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...