The Final Word

I wrote this poem shortly after I finished my first read of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows 10 years ago today. I think it still very much encompasses my feelings about all that Jo has given to me and to all of us. I am so grateful to have had Harry in my life as I grew up, and to have that magic in my life still. 

The Final Word 

Dear Jo, 

You caught us in your spell 

As we all wished Harry well 

We boarded the Hogwarts Express 

What would happen, we couldn’t guess 

Alongside Harry we fought 

Thanking him for all he taught 

We were for him down with Quirrell 

Crossing our fingers through the yells 

Then Book Two came 

We cheered as we heard Harry’s name 

Smiled as he was reunited with friends 

Hoped Tom, not Harry, would meet his end 

You gave us Book Three 

And Harry had the chance to be free 

We watched him grow; 

Meet his godfather, finally know 

Then was Goblet of Fire 

The book like nothing prior 

Full of death; dark 

A new journey for Harry to embark 

For three years we waited 

Wondered, worried, and debated. 

What would be in book five? 

Who would die, who would survive? 

The fans were for Harry the whole way 

Even as the Ministry doubted everyday 

We sat in shock as Sirius fell 

Like Harry, not wanting to bid him farewell 

Jo, you had us hooked 

Hastily for clues we looked 

Half-Blood Prince was coming… 

The anxiety was almost numbing 

2005-July Sixteen 

We headed to bed, lots of caffeine 

Again following Harry, Hermione, and Ron 

Their lives, we based ours upon 

We wondered about that Horcrux 

Jo, this plot line was your deluxe 

We cried as Dumbledore fell from that tower 

Why him, why now, at this important hour? 

In the next years, we read and reread 

Always worried about what lay ahead. 

Who would die? 

What was it that made you cry? 

All us avid fans counted hours 

Until the final book would be ours 

We dressed up and left, excited 

For something other than tragedy, united. 

Cheers rang out as clocks read 12:01 

We headed to bed, not to rest till we were done 

Hungrily we read, hanging on your every word 

Always shocked at what occurred 

Those characters we mourned… 

Why, oh why, weren’t we warned? 

Fred, Dobby, Tonks, and Lupin 

Moody, Hedwig, Snape, and Colin. 

One by one, as the sun got higher, 

We closed our books: full of all we desired. 

We had laughed, we had cried 

Now, happy and tired, we set the books aside. 

Your books were our lives, for those rejected 

They were the only thing with which we connected 

Now it was over, what to do? 

It was so hard to bid Harry adieu… 

Jo, you’ve had your final word, now let us have ours: 

There is only one thing to do, after washing the scars 

We want to thank you, and Harry too 

These words, they are so overdue 

We grew up with Harry and his friends 

Made the same mistakes, the same amends 

Your books united fans throughout the world 

We were so alike, our lives unfurled… 

Neville and Luna taught us we all belong 

No matter who we were, we were all strong 

We found our true selves in the Sorting Hat 

Nervous, on our own stools we sat 

We smiled when you included us in the dedication 

Your books were the cause of much celebration 

So, Jo, thanks for everything you gave 

For teaching us just how to be brave 

Farewell, now, Jo, we wish you the best 

As first generation readers, we are blessed 

We will always love you and Harry 

There will be nothing said to the contrary. 

Know this, Jo: 

You taught us everything we know. 

Thank you forever, 

For making us so clever 

NEDA Week 2017: Rising

As I said last year, I don't really talk about my eating disorder history as often anymore. It's no longer because I'm ashamed of this part of my past (the shame went away years ago), but rather because I never know how to talk about it. Will it be awkward? How will people react to me being so open? Is this something people are comfortable talking about?

Honestly, all of those questions really should be irrelevant. It doesn't matter how awkward or uncomfortable the conversation is...we need to talk about eating disorders. They have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness, and yet are rarely talked about. I think the shame around eating disorders is probably higher than the shame around many other mental illnesses. It seems somehow easier to understand someone suffering from depression, anxiety, or bipolar disorder...or, if maybe not easy to understand, at least the sufferers don't get the bulk of the blame for their mental illness. Whereas, on the other hand, society as a whole seems to believe still that someone chooses to have an eating disorder, and chooses not to eat and slowly kill themselves.

I did not choose my experience. I don't even remember when exactly my anorexia started. I suppose you could say that some part of me chose to eat very little and exercise for hours and hours every day...but if you could live inside my head at that time, you wouldn't say any of that was a choice. I hated what I was doing. I hated exercising for 6 hours a day. I hated that I couldn't think or smile or have fun. None of it was a choice, it was just something my brain kept telling me I had to do. Even in the depths of my eating disorder in the summer of 2010, when I really did know that if I kept going the way I was, I was going to die...I couldn't pull myself out on my own. Eating disorders have incredible power, and sufferers must have the support of others and belief in themselves to have power over those eating disorders.

But it is 100% possible to come out on the other side of an eating disorder happy and healthy and thriving. We need hope and support and honest conversations for that to be possible, though. Which is why I believe National Eating Disorders Awareness Week is so important. Those of us who have survived need to share our stories. We need to share the diversity of people who suffer from these terrible illnesses. And we need to share the hope.

This year, I just want to share brief portions of my story, year by year, to really emphasize how far I've come. But also all the work I've had to do along the way and all of the support I had to rise up and thrive.

2009: I enter treatment for the first time. I was in the hospital for an entire month, and I honestly think that for most of this period I was still in denial. I myself didn't really believe I had an eating disorder, but I went through the motions of treatment to make my parents and the staff happy and to get out of the hospital. (Let me stress this is incredibly dangerous...and something I think happens far too often with patients. Find reasons that YOU want to recover, and don't include in any of that "it will make my family happier".) Discharge in February, and again just kind of walk through the motions for most of the year. Lose my dear friend Nick in September, and also lose any of the motivation I had to keep moving through the motions.

2010: Fall back down the spiral of anorexia, but this time much much worse than any time before. As I've said before, I really did lose the desire to live. I didn't want to die, but I also didn't necessarily want to live in the world anymore. I realize those thoughts seem contradictory and probably don't make sense, but there was a difference for me. I was terrified that what I was doing would kill me, but I also couldn't stop. My eating  disorder numbed my feelings and made it so I wasn't really living with the pain of the world anymore, so it was working. Dangerous and deadly, but working. It did come very close to killing me, and I ended up in the hospital first and then treatment again, for three months. This time I didn't try to fake anything; I was 100% honest with the pain and doubt and fear.

2011: After I discharged in December of 2010, I will say I don't think I had yet 100% committed to recovery. I knew I wanted it, but I definitely had my ups and downs in the early months of 2011. But through high school graduation and a very fun summer, I think I did finally realize how wonderful life in recovery was. No, it wasn't always happy, but it was so much better. In 2011 I also moved off to Hawaii for college, which was incredibly difficult in the early months, but I also think was very important for me to get away from home and some of the very bad memories that had formed there during my later high school/eating disorder years.

2012: I don't really have any super bright or down spots for this year. It was incredibly hard to be in Connecticut during the summer for my internship, as I again felt very lost and unsure of myself. And also very difficult to be living off campus and away from a constant supply of people to talk to if I wanted. So I think the important emphasis here is that I got through those uncomfortable feelings without turning back to my eating disorder.

2013: This year is probably the closest I came to a relapse during my years in recovery. I was sick for most of the summer with a peptic ulcer, which made me constantly nauseous and uncomfortable. I also generally felt very alone. But again, what was important at that point was that I still wanted to move forward. I still knew I could move forward. And I didn't fall back down. Instead, especially after I received medication, I moved back for my junior year of college 100% motivated to move forward.

2014: A good year overall. Spent the summer doing my Hollings internship with the shark lab in Panama City, FL, which really helped me move forward and believe I could have the research career I thought I wanted.

2015: The end of college was very tough, as was beginning graduate school. The anxiety I had suffered from since I was a little kid really skyrocketed during these periods.

2016: Most important point here is that I finally decided to go on medication to help manage my anxiety, after being against medication for no logical reason since about the age of 15 (when medication was probably first offered to me). Immediately it felt like a weight was lifted off my mind. Not that everything immediately 100% became OK, but I definitely now advocate enthusiastically for trying out medication to help manage one's crazy brain chemicals. This definitely helped me become more comfortable in graduate school.

I still struggle daily with anxiety and being very unsure of  myself, but since 2011 I have definitely learned I can handle those feelings. I wouldn't say my thoughts are necessarily 100% healthy still, as I still worry far too often about mundane things and still don't necessarily believe in myself. So the takeaway I guess is that recovery does not necessarily equal happiness, but it does equal a fuller life. You have to feel the pain and the loneliness to feel happy and full.

It feels crazy to me still how far I have moved in seven years. I still distinctly remember February of 2010 (the Vancouver Olympics, for reference) the beginning of my compulsive exercise, numbing my thoughts, and actively or not actively trying to leave the pain of the world behind. This February, I spent my time getting actively involved in the local Women's March Environmental Committee, working in the lab, teaching classes, and spending time with friends. Not once has it crossed my mind "Maybe I should exercise for 6 hours today." Not once have I thought "maybe I shouldn't eat this." Yes, I know those are crazy thoughts, but seven years ago that's where I was. And it's important to remind myself how far I have risen from my rock bottom.

This National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, I encourage all of you to talk about eating disorders. But also, since the week is coming to an end, I encourage you to continue talking about eating disorders. Support your friends and family by talking and listening, trying to understand instead of making assumptions. Fight for insurance companies to cover treatment; write to your congressmen to fight for those who can't fight for themselves. We need to bring eating disorders out of the darkness. Because there is hope, and everyone can rise up. It's not easy. I literally did fight for my life, and I won. Now it's time for all of us to help fight for those still struggling.

Hope is the thing with feathers

"Hope is the thing with feathers - 
That perches in the soul - 
And sings the tune without the words - 
And never stops - at all."

If you are reading this post, I am guessing today has been hard on you. I don't know if I can be a voice of comfort to any of you, but I did feel the need to add my voice and my feelings to the void here.

Today has been hard on me too. I woke up this morning terrified and upset, and immediately started crying when I saw how many of my friends on Facebook felt the same way. And if I am this terrified and upset as a young white woman, I can only imagine how terrified my Muslim, Latinx, immigrant, African-American, POC, and LGBT friends must feel. How can we continue to live in a country that elected a man who seems to hate all of us so much?

I don't know, but we must. As easy as it is to say "I'm out of here," we must not leave. We must continue to fight for what is right, fight for love and hope and freedom for all. Yes, this election has been a slap in the face to all of us who spent the last eight years fighting so hard for freedom and love everywhere. This has been a slap in the face primarily from rural, working class white men and women who feel that the government does nothing for them. In some sense, I think I can understand why many have felt left behind by Obama, though he certainly has been my champion. But I can't understand why those people would vote for this racist, sexist, xenophobic rapist. I feel that this loss wouldn't have hurt quite so much if Marco Rubio or Ted Cruz or John Kasich had won over Hillary. I can never know how I may have felt if that had occurred, but I imagine it wouldn't feel like this.

Because right now I personally feel attacked. I am scared I will lose my right to have an abortion if I ever find myself in that situation. I am terrified that I will lose my  healthcare, as a young, very low-income graduate student. Hell, I'm even terrified that I may lose my job, my career path, and a planet for future generations under this president-elect and Republican congress who have such hate for science.

I also feel for my friends who will and are being told to leave the country. My wonderful Muslim friends who are told they are terrorists. My LGBT friends who are being told that something is wrong with them, they can be "converted," and, oh by the way, no you can't marry the person you love anymore. I feel for you. And I stand with you, as a young white woman who actually probably has the least to lose under this presidency than any other group, with the exception of white men.

I am grieving right now, and I am going to hold on to that for at least a few days. I urge you to as well, because the grief process is important and essential to your well-being. But then I encourage you to pick yourself up on the ground and remind yourself of all your friends that are here with you. We have not left. And we cannot leave, if we want to continue to build an America for all of us. The rest of the world has not left us yet either. Stand with your people, and stand up and speak up for those who may become increasingly marginalized the next four years. Even if you feel like a whisper among the massive shouts. Find people who will be your voice. And do not stop fighting.

"The human voice is different from other sounds. It can be heard over noises that bury everything else. Even when it's not shouting. Even when it's just a whisper. Even the lowest whisper can be heard--over armies...when it's telling the truth." -The Interpreter

These next four years are going to be hard. The rest of many of our lives may be very hard, especially if what many of us fear will occur with the Supreme Court comes to pass. But do not become cynical. Even in the darkest of times, in places of the world where the sun has set, a tomorrow will come. Do not give up hope on the world. Hold onto your hope, your love, and do everything you can to be a beacon of light and strength in this world we live in that currently seems so hateful. 

It's tough to make predictions of what will happen to our country currently, and so I actually urge you not to try. Try to spend less time engulfed by fear, and more time engulfed by hope. Spend less time engulfed by fear and more time fighting. Your voice does matter, even if today it does not feel like it. We cannot, and we will not, be silenced.

I love you. Keep up the good fight and continue to spread the light. 

"Walk in Unity. Walk in Love. Walk in Light and Wisdom."

NEDA Week 2016: Some of my story + HOPE

So my eating disorder history isn’t really something I talk about much anymore. Not because I am ashamed of it, necessarily. I mean I still don’t *like* to talk about it necessarily, because I do know of the stigma, and so it isn’t always comfortable. One of the main reasons I don’t talk about it also is because I do feel like I’ve come so far from that dark place, though of course my life is in no way perfect or completely happy even now.

We all NEED to talk about eating disorders, though. We need to break through the stigma and tell the truth. Speak of the pain and the reality. The cold stark hospital rooms, the crying late at night because we are hungry but we aren’t allowed to be hungry, the sunken eyes, and the bone cages. And deep deep cold that goes all the way down to our bones.

And we also need to talk about the hope that there is. Eating disorders are terrifying, isolating, lonely illnesses. It is so hard to believe when one is stuck in the depths of these awful disorders that there is some brightness out there on the other side. I know it was hard for me to believe at first. Or, well, actually it was very hard for me to believe for a very long time, even after I had finally set on the path to recovery. And that’s OK. Normal, I would say. Voices are whispering in our ears and our minds that nothing is OK, that nothing will be OK, that we don’t need food, that we need to control something…

But, slowly, slowly, we all can rise.

Because we are so much stronger than our eating disorders. I know for anyone currently stuck in one it doesn’t feel that way, but it is true. 

I don’t really remember how or why my anorexia actually began. It still sometimes feels like I went from a happy and carefree 8^th grader to a sad and cold 10^th grader shivering in a hospital room and suddenly afraid to let myself eat normally. I know it didn’t really happen that way, but it’s hard for me to pin down when anything started, when I took that first step down into the sinking hole. Again, I think this is normal for many, but it still weirds me out some to this day.

I do think in many ways I was predisposed to my eating disorder. I was a quiet child who thrived in school and always wanted to please others—my teachers, my parents, any authority figure, really. But though I was quiet, I did have a good group of friends. I transitioned well to high school. I had the strong and loving support of my dad and stepmom.

One thing I do feel affected me greatly in many ways was the “loss” of my mother. I put that in quotes there because I never really lost her in the true sense. And she has been there for me in many ways, and is still there for me today when I need her. I love my mom and I have forgiven her. I understand her now. But even knowing all that now, I don’t like to downplay how her “loss” affected me. After my parents divorced when I was 12, I did feel in a way like I had lost my mother. Not physically, but emotionally…and in a lot of other senses. At the exact time I was developing and turning into a teenager, I had lost the thing I needed most: a mother figure. I had no one to guide me through the crazy world of puberty and boys and hormones and emotions. Sure, I could’ve reached out to someone, but I choose instead to ignore it and pretend I was just fine with everything that was happening. Over the years, my dad remarried to a woman who was a much better mother figure overall. But as my sister went through her own traumatic teenage years, the focus on me slipped and vanished. Everyone assumed I was the perfect daughter, who was always happy, had no problems, and didn’t need someone to talk to.

And maybe that was true for some short time, but clearly it didn’t last. As I already said, I can’t quite to this day pin down why or when I decided to eat less. I think it partly came from some desire to be “healthy” as I entered high school and slowly spun out of control from there. As I realized I could control the food I was eating amidst everything else around me that felt out of control. Here was something I could grasp onto. At the time, at the age of 14 and 15, I didn’t recognize what was happening. I never would have guessed I would be a girl with an eating disorder. I myself held a certain stigma about eating disorders at that time, and believed I was too “smart” to develop an eating disorder.

But of course intelligence has nothing to do with an eating disorder, or any mental illness. My anorexia was not something I chose. It was something that happened to me, something that clung to the darkness and uncertainty in my mind as a young teenager until suddenly I was swallowed whole, confused and frightened but unsure of how to save myself (and partially also unwilling to do so).

I had many ups and downs in those early years of my eating disorder suffering, until a truck completely hit me in 2009. I still to this day often feel guilty about how sad I felt (and still feel) about dear Nick’s death. We weren’t the closest of friends, but his presence, his smile, his unimaginable enthusiasm for life meant so much to me. I genuinely could not understand how I deserved to remain on this earth when a soul 1000x more beautiful than mine was taken so young.

And so I fell deeper. Those days today seem so frightening to me, to remember how sick I was. To remember that 6 years ago, I didn’t really want to live anymore. I didn’t want to die, either, necessarily, but I had lost all hope I think. And so while I clung to my eating disorder as a way to control my life and numb my grief, I can’t deny that in some way it was also a distant hope that maybe I could go somewhere else, outside of this world.

The scary thing about eating disorders, really, is that they work. My eating disorder served me so well for a long time, numbing my grief, allowing me some semblance of control when it felt like my life was falling apart, and giving me the confidence to stand in front of the world. Why would anyone want to leave that behind?

Ultimately, it was because I realized it was killing me, and it wouldn’t stop until it did. I knew in fact I did not want to die. I am so lucky and so grateful for the fact that in September 2010, some hands reached out to me to pull me out of that dark place. They had faith in me while I still had no faith in myself. They braved my bone cage and the burning fences I put up to protect me from any hurt, reaching in to bring warmth back into my eyes. They taught me that sadness and grief were OK. That it was OK to not be OK. That I could navigate this earth without my eating disorder. That I, in fact,couldn’t really navigate this world with my eating disorder—not for much longer anyway.

OK, I am now realizing most of this post has been sad and scary for many to read at this point. BUT, I want to clarify that I wrote all of that to really show how far I have come. To illustrate that it absolutely is possible for anyone to rise from that dark place and come out alive and thriving.

I have developed now from a sad young girl trapped in a bone cage to an emerging young woman. Graduated high school, graduated high school, moved from Colorado to Hawaii to Florida. I am still discovering myself, I am still not sure of who I am or who I want to be, but I am alive. I am still anxious and still scared and unsure of myself, but even amidst all of that I have learned to revel in the beauty of being alive. Life is happiness and friendship but life also cannot be complete without sadness and uncertainty. It is all OK and it is all wonderful and you can survive. You must survive.

I also wrote that because I do want to bring so much light to the fact that eating disorders are never about the food. My eating disorder certainly never ways. I mean, yes, you often see most visibly the fact that an eating disorder patient is afraid to gain weight, is afraid to eat more food, thinks they will die if they do, etc…But that’s never really what it is about. Those fears come from somewhere deeper. From fears of not being enough, from fears of being out of control. From a desire to gain control over something—in this case, food and weight.

So, yes, food plays a part (hence why they are called eating disorders), but they go so much deeper than that. It’s time for us all to realize that and talk about that and begin to treat the deeper parts of eating disorders. We do need to treat the body, because eating disorder are just as much physical illnesses as they are mental illnesses. But after that we need to all discuss everything else. The fear, the hurt, the pain, and the reality.

We need to reach out to each other, hold each other especially in the darkest of times. And together we all can rise above. No one is alone in this. And no one should be without hope.

Reflections on Sadness

I’ve spent an absolutely lovely 11 days at home, and now tonight I am flying back to Jacksonville, back to graduate school, and back to a place where I only feel uncomfortable and never OK with who I am.

And I’ve spent all of last night and most of today either crying in secret or trying not to cry in front of my stepmom. I’m not ready. And I’m  not happy. That’s incredibly hard for me to admit, but it’s true.

I mean, I’m almost 23 years old. I’m supposed to be an adult now, right? I’m supposed to want to go on adventures and move somewhere new and make new friends and get drunk and find a job and leave my parents behind.

But I’ve never felt so attached to home and so “unadventurous”.

(This post is kind of all over the place, so bear with me if you want to read further)

I chose graduate school because I thought I would love it and thought it would make me happy. I also chose graduate school because I felt it was “expected of me”, as an intelligent and hard working student who also spent her summers and undergraduate time participating in and conducting her own (guided) research. Also both of my parents have PhDs and my sister is going for her PhD (and much happier and doing much better than I am...) so I felt like I’d be a disappointment if I did otherwise. They have both said otherwise, and currently I don’t think I want to go for my PhD after I earn my master’s. But right now I’m wishing I didn’t rush into my master’s so quickly either. I wish I’d given myself time to explore and dream and laugh and hell, even work so-called “stupid” jobs before I found what I really wanted.

We seem to have a weird thing in society where we very highly value people in academia, at the expense of people who work very important jobs that seem “lesser”. I mean, earning a PhD is certainly admirable and requires a lot of hard work, but it’s no the only job to be revered (I guess along with lawyers, doctors, etc). But I know I felt pressured in some way to go to graduate school. And upon reflection I genuinely think I’d be much happier if I’d listened to my heart and transferred out of HPU to a much quieter, gentler school here in Colorado, working towards a degree in sustainability or outdoor recreation or something where I could get a job that would allow me to be outside, where my soul opens and my smile brightens.

I know, I know it does nothing to think back to “what could have been” because I can’t change that now. But I can’t help myself.

I think I rushed into life a bit to quickly after I entered into recovery from my eating disorder five years ago. After a quiet and gentle (though definitely painful, extremely painful) three months in treatment, I rushed very quickly into applying for college and studying very hard for my IB tests during my senior year. Then I rushed into college, over the years pushing myself very hard to keep a 4.0, apply to internships and scholarships, participate in research, and always study. And then I missed out on a lot of fun I could’ve had during my senior year of college because again I pushed myself too hard to study study study while also applying to graduate school.
I didn’t allow myself enough time to grieve certain things. I didn’t allow myself to laugh enough or dance enough. I didn’t allow  myself to be the carefree person I know I am and can be. I want to open my heart and open my arms and feel the world. I know academia can’t bring me that--I’ll stick through my masters program for the next 1.5 to 2.5 years, but then I have no idea anymore what I want--except that I want to be freer and more myself.

This is all fucking terrifying to me.

I definitely think a lot of this is the remnants of the causes and symptoms of my eating disorder that I never dealt with. I have become amazingly OK with my body image and with food, though I still have stupid struggles sometimes with thinking about calories and thinking I don’t “deserve” to eat when I should be studying or grading. Whatever the fuck that means.

But mostly now what I’m dealing with is the underlying stuff that I never wanted to face. My overwhelming anxiety. How I constantly feel inadequate and uncomfortable in my skin--not because of how I look, but because of who I am and how people react to me. My obsessiveness--switched away from food thank god, but moved just as unhealthily to an obsessiveness with my grades and my future and being the perfect child. My grief. Not only for Nick, but for the childhood I missed, the teenage years I missed out on due to my eating disorder.
I don’t ever try to hide my eating disorder history from the world anymore, but I think I do still spend too much time ignoring my own feelings and desires.

I’m very scared. All the time. And very lonely. All the time. I forget that 6 years ago I didn’t want to live anymore. That 6 years ago I was slowly killing myself. I know a large part of  my eating disorder stemmed from the fact that I didn’t want to grow up, that I felt I didn’t deserve to be a part of this world, especially after I lost Nick. While I am no longer killing myself, and I am desperately happy to be alive despite my pain and sadness, I do think those toxic thoughts are still with me. Maybe now in the back of my mind as I try to focus more on my work, but still there and still very toxic. And I have to not let them control me and how I live.

Notes to myself:

Remember, you have come so far. Regardless of the fact that you are uncomfortable and lonely and often very sad, remember you are  alive. Remember how much you have been through, how  much you have survived. Be at peace with yourself. Trust that happiness will come. Remember what you choose now, what you do now does not have to be the rest of your life. In fact, statistics show that you will change jobs many times throughout your life. You will change, your dreams will change, and the course of your life will change. And that is all OK.
I know you are afraid to grow up, to be a part of the world--you still think you don’t deserve all of this. But you do. Remember you still have people who love you and friends who want to be around you, friends who know your deepest secrets and have shared your darkest times. It’s OK if you haven’t found your place yet in the world, and you feel lonely in Jacksonville. That doesn’t change the fact that you are loved and you belong in the world.

Don’t be ashamed of crying. It’s OK that you don’t know who you are yet. Life is messy and painful. You have already had your fair share of pain, but the pain will still come. Because you are alive, yo are messy, you are changing, and you are OK.

It’s OK to not be OK or feel OK, but trust me anyways that you are. You are enough and you will continue to grow into who you are supposed to be.

..........................

I’m going to continue to cry probably daily for a little while  now. And continue to feel uncomfortable. But I hope as I enter this new year I will allow  myself to relax more and explore myself more.

Because knowledge is important, but exploring is where you find yourself and where you live.

So I have to let myself live and try to not put so much pressure on myself.

Because it’s all going to be OK. Isn’t it? 

3 Years: Finding Happiness

The other day I reread this post that I wrote about 2 and a half years ago now, as I was just starting recovery. Just starting to find myself. And, wow. I don't know how much I believed those words when I was writing them, but goodness they are so true. 

I'd like to highlight the conclusion in particular: "I think what I'm doing right now is trying to chase down happiness. And I don't think that can be done. In a race, you can't chase the finish line. [...] the finish line is there, waiting for you. If you run, it will come. I think happiness is the same way. Maybe I just have to trust that it exists. And maybe that it exists in a form different from what I'm expecting. Maybe happiness just means getting through it, building strength, and having more good days than bad days. Recovery doesn't mean total happiness. I'm still working to accept that, but I know it's true. Stop chasing happiness or peace. Just keep running. Keep moving and pushing and breathing and living. Don't search for happiness. One day, while you are asleep, happiness will come. And it will be beautiful."

It's almost spooky, because I think that was what happened. At some point, really only in the past 4 months, I stopped actively wondering why I wasn't happy. I stopped looking for reasons or excuses. I didn't go out and immediately search for things that would make me happy, I just let the days come and the opportunities arrive. And, so, here I sit, 3 years into recovery, finding myself...happy for once. 

I'm not saying that every single second of every single day I am happy. I am still anxious and stressed and sad sometimes. I still struggle with anxiety mostly, and that's a tough beast to shake off my back. But I'm pushing through it, and pushing myself to try new things. I'm also allowing myself time to step back and breathe, which is just as important, really. 

I'm not saying I don't still struggle with little aspects of my eating disorder. I do still have an unfortunate habit of turning to thoughts of food when I'm stressed, but I don't act on those eating disorder thoughts anymore. It's tough to get rid of the voice completely, but it's gotten so much easier to fight it. I know, I really do, that I am so much more than any number, whether that be the size of my pants, the number on the scale, etc. I have friends and family who love me despite my struggles, regardless of what I look like. As a poet I just recently found said, "The biggest gift you bring to any room is your heart." That's who I am. That's who we all are. We are our souls, our hearts, our lovely and beautiful and diverse minds and spirits. I don't choose my friends based on what they look like. That would be ridiculous. And so it is just as ridiculous for me to think people like me because of what I look like. As my therapist once told me, if any of my friends are friends with me just for that reason...I probably don't want to be friends with them anyway.

I want people to love me for my heart and soul. I want to surround myself with beautiful spirits, full of joy and laughter and smiles and love. And I think I have been. I'm working my way to surrounding myself only with people who do love me and make me feel good about myself. As difficult as it is, I have found that it is incredibly vital to cut "toxic" people out of your life. If someone makes you feel bad about yourself, if someone is hurting rather than helping you find yourself and find happiness, you do not need them surrounding you. This does not mean that person is a terrible person. They just are not right for you. Or maybe you are not right for them. Either, way, it is not the end of the world. In fact, it is beautiful: everyone is different, everyone is themselves. We do not need to change who we are for anyone. You are never, ever going to have everyone in the world be your friend or like you for who you are. That is absolutely okay. You are loved. You are loved widely and wonderfully and wholly. If someone does not like you, that is okay. Find yourself, find your people. They are out there, and they will help you live a beautiful life.

"Don't let anyone, even your parents, break you. Find good people who care about you and surround yourself with them. If you can't find them at first, find good music and fall into it and let it hold you until they come." -Davey Havok

Anyway. Back to the happiness question.

Happiness is not an absolute. No one is happy all of the time. We have a tendency to say that about some people, and it seems to happen especially after we have lost someone we loved. "Oh, he was so happy and bubbly all the time. I never saw him have a bad day," we might say. I'm sorry, but that is fucking ridiculous. No one goes through life that way. Everybody struggles, even if they seem completely at peace with themselves and the world. So do not push happiness upon yourself. Do not berate yourself when you are unhappy. It is natural. And it is okay. It is okay to not be okay.

With that being said, I do think, I have suddenly found happiness for myself. I have never before been so at peace with who I am and my place in the world. I mean, yes, I get stressed and I am busy and I am anxious and sometimes I cry. But all in all...life is grand.

3 years into recovery, and I have happened upon happiness in my life. Happiness is having the opportunity to participate in vital marine mammal necropsies. Happiness is snorkeling with a pod of manta rays. Happiness is walking around Washington DC in the late evening with wonderful new-found friends. Happiness is obtaining an incredible shark internship in Florida. But, happiness is also dancing alone in my room late at night. Happiness is watching an entire season of the West Wing in 3 days. Happiness is hugging my stuffed shark as I read National Geographic. Happiness is playing a ridiculous game of pictionary with friends. Happiness is talking to friends on the lanai at school instead of studying...because you know it's okay, and you'll do fine on that test, and sometimes it's just important to stop worrying for a little while.

But I didn't really go *looking* for any of that. I mean, I applied for the scholarship/internship, I chose to participate more in the marine mammal program. But I didn't expect anything grand or life-changing, necessarily. I was looking to move forward, looking for something to do. And what I found was beautiful. 

Happiness didn't come to me when I was anxious about why I wasn't happy. Happiness didn't really come to me at all, I suppose. It is just there, waiting patiently, and I found my own way to embrace it and build it into my life.

Three years ago, I performed a dance for my friends and amazing support therapists. I opened myself up to the world: the pain, the loss, the sadness, but also the good. I was absolutely terrified exactly 3 years ago today, when I walked out of that hospital. I didn't know if I could do recovery. I didn't know if I could handle the world without anorexia as my security blanket. But I cautiously stepped out into the world, agreeing to try, to test the waters. 

And I am so glad I did. I don't know where I'd be today if that horrible yet lovely experience hadn't happened, but I don't think I'd be here. Sitting in Hawaii, almost done with my 5th semester of college, with so many friends and wonderful opportunities surrounding me. 

I have grown so much and changed so much, I think. I almost don't recognize myself from 3 years ago. Heck, I almost don't recognize myself from this time last year. Sometime in this last year, in the last 3 months, something clicked in my head, and I have opened myself up to the true possibility that life is grand. A grand adventure, filled with twists and turns and bumps in the road but also with oceans of love and stars of light. I am filled with awe and gratitude every day. I almost gave up on life, truly. I probably would have done if people hadn't reached out their hands 3 years ago and started to lead me on this path. But I am so glad, so so glad, that life did not give up on me.

Because, in the words of Agatha Christie, "I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all, I still know quite certainly that just be alive is a grand thing." 

I hope, maybe, to be able to pass on some of my hope to other people. There is light and hope. Even in the darkest of times, in places of the world where the sun has set, a tomorrow will come. Do not give up hope on the world. Happiness is out there, I encourage you to have happiness as a goal in your life. Happiness, above money or a "successful" career or any material good. Happiness is incredibly important. But, that being said, do not fret about not being happy, because that will not get you anywhere. It certainly got me absolutely nowhere the past 5 or so years of my life. Live your life. Breathe and cry and dance and laugh and find what you love to do. One day, you will look up, look around you, and realize that happiness has come. 

I am so happy I chose, 3 years ago, to walk out of that safe hospital setting. It was one of the hardest decisions of my life, second perhaps only to the decision to step into that hospital. But it was so necessary. To let myself live and find my own reasons for joy.

3 years. Alive and joyful and dancing. 3 beautiful and wonderful years. 

Thank you so much to everyone who took my hand there in that hospital, and everyone who has joined me on my journey since that time. Without the love and joy of the spirits surrounding me, I would not be this same person. 

So thank you. Be good to yourself. Let happiness come. And remember to always dance.

Happiness:

Revelations: The Beauty of Life in Recovery

These past few weeks have been...amazing, honestly. I've slowly been making little changes in my life to increase my happiness and sense of peace this semester, after being lonely and sad and confused last semester. I got lost, I think, in the midst of moving off-campus and being away from home for basically 18 months. I'm finding myself again. 

For example, even though it bugs me still that no one ever really asks me to do anything, and I have to plan activities first, I've been doing it. I ask friends to go to the mall with me or just go get frozen yogurt on Friday nights. I spent only probably 1 or 2 days of Spring Break alone. The rest of the 9 days I was off on adventures around the island, hiking and snorkeling  or at least hanging out with friends, laughing and drinking wine and watching Doctor Who. I gathered a group of friends together to go get grilled cheese this past Friday on National Grilled Cheese Day. I try to seek out friends in the library in between classes and just generally talk to people more. If my one roommate who's actually my friend is in the dining room when I'm cooking, I talk to her instead of being quiet. 

These may all sound like trivial things, but they have been huge for me. I really do suffer from social anxiety, and anxiety in general. Social interactions don't always come easily for me. I'm an introvert, so I can easily get overstimulated by crowds. But that doesn't mean I don't like people. On the contrary, I love people. Spending time with friends fills my heart and reminds me of just how loved and special I am.

I also found out on April 1st that I was one of only 100 or so recipients of the Class of 2013 Hollings Undergraduate Scholarship from NOAA, which...well, really is a huge deal. It takes a lot of financial worries off of  my shoulders, for one thing. But it also is going to offer me numerous wonderful opportunities, working with NOAA, and an internship next summer working on a project at one of the facilities. I honestly was not expecting to get the scholarship, and I am still in humbled awe two weeks later. I'm still not sure it's real, even though I just sent them my official signed acceptance. Maybe by the time the orientation week comes around in May I'll finally believe it's real? 

Okay, and i generally don't like to brag, but my parents keep telling me it's okay. And my friends as well. I guess I get embarrassed sometimes  worrying that people will think that I think I'm better than them. Which, as a longtime sufferer of anorexia and anxiety and self-doubt, is the opposite of how I think. But anyway. After I got the acceptance, they e-mailed me with some of the comments the reviewers made on my scholarship application, and I'd just like to share a few of those: 

Reviewer 1: Your essay cogently describes your career goals and how they relate to NOAA's mission. Your academic coursework is outstanding. This application is one of the strongest this reviewer has seen in her years of reviewing Hollings Scholarship applicants. As you prepare for your career in Marine Sciences, this reviewer hopes you will consider employment with NOAA.

Reviewer 2: It is refreshing to see such focus at an early stage. I encourage you to continue along this track to help the shark situation. Continue to make good impressions such as those you clearly made upon your recommendations and you will do well in career, which I hope includes NOAA!

Pretty amazing, no? Talk about a much needed confidence booster. Talk about words I can keep in my arsenal as tools against Ana when she tries to whisper harmful and mean words in my ear. 

Also, recently, I'm about 85% sure I'll be studying abroad in Australia next semester, so long as I get accepted o the university housing there and I obtain a visa okay. Yet another amazing opportunity.

All in all, life is good. I have a future. I'm excited. I'm happy. I have friends and family and professors who support me, helping me to continue to overcome my eating disorder and sometimes debilitating anxiety every single day. I will admit sometimes I'm still too much afraid of my future and everything that's out there. Three years ago, I was dying--I didn't think I had a future. And now I do. So many doors are open for me. I am thriving and I am living. And I am so grateful.

Now, to counter that, one of my roommates this past year has been continuously mean and bitchy (though I hate that word, there's nothing better to use) to me this whole year for no real reason. Over winter break, I experienced my first real form of cyberbullying, when she sent me a series of very angry and irrational messages on Facebook while I was at home. At the time, I was really hurt. I was sad and confused and  worried about what other people thought of me. Did everyone think the same things she did? Was there something really wrong with me? I was terrified to return to my apartment, with her and two other virtual strangers, though I did still have my one friendly roommate there. I was homesick and sad for the first month I was back in Hawaii.

Until I remembered I can decide how happy I am with myself. And, as I detailed above, I really  have done so. Situations with said mean roommate never improved, and actually got worse if that's possible.

On Friday, after a stupid spat over trash, she sent me yet another text message, with phrases calling me a bitch, how she never should have lived with me, etc. I vaguely read this over before heading out to dinner with friends, not really caring anymore. Later that night, I had a huge revelation: It doesn't matter what she thinks of me. At this point, I am happy with myself and my friends and where my life is. I have countless friends, all across the country, from all walks of life, friends who have known and loved me for over 10 years. My family loves me. I am strong and free and wanted and unique. Truly, by constantly feeling the need to put me down to make her feel better about herself, she's hurting herself more than she's hurting me. 

I don't CARE what she thinks of me anymore. I don't need her approval. I have my own approval, and the love and support of countless people all across the world.

This was huge for me. I try to not care what other people think of me, but sometimes I can't help it. I seek out the approval of others, wanting to appear perfect and kind and such. This desire to please everyone certainly was a significant cause of my eating disorder and constant anxiety. I still do want love and friendship, but I know now I have that. I have friends who remind me every day  every time I talk to them, how much they value me as a friend. And how much I value their kindness and friendship. 

Bullying sucks. I dealt with it last year from roommate sand this year as well. But I don't have to react to it. The universe is a wonderful place full of wonderful people. Humanity is good, by and large. And I just need to remember how much I am loved and how much I have. I am blessed with starlight and love and a future. That's all that matters to me, really.

Ultimately, life is good. I love being alive, with friends and opportunities and love. I don't think I will ever completely break free of my eating disorder or anxiety, but I am 1000x better and happier now than I was 2 and a half years ago. I never would've guessed this is where I'd be today.

But I am.

Have faith. Trust yourself. Trust the universe. Trust your family and friends. The world is beautiful, despite the sadness and losses. You are beautiful, and you can overcome. You are strong and filled with powerful light. Let that shine out the negativity from everywhere else.

I promise it'll be worth it every step of the way.

Days left in the semester: 24

Word of the day: spanghew--to cause a frog or toad to fly up in the air

Inspirational quote/photo of the day: "Without freedom from the past, there is no freedom at all."