Sunburned belly.

I have a killer sunburn on my belly, despite wearing SPF 50 sunblock. Why, then? Well, besides being painfully white, naturally, I have not shown my belly to the world in 15 years (aside from one occasion of drunken topless tanning with my sorority sisters in college...but it was Western New York and definitely wasn't sunny). So this sunburn, as painful as it is, really says a lot.

It's not that I had an eating disorder for 15 years. I did not, in fact. But I guess my body image issues may have started at that time, when I was about eight or nine, and was just "too big to look cute in a bikini" anymore. I remember crying over it. When I was 12, I remember making my weight loss goal to be that I could wear a halter bathing suit (not a real bikini, just one that showed a little belly). I never reached that goal. I don't know if I was never skinny enough or if my eating disorder started around that time and I was never able to acknowledge that it would really be okay if I wanted to wear that bathing suit. But I stuck myself in sticky, peely, one-pieces, usually a racing bathing suit like Speedo as opposed to an ugly old lady suit, for many years, until Old Navy launched the Tankinis and everyone else followed. I was probably 16 or so? Tankinis became my summer bathing suit of choice - no, of necessity - as I refused to ever wear a one-piece to the beach again. So uncomfortable and really just miserable. The sand gets in it, fills up the crotch and everywhere else, and it's so difficult when you have to go to the bathroom, and so on. Tankinis were it. I had lots of friends who I KNEW had bigger bellies than I did, and they wore bikinis, and I admired them for their ability to do it, but part of my mind said, "Why would you do that!? Someone would look at you. You don't have the kind of confidence to do that. You would obviously attract attention. They hold their weight better than you." So I stuck with my tankinis. Two years ago, I did lounge in a pool in my back yard in my sister's bikini top, because it was strapless and I needed to tan over my strap lines for my cousin's wedding. I kept my hands over my belly the whole time, of course, but I mean, at least I wore the top.

I had gone to the beach two or three times this summer so far. I don't know if it's really true, but I felt like I was the only woman under 40, or at least the only woman who had not given birth to a child yet, who was not wearing a bikini. Is this true? Probably not. But it felt like it. I felt the sun beating on my black bathing suit, burning me up. I felt like everyone was looking at me, thinking about how much it would suck to be 23 and so fat that I couldn't even wear a bikini at the beach among strangers.

My black tankini was a great find. It supported my boobs perfectly, and had really cute stones on it, and a high-cut bottom so that my belly never hung out. It served me well for two summers, but swimming in the ocean really takes a toll on bathing suits, and it was not in good shape at all. My boobs were all over the place, the body was stretched out and wider than it was long, and the bottom had been scratched up by the sand a few too many times. Not to mention I was built differently when I bought it, as it was before my days of yoga and weight training. My body has changed a lot even if I weigh about the same.

I was talking to a few friends about how difficult it is to find the right tankini, and how I need to go buy a new one. One friend in particular really upset me when she told me to just wear a bikini, because it's easier, there are more, and it won't lose its shape as much. I freaked out. She doesn't know what it's like to be fat! And so on. And maybe she doesn't. But even if I'm not skinny, I'm really not at a point where it's inappropriate to wear a bikini, or so people began to tell me when I told them about my dilemma.

So, I went to KMart, where I could make a small investment in a bikini top (I wasn't going to spend more than $10, because what if I went to the beach and people laughed at me, the obese girl in a bikini!?!) and a new pair of bottoms as well. I sent about 10 pictures to two of my friends, to make sure that I looked okay in it. They reassured me, and then reassured me that they were not "just saying it."

I bought the top on Wednesday, and by Sunday, it was beach day. The weather report called for thunderstorms, but somehow it was sunny from 11am when we got to the beach, until well after 3:30 when we left! I wore my bikini to the beach, although taking off my tank top was scary at first. But feeling the cold water on my belly, and feeling the sunshine and breeze across me when I laid out, it was far more liberating than I could ever have imagined. And I don't even think I got any rude stares.

I don't know if I'll ALWAYS wear a bikini to the beach. But I do know now that it's an option. My sunburned belly may hurt right now, but it's a reminder to me that I am actually okay, and that even I have come to terms with the fact that I am just fine.

Some writings from a few months ago

Sometimes, I like to look back at my writing. I've sent out various text messages, emails, and facebook notes with random thoughts. Here's one I wrote in March, after being out of treatment for almost a year, that I am particularly proud of.

I don't even know where to start with this. I really wanted to write something just because I've been mentally reflecting on the changes to my life over the course of the past year. I mean my physical location and physical condition have obviously changed drastically, but that's the least of it.

The things I've learned about myself, and the things I've learned about others and the nature of life are incredible. There are people who have faded out of my life. There are people who had walked in and then out very quickly. And there are new people in my life who I'm so glad to have there. And each person brings with them something, or things, that contribute to who I am in this moment.

I could go on and on about the incredible people who are in my life at any given time. I have a tendency to see people for the true good inside of them. But for a change, that's not what I'm going to talk about. I'm going to talk about how I see things differently now.

I've learned to be a real person, having a heart and soul, strengths and needs, crisis and relaxation, and most importantly, balance and equilibrium. The idea of balance, equilibrium, grounding, peace always scared me. Terrified me. I didn't want to accept myself, I didn't want to feel comfortable enough to accept myself. I wanted to live in a constant state of discomfort so that I could always have that little monkey on my back nudging me to do whatever it wanted me to do to change myself.

I won't lie. I don't think I love myself. Not right now. But I am working towards accepting myself. I am willing to learn to do that. And from acceptance, maybe I'll find love. I have to accept myself the way I am before I can change anything. If I don't accept myself and try to change, then what am I changing from, anyway? "I can't accept myself because I don't like my current weight." I'll never like my weight no matter what it is if I can't accept myself first. Pain + Non-Acceptance = Suffering. A little DBT for you to think about. I suffered enough. It's time to accept.

I'm finding balance, peace, stability, enjoyment, happiness. I was so afraid of all of these things. But the more I sample them, the more I really want them. It's why I'm surrounding myself with like-minded people. It's why I do yoga, why I work with Andrea, why I read silly little books, why I do artwork and writing and take hot baths and hang upside down and why I go to work and school.

I believe that everything happens for a reason. Every person who walks in and out of our life. Every event, good or bad. Every piece of the puzzle will eventually fit together. I believe in magnetic attraction. I can't explain any other reason why I still ended up studying psychology despite hating my intro class, why I kept going back and trying yoga again and again till it clicked (especially after hating it at RCC, and then pinching a nerve in my shoulder from overextending in freakin child's pose at CEDC, and being bored in a Sunday morning class), why I had a steady well-paying job and sought out another one that I adore, why these people who have been through their own struggles and now are moving forward in their own lives have walked across my path to inspire me at just the right times. I have no other way to explain it. It just happens for a reason.

That's the other thing. That it happens. It just does. It's life and it unfolds itself and while you've got the power to make the best decisions with the given circumstances, life itself is what you do with what you're given. The greatest life can unfold itself before you and you can sit in the corner. Or a life with ups and downs and struggles everywhere can be laid down in front of you and you can get over each mountain and roll down each hill with more and more strength than the time before, and come out of the whole thing with so much that you've accomplished for yourself, so much that you've given to others, and so much value.

So my lessons that I've learned this year?

Live. Try. Grow. Hurt. Accept. Embrace. Reflect.

Writing My Memoir

I'm in the process of writing my memoir. It's difficult, though, because I've only lived twenty-three years. At the same time, it's difficult because I've accomplished a lot in those 23 years. I've kept journals as long as I could write, yet that doesn't help, because the critical things that I want to write about now, are things I refused to write about then. I have an outline, and a few chapters written. I don't want to just write about my life...I want to write about lessons learned, the people who walked in and out of my life, and things so abstract that I can't figure out how to express them.



my intro.


I have wanted to write a book for a very long time now. So why For Melissa? And is it really for Melissa? Melissa, a girl I have never met before, passed away due to complications that resulted from bulimia. In a way, it is for Melissa. Or, inspired by Melissa, rather. More, it’s for everyone else. Everyone still living and breathing. Everyone who’s ever struggled – whether that struggle was with one’s own eating disorder or another debilitating addiction, or whether that struggle was with living with a person who was waging her own internal battle using external means. Everyone who’s ever felt a twinge of, “is this really life? Is this it?” That’s who this book is really FOR. I guess I could have titled it “For Everyone.” Because it is. But it’s for Melissa, because when she left this world, it seems as though her spirit gave me the push I needed to get writing.

This book isn’t my memoir of life with an eating disorder. It’s also not my memoir of life after an eating disorder. It’s not even a memoir, really. It’s more my commentary on my life experiences, many of which were impacted by the fact that I was going through or had gone through an eating disorder.

I don’t know if I was ever close to death. I kept as far as possible away from doctor’s offices for the longest time. I was never emaciated. Never forced into treatment by a third party. Never a “real” bulimic or anorexic. And I always believed that I wasn’t sick enough.

This is for all the girls, and guys, women and men, who aren’t sick enough. Because if you’re sick enough to believe that you're "not sick enough", you’re sick enough to get yourself better and get on the right track. I know that not everyone reading this is sick, and that not everyone who does have an eating disorder will take this, or anything, as a step towards recovering their life.

I’m writing this to inspire. I’m writing this to share. Most of all, I’m writing this to grow. Some of this is my story. Other parts are the stories of people I know. The only other thing I can guarantee is that Melissa will never read this. Be grateful that you are.

Beach Therapy

So I have to say, I'd been on the brink, teetering dangerously close to a relapse. The "Ed voice" and the "healthy voice" in my head were fighting all week long. I hadn't felt like that for more than a few moments, a day at most, in a very long time. Probably a good year. Anyway, to be completely honest, I was scared. I couldn't go back to it! But it felt like that was the only choice. All my standard coping skills seemed to be failing: reading (a great temporary escape, but not longlasting), sleeping (one of my favorite activities but I didn't have time for naps and had trouble falling asleep at night!), yoga (felt good during the class but as soon as I got back into the car and thought about my next meal...terror), arts and crafts (just didn't feel like I had the motivation). I'm back to going to therapy only once a week instead of twice, and going to yoga instead, so I didn't even have the consistency of twice-a-week therapy that helped me a lot (although if I really felt that it was necessary, I know my therapist would've gone for it). I had resorted to safety foods from my disordered days, and numbers were beginning to plague my life. I was behind on my charting at work, forgetting to check the weather before getting dressed and leaving the house, and letting my gas tank run on empty (ironic?). These things were slowly happening for about two weeks before the full-on "OMG this is it...I can feel the relapse coming over me."

I don't know what I would have done if things had gone differently, if my schedule was slightly different. I don't know if something else would've clicked, or if I would have spun out of control and still be spinning right now, but that's not important because that's not what happened.

What happened was the trip to the beach. I drove for two hours with my coworker and four of our clients (adults with severe and persistent mental illness), and another van with two coworkers and four clients followed us, down the shore to Point Pleasant Beach. Most of the clients wanted to stay on the boardwalk, smoke cigarettes, and eat. But two of them wanted to go onto the beach. My coworker and I took them down the boardwalk and onto the beach, where we set up our spot.

The second my toes hit the sand, I knew I would be okay. When I settled onto my towel, and breathed in the ocean air, I felt slightly more at ease. When my client, N, and I walked down and got our toes wet, it was as though the ocean washed away the "insanity" that had been circling my brain for the past week or so.

I got back to work extremely exhausted, maybe from four hours of driving on the Garden State Parkway, but maybe also from allowing my body to get rid of the negative and rebuild the positive, somehow. I'm not really sure how all that inner-self stuff works, but I believe it's gotta be at least somewhat real because I can feel it.

I went to yoga this evening and even the positions that were harder weren't a struggle. They were just a challenge. It reminded me the importance of challenges in our lives, and even the importance of reframing our struggles into challenges. Struggles bring us down. Challenges help us rise above. Any struggle can be a challenge. Likewise, any challenge can be a struggle if you let it, but you don't have to.

I'm still tired, and I'm hungry again and my "ED voice" still tells me that I can do without food even though I know I need it, but I'm signing off and heading up to the kitchen before going back to bed. It's quite difficult to sleep when you're hungry. I am remembering that now. It's quite difficult to function when your life is consumed by an eating disorder. That's one "challenge" I don't need. Recovery, fine. But to challenge myself to be successful and disordered at once, as so many people wish to do, I'm going to aim to not have to do that.

So that's my story. I can't wait to get my beach bum back to the ocean again.

Resurfacing this thing?

Well, I am finding more and more people having and even using blogs, so maybe I'll try this again. It's a little classier than a facebook note, for when I have something insightful to share.

I've been reading, working, and yoga-ing, and enjoying the fact that I do not have classes for the summer. Life's got it's ups and downs as always and maybe I'll write about some various things that strike me on this here blog, both about the ups and the downs.

Maybe I'll even show you pictures.

Also, I've kind of given up on getting into a good sleep schedule, because I end up sleeping past noon on Mondays, since I'm off, then staying up till about midnight and having to wake up in 6 or 7 hours to get to work at 8am, then I usually crash Tuesday evening, sometimes I'm even in bed BEFORE 8pm, and always sleep all through the night...and beyond, because Wednesday I don't have to work till 1, so I sleep late again. Then I don't go to bed until Midnight or so, and have to wake up around 6 or 7 again, since I work 8-5 on Thursday. Thursday evening I guess is somewhat normal, except that the last few Fridays I've had misunderstandings with my alarm cllock and ended up running late, not waking up until well after 7:30 and having to get to work at 9. Then I stay up late because YAY ITS THE WEEKEND, and try to get up by like 10 or 11 on Saturday and Sunday but it rarely happens...and then the week continues. This is my third week of this. before that, it was just plain old 9-5 Monday-Friday but I'm working 30 hours now, since I'll only be able to work 30 hours this fall when I'm interning 15 hours...and am beyond exhausted, so I figured I deserved something resembling a summer vacation.

Well there you go, you get a little ramble and you weren't even expecting it.

I do wonder if anyone will ever read this.

First Post

In this post, I guess I'll introduce myself.
I'm a social work graduate student, an early intervention ongoing service coordinator, a lifeguard, a Miley Cyrus fan, a young woman recovering from an eating disorder, a curly-haired girl, short, anxious, and content. Most of my posts will be relevant to at least one of the above.
Major influences in my life are my family, my friends, my job, the ANAD support group I attend weekly, my therapist, my college experience, my daily commute, the Disney Channel, and my plans for the future. Almost everything I write here will be inspired by one of those.
I read mostly memoirs, young adult novels (especially those by Sarah Dessen), books in the Oprah Book Club, Glamour, Cosmopolitan, and Psychology Today. I also enjoy my textbooks.
It wouldn't be impossible to figure out who I am by reading this blog, and you might be aware, but in this blog, I won't post pictures of myself or friends, detail my weekends, name names (other than celebrities), or disclose too much personal information.
I am starting this blog because I have lots of thoughts throughout the days and I don't like to keep them to myself, especially when they are deep enough that they merit sharing. Or when they're silly enough that they may warrant a giggle and brighten someone else's day.
Hopefully, I'll have something to share every day - a story, a thought, an excerpt, a quote, a scenario, a photograph.