The Tales of Virago-- A Beautiful Mess

     I think that 95% of my time in the last week has been eating and sleeping. At least, that has been the way its' felt. I spent tonight researching questions such as "is it common to constantly sleep during recovery," or, "is sudden extreme hunger common?"      Being home for what will mark two weeks on Sunday, and [mostly] on my own has been rewarding, but also incredibly difficult and exhausting. I've learned the true meaning of taking things a day at a time because I never know how my body will be feeling one day to the next, or what I can best do for it. Some days I find myself forcing food into my mouth because I realize my recovery depends on it, and I  spend time differentiating that the eating disorder is denying the need for nutrition rather than my stifled rational thought. Other days however, terrify me much more.          Lately I have been feeling an inconsolable hunger. I've never fel...

     His cold office with the dank washed out white walls were lined with cases of books that might have given someone a feeling of security trusting their care to him, or that perhaps he might have known of what he spoke. That is, if he didn't so quickly open his mouth and spew utter shit.      It's a typical psychiatrists office with a large dark wooden desk- perhaps oak, but very well polished, but the books catch dust, and when I could tell they hadn't been so much as even glimpsed at in the last two years I've been seeing this man- I should have known better than to trust him, and that is entirely my fault. He slumps in a grandiose swivel chair all day looking largely uninterested as each client tapers in and out of his office, none coming out looking too pleased. Yet we all continue to come back- stuck within our haunting routines believing he will help us because he is supposed to.      I am crazy.  But that is not at ...

     She was in utter shock with waves of pandemonium violently racing through her mind, and crashing onto the shore of her life which she had been trying for so long to keep perfect. Unable to form a coherent thought, or fully able to grasp what was going to happen- her eyes wildly darted around the room praying she would wake up from the nightmare that had so quickly become her reality. For the first time in her 17 years of life she was raw, and a true reflection of the terror, despair, and deep pain she had stifled for far too long behind gentle eyes, and a deceptive smile with the words "I'm fine," that had now fallen apart at the seams.      I am unable to change my past- or the way this one day two years ago today still deeply affects me. This girl had lost control of her life, and didn't know where to turn. She had been in the dark for so long stumbling around only making it by a stroke of luck, but it had finally run out. She hit a wall, ...

     She could feel it manifesting from within her, but she wasn't sure what "it" was, and the label it deserved. Welling with rage, anger, guilt, and a deep sadness she was unsure of how to process this spinning welling hurricane into thoughts or words, or anything for that matter other than the nausea she felt so deeply within the pit of her stomach, and the words "I'm sorry" that escaped her lips yet again for something for which she was not responsible...      It was quite recently that I finally had to admit I constantly apologize and punish myself (more often than not) for the things that I have not done and are far beyond my control. Standing, watching someone you care about go off yet again on another person, walking into the middle by accident, and then after the fact apologizing for the persons innapropriate behavior, only to be told "it's okay" rather than "it's not your fault" only confirmed my apology was "valid...

     The room began to spin, and the very thoughts which I have been working so hard to eradicate seemed to be boiling over again the way a pot of water would when it has been left unwatched, and was over filled in the first place.      You could say this is a fair comparison, for when a storm seems to dissipate, the next set of waves begins to rise, and come racing onto shore as they attempt to grasp me within their clutch. I've learned one must make sure to take care, and batten down the hatches as to not allow the storm to overtake you yet again, no matter how hard it may try-yet water still seems to seep in.      The first few days at home have been busy and boring at the same time from appointments, to seeing friends, and trying to keep up with meal prep, etc. While it is the same routine, it is also a foreign experience as I readjust to daily life and accepting changes. Trying to keep the smile on my face, but the water...

     I had to go grocery shopping. I came home Sunday night knowing there would be no food in the house for me to eat.  *Disclaimer: I had asked mom to hold off on the shopping- and shout out to her for going with me to learn about my meal planning*      This task, so simple to most, which I've always enjoyed doing had become a cruel game to this heavy loaded mind. A task such as entering a store for three items, left me dissecting labels in the store for hours, often leaving with a different cart than intended, for I wanted the "best" option for my body, all the while I was slowly killing myself. The aisles seemed to rise over me, and close in, while the food choices seemed endless yet so little to choose from. It was the equivalent to feeling like a lab rat in an experiment, or one of those shelter animals that everyone stares at, but feels sorry for. I began hating grocery shopping for it felt as though every person was judging my cart...

     She is composed of intricacies of emotion that weave in and out of her each and every breath. She is small, but mighty, and growing stronger each day. She is fire and fury, full of questions and in awe of the vast world around her. She steps with care to make sure no delicate beautiful detail is overlooked. Once fragile, she is taking back her strength. Her words are the key to unhinging years of shame, and disparity locked in an icy cage beneath trauma, and a bitter lonely downtrodden road of dark hues in a forest where there were no stars to be seen...but they are shining again. She is me.     I thank God that I finally grew tired of fighting constant fatigue. The battle to keep your body alive is overwhelming, and the voice that eats away at you day after day is simply daunting. The worst part is, shame cages you into your own world, shutting everyone out. This little songbird w...

     Earlier today, I was reflecting back upon the road I've been down over the last two years since this nightmare began, and I was attempting to piece together the fragments of what the time has entailed. This task has turned out to be much easier said than done, and would not be something I would ask my loathed enemy to ever experience. The empty hollow longing for something greater than yourself, and then the denial because you can actually rationalize with yourself that you are so lowly a lifeform, somehow below every other person on the face of this earth. You manage to cast off the idea engraved into your head that you are the Beloved Daughter of the King .      In my reflecting, I wandered upon a collection of old writing from a blog I had been keeping anonymously for a time when I was younger, and I thought perhaps it was time to occasionally start letting some of her thoughts free, since she was too afraid to- and I know that girl ...

     "Balance is the most important." Five little words so quickly forgotten. The irony in the fact that out of 100 affirmations in a box *96 by the time I got to pick..*, I received these wise words of advice. Samantha- the perfectionist who hyperventilates at the thought of not receiving an A in a college course, or falls to pieces if she isn't able to reach her idea of "perfectionism." Except the problem with this is that she will never be good enough. The perfect body, grades, social status... Samantha who wants to balance everything by being everywhere at once, involved in everything, doing everything, pleasing everyone, on top of the world, calm, cool, composed, elegant, and lovely. Except avoiding the very emotions that gradually eat away at her inner being, eventually causing her so much anguish she takes the internalized discord and channels it towards piecing away at her body.  Balance. Is. The. Most. Important.       Recovery will la...

     I know I am not alone when I say everyone has days where they feel as though they are down trodden scum. For me, I find myself feeling quite uncomfortable beneath my skin. I say this carefully, for I am a living heart beat with feelings, joys, pains, and cares beneath the shell that protects this inner being. I think my therapist hit the nail on the head today when she labeled these days of low self worth as the "fat days."      You know, the sort of day you find yourself changing your shirt again and again, curling up, attempting to hide away from the world. These are the days in which I face the mirror, only seeing the flaws of my physique. Yet, I am learning it goes so much deeper than this. I am compiled of more than the skin and bones I allowed others to manipulate when I did not know better. How could I? When I begin to feel this way, it's now lea...

     I was sitting in the somber obsolete room, neatly kept with the two therapy chairs that were well padded, and easy to curl into as she spoke to me. The cream color of the wall attempted to create a calming atmosphere, but in the moment I felt slightly to mostly nauseated, and a little lethargic. She was explaining the scientific calculation behind caloric intake, weight gain, energy, bmi... blah. blah. blah. When the statement "you are not safe where you stand," escaped her lips, suddenly I was not so absent from the conversation. I sat a little taller in my chair as if it would give me ground in the conversation.      This woman who I barely know as my dietitian is sitting here, and goes on to explain to me that my body is in what is to be considered starvation mode, all while I just spent the morning denegrating myself in a mirror, worrying about the weight I was surely gaining, thoughts racing at losing a so called culturally known "thigh gap." Oy....

     She was struggling to find clarity. She looked down at her ligaments trying to deny the fact she could no longer feel them, not that she had been able to within the past several days due to the fact they were purple. Twisting her finger around the steaming coffee cup that was the sole reason she was able to keep her head up, for empty was her once fiery spirit, and hollowed were her once beautiful eyes...      I had written these words recently, upon a break through in finding clarity. I am Virago, and it has taken me far too long to realize that no one will ever critique me as much as I viciously criticize and belittle myself. Perfectionist. Shamed. Lonely. Outgoing. Optimistic. Smiling. So many masks of deceit in the downward spiral that has tried to rob me of everything, eventually almost claiming my life. Hidden secrets and shame that left me isolated and empty. Colors had become obsolete matter, for everything melts into a dull gray throug...