Sadness Flies Away on the Wings of Time:

     Nothing can explain the pain that is carried forth when faced with loss. Yes, death is ultimate. There is nothing left but the memories that we all hold onto. But what happens when a person is part of your life and no longer is in it? That person is gone. They are only a part of the past but still walks the streets of everyday life? How can that be? Why does life become so painful with a loss in life? I know that the worse feelings I feel now, shall pass too. However, in the moment it sucks.

     I feel so devastated to have learned that when I was faced with so many changes and medical scares in 2014, that it got worse. I learned that my therapist was leaving the practice and field forever. I thought I could hold it together. I thought it was all just part of the process in recovery. Then I said "NO! NO! NO! NO! It's not fair!" Yes, I even stomped my feet and pulled a temper tantrum at the age of thirty-four years old. At the time, I was amongst the silent four walls of my home. In the moment, there was nothing in the world that could have helped me mourn the loss of someone that had helped me through so much in my life.

     I met Martha over two years ago. I sat in her office with a chip on my shoulder, thinking this was just another person that wanted to "fix me." I was stubborn. I held my ground, but little did I know at the time that she was trying to help me. She genuinely cared about my past, present, and future; my well-being. I wasn't just a client nor a job to her. I felt. In the past, I have "opened-up" to one other therapist in all of the twelve years of recovery with an eating disorder. I struggled for a long time to trust Martha. I struggled to understand her "motive." I did not understand nor respect the fact that she genuinely cared about my well-being. I only had one other therapist that treated me with such respect and compassion. I am thankful for our work together. Martha has helped me get through so much in these past couple of years. She saw me through one of my darkest of times through the brightest of times. I have got nothing but honesty and trust in all our sessions. Every Friday, I dreaded every session. After every session, I would walk out of her office yelling to my partner "I'm cured." Martha always had a way with me. A way that made things so more manageable and understandable. The pain felt less and less every day.

     Now, I am faced with the reality that she is leaving. Suddenly, our time has come to an end. I am faced with a new future with a new therapist. Hopefully, the same chip that lingered on my shoulder at first with Martha, doesn't carry forth with tomorrow's future. I am sure that this will all pass too. I am sure that this too shall be yet another test of my strength in life; a learning experience. Maybe this is all an old chapter finished; a new chapter begun. Whatever this be a test of strength, give me the strength to get thru this gently.

     Gently, I wish for and hope that one can relate. I know I am not alone. I know I am not the only person that has lost someone in their life dear and near. Yes, it's part of treatment. Yes it's something that comes with the practice. But no matter what, this loss is one of my hardest. I know that I am not alone in this struggle. I reach out to fellow readers to recognize and possibly resonate with me. Thank you to all my readers and supporters during this transition.

Yours truly,
A.N.T.

From this day forward

 I will always ask myself:

"What would Martha say or do in this situation?"

Weight Standards

I'm 34 years old. I started my recovery from an Eating Disorder (E.D.) in the year of 2002. Practically 14 years later that same monster, called a scale, still affects me. No matter what number I am, I always feel triggered by getting on that "monster." It's an evil vortex in my mind.

Recently, I went to my Primary Care Provider (PCP) to get an annual physical. I always "face out" when I get one the scale so, I never know "the number." Despite "facing out." I never feel the same for the week. There are so many times I dictate my self-worth by a number. "Am I too fat? Am I not 'anorexic' enough? Maybe I'm not sick enough?" The mental demons succumb my mind and consume my everyday life. It's a cycle that is not easily broken.

I have to step back and ask myself, is there a magical number that I would be happy with at all? When I was my lowest of weight, I was not thin enough. When I am at my healthiest of weights, I am too fat. The answer is no! There is never a perfect number on the scale to E.D.!!! So, why is it that I self-consume myself around a number on a scale? Why is it that I dedicate my everyday thoughts for the week around the number I am? Maybe it's easier to focus on a number than to focus on the realities of everyday life. It's the struggle between reality and a number on the scale that keeps me feeling secure. I find solace in focusing on "how fat I am" rather than facing the woes of everyday life. I can wish to change my thoughts or do something about it such as reality checks. One technique I find helpful to me is:

STOP AND STEP BACK

DON'T ACT IMMEDIATELY or AUTOMATICALLY

PAUSE...

TAKE A BREATH
NOTICE YOUR BREATHE AS YOU BREATHE IN AND OUT

PICTURE THE STOP SIGN!

May we all find solace in our own bodies today!

-A.N.T.

Overwhelming feelings

If life was only this easy:

Happy Thanksgiving Everybody :)

-A.N.T.

Addiction

     Beads of sweat drip down my face. My blood is pumping a mile a minute. The adrenaline is flooding my veins while the wind is flying through my strands of hair. My legs are flying practically off the ground as the sound of the gun lurks in the distance. I speed around the white-striped, black tar as I finish the race in first place. As always, I feel I could have done better; gone faster. In the end, it was that drive that kept me pushing through life.

     It became my drug, running. The surge of adrenaline I felt, the utter numbness through life morphed my teenage life. Nothing can explain the feeling of control I felt when I ran. The emotions in life that I encountered, the faster I ran. I adapted to expressing my emotions through the ability to run. I felt untouchable. The fastest rocket through the streets of my youth. The utter high I felt when I raced through the streets and around the track was seductively deadly. I had felt like I was in control of my life. Running became my inner journal, as my mind whirled with thoughts as I ran.

     I can remember in the darker days of running that it became my drug. Every waking hour was spent wondering when I could get my next fix, run that is. I became self-consumed with being faster and better. I was at the peak of my running and wanted to go to college to run. My educational dreams fell at the waste side as I sought out the ability to continue to run in college. I was slowly killing myself to my dismay. A "healthy" outlet for me developed into a dangerous, deadly web of deceit.

     Food and running became an unhealthy relationship. The less I ate, the faster I thought I could run. Food was fat not fuel to me. The sheer terror of eating became stronger and stronger. I did not allow myself nourishment. In order to justify eating, I had to make sure and run that day. It became a deadly cycle to my mind, body, and soul. I was an exception to all the rules. I felt I did not deserve food, nor could justify eating without some sort of reward, such as running. I felt even in more control when I was barely eating and running. I was "high on life" during the beginning years of my seductive cycle. I felt more in control than ever, despite the reality that I was slowly killing myself. All I wanted to do was run and feel free. The false sense of control I felt, was in reality, out of control.

     The cycle continued into my twenties. I was "fooling" everyone, so I thought. I felt untouchable. All I thought about was running and "how fat I was." I did not let anything bother me. I was numbed out to reality. I was running from my past, zooming though my present, and seductively destroying my future life. In the beginning, I felt on top of the world. As I continued living this seductive cycle, I became more brittle and fragile, the opposite effect I was trying to achieve. I was addicted to running and restricting food. I became more and more tired. I was weak. The opposite effect I was trying to achieve in life.

     My downward spiral was out of control, but I was hooked. When I entered that revolving door in 2002 with my struggle with an eating disorder, I never thought that running would play a role with my eating disorder. What I thought was a "healthy outlet" was actually a deadly drug in my life. Despite all the professionals' advice, it took several self-realizations to hang-up my running shoes, but I finally did.

     Now, I realize that running was like a drug to me. I can't just dabble in running just a little bit. I find that a leisure jog, turns into a seductive cycle within my innerself. I realize that I don't need to run to justify eating. I find other pleasures that are healthy to help me cope in life.  I enjoy the simple pleasures in life more than ever. I cherish, respect, and nourish my body. It's that same drive that I used for running, I apply to my everyday life.

"Every day I tell myself that I am worthy of food to fuel and nourish my body."

Yours Truly,
A.N.T.

   

   

Suicide Prevention

     I remember it like it was only yesterday. I hit my alarm on my night stand. I prepare for a new day but the dark cloud lurks over me. I'm in a state of shock where my limbs seem to not want to move. The pit in my stomach has developed into a deep despair. My mind has spun out of control and now I am numbed out to reality. I feel like a helpless fly stuck in a spider's web. I am struggling to survive. I just want it all to end. I want the pain and suffering to go away. I want to wake up tomorrow, and feel like I was given the choice to live my present day life not my past. I search for the light, I reach for the phone but the strength to dial for help slips my fingers. I am left with a choice; a choice to live or to die?

     I have struggled endless times with not just an eating disorder but also depression. It feels like a deep despair lurking in my inner soul. In recent news, the media has covered the success of a recent actor, Robin Williams. To my dismay, we lost a great person to mental illness. I want to celebrate his life, but I feel the urge to do differently. I want to bring awareness to the severity, the pain, the ultimate loss of life among others and oneself to any form of mental illness, especially depression.

     Suicide holds a certain stigma and several different reactions arise among society. Sometimes it's anger we feel. Sometimes it's the thought of utter selfishness that lingers over our head. Either way, the fact of the matter is suicide and depression are real, serious issues. On one side, I want to mourn a death of a great person that gave the world such joy and humor. On the other side, I also want to bring awareness to mental illness. You or someone you may know, may struggle with great despair and a sense of hopelessness. I can only offer how and what worked for me in times of hopelessness.

     An important piece of depression, is sometimes there are blatant signs that one is struggling in life. However, more times than none, suicide can be a silent killer within oneself. I am the type that is the silent killer; the clown with the tears falling down one's cheeks. Silently, I struggled with deep despair and a sense of loss of hope throughout life. However, I learned how to seek help when I was in my darkest of dark days. I often found helpfulness in a consistent medication regimen, having a treatment team, and knowing where to turn for help. I knew my local hospital had a "safe zone" to go too where I could sit and just be. I wouldn't have to answer any questions. I had a list of five numbers of people that served as my emergency contacts... friends, family, therapist, etc. I knew local anonymous hotlines to call when I was struggling. I found that I was not alone and had to trust those dear to me.

     Don't get me wrong, it took courage and hope to get help. In the darkest of moments you can feel so alone when you truly are not alone. Once, I started to be true to my struggles, I realized I was not alone. Yes, it took plenty of admissions into hospitals. I often felt like it was all a never-ending "revolving door" at times. I often asked myself when would it all end, the struggle. Yes. It took several ups and down and lots of treatment, but I just always remembered that I would not lose HOPE in myself.

Whether you are a public figure or a private person, we all can bring awareness to the struggle.

If you or a loved one needs an anonymous hotline, Please Call:

National Suicide Prevention Hotline:
1-800-273-8255

-A.N.T.

Life of a Caterpillar!

     I can remember life as a vulnerable, little, hopeless girl so easily. The memories flood my brain like it was yesterday, keeping me stuck in a cocoon. However, the past memories can be so foggy at times too. The pain and suffering was carried with me throughout my daily life. The feeling of hopelessness and deep despair took over my body. I was a caterpillar at the time. I was losing hope; afraid of becoming a butterfly.

     I never wanted to die or end my life forever. But there were dark times that I wanted to numb out till defeat. An Eating Disorder (E.D.) was no longer providing the numbness that I tried so hard to console myself with in life. I was searching for relief in all the wrong places. It seemed easier to run away from the reality of all the truths. I was afraid, afraid of becoming a butterfly.

"It takes a million steps to reach failure, but only one-step forward to start to succeed." -A.N.T.

Stick-it to the Man!?!?!

    Today, I wake-up next to my beautiful, wonderful girlfriend that has taught me what true love means in the world of life. Everyday, I thank my lucky stars for the gift of love and life that I have been granted. But as the day progresses, our days part. She's off to work now and I'm left alone to my brain. I find myself thinking a lot about my past, future, and present. I'm left to the challenge. In the past, I have looked through a sliver of light. I thought I knew what life and love meant in the world. I was wrong. I am learning that I have to face the present day life as it comes surging forward in front of me. I feel helpless at times and find the urge to turn towards E.D. (Eating Disorder) to find solace.

     A wise person recently just told me, "things come to those that deserve the things that they have done. What goes around comes around." As my mind races, I think long and hard of my vulnerabilities and the passive approach to life I've took in the past. I've learned the hard way. I've learned to live life to it's fullest and to accept what has happened to me with a grain of salt at times. I've learned that the endless cycle of endless hope provided by E.D. will get me know where but deeper into the dark hole of life. It's a seductive cycle that ends not in happiness, but death (statistics). If solace is what I seek, then I look right in front of me among the gift of life and love from others.

     Even though things had seemed unattainable, things began to become attainable to me again. The fear of moving above and beyond to the unknown kept me stuck in a rut. Now, I am trudging through so much since last year at this time. Thus far, I have amazed myself. I feel and look healthier as a woman. For starters, E.D. doesn't rule my life everyday. I've learned to love myself unconditionally and accept where I am at in life at this very moment. I've learned how to pick myself up after hitting rock bottom from deceit, lies, and suffering. I've learned how to say, "NO" and be okay with my decisions. I've learned how to turn my finances around and discover what true-love truly means. I've learned to listen and trust in myself more and more everyday. I am finding solace in life without E.D.

-A.N.T.