Some Catching Up

So court yesterday was a joke, but at least I didn't go to jail! That's always a bonus. I got off super easy if all I'm having to do is pay restitution, really. I mean, sitting there for five hours was punishment enough, right? Anyway. I have to call someone who works for the city with my insurance information tomorrow, and then I'm good till next month. Sounds a little too easy, but we'll see. Maybe I'm just too used to chaos and can't accept a good thing when it comes my way? I didn't get as much done as planned because of how long the whole ordeal took, but I did manage to get enough out of the way before going to court to feel like I hadn't wasted the entire day. Since I woke up so early, I was able to make some important phone calls, clean out the bathroom, do all of my meditation, etc. I didn't get to do my hair, but what's the rush at this point? I mean it's awful already. I also didn't get a chance to get up to the gym to figure out my membership, but again, it's not like I really had the time to work out, so that can be done later. 

I also texted a former coworker this long, drawn out amends that I'm sure wasn't even said properly, and I know I'm not anywhere near a place to be doing such a thing, but I needed to get it off my chest. And if it's coming from a genuine spot in my heart, is it wrong to do? I hate that it was a text and not a phone call or in person, but that way she could open it when she has the time and didn't feel compelled to respond if she didn't want to. In the end, I feel like it did me some good and after going back and forth some (in which I had a lot more presented to me than I remembered or was ever aware of), I feel like there can be real healing there and that gives me hope. 

Aaaaanyway, I need to do these reviews! First up, I'll knock out Safety in Numbers, by Brittany Burgunder, again. It's a memoir of the author's personal struggle with an eating disorder that takes her from one extreme to another, being deathly underweight to morbidly obese, and further proving that weight and intake do not distinguish the severity of the disease. The majority of the book is written in the format of a personal journal that she kept during those years and later condensed to tell a story, with a few photos and further narration strewn throughout. And the quality of the book is just that: it really feels like reading someone's personal thoughts. It's scattered at times and very informal, but sometimes very profound in its simplicity. It's certainly no great American novel, but that's not the point. She bares all of her thoughts and insecurities, and in that it is so refreshing. There's nothing quite like reading something in which every word is so relatable. The best thing about it, however, was when she does begin to work on her recovery, she finally realizes that it's not a straight line and that setbacks do happen, but that's no reason to stop working as hard as possible. The initial downside is how triggering some of the very descriptive rituals and weights are, but it's a very easy read and I highly recommend it to anyone who feels confident enough to tackle such a story.

Immediately after, I picked up Carrie Fisher's Wishful Drinking. Now, I've been a huge fan of Carrie Fisher my entire life. I first saw Star Wars when I was about six. It and The Empire Strikes Back were recorded on VHS by my mother while she was at sea, and she purchased The Return of the Jedi, and I wore those tapes out. I was ten when The Phantom Menace came out, but that's a whole different story. So back to Carrie Fisher. I wanted to be Princess Leia. Well, really I wanted to be Han Solo but Leia was a close second and made more sense for me to say out loud because I'm a girl and growing up, people might have thought it was weird that I wanted to be the bad boy, but that's neither here nor there. Turns out, they're both the tough characters that I idolized, but in different ways. I followed Carrie Fisher on Twitter for years, and she never failed to make me laugh. I remember watching her on a roast on Comedy Central one time, and thinking, "This woman! Why can't more people be as amazing as her?"I was devastated to hear of her passing while I was in treatment. But about the book. I didn't realize that Wishful Drinking was a show prior to the novelization, but it certainly reads that way. It's definitely more like a long conversation than anything, a very quick and easy read, but funny as hell. Being what it is, I can't really rate it like I would a normal book, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Sunday and Monday I'd been hitting two meetings a night and getting a lot of fellowship in, and today I can finally go to the gym! I'm so excited waiting on my sponsee sister to come and pick me up. It's been far too long. I also really missed all of the ladies in my IOP, and they seemed happy to see me. I get to see some of them again at the meeting tonight, which is awesome. I desperately need to do my hair and fully intended on doing it after the meeting, but I just realized I don't have nearly enough lightener and no way of getting to the supply store, so I guess that'll be put off for another night. Oh well. Also, my plan of refraining from Instagram hasn't gone so well... At least I'm still not on Facebook. That's the real evil. Pictures are one thing, and as long as I'm not scrolling through scoping out who's liking what, I can just go about my business. But on a more serious note, I really need a better URL for this thing! I just can't decide. I've been toying with a few, but none really stick. I've had such lame blog names in the past and I want something good for once. At least it's not like I have a time limit. But back to planning out my first workout of the year. Hope I don't die!

Back Home!

I've decided to take a break from social media for a while, for my own sanity. I haven't deleted anything because I need Facebook active to log into Spotify, and I'm not on my computer much except to blog, so it's as simple as deleted apps for the time being. I don't know how long I'll go, but the people who truly want to get ahold of me know my number or hey, there's even here. I'm sure some will assume I'm ignoring them, but oh well. I just need to step away from the obsessive scrolling and borderline stalking that I tend to do with social media when I'm hurt. It doesn't do me any good.

So, the past few days! Dad and my youngest sister arrived, and we didn't get too much done. We drove to Lyman Orchard in the pursuit of stocking up on syrup, but it turns out they're closed during the winter (very much to my dismay!). We drove around some more while in Middlefield, and Mom mentioned Powder Ridge, so we wandered around there for a little while, asked about prices, and decided to return the next morning. We had dinner at the Athenian Diner, which is really quite good (I hadn't had spanakopita in a long time, so that made me happy -- lactose intolerance be damned!); drove to Essex to wander down the main streets, see out the historic homes, and check out the Griswold Inn and obnoxiously wandered around while people were having dinner; and then drove by the steam train and riverboat, but by then it had been dark for so long that I couldn't even see my beloved locomotive (I hadn't been since I was a kid!), and the entire place was already closed. Dad insisted on stopping by Cabela's because there aren't any here in Memphis and he's obsessed (plus they were bought out by Bass Pro and my little sister works for them, so she gets discounts).

Friday morning we got a late start, but we went back to Powder Ridge Ski Resort to try out snowboarding for the first time! Now, I figured it would be pretty simple, considering that I skateboard (on occasion), but I had not considered the fact that the board is super slick, my feet are both strapped in, and snow is even slicker. Needless to say, I fell a lot even on the bunny slope. But me being me -- that is to say, stubborn as hell -- I grew tired of the baby hill quickly and wanted to go on the mountain. Granted, it was the beginner's slope, but still, it's the side of a mountain. And I greatly underestimated the speed wobble; I couldn't imagine my lack of balance had I not already known how to correct myself. My poor sister was not so fortunate and was still dumb enough to follow me once before going back with the kids taking lessons. Hah!

I felt like I was about to land on the moon in those boots!

I only pretend I know what the hell I'm doing.

When I say I fell, I mean I fell a lot. I'm bruised all over, and thank god for that helmet, because I smacked my head a couple of times on the last trip down. I hurt to move the next morning, but I had a blast! I'd love to do it again, especially now that I have a better appreciation for the whole thing. My dad kept making jokes that he wished he had gone out with us to show us "how it's done" (he said this as he nearly pulled his back walking back to the car, by the way), because clearly he's the master of all board sports since he surfed while stationed in San Diego. Okay.

We went back to the apartment to change out of our soaking wet clothes (we clearly had not anticipated snow sports and were not properly dressed), and then tried Lamothe's Sugar House in Burlington, because damn it, I wanted my maple sugar candy! It had been years since I'd had any, and I wasn't going home without trying again. We'd never been there before, but Mom's cousins suggested it, and it's significantly smaller than Lyman, but the cutest little shop. We ended up getting the biggest package of candy (made in house), a box of maple cream cookies (a more commercial brand, but again I hadn't had them in years and they're not sold at home), and a huge gallon jug of amber syrup. My entire family are snobs when it comes to syrup; none of us will eat that fake, corn syrup garbage sold at stores or used in most restaurants. We're those people who carry our own with us if we're going out for breakfast. Mom's family used to own property in Vermont until quite recently, when there was death in the family and then the land was sold, and though it's the best, we also get it from local Connecticut suppliers. Dad's family also used to send us some from Wisconsin and Canada, which I'm sure was great from him, but it's not New England maple syrup. Wow, I'm so pretentious haha. I am a foodie, after all. Years of love/hate relationships with food has made me picky and stickler for the real shit, and experiencing flavor as much as possible. Plus, just fuck corn syrup entirely! Who really likes that garbage?

We ran back by the funeral home to pick up Grandpa's ashes, drove around some more with him in the car, and then had dinner at a cousin's house. That was a meal! We had the most amazing peach salsa (the perfect balance of sweet and spicy) and tortilla chips, and for dinner they'd prepared vegetables, mashed potatoes, cinnamon apple sauce, and giant ribs (they were so sweet about me being vegetarian and went out of their way to find me some white bean chili burgers, and they were really good! I'm a fan of black bean, but I'll have to find these myself). They also grow blueberries and freeze them, but when they lost power earlier this winter, they made most of them into pies so they wouldn't go to waste, and they served us one of the blueberry pies and some maple walnut ice cream and good lord was I so uncomfortably full that my head was screaming at me to act out, but it was just so delicious and I hadn't really eaten all day, so I let it just rest.

Saturday morning we got up early and packed everything we could literally fit into the van, and more going to Goodwill in the Explorer, then went to get lunch at Friendly's before heading out around 1:30pm Eastern time. Riding with Dad means driving straight through, and he does all of the driving, so eventually I'd done as much reading as I could handle without getting motion sick, no one was responding to my texts anymore, and my phone kept dying from playing too much music, so I fell asleep and woke up around 6am Central time in Nashville. The majority of the ride was rainy, and all of Pennsylvania and the Virginias were thick fog and nearly impossible to see ahead of us, so pretty early on we had to stop to replace the wipers and clean the windows. I worry about leaving Mom up there alone, because even with me there she didn't have a whole lot of motivation to do much: family or myself had to remind her to eat, and she wasn't sleeping well. I know the full weight of everything hasn't quite hit her, and she keeps wanting to call her father to ask him questions, and then remembers that she can't do that anymore. It just goes to show that no matter how old you are, you'll still always want and need your parents. She's lived away from family since long before I was born, but she talks to them regularly. I'm just really dreading when it comes time for me to seriously consider going through this with her and Dad. It terrifies me.

I had planned on doing more thorough reviews of the two books I completed while away, but I may save that for tomorrow. Since we got home yesterday morning, we all napped for a couple more hours, my cat came and curled up in bed with me for a few more, and then I rearranged all of my color, tools, and products to make them all more accessible in my closet for when I do hair at home or need to pack things to go to clients. It's so much more efficient. I just need to box up all of the books I had to move to make room! I have a huge container of books still in the garage from moving. I may have a problem. I may have to resign to using my Kindle solely from now on simply because I'll need a full personal library to ever be able to unpack, and that's after downsizing! I love books so much. Anyway, I cleaned and organized quite a bit, but didn't get to the bathroom yet (which is next on my list after posting this and calling Mom), went with a friend to a meeting, caught up with a lot of people I hadn't seen in months (seeing my best friend's former sponsor brought up a lot, and it was his home group, so it wasn't the easiest thing to get through, but so refreshing to talk about it to people who know us both), went to a second meeting down the street with a different friend, and then went out to Perkins for more fellowship. It was 2am before I got dropped off! I hadn't stayed out that late in a long time and my contacts felt like they were fused to my eyes after sleeping in them on the car ride. I don't think I fell asleep until close to 4 this morning, tossed and turned the whole time, and was wide awake by 6. That's what I get for drinking coffee before a 10pm meeting, but oh well. I slept more than usual by napping yesterday, and I feel pretty good this morning. I thoroughly enjoyed all of the intimate conversations I had last night, talked to my sponsor first thing before getting out of bed, and did more than my usual meditation this morning so I'm feeling really good. One of the things my mom got me for Christmas is this journal that says "I'm Kind of Awesome" in bold, capital letters across the front, and the idea is that you write why your'e awesome everyday! It's so goofy, but it reminds me of the daily affirmations I had to do in treatment, and when I'm feeling good, I feel better about myself, which makes everything I do feel so great. I'm also super nervous about court today at noon, so I figured reminding myself of why I'm doing all of this was a good idea. Sometimes it's hard. It's been hard the past few weeks -- the past year, really. It's been an emotional roller coaster. I've been the happiest I've ever been and also the lowest in the past twelve months. But really, thank god for it all, because I'm where I am today and that's a miracle. 

A More Somber Update

"He has already anticipated my every want and need." 

RIP Grandpa Larry
08/20/1935 - 01/13/2017

My mother and I drove thousands of miles from Memphis to Middletown, CT last Thursday after she'd been getting news that her father went to the hospital with pneumonia. It's not uncommon considering his age, but he quickly declined within a week and we later learned that he hadn't been leaving bed much prior. He didn't talk about his health and was notorious for brushing things off as if everything is fine, a trait I seem to share. We made it in around 5-5:30 Eastern time, and he was not the man we knew. He was riddled with cancer, had cirrhosis, and was breathing laboriously through fluids, and finally passed about an hour later after getting to talk to Mom. I hadn't seen him since he came down to visit around Christmas of 2013, and the last time I was here was for his seventy-fifth birthday in 2011. Life tends to just get in the way once you reach a certain age, and it wasn't for lack of wanting to visit, but between my adult responsibilities that I began taking on too soon as a teenager and my addiction and the resulting consequences, leaving town was difficult. It's easier to drive fifteen hours or hop on a direct flight to visit Grandma in Florida than two days of driving or longer, more expensive flights to New England. Regardless, I have a lot of guilt around the situation, even though we hadn't had the opportunity to get as close as I would have liked. This side of my family is super close, and a part of me was always so envious of that. 

The biggest thing for me, however, was the opportunity to be here for my mother. (If I were still using, I couldn't have left -- I'd either still be high, dead, or still in treatment. Likewise, if I hadn't relapsed and was still clean, I'd have a job and school in the way of my leaving. I have to remember everything happens for a reason, just like it's supposed to, to put me right where I need to be.) Mom moved away from her entire family at eighteen after enlisting in the Navy, marrying, and moving to Tennessee, and has always carried guilt around that, especially once we were born and so far from everyone. Her brother moved to Memphis for a new start in 2002 and now has a family of his own, but he was able to make the drive right behind us. He didn't make it in time, but Mom called him and put it on speaker phone so he could say goodbye. It was one of the most heartbreaking things I've ever witnessed, to see someone pass right before my eyes, and to watch a woman as strong as my mother hurt like that. We were lucky to have cousins in the room with us who had been sitting with him, and he was so loved that friends and family never left his side the entire week. As much as we regret not having gotten here sooner, part of me is relieved that we weren't just in and out of the hospital and that he didn't suffer long. 

Mom and I went back to his apartment to stay and that first night was especially rough. We've been busying ourselves since then cleaning everything out, taking what we want or can give to other family members, and donating what we can of what's left. Grandpa had lived in this same apartment for over forty years, so there's a lot to go through! He's also where my Mom inherited her tendency to hoard everything, so we've had to clean out every possible nook and cranny and it's gotten to be overwhelming at times. My uncle and his wife brought their baby who hadn't gotten to meet Grandpa yet, but she's such a happy little thing and has served as quite the distraction when things have gotten tough. Saturday evening my cousins had everyone get together where there was so much food, and the house could hardly contain everyone. Kiana is the youngest, but there were two other small children I hadn't met before and CJ, who was much smaller the last time I was here. We talked and laughed and caught up, looked through lots of old photos (photography and family history is huge with this side of my family, which I appreciate; I don't know many other people these days who share my love of film and old cameras, either), and had a good time. Grandpa was always the life of the party, and what better way to remember him than by enjoying each other's company and telling his lame jokes? My uncle's family left on Tuesday after going over arrangements at the funeral home. It was Grandpa's wish to be cremated, and Mom plans on spreading his ashes most likely in Vermont, which he loved. We've found all kinds of amazing things, like a machete and a "brain harvester" (Mom needs to get her hearing checked!), an Edison phonograph, and Mom's childhood skateboard. We've been lucky to have lots of help and have made a huge dent in clearing things out, but there's still a lot of work to do before the end of the month, and I have to go home this weekend.

There's a huge part of me that is craving attention right now and maybe that's a big reason for me putting so much of this out there. It's not something I'm proud of. I'd like to project this image of someone who is so magically recovered and cured, but that's not at all the case. If there's anything I've learned time and time again, is that life happens and there's no perfect way to handle things. People come to me for suggestions and advice all the time, and it's so easy for me to take on their problems and forget about my own, but that only hurts me in the end. I've been putting off really talking about what's been bothering me the most because I keep feeling like if I ignore it, it's not really happening. I really need to take a social media break, because I can't stand being reminded of everything I'm losing and missing out on. I miss my best friend. I can't even properly be there for my Mom emotionally because I'm so preoccupied with my own shit and trying to numb the pain as best I can without acting out. I'd actually considered self-harm again the other day, talked about it to a friend, and a few hours later came across a package full of fresh straight razors. I'd be lying if I said I immediately threw them out; it took a few hours after hiding them in my bag, but I finally did. How is cutting myself over someone going to hurt them? They'll never know, and I'm left with the guilt and shame of acting on old behaviors. That's one more step backward and I haven't cut in nearly four months. Do I want to use over him? Yes, and no. Yes, so that I don't feel and because a part of me will always crave the drugs, but mostly no because I've seen too much death and destruction this month alone, and because of how my last relapse went. I nearly killed him trying to kill myself, and for that I will have to work long and hard on forgiving myself. I don't want to be that person anymore. I'm finally getting to a point where I'm mostly comfortable in my own skin again, I feel like though there isn't much going on for me externally, I do have value, and what good am I to him or anyone else if I'm high or dead? I've spent my entire life hating myself and thinking I had this great capacity for love, but how could I love anyone when I was so busy trying to destroy myself? I loved as hard as I could, and I still do. I miss people tremendously, whether they realize it or not. Years after going through painful situations I still lose sleep agonizing over the memories we had. That will keep me from making new, better memories, and I need to learn to not get so hung up on the past, which is a symptom of my depression. I'm learning to turn everything over every morning, every noon, every night, every day... trusting the process, and realizing that if it's not meant to be, there's nothing I can do to change it. True, unconditional love is about being able to set someone free anyway, right? As long as the ones I love are happy with or without me, that's all that matters. I'll never stop loving as hard as I do, but I don't have to be so sick and codependent about it. The only person I'll ever have forever is me, and I have to keep working on that relationship, because really, it could be something so beautiful.

Today's Twenty-Four Hours a Day

We're waiting now on Dad and my youngest sister to get here. A few hours ago they were near Scranton, PA, so it shouldn't be too much longer. We'd been getting help from cousins with the cleaning, lifting, and transporting, but everyone is busy today so we're kind of taking it easy. It's much prettier outside than the past few days, but still very cold. I don't mind the cold as long as it's not too windy or wet or the roads aren't awful, and luckily we haven't encountered any horrible weather since being here. It snowed some Saturday night, but once the sun came up Sunday morning, it was gone quickly. It's very different here than at home. I hate when it snows at home, because it's just a slushy, muddy mess and freezes over and no one knows how to handle it. Here, it takes some act of god to close down anything because they're so prepared and accustomed to it. Basically, I have no idea what we're doing today. I'm sure we'll go to eat once they get here, and I really want to go to at least one more meeting in town before I leave. Last night we went to Mom's friend's house, a woman she's known since high school, and that was fun and a nice escape from everything, but really I'm just ready to go home and be with my animals and my support system. I miss my meetings and even my IOP group! That's crazy to admit. I'm doing the best I can though, and that's all that matters.

My New Mission Statement

New year, new goals! Express gratitude wherever possible!

Don't worry, I'm still a nerd :)

Well aren't I just the queen of making blogs and neglecting them? Anyway, I've honestly reconsidered this thing for a while. I still enjoy sharing photos and recipes and reviews and all of that fun stuff, but I don't do them often and it makes me feel like anything I'd blog about is irrelevant if that's the main focus. For one, I'm not good at maintaining the appearance of having anything together for prolonged periods of time when the reality is quite the opposite. Two, I've gone through a lot and it means so much to me to be able to help prevent others from making the same mistakes that I've made. I've gone through periods of public oversharing and brutal honesty, but mostly I'm isolated and secretive; I'm a recovering addict -- it's what I do. I still love doing hair and am still planning on finishing school, but my life has been put on pause for a little while. As of today, I'm broke, unemployed, still living at my mother's, once again find myself without a vehicle, fresh out of treatment and doing regular outpatient groups, attending twelve-step meetings, and desperately clinging to whatever hope I can find. (I'm also currently in New England taking care of some personal things, but that's for later)

Hope -- that's something I'm not lacking. My current situation really sucks, but I've overcome a lot in the past few months and have finally realized the importance of the saying, "No message without the mess!" I've had to go through hell and back to make any kind of impact on the people out in the world that I need to help. I've been doing a lot of reading in my downtime as well, and currently it's been Safety in Numbers: From 56 to 221 Pounds, My Battle with Eating Disorders, by Brittany Burgunder, someone I stumbled across on Instagram one day. I downloaded the Kindle version of her book months ago, but a lot of the beginning was just trigger-material and I would read it when I wanted to make myself sicker. I know that's not at all the intention, just as when I finally get to writing my own story it may or may not sit well with others, but once I really sat down and started going through it (and remembered that Kindle has a "highlighter" option for me to abuse), I realized how much I could really, honestly relate to everything she said and did. I've never been less than 100 pounds, but nor have I ever been over 200. I have, however, struggled with body image and weight since I was a child, and my addiction first manifested itself through food long before I picked up any illicit substance. Halfway through my reading the other night, I was overcome with this need to speak my peace publicly, and though I'm still ridden with anxiety over the idea of anyone seeing or knowing about this, it was well-received and the people who know me best and whose opinions I actually care about already know all of the gritty shit. Who else is there to impress? Strangers? That's what I'm here for! Not to impress anyone, but to maybe reach someone in need through my own insane testimonies.

I went through treatment at Serenity Recovery Center in Memphis over the holidays, and one of the biggest issues I had to face while there was not my addiction, but myself. My addiction and every symptom of it are results of the way that I feel about myself, and my self-loathing most commonly manifests in extremely destructive behaviors. What you may or may not know about me is I suffer from major depression and panic disorders, I've attempted suicide multiple times, I have an eating disorder, I self-harm, and I'm a drug addict. I've been working on all of these issues on and off for years, but while at Serenity I was stabilized on my medication (today I'm on 60mg of Prozac), and my counselor did a personalized treatment plan specifically targeting my self-esteem. I was made to journal every day for at least ten minutes (which I try to do nightly anyway), make gratitude lists, write down ten positive affirmations about myself, do "mood trackers" (where you write down a negative thought, the underlying feeling, and then a way to positively change that thought), and keep a "spiritual journal" (often times I'd copy the Daily Reflections, rewrite the Serenity Prayer a million times, or just beg my Higher Power to give me patience, understanding, etc.) daily. I've tried to keep up with all of these things in my recent journaling, and so far so good -- but then it has only been a few weeks!

One of my last assignments was to write a love letter to myself. If you know me at all, I'm sure you can imagine my reaction. I got frustrated. I was angry, anxious, thought it was the dumbest assignment ever, and could only think of all the things I hated about myself. I sat down quite a few times trying to figure out where to even begin when my counselor finally handed me a sheet of paper with an example on it. It was the goofiest sounding thing I'd ever read in my life and I wish I had it with me to share, but regardless it got the ball rolling. I ended up really surprising myself and, handwritten, took up four whole pages:

Dear Sarah, 

This is a very uncomfortable and uncertain time for you, so it's important that you learn to be kind to yourself. Sometimes it helps to step outside of yourself to see what everyone else does. We've been together for twenty-seven years now, and so many things have changed, from your interests to your thinking, and obviously your body. I love how much more accepting and open-minded you've become over the past few years, because though intellect has always been present, you needed something else to teach you to share wisdom rather than hoard it. You're a great listener and there are so many reasons why people can barely know you but already feel so comfortable confiding in you; people automatically look to you for direction and leadership even when you're in the same positions they're in; and you are extremely observant, yet unbiased. That takes a lot of practice, because getting emotionally involved can be the easier route. You're so much more artistic and creative than you give yourself credit, and all it takes is getting back into the practice of drawing and painting again. You don't have to hide your portfolios away simply because you lacked confidence in it when you were a teenager. You have so much knowledge and experience to share that it really is such a shame that you subconsciously censor yourself all the time. Doesn't it feel amazing when someone thanks you for sharing? You could feel that all the time, but you have to get over those feelings of inadequacy. You have so much to offer to other women, and your past defines your present character, so don't let it drag you down. They are experiences and strengths, not mistakes and weakness. Every scar is a reminder of what you've endured and survived to tell the tale. You're not that awkward little girl anymore and there's no one left to impress. You're a grown woman and all of those years of trying to fit in to one style or another has left you with no choice but to create your own, and so many people compliment you on it! Wasn't that one of the first reasons Chad gave for wanting to photograph you, and didn't those shots get more attention than you knew how to handle? Even you couldn't deny how good some of them are, which brings us to the physical; it's easy to compliment your brain, because it's what you've relied on your entire life. Always making good grades with minimal effort, absorbing knowledge simply by being present. But you struggle with your body, and that hurts the people who love you. Your family and friends cringe when they see your scars, especially now that you've given up on hiding them. They're a part of you now and though they made fade with time, it's only skin. They tell stories more than the tattoos you spend hundreds of dollars and hours on, and you're not alone, so why be ashamed? How many grown women and men have come to you since you quit hiding to commend you and tell you of their own struggles? How many men and women have openly admitted to their own eating and body image issues because you trusted them to know of yours first? You have so much insight to give and can save a lot of people from going down the same roads, if only you speak up. You have beautiful eyes and do well to play them up but not mask them with cosmetics. You have your grandfather's nose and looked just like him as an infant, and it's a trait you share with your mother and sisters, and if they have such pretty faces, why can't you? You share your dad's crooked smile, but when it's genuine you wear it all over your face. Everyone compliments your hourglass shape but you feel the need to hide in the baggiest clothes, because wide hips are a sign of maturity, womanhood, and sexuality, and you're uncomfortable with all of those elements of yourself; you were not built like an adolescent boy, even as a child, so don't get caught up in the futility of trying to look like one. You work so hard to eat properly and stay active, but results don't appear overnight. Your body has endured a lot of abuse in the past but it's still functioning properly most of the time. It just needs to be given a chance to heal. You have run, walked, and swam so many miles, danced nights away, and put in blood, sweat, and tears for the things you truly want, and not everyone is physically able to do that. Your vision isn't so far gone that it's can't be corrected, you have excellent senses of hearing and smell, you are eloquent, and it's not a sin to occasionally indulge in delicious things -- that's why we can taste! You must learn to nurture your body and mind with food, not punish it. Everyone makes mistakes, and making one isn't a failure, but a learning opportunity. And your personality: how many times have you made yourself laugh but held it in? You're funny and others appreciate it when you don't hold it in. People appreciate how you are uniquely you and don't follow the crowd or change for other people. Your thoughts and opinions are your own, but you're not so set in your ways that you can't see someone else's views. You're empathetic and compassionate, and sometimes people will take advantage of that, but don't let it make you bitter. Your patience and tolerance are growing as you, too, learn to accept people for who and where they are. You're doing well at not taking things so personally or losing your temper any more. People see you as calm, cool, and collected, and very down-to-earth, and your quiet reservation for observation and not judgment. They look to you for advice. And you have so much love to give. When you love, you do so so deep down to your core that you can feel it in everything that you say and do, but beware to allow that love to blind you. Everyone is just as human and imperfect as you are. All you can do is be yourself and love them for who they are. But most importantly, you have to love yourself. Some people will until you learn to, but that only goes so far. If you don't learn to love yourself, you'll continue to push people away with your self-hate. It's okay to be proud of yourself -- total self-loathing is an ego problem, too, and the key is humility and moderation. You are not the scum of the earth, nor the cause of all the world's problems. You can only control you, no one else. You are not a number on a scale or clothing label; you are not your external appearances. All of these things change over time, and you will never be anyone but you -- that's what matters. 

I love you. 

Love, Sarah

I was actually supposed to process this letter in group, but with the holiday schedule and me leaving right after the New Year, there was no time. I did have another girl read it one day, and she nearly cried! We'd gotten so close in the two weeks we were there together and she knew how tough that was for me. I still feel really ridiculous, but amazingly it helped so much. Sometimes I still read it to myself when I'm having a really bad day. It's something I highly recommend trying. It can be short, long, silly, serious, whatever. You can write one and reread it over and over or write new ones anytime you need them. I'm so happy to have found some peace with myself after being forced to sit for forty-two days, or at least I have it today. 

I also take the concept of daily meditation very personally these days, as well, and first thing upon awakening, read the daily Just For Today and do the corresponding page in a copy of Hazelden's Twenty-Four Hours a Day that a past AA sponsor gave me in 2014. It helps to center me for the upcoming day. Talking to others in recovery helps tremendously as well, and I'm always amazed at who comes to me with their problems, whether they are looking for suggestions or just a listening ear. I am by no means equipped to give advice, but I can share my experiences and maybe that will prevent someone else from making the same mistakes I have.

I suppose that was the whole point of this awkward post, that I want to help people however I can but still work on what I need to do for myself. When I get home, I'm going to continue to do IOP until I'm discharged, attend meetings daily, stay connected, get back into the gym, ease back into work and school, and continue to focus on what I need to do for my own sanity. I would never break anyone's anonymity, but I'm willing to put out my own if it'll make any difference, because that's all that matters.

And now back sorting through dusty things for my next post! :)