A Mother

In high school you deserted me in the passenger seat of the stick shift Ford Ranger. An empty lunch box and unbraided hair. You took the bathroom scale away but just down the hall, to your room. You left me crying and you left me a thousand times emotionally at the dinner table, in the…

Teen Wolf

Let’s recognize the previous post for what it is: the eating disorder’s complete monopolization of my thoughts about myself. Harsh, untrue, malicious, evil words were the only words I spoke to myself over the last 36 hours. That’s what happens when I’m forced to push down monumental emotions of panic and hurt or grief and…

Thirteen to Nineteen

I remember thinking, I will do it all on my own. I don’t need anyone. Always making survival plans. Always protecting little-me. The teenager didn’t want to make those plans constantly. She wanted help. But no one came, in the way she needed. Why is no one coming? I remember wondering. Followed by the regular…

Teens

This has been pretty much my process since high school — except the therapist part has only been the last couple years. Graduate school has made it so things are due weekly and I haven’t experienced an academic or professional work load since 2014. I have constant anxiety because even for little, easy things, if…

How to Find Me

When I try to find compassion, I am met with incredible resistance. To be clear, I meet myself with frustrating resistance. Anger-filled push-back. Is this the eating disorder? How quickly I became one with it, if it is. And how quickly I lost the ability to discern for myself, if it is. I have to…

Too much guilt

Today I couldn’t stop thinking about Madison Holleran. Her story is here. Shame and guilt and grief have taken over my day today. Last year at exactly this time, I realized only after getting caught up in my guilt, I’d finished reading What Made Maddy Run and saw myself in her so much that I…

Jan 22, 2021, 10:12pm

Sometimes I think, “I’m going to push her until she breaks,” and it will prove that I destroy things I touch in a terrible, terrible way, and I will have to stop living because I broke something so incredibly special. And sometimes, I think that means the end. My story ends here: I am too…

Mom

What a title Why is it so hard To have a relationship with you? I constantly feel inferior But I feel within me that I’m not That we are just... The same And I just need You to hold me. I wish I could feel Little, and safe, And I wish The teenager in me…