psalm 27:10
There is something about the sun
It's warmth, its light, its age
Always rises, always sets
Is always somewhere to be seen, near and afar
The way it lights the path to where one is to go
Sunsets touching the hearts of those both young and old
Warming the skin on a hot summer day
Sometimes hiding, sometimes blinding
But remaining constant in this crazy life
Summer thoughts
May 2015 · 751
You don't have to do this,
You don't have to do this,
curl your hair, coat your lips
flash those bright green eyes,
turn to the side,
**** in,
smile,
hide.

You don't have to do this,
say yes when you really mean no,
entertain when you feel sick,
work out to find your worth,
eat to find love,
purge,
unearth.

But you must keep going,
be strong, be brave, be you,
walk in light, in love, in grace,
say I love you and mean it,
speak truth and receive it,
with open arms,
savouring every bit.

You were made for more than this.
be you
Apr 2015 · 724
Two miles is what it took
Two miles is what it took
to hear that still small voice.
Two more miles is what it took
to realise that she needed to listen rather than run.
In that four miles were over 8000 steps,
little and big,
hard and soft,
energising yet exhausting,

The day had been long,
her soul craved the lake air.
She retreated to a quiet place
hoping that she could get her mind to still.
She doubted that He would speak wisdom,
as she has been a stubborn girl.
But she tried so very hard,
to listen, that is,  
and when she stopped running to catch both her breath and mind,
she was smacked with the love that only a father can give.
A taste of the freedom that she once had,
yet craved even more deeply than before.

He showed her great things,
her Father did,
allowing her to reflect on the moments when he had been faithful.
He emphasised the journey,
rather than the destination.
After He was finished,
she stood still and wept.
Agape love,
it is hard to receive.
With her music silenced and her running feet stilled
she walked back to the starting line,
retracing her steps.
Only this time it was different.
This time she allowed her Father to hold her hand,
as she was reminded that she was not alone.
Is never alone.
evening reflections
Apr 2015 · 3.6k
Prom 2011
Her frame exposed from the way her dress hugs her body
leads her to feel that oh too familiar feeling
of disgust, of judgment, of guilt, of shame.
This day only comes once a year,
yet she allows the demons to dwell in that pretty head of hers.
Unable to shake the thoughts of deceit
she continues to smile.
She dances.
She laughs.
She dances some more.
The ceiling spinning, the lights flashing, the floor moving
she begins to fall.
Her figure has been wasting away for a while now,
food being a foreign object to her frail self.
Had she been told that she was beautiful growing up,
had she been told that she was worthy,
had she been told that she was loved,
had she been told that she was wanted,
maybe things would be different.
Maybe.

People surround her as she lies on the floor.
They know.
They know her secrets.
Exposed and vulnerable she comes back to the surface,
surrounded by the ones who love her for her strength, her patience,
her resilience, and her friendship.

One night.
It was all she had wanted.
One night to feel beautiful.
One night to feel free.
One night to let her walls down and be.
What she failed to realise was that tonight gave her all of those things.
Exposed, she entered the next step of her journey to self discovery.
She began her journey to health and healing,
knowing that in the ugliness she is beautiful
and in the tears that flow she gains freedom,
and that her sisters in Christ see her as God see's her:
a unique, fragile piece of art.
The pattern remains the same,
doors slamming and shouts of shame
resound from inside her wild soul,
yearning for the cruise control.

The cries echo two blocks down
as he begins taking off her pink night gown.
Innocence lost at five years old
the memories are too strong to withhold.

New love comes yet the walls remain high
nights end with not one eye dry.
She prays that her innocence would be restored
as she falls on her knees and cries to the Lord

And he answered her cry,
"Child, you are precious in my eyes.
there is no need to apologise.
For you are pure and worthy in my sight,
I'm here to restore your wings for flight

A softened heart will get you through,
past all the pain that he caused you.
Then there will stand an open door
guiding you to the one who adores
your smile, your laugh, the songs that you sing,
the one who withholds no good thing.
Come, my child, come
you are my chosen one."
Apr 2015 · 683
We cry, too
We cry, too,
but we do it together
as He is there where two or three gather,
restoration is His desire
together, hand-in-hand
we will walk this broken road
remembering that this is NOT our home
Feeling homesick today. Come, Jesus, come.
Feb 2015 · 541
Another lion tamed
It happened.
The piece of glass held hostage in my heart has been shattered,
tiny shards leaving marks and scabs not yet formed.
A scale broken,
a heart now open to taste freedom.
The joy,
the relief,
the regret.
Morning comes and a chance to start over has arrived yet again.
Do I dare put that in my body?
Do I risk gaining what I do not wish to gain?
This battle in my mind continues to rage,
my decision not yet made.
Then I hear it.
A voice much greater than that of the lion roaring inside of me speaks,
the gentleness of his tone soothing to the mind of the little girl that is me.
"It's okay, my child. It's okay."
Another meal gone, another victory won,
another lion tamed.

— The End —