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 Wonder Years

It would be far too easy to say that adolescence is complicated, would it not? So instead I will say that MY adolescence was rather...confusing. You could probably have called me naive to a lot of things going on around me, but I really feel as though that wasnt exactly true: Just because I wasnt engaging in certain stereotypical behaviors didnt mean I didnt 'get it'. I have always been the mother; the one taking care of intoxicated friends, the one keeping people company in the smoke pit, the one passing out tissues to poor girls who got dumped by their lame boyfriends. All that to say, I played that mother role to a very, very dear friend of mine who we shall call Samantha. She was (IS) so beautiful, and as cliche as this sounds, her beauty always came from within and radiated to everyone she met. When we were in our mid-teens (heaven help that age group!) Samantha began to change...she stopped talking as much and starting acting as though she had a secret. It wasnt long before Samantha began to lose weight...rapidly. And people, I am telling you: She did not need to. Sam would eat what she liked and laugh along with the rest of us at the movies while holding her popcorn and candy, and she seemed hungry a lot. It wasnt long before Samantha came to me with her secret. She was bulimic. Sure, I was in that peer mentoring club thingy and should have seen the signs, but this was pretty big news for me. I was scared. I thought that she was going to die. She agreed to see a school counselor as long as I came along, but that didnt seem to help. One day we were hanging out at my house and for whatever reason we were in the bathroom together and I actually stood there and watched her make herself throw up. I will come back to this moment shortly.

Samantha eventually seemed to 'grow out' of this phase in her life, and she moved on after highschool to pursue some pretty awesome adventures. We have had far too few follow-up talks her (our) struggle.

So while all this was going on in Sam's life, I think I was kind of the opposite about my body image...I couldnt care less what I ate, what I wore, and what I looked like. I specifically remember being lectured about the nutritional value of slushies after years of believing that since they were liquid, they were calorie-free. Oh, one could only hope! I went to McDonalds as often as possible. I was Oriville Redenbachers #1 fan, keeping the microwave popcorn industry alive. It never really occured to me to be anything but carefree. YES, I had those freak-out-in-Mariposa moments when I couldnt find clothes that I liked. I was your average teen with braces and social problems. But once I graduated from highschool and moved into my late teens and early twenties, I truly felt as though I had made it through, scotch-free, on the whole eating-disorder front.

It was September, 2004. That is my earliest memory of this disease. I dont remember the first time. I dont remember why. I just know that I stuck my fingers down my throat and...well, you know. What I wouldnt give for a record of my statistics of that moment: what was my emotional stance? what were the surrounding circumstances? did I cry? where was I? did I grasp the concept that I would battle for many years to come? I dont want this information as a way to torture myself. I want it because for years I have been searching for answers. And there is STILL a missing link to this puzzel that I have yet to find. All I know is that one day I was fairly confident in who I was, and the next I was not. Can anybody else relate to that?

Coming back to Samantha and watching her throw up...I can tell you that I was absolutely broken in that moment. I felt helpless. I felt weak. I felt sad. I felt scared. I would have given anything to have her stop. To have her be whole again.

August 18th, 2009. Remember this date. That was the last day I will ever, ever, EVER force myself to throw up again for the rest of my life. Because in that moment I had a vision of standing there watching Samantha break...only this time it was me. I am not helpless. I am not weak. I am not sad. I am not scared. And I HAVE given anything to have ME stop. And I am on my way to being whole again.

~C~