Hasta La Vista, BABY!

I'm Goin' to California

Gonna Live the Life

Sippin' on...

Well, if you've ever heard that song by Wave you will know that it isn't exactly my style to finish the lyrics...there may be some drinking of wine, but I will certainly not be sippin' on tequila night after night.

What I WILL be doing is having fun, fun, fun. It has been a long time since I have kicked back and allowed myself to relax. A long time since I have gone somewhere warm. A long time since I have gone to California. Almost two years, actually. While I am SUPER duper excited to go, there is that little part of me that remembers how it all began in L.A. The insecurity, the self-awareness, the feeling of inadequacy. But I am determined, absolutely set on, not allowing those feelings to rent even the tiniest amount of space in my holistic being. No insecurity, no fear. I'm not totally unaware of the fact that I am human, and we all have struggles. But this time I am stronger and in charge of the way I react to my surroundings.

So my friends, so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye.

Peace out YO!

~C~

Sleep On It

It wasn't too long ago when I sat down and wrote a post about having nowhere to live in May. In fact, it was only a week ago, and honestly, I figured it would be weeks, not days, before I found a perfect little place in which to dwell. But I have found it. Thanks to a very, very lovely friend of mine, I will not be homeless. It is everything I hoped for: clean, quiet, safe, and affordable. When I went to view the suite on Sunday I was totally ready to snap it up and sign some papers, but my friend gently suggested that I take at least a few days and sleep on it. She is brilliant that way; always making sure that well-being comes first. I took her advice and I slept on it. Not only did the last two days reinforce my desire to live in the new suite, but it also gave me time to really think on the ways I have been provided for. And I am so, so, so very grateful.

Wanna know the best part? There is a tiny little garden. And it's all mine. I said to my friend, "I have never had land before". And she told me, "Christina, this is your land".

Try telling me God isn't good. : )

~C~

Somebody To Love

It doesn’t seem to matter what kind of mood I am in. Happy or sad, tired or energetic...there is just something about the song Somebody To Love (by Queen) that makes me want to sing and dance.

The lyrics are very interesting. "Can anybody find me somebody to love?" I know that love is a many splendid thing, and love lifts us up where we belong, and all we need is love. But I think sometimes we spend too much time and energy focusing on a certain kind of love that we miss out on other ways to love.

Maybe this sounds generic and too simple, but I miss the feeling of loving people just for the sake of loving them. I want to dance with babies and hug my best friend. I want to listen to the tales of old folks and draw on the sidewalk with the neighbourhood kids. I want to make eye contact with and greet every person I walk past at Mill Lake. I want to be kinder to the people who work at Starbucks. I want to volunteer somewhere and I want to write a letter to an old friend. I want to bake cookies for someone who is feeling down and hand out more encouragement cards. I want to be more generous with my love and less selfish with my time. I want to be known as a lover. As a giver. As a friend.

Can anybody find me somebody to love...

As you can see, friends, love is all around. Love is all you need.

Love IS a many splendid thing.

Je t'aime, mon ami...je t'aime.

~C~

Honesty

I am super inspired right now. Usually I think of myself as fairly honest, especially in the past few years. Sometimes I make up some really good tall tales, though...I smile to myself as I remember the day I convinced my coworkers that one of the Russian figure skaters was mowed down in the ARC parking lot by the other pre-school teacher and couldn't compete in the winter games. Sometimes, just sometimes, you really can't believe what I say. But when it comes to real lying, life becomes really, really tricky. I have had my share of complicated lies surrounding my eating disorder, but part of giving that up has involved me learning to be honest in all areas of my life. But this week I was totally caught off guard by a friend of mine and have learned a valuable lesson about the truth.

(as usual, names have been changed)

I went out for coffee with Mariah and her cute little kids this week. We met at McDonald's and let the little ones play while we visited and caught up. It was great to see her. Once the kids started to wind down, she packed them up and we said goodbye and went our own ways. The next morning I got an early phone call. Mariah was on the other end and sounded very upset. Naturally my first thought was that one of the kids was sick or hurt or that there was an emergency. So my heart started pounding. But once she started talking I started to smile...She was apologizing from the bottom of her heart for something she had said the day before that wasn't quite honest. To me it wasn't a big deal what she had said. It doesn't even matter what it was exactly. But I was totally, 100% touched by her apology and the fact that she was asking forgiveness from me for the sake of moral and good conscience. It reminded me of a time when we didn't know what lying was. We were only 1 or 2 years old at the time, but we only knew how to tell the truth. How refreshing, relieving, and simple life must have been, hey? It seems so pure to me.

For the record, Mariah was beyond "forgiven". I put that word in quotation marks because it wasn't necessary in my opinion, but for her, saying sorry was something she just needed to do in order to sleep well. She isn't a child, but she has the heart of one; she wants to be pure and real and would never want to hurt somebody. That is beautiful. Totally inspiring and challenging.

I know I have already committed to you guys to always be honest when you ask me how I am, but I am going to take it a step further and be as honest as possible as a new challenge. And I challenge you to do the same. It will be hard work, but maybe one day it will come naturally. I can't promise to stop telling tall tales though. You guys like it, anyways. Keeps things interesting, right?! ; )

Have a wonderful week everybody. Hope you're feeling cozy warm amongst the pouring rain that has drenched BC today.

~C~

No Arms, No Legs, No Worries

"Every single girl right here, right now, I want you to know that You Are Beautiful. You are Gorgeous just the way you are. And you boys, You ‘Da Man!"

Meet Nick Vujicic.

Doesn't he just make you want to hug someone?

~C~

The On-Set of a Set-Back

I can't say that my life has been overly stressful these last few months. Sure, we all hit those jolting bumps in the road that make us want to quit this game called life and run away, but on a stress scale from 1-10, I would say I have been averaging 2-6. (For the record, spring break tipped the scales). I know I am fortunate.

I've talked a bit about how boredom and loneliness have, in the past, triggered my need to control what I eat, when I eat it, and if I keep it down. One more thing, though? S.T.R.E.S.S. Big Time. I could probably eat a house or a horse on those days where stress hormones invade my blood stream.

Here is what is going to happen in my life in the next 5 weeks: First, I will need to wrap up the Summer 2010 planning I have been doing for the past month as a specialty camp coordinator for the City of Abbotsford. This needs to be signed and sealed by Friday. Then I will work all weekend. Then I will leave for California (!) next week and RELAX! Then I will come back to B.C., pack up my precious, beloved home, bid Tanya goodbye and move out. Where? I haven't got my ducks in a row yet, but things are working out so far and I have a couple leads.

The fact that I don't know where I am going to live is something that would have pushed me over the edge at any point in the past few years. I am a planner, and I like life to be organized and predictable. When I face challenges, such as putting my trust and faith into something that I can't see, you could say that some internal freaking out occurs. I like to pretend that I am calm and have everything under control, but the pounding head aches and sleepless night attest to the opposite.

Bulimia is a very manipulative, controlling disorder, and I used to rely on it as a coping mechanism to get me through stressful times. So what does the new-and-improved Christina do for the next 5 weeks as I search for a safe, clean and quiet home in which to dwell? Well, I will keep focused on the positive things in life. I will smile often and listen to my summer playlist on iTunes. I will get plenty of sleep and make quiet time a priority. Instead of binging, I will go to the market and choose the brightest, juiciest, most colourful fruit and go crazy eating it. Instead of throwing up I will continue training to run further, faster, and harder. And lastly, instead of just plain old worrying, I will exercise blind faith and anticipate the story this will turn into. Because the bottom line is, I won't be homeless.

I'm not one to be doling out advice on trust and stress, but it would be kind of cool if we could all try letting go of something in our lives that is weighing us down. I don't know what that would look like for you, but for me it is learning that worry is useless and wasteful in times like these.

My fellow British Columbians...how GREAT was the 2o degree weather today? Now that in itself is something to smile about! Summer is just around the bend, my friends!

~C~

The New 'Do

Because it was time for a change...

Because I needed a pick-me-up...

Because I earned it...

I. Am. In. Love.

~C~

The Heart of the Matter

I was so unique

Now I feel skin deep

I count on the make-up to cover it all

Crying myself to sleep cause I cannot keep their attention

I thought I could be strong

But it's killing me

Does someone hear my cry?

I'm dying for new life

I want to be beautiful

Make you stand in awe

Look inside my heart,

and be amazed

I want to hear you say

Who I am is quite enough

Just want to be worthy of love

And beautiful

Sometimes I wish I was someone other than me

Fighting to make the mirror happy

Trying to find whatever is missing

Won't you help me back to glory

You make me beautiful

You make me stand in awe

You step inside my heart, and I am amazed

I love to hear You say

Who I am is quite enough

You make me worthy of love and beautiful

It’s unusual to begin a post with song lyrics, but I didn’t know where else to start. Because this song (by Bethany Dillon) pretty much sums up the heart of the matter in my life. Yes, there are deeply rooted issues that have played a role in my eating disorder, but when it comes down to it, don’t we all just want to be beautiful?

It was nice to be so confident in myself for all those years. To leave the house wearing overalls at 16 years old with a purple shirt underneath and hair that hadn’t been flat-ironed to death was sweet bliss. I don’t really know when it was when I first felt ugly, but it sure left an impression. Maybe it was the fact that as we all started to grow up, I realized more and more that my average looking girl friends were starting to grow into these beautiful, radiant, self-sufficient women. And perhaps the same was happening within me, but I couldn’t see that. All I could see was the super models I was going out for coffee with.

From 2004 on I started spending a lot of time in California, and that in itself played quite a role in my self-esteem. The O.C.? It isn’t a joke! It’s real! Barbie and Ken exist in the flesh. They are everywhere. I would look in the mirror in some bathroom on Laguna Beach and I wouldn’t even see Skipper. Or Stacey. Or Kelly. I just saw...someone that I didn’t like.

I went through an incredibly awkward stage where I began experimenting with fashion. Most girls go through this somewhere between 11 and 14, but I was a 19 year old without a clue. It wasn’t pretty. I guess today I am still kind of clueless, but I would like to think that I have settled into my style. I like the Gap and Joe, and I like leaving the house looking clean and tidy. I always know that it is time to pick up the slack on my appearance when people start asking me if I am feeling okay!

We all want to be beautiful, right? And I think we all go through different methods to get there. Some of us spend lots of money on make-up and hair products. Some of buy fancy clothes and jewelry. Some of us start throwing up in order to lose weight. Some of us stop eating all together. Other than hurting yourself or others to look good, I think it is pretty normal and can be respectable to want to be your best.

It’s no secret that beauty comes from within. For all the hard work and sweat and tears (literally) that we put into looking beautiful, it would probably be a good idea to start working on the inside, too. Maybe if we all forgave a little more, laughed a little harder, sang a little louder, and thought a little deeper we could all begin to shine.

Here is to a bright and beautiful week, my friends. : )

~C~

The Dream

When I woke up this morning I was overwhelmed by the urge to pray. Sadly, this hasn't been happening a whole lot in my life lately. I used to so easily hand all of my fears and worries, heart-aches and happiness, stories and requests to God. He's like a Dad to me. Dad and King, all wrapped into one! But for the last few...I don't know, months maybe, I have been trying to make it on my own.

But we did have a nice chat, God and I, this morning. For some reason, while lying there in my bed, I put one hand out in front of me, and with the other I just started pretending to put things into it. My money troubles. My new apartment (which I have yet to find). My loneliness. My family. Everything that has been bothering me lately, really. And after this little weird little game that I was playing, I opened my hand that "contained all my worries" and I took a deep breath and blew. It was kind of special. I gave them to God.

When I came out of my room I sat in my special chair where I usually post blogs from. It is the chair right beside my bookcase, the one that contains those volumes of journals I have mentioned. I began, once again, leafing through them, looking for something special to share with you guys this morning. Sometimes reading them is too hard, not because of any horror but because of unspeakable joy that I have experienced in my life. Sometimes, when it is March and you are tired and lonely, going back to those moments of happiness is really hard.

I did come across something that I want to share with you. It is me writing out a dream I had in 2005. Yes, it is a bit cheesy, but I am going to stand up for it by saying that it was very real to me. The "she" is me...

She is waiting to begin her decent, and she can see her strength in the distance.

One last look around her, and she takes in the salt air, sees the crystal blue water,

the faded and distant hills...is she ready to let go?

Her eyes fill with tears and she starts to run.

Runs with everything that she is.

Cold tears streak her face as her hair whips wildly around her, caught in a powerful wind.

Her creator waits with arms wide open.

He is beaming and radiant...his little girl is coming home.

A sob catches in his throat when he sees her desperation.

He never wanted her to hurt this bad.

She knows with all her heart that he can take it from her.

That he will take it from her.

She expects him to lift her, expects his great strength to sweep her off her feet.

Instead, he drops to his knees as she falls into his arms,

weary, exhausted, and saved.

She knows now, no matter what, he will always be there

to catch her when she falls.

I honestly don't know why it is I felt the urge to write that out this morning. I am usually pretty aware of being too preachy, and I don't like coming across to people as religious, but preferably as someone with a relationship with God. It's just that on this Sunday morning I wanted to return to something that used to mean a lot to me.

Thanks for listening once again, and forgive me if I have done too much talking here this morning. I know we don't all believe in God, or at least in the same God, but it's kind of nice to have someone to talk to when you are all alone.

~C~

Follow-Up

So, I didn't tell her. I honestly thought I would. But it just didn't come up, and didn't even have a chance to. I got to the doctors office slightly late, which isn't like me, because I was chatting with my boss and lost track of the time. By the time I got there, I guess I had kind of missed my appointment and the receptionist had put someone else ahead of me (fair enough!). While I waited for my turn, I played the brick breaker ping pong-ish game on my blackberry and contemplated how calm I was. Finally they called my name, and off I went to a little room. Then I met my new doctor. She seemed all business at first, a character trait I have never been totally comfortable with (being the emotionally-ruled person that I am), but once I opened up and started talking to her she seemed to adapt quickly to my needs. Somewhere in my head I was aware of the fact that I should bring up the bulimia, but what basically happened in my allotted 20 minutes is that we had to sort through my health issues and make a game plan. She gave me a new prescription for my inhaler (one with steroids---yikes!) and antibiotics because apparently my head aches, "hot flashes" (fevers) and phlegmy coughing (sorry, too many details!) are due to a lung infection. Then she ordered blood work, an x-ray, and a respiratory test at ARH. Then she said goodbye, that it was nice to meet me, and told me to make an appointment for next Thursday.

So....maybe next week? I'm not worried. It will come up in due time.

Going to the doctor isn't the nerve-wracking experience it once was. I found comfort rather than alarm in her gentle concern, and I am happy that there are such bright people out there who know how to care for us!

Thanks, Doc!

~C~

What's Up, Doc?

Tomorrow I have to go to the doctor. It is a doctor/patient consultation with a brand new doctor here in Abbotsford. I haven't been able to find a family physician since my paediatrician (MD) retired 3 years ago. It's been walk in clinics all the way for me, baby. And it's just not cutting it anymore.

I don't have any life-threatening health issues, but I have had some problems in the past few years including an auto-immune disorder and some lung restrictions. It isn't fun, and it isn't very effective to be seeing different clinic doctors every few months who have no idea who you are. I am excited to be going in for some testing and hoping to get to the bottom of some questions I have been having.

Here's the thing, though. My mom and I were chatting on Sunday night, and she really thinks I need to tell the new doctor about my past struggle with bulimia. For me, that is really scary. I can tell you guys, sure, but to tell a professional is a different story. I am so worried that she is going to look at me like I belong in the looney bin, or like I am not strong. And one day if I need a doctors note to travel or be part of some organization, I don't want her to say that I have psychological issues and need to be monitored or something. I know it's a long shot since I have been in the healing process for some time now, but it is still a scary thought.

On the other hand, bulimia isn't funny and it isn't healthy and who knows what kind of unseen damages I have caused my body. It makes me sad, really. Sometimes I look in the mirror and have to apologize for the ways I have hurt myself.

In the end, I will probably mention it to her. She has hopefully been trained to be somewhat sympathetic and won't judge me, but it is still pretty hard. So stay tuned; I will let you know what my decision was and how the kind doctor handled it!

~C~

Lean On Me

I would like to recognize some incredible women in my life who have shown great courage, bravery, and strength in the months since I have opened this blog. Women who, in their own words and their own ways, have opened up about their struggles with bulimia or other related eating disorders. It doesn’t matter what details are encased in each story; the struggle they face, and have faced, is enough to bring me to tears. I am broken for each one, although I feel hope and excitement for the road ahead. For all of us.

It’s no secret that eating disorders are fairly taboo in our society, which is crazy considering how many people struggle to have a healthy relationship with food. Sure, there are other things that no one wants to talk about, but I would sure like to see the veil lifted and people more open to talk about bulimia and anorexia. I have had some recent conversations with people who start out brave and are able to use the word ‘bulimic’, but as soon as it comes to the throwing up part, it is usually referred to as “that”. As in, “Yeah, I knew someone who did that”. I don’t know why this is, but I really, really hope it changes. At least in the circles I run in. Let’s just be open!

Anyways, back to these women. If I was gonna pay individual tribute to each one of them, I would change their names (for privacy sake!) to Brave, Adored, Cherished, Beautiful, Lovely, and Wonderful. It has been amazing to realize this support system exists; one where I can be honest and have someone be equally (or even more so) honest back. It’s not to discredit my family and friends who talk to me about my struggles at all, but there is something so sincere about talking to others who know the ins and outs of having an eating disorder who really, truly “get” what you are going through. I am so grateful. And for the record, I don’t just appreciate the stories about eating disorders. Many of you have shared stories about other struggles you have faced, and each one has humbled me and been locked away in my heart. I often draw on the strength of you guys; you faithful readers who have blessed my socks off.

So I say, keep the stories coming, you guys! If you’re on facebook, feel free to email. And if not, we can connect through the ‘comments’ page. This is an incredibly cheesy way to wrap up a post, but since you know me so well, I am going to go for it anyways. Cheese should have been my middle name!

Sometimes in our lives we all have pain

We all have sorrow

But if we are wise

We know that there's always tomorrow

Lean on me, when you're not strong

And I'll be your friend

I'll help you carry on

For it won't be long

'Til I'm gonna need

Somebody to lean on

~C~

Consequences

I used to really, really fear God. And my parents. And my teachers. And my leaders. And it is because for most of my life, I did not understand the difference between consequences and punishment. Up until a few years ago, I thought they were the same thing. You do something wrong, you get punished. I was frequently grounded as a teenager for the usual kid stuff; the breaking curfew and having a bad attitude kind of thing, and I do believe that getting grounded is a punishment. However, getting charged interest on a credit card you never pay off is not exactly a punishment at that point; it becomes a consequence. For the last few years as I have dug a little deeper into my psyche, I have come to learn that I don’t like consequence OR punishment. And who can blame me? I bet you don’t either.

My housemate is a pretty neat girl. I am really, really blessed to have lived with her for the past 24 months. In all our time living together and being friends, we have only had one “fight”. And it wasn’t even a fight. It was her disagreeing with me. To make a long story short, I had made plans with my Lama for the following day, and my Lama kind of bailed. I am sure she had a good reason, like gardening or pressure washing or something, but I took it personally and was really bummed. Tanya had overheard my conversation and came into my room after and asked me what was wrong. When I told her Lama bailed on me, she reminded me that I had kind of bailed on someone that very night. That was pretty embarrassing. It opened this whole can of worms, and my housemate proceeded to remind me of all the times I start something and don’t finish or duck out of consequences. I was kind of mad at her, but the wheels started turning.

Later that week I was visiting a couple in my church who are very, very dear to me. They have walked me through some yucky things in life and know me quite well, so I asked them if what my housemate said about me is accurate. They said...yes.

I have come to learn that bulimics are often like this; we are experts at avoiding consequences and punishment. Here is a good example: We indulge ourselves, overeat, and soon after become fearful of becoming fat. Instead of accepting that, we throw up to avoid the weight-gain, therefore avoiding the consequence. And since we are also afraid of punishment, we hide our behavior from others. It is a horrible, unsettling, tricky cycle.

When I first started blogging I mentioned freedom a few times. I know this sounds weird, but it has been so wonderful learning how to accept consequences these past few months. Realizing that I can forgive myself for making mistakes instead of frantically trying to “undo” them is such a relief. I am not scared of cheese cake anymore. Or popcorn. This freedom has even followed me into the workplace, and if my boss asks to speaks to me, I am not scared anymore of getting fired. I have learned that making mistakes makes me human, and with certain choices comes consequence. But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I am beginning to see that we cannot grow without being corrected sometimes, and I am just grateful that I have people in my life who care enough about me to help me break out of the cocoon I spent years building. I am learning to fly.

~C~

Enough

When I thought about what I wanted to write this week, the question "Who Am I?" came up. I would have liked to make that the title of this post, but I just couldn't do it.

It is a question I have always struggled with. There is no obvious way to answer it, yet there are millions and trillions of options and opinions. In the fall I was taking advantage of the free counselling services at my university, and after a few weeks of getting some good, solid advice from "Hillary" pertaining to my future plans and my current life in general, we tackled some deeper issues. Hillary can see right through my "I've Got This All Figured Out" act, and she recognizes that really, I am an over-achiever and afraid to fail. She asked me some hard questions. Questions no one has ever really asked me before. It was hard work to think about some of the things we talked about, and eventually I got kind of frustrated. She would ask me things about how I deal with anger and how I saw myself in certain situations and what I would say to a certain person had they been sitting in the room with us. And I usually drifted in the direction of sugar-coating my answers, until Hillary would pull me back and remind me that there was no danger of being "in trouble" for being real.

One day I came armed with a question of my own. To me it was a totally valid question, but it was the only thing I ever asked Hillary that she didn't know how to answer. When I had taken off my coat and settled in she asked me what was on my mind, and I said, "Hillary, if I could ask God one question today and have it be answered totally audibly with no hidden meaning or parables or indirect wisdom, I would want to be told exactly who I am". I sat back, crossed my arms, and waited for the brilliance to come pouring out of her mouth. But it didn't. She looked at me quietly, her steaming cup of lemon tea between us, the soft light from her lamp brightening her eyes, and she very gently replied, "Why do you feel that is so important to you to know?". I was kind of shocked. All I wanted here was some way to get my wish. I guess it isn't that simple though.

She sent me on my way an hour later with a lined piece of paper that was blank all but for the words, "Why do I need to know who I am?". And this is what I wrote:

Because I am used to believing in who I am not. (like fat, ugly, childish, etc..)

Because I want to accept myself for who I am.

If someone asked you, "Who is Christina Marand", some of you would say I am your friend. Some would say I am that girl who works with the kids at ARC. Some would say I am nice. Or sweet. Or funny. A few of you out there would tell them I am your sister. Two of you would say I am your aunt. Some would say I am a child of God. Or a princess. Or a drama queen.

Albert Einstein once said, "I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination". But really, I just like the part that says, "I am enough". I will continue to accept myself for who I am. I will continue to love me for me.

During my time in South Africa, I lived in the province in which Nelson Mandela was arrested for being an anti-apartheid activist. The province is called Kwa'Zulu Natal, and he was arrested in the Midland Meander, which was close to 30 minutes from my home. Not only did I visit the place where he was arrested, but I also worked in a school called Gateway Christian Academy, which was formerly the jail that Mandela was taken to following his arrest. I became a bit fascinated by the heart and soul of this brave man. I wanted to share that bit of background with you before I share one of his masterpieces. It is a quote that causes a paradigm shift in me each time I read it. It calms, if even for a moment, the "who I am" storm that wells up in me. So without further ado...

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you.

We are all meant to shine, as children do.

We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

*Bold print mine

Enjoy the rest of your week, everyone. : )

~C~

Mama and Lama

This is a giant shout-out to the two ladies who raised me and the troops pretty much single-handidly. Some people might think that if you have an eating disorder something traumatic must happened to you. Like, if you are that insecure then obviously you are a victim of child-abuse. Just sayin' here, that so isn't the case. Yes, we all have had our share of suffering, and yes some horrible things do go on in this world that we just have to deal with, but I firmly believe those things make us stronger and more empathetic. Case closed.

Mama and Lama were the ones who tucked us in at night, made millions of PB+J sandwiches on white (no crust), and sat on a bench and watched over us protectively as we played at the park. They braided hair and sewed us matching outfits (haha) and came to our school plays and watched endless Disney movies on Friday nights. They stayed up late on Christmas eve to make sure we were convinced St. Nicholas had come. They gave up holidays to take us camping and saved their pennies to buy us a bike for our 10th birthdays. They got to know our friends and treated them with respect. They gave us their change so we could go to K-Mart and buy Polly Pockets and Hot Wheels, they washed our clothes and made sure there were no germs in the bathroom. Mama and Lama picked us up when we fell, put band aids on our knees, and hugged us till the pain went away. They played house. They cut out baby dolls from cardboard and gave us their Mother's Day chocolate. They bought us gifts on each others birthdays so we would feel special, too. They wrote out heartfelt cards to their babies who had absolutely no reading comprehension, just so one day we might look back at those cards and smile. They gave us nicknames and helped shape our personalities. They paid for braces and choir fees and piano lessons and hot lunches. They allowed us to pick out our own clothes (albeit rolling their eyes). They supported our dreams and wishes and hopes and fears. And you know I am not just talkin' about my Mama and Lama, here, right? You know I am talkin' about yours, too. Or perhaps it is your Papa, or Granddad or Auntie or Uncle.

I wanted to acknowledge my parents today, the women who raised me. It probably kills them to know I struggled with something so badly for so long, and I am deeply sorry if they feel any blame. It is completely the opposite. They have done nothing but make me a stronger, healthier, more beautiful person. I am their kin. I am their daughter. And one day, should God bless me with a tiny baby girl of my own, I will love her through her issues, too. Just like Mama and Lama have done for me.

I've got money in my pocket.

I like the colour of my hair.

I've got a friend who loves me.

Got a house, I've got a car.

I've got a good mother, and her voice is what keeps me here.

Feet on ground, heart in hand.

Facing forward. Be yourself.

~C~