It is the end of a semester, and everything is due. I have a presentation in three hours worth 10% of my grade for a class, and a follow up report that is 15%. Checking my phone, I missed nearly eighty text messages from the cohort, among various other notifications and voice mails--all within the six hours I was working. My sinuses are on strike, and my body is actively waging war with a fickle environment that thinks it's natural to go from 60 to 30 in the matter of a day. I want to cry, but it has been long enough that I am not quite sure how, or if I still know the comfort of tears. White knuckled on my wheel yesterday, I was trying to remind myself that my worries were a snapshot in time; in a few hours, everything would feel more tangible, and perhaps I wouldn't feel as though I were floating. Clearly that worked well, considering I snapped at no less than three people once arriving from my work at the hospital to my office hours (sorry guys--I still love you, and...
I started this blog in late 2015 when I began eating disorder treatment. What started as a personal project, grew into a page for updating family and friends, and now thousands read these posts from all corners of the world. This blows my mind. Today, I consider myself recovered, but my work as an activist is just beginning. For additional inquiries, please feel free to email me.