Salutations, blogging world...

I deleted my tumblr a few days ago.  I was posting nothing but thinspiration on it, and I know how toxic that can be for people with eating disorders and issues with body image.  I feel the need to start fresh.  I wish I had a new blog engine.  I wish I knew how to set up my own website.  I'll most likely just stay here though, since I've already got this blog set up, and I enjoy writing. Why change, right?

I suppose this is a reflection upon my frustration with life in general, lately.  I'm in a new city trying to change my lifestyle for the better, but I am still depressed.  One thing I am grateful for is the fact that I have a blank slate... Very few people here know who I am.  I can make new friends, if I like, but I really don't intend to put down any lasting roots here, except my deep roots in the church.  I'll only be in this city for two years, so I see it as more of a stepping stone.  I don't want to settle here.  It is just the next phase in the process of further education. 

The future is terrifying.  I am constantly trying to better myself in order to improve my future, soften it a little. 

I'm still scared. 
                I'm still depressed. 
                                        I am still unsure. 
                                                             I need help. 
                                                                           I need to get my shit together. 

that's me writing

Shower Prayers

Hello, hello everyone!  I'm back!  I am now writing from my new city.  That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I have moved out of my hometown and my personal hell and am now living in a city 30 minutes from where I grew up.  I will be living in my gramma's attic for the next couple years while I study for my associate's degree in liberal arts.  I graduated on June 3rd, moved on the 6th, and I'm loving it. 

Last weekend I went to the United Church of Christ annual meeting. It was a great experience!  A lot of people from my church told me, It's all long meetings... you're going to get so bored...it's just church politics... On the contrary - I learned a lot and made some great friends.  I will, however, admit that my ass did get quite sore sitting through those lengthy meetings.  I got to learn more about the UCC, participate in a flash mob, and attend some great workshops.  I helped out with communion during sunday worship. 

During worship, a video of youth interviews was shown.  The footage was taken at our last weekend camp and each of the youth had been asked to talk about their faith journey and what the church meant to them.  My interview was at the end of the video.  I talked for the longest.  It was kind of embarassing to watch... I spoke about my eating disorder, my dying catholic faith, and how the United Church of Christ fostered new spiritual growth after my struggles with mental illness, and coming out.  After the service, several people approached me to thank for openly sharing the story of my faith journey.  I got a lot of hugs... and we all know, I love hugs.  It was a cool experience.  :)

I had a hard time eating at the conference.  Since I moved out of my parents' house, I've been struggling more with my eating disorder.  I have yet to get used to my new environment and routine.  I ate only one meal over the entire weekend at the UCC conference.  I talked to my youth pastor about it, and that helped.  She is my rock.  While we were in taize at the conference, I started to cry because the prayers we were singing touched me so deeply.  They were prayers for help, prayers for comfort, and that is just what I need.  I felt so connected to God and so in need of God's love in that moment... I had hoped that no one would see me cry, and I managed to be dry-eyed by the time taize was over and the lights came back on (we'd been meditating in candle light).  I had been seen though, and I was faced with a crowd of people wondering if I was okay and trying to console me.  I was mortified and furious with myself.

I booked it out of there... some of the youth were going for a walk, and I went with them.  I was in a foul, self-hating mood.  I didn't really want to go for a walk, but I also didn't want to turn down the opportunity to hang out with my church friends.  I walked with them for a while and then headed back to my dorm.  I went to my room, got ready for bed, and turned off the lights... I had a taize candle & candle holder in my room that a pastor had given me after my emotional episode.  I didn't want the damn candle, it was too much of a reminder of the humiliating incident during taize.  I took the candle out of my bag and I was going to get rid of it, but I discovered a chip in the glass candle holder.  There was a sliver of broken glass in the bottof of the candle holder.  I took it out and made a half-hearted attempt at self harm, but it didn't really work.  I wasn't trying hard enough; I didn't really want to cut.  I threw the broken piece of glass across the room as hard as I could and listened to it bounce off the opposite wall in the dark. 

I'm having a hard time adjusting to the new city and whatnot, but it's not all bad.  I have hard times still, and I'm really lonely.  I'm having fun though... I'm able to spend more time with friends because I'm close to them.  I can ride my bike all over town and I have access to the library, my church, GLYS, and various theaters.  My faith means everything to me right now.  I'm praying a lot for help with my mental illness and giving thanks for my new life. 

This morning while I was in the shower, I felt very relaxed.  I was very aware of how the water felt running over my skin, and the steam caressing my face. I lifted my hands a little, palms open, and said a prayer for help, for healing, and a prayer of thanks for my move and my good friends.  A warm, relaxing shower is a great place for morning prayer and meditation.  It's a bit like baptism, I suppose.  It's purifying. 

I'm going out to see Dark Shadows this afternoon with a friend, and this evening I'm going to an LGBT youth group meeting and then to a presentation at my church... some missionaries who have just returned from a year in Zimbabwe are going to talk to the congregation about their missionary work and experiences. 

I just rubbed my eye and probably totally fucked up my eyeliner... great. 

Dear readers, I have a favor to ask.  A friend of mine has recently come out but he is unsure about his sexuality.  Pray for him, send him vibes, keep him in your thoughts - whatever it is you do.  He's a great friend and I wish nothing but the very best for him. 

Create a beautiful day, guys...
xxx

Peaceful moments

The front doors are bathed in sunlight if the weather allows.  Between the pillars that support the awning are wooden benches.  Walk inside… to your left is Fellowship Hall where church meals, meetings, and events take place.  To the right is the sanctuary.  The sanctuary is big and blue.  The carpeting is blue and the wall behind the altar is blue.  The side walls are white and set with colorful stained glass windows.  The light-colored wooden pews have maroon cushions on them.  The vaulted ceiling is made of the same light wood.  On the altar is a projection screen where they show the lyrics to our songs, our prayers, and announcements for the congregation.  Dead center on the wall behind the altar is a depiction of God wrought in brass.  God has his/her/its hands outstretched and a halo around his/her/its head.  There are no facial features, or clues to any gender or race.  In front of that is a podium where from which our two pastors preach (though they rarely remain stationary behind the podium) and a table from which communion is served.  On the right side of the altar, set back from the rest of the main floor is a raised floor where the choir sits between songs.  In front of this space are the mics, the drums, the piano, and the organ for making music during worship.  I like the sanctuary best after service when the lights are off and sunlight streams down through the windows.  I have many fond memories of sitting alone in the sanctuary or sitting there with just one person for company – usually my youth pastor.  I became a member of Peace in the sanctuary, my youth pastor blessed my prayer shawl in the sanctuary, and I have spent a lot of time in the sanctuary crying, praying, and meditating. 
 

My youth pastor blessed my prayer shawl for me.  We went into the Sanctuary.  It was just the two of us and we sat in a back corner that was full of sunlight streaming down through the tall, stained-glass windows.  She and I sat cross-legged with the shawl between us.  She arranged the shawl in a circle with a plastic, batter-powered tea light in the middle.  We both put our hands on it and I sank my fingers into the soft, purple yarn.  I could feel the sunlight on my shoulders.  She said the prayer:

May god's grace be upon this shawl...

warming, comforting, enfolding and embracing.

May this mantle be a safe haven...

a sacred place of security and well being...

sustaining and embracing in good times,

as well as difficult ones.

May the one who recieves this shawl be cradled in hope, kept in joy,

graced with peace,

and wrapped in love.  Amen. 

I thanked her; she gave me the prayer sheet and asked me to blow out the candle.  I chuckled nad pushed the button on the bottom of the plastic candle. 
 

She gave me a big hug.  It all felt very special and holy in the quiet, beautiful, sun-filled sanctuary.  I want to remember it. 
 

There was another moment I want to remember from Peace church.  It was on Good Friday, during the end of lent.  After the service was over, I stayed in the sanctuary to meditate, pray, and find some comfort and rest.  Both pastors were praying with those who stayed in the Sanctuary.  It was peaceful in the dark but I also had veelings of fear of the future and sadness about Jesus' death threatening to overwhelm me. My youth pastor came to sit by me.  We leaned together and she wrapped her arms around me.  I closed my eyes and tried to let all my worries melt away for a little while.  squeezed my shoulder and said, "God, be with sapphire always."
 

I felt so loved and treasured in that moment.
 

"Always."
 

God is and will be with me always.  My youth pastor helped me to realize and believe this.
 

That prayer was one of the few, breif, and far between moments in which I felt happiness, beauty, and comfort.  I need to hold on to these precious memories and reflect on them during hard times. 

The sanctuary is my favorite part of the church.  On the floors above and below the main sanctuary are classrooms and rooms for meetings.  I am more familiar with the lower floor.  There is the Iglesias sanctuary on the left for the Spanish services that take place on Sunday afternoons; to the right are Pastor Paul and Pastor Kayla’s offices.  Down from that are high school, middle school, and preschool classrooms, as well as bathrooms, and a small theater.  I go to faith formation in the high school room.  When you first walk into the high school room, there is a ping pong table that is occasionally cluttered with art supplies, bibles, and other things.  There is also a foosball table.  Five couches are arranged in a circle.  There is an area carpet in the middle with dark, muted squares of color.  A table stands on the carpet with candles on it, a box of markers, pens, and pencils, and a stack of paper.  There is a large television that looks as though it’s been around since the invention of the flat screen TV.  Back to Fellowship hall – carpet of questionable color (it’s got a little bit of everything in it) tan walls, high ceiling.  There are a few long rectangular tables on one side, and lots of round tables surrounded by folding chairs.  There is a podium that I have never seen being used that has a sound board on it.  The kitchen is right next to the main room and has a large window/counter for serving food.  The church is fairly large.  There is one main level with the sanctuary, church office, Fellowship hall, and Peace room.  The other side of the church is split into three levels with classrooms, meeting rooms, and a couple more offices.  Peace is the one place where I am able to let go of everything troubling me and just be happy.  It is the one place in my life where I am fully accepted for exactly who I am and loved without reservation.  This church saved me from a lot of grief I’d been getting from the Catholic church I attended my whole life up until a year ago.  Peace UCC teaches me about a God that loves everyone, not just a select few people; a God who is more like a parent than anything.  I love the people who go to my church with me. 

Today is a terrible day.

I'm supposed to be taking notes right now, but I just don't feel like it.  I don't care about much of anything at present.  I would give anything to be in the sanctuary at Peace church right now.  I'm tired and sad and run-down.

I miss my girlfriend.  Oh sorry, I mean ex-girlfriend.

I feel empty, void.  There's a blackness in my chest that won't go away. My insatiable need for affection is eating away at me.  Having such a tremendous need makes me feel pathetic and very irritated with myself.  I'm so frustrated with this neediness, wanting, and sickness. 

I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself! I don't want to, but that's how I feel right now.  I have lots of good reasons for this, too, so it's hard to convince myself that it's alright, I'm alright.  I am behind in three of my six classes, and owe make-up work in two more classes.  I'm trying to ask my supports for help, but I'm talkng in circles.  It's damn near impossible for anyone to help me in the state I'm in. 

I'm really hungry.  I've been indulging in "target behaviors," whatever the hell that means...  I've been reading memoirs about anoretics, and all I've eaten today is 4 oz of fat-free yogurt.  I only ate that to appease someone who's concerned about me.  I feel really bad for making people worry about me.  I'm such a stupid, worthless piece of sh*t. 

I wish Sarah would stop staring at me.  To the students sitting around me while I'm blogging in class: Yeah, I get it. We have a ten page paper to work on, and I'm already behind schedule.  I honestly don't care, though, so leave me alone and quit looking at me like I'm a hopeless bum.  I am a hopeless bum, but it's really none of your business.

The school counselor is unavailable for the next two weeks, and I only get to go to therapy once a week.  I'm screwed. I need someone to talk to.  I need someone to help me eat.  I need a hug. 

I wonder if we have play practice tonight. I can't remember. Rachel...?

I need some serious inspiration and motivation here.  I'm going nowhere fast. 

Faith Ponderings (United Church of Christ)

"Around 7 p.m. on February 26, 17-year-old Trayvon Martin walked out of the gated community near Orlando where he was visiting his father to go get some Skittles and a can of iced tea at a neighborhood convenience store. On his way home, George Zimmerman (28) was in his car when he saw Martin walking on the street.   He called the police and said, “There’s a real suspicious guy. This guy looks like he’s up to no good, on drugs or something. It’s raining and he’s just walking around looking about.”  The police dispatcher asked, “Are you following him?”  Zimmerman replied, “Yeah.”  The dispatcher responded, “OK, we don’t need you to do that.”

Martin was talking on the phone with a teenage girl and told her that he was being hounded by a strange man on a cell phone who was running after him.  Zimmerman, carrying 9 millimeter handgun, shot and killed the 17 year old African American boy.  There are many disputes about what really happened during this altercation, but the end result was that a 17 year old un-armed boy was killed, and thus far Zimmerman has not been charged with any crime, claiming his actions were in self-defense. 

Martin’s English teacher described him as “as an A and B student who majored in cheerfulness.”   Martin had no criminal record, yet Zimmerman was charged in July 2005 with resisting arrest with violence and battery on an officer.  Zimmerman called the police 46 times since Jan. 1, 2011, and according to neighbors, Zimmerman was “fixated on crime and focused on young, black males.”

Why does this story matter?  It matters to me, and should matter to us because unfortunately this event represents the continued racism that plagues our country and the lives of our brothers and sisters.  With the upcoming election in November, I recently saw a bumper sticker that said, “Don’t Re-Nig in 2012: Stop repeat offenders.  Don’t reelect Obama.”   This blatant hatred is unacceptable, and as a community of faith is it our business to be involved in places of in-justice in our world.  Micah 6:8 says, “What does the Lord require of you but to seek justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God.”  Sometimes it’s easier to walk humbly and love kindness than to seek justice.  Justice is not just the work of courts, government, and legislators. 

Educating yourself about white privilege is a step towards seeking justice.  (I recommend http://www.timwise.org/category/essays/)  Supporting anti-prejudice and anti-racist organizations is a step towards seeking justice.  Making an effort to get to know people different than you or learning about cultures other than you own is a step towards seeking justice. 

Creating the Beloved Community here on earth is what Jesus taught us to do.  This is the work we have been given and entrusted with.  Will you join us?" 

 -Pastor Kayla

Bonnie

When I was still a part of the Catholic church I had a fabulous confirmation teacher.  Due to my pent up, secret anger with God and disbelief that God existed I clammed up and didn't allow her to teach me much about my faith.  Outside of the church, however, she was a huge inspiration to me.  She, like me, had also struggled with an eating disorder in her past, and was familiar with the misery of mental illness. I used to go for long walks on summer evenings and would "coincidentally" end up at her house.  She could usually be found out in her front garden with her dog and cat enjoying the weather.  We stood outside in front of her house and had long conversations about mental illness, faith, our interests, and homophobia in the church.  She helped me through hard times.  She was always there to give me a hug when I needed it, she understood my pain but she also understood my creativity and encouraged me to put it to use when I needed emotional release. 

Unfortunately, her mental illness came back to plague her.  For nearly a year now, I have not spoken to her or heard from her.  I don't even know if she ever leaves her house anymore.  When I've tried to contact her, she says she has too many mental & physical health issues to reach out to anyone and that she is focusing all her energy on getting well and taking care of her family.  I understand and respect her decision to pull away from her social life to focus on what's really important to her, but at the same time I can't deny the fact that I miss her so much.  My heart is breaking for her because she means the world to me and I can't stand to imagine how much pain she is in. 

I saw her tonight - just a glimpse when I walked past her house with my aunt's dog.  Her hair is longer.  I can't tell if she's thinner or not.  She turned around for a moment before walking behind her house and I don't know if she saw me or recognized me.  I really wanted to yell her name, make her see me, and insist on giving her a hug; a healing embrace.  I have to respect her needs, though. 

I might write a letter, just to let her know what's going on in my world and remind her how much she means to me, and let her know I'm thinking of her and praying for her.  There's so much I want to tell her.  I want to share the news of my new found love with her, let her see my blue hair as well as show her photos of when my hair was purple.  I want to let her know I'm here for her, I will listen, and that she is worth the world to me.  It's very hard to let go and wait for her to come to me. 

I plan on inviting her to my graduation party.  I really hope she comes.

107 page views and 47 days

Good morning readers! Happy 100 page views!!! 

I'm exhausted.  My medication turns me into a zombie.  I sleep like a rock at night, which is wonderful, but it's really difficult to wake up in the morning and get through the day.  I'm very easily distracted during my online class - an hour and a half in which I am expected to read through a ton of material, take a billion little quizzes, write papers, and pump out art work like a friggin' print factory without supervision or motivation.  I usually go on twitter...and, of course, here! I very rarely write from home.  I write every morning while I'm at school.  I'm a terrible student, I know...and I don't care. 

My hands are healing up very nicely from my panic attack scratching, but it's taking forever.  Although it may seem like a fabulous idea at the time, I always regret self harm later.  As singer Ida Maria says, "What's easy in the night is always such a bite in the morning light." So please, don't hurt yourself.  You are beautiful, you are worth the world, and you will make it through this. 

This is the part where someone I know reads this and texts me saying "YOU SHOULD TAKE YOUR OWN ADVICE!" *Sigh* I know, I know.  I"m working on it! I promise. 

A young couple is having a house built across the street.  It's strange... they tore down the old house that was on the lot.  An old woman had been living in that house for as long as I can remember, but she passed away about a month ago.  I'd shoveled the snow off her walk for years, and then one day when I came home from school, the house was gone and the front walk I'd shoveled had been taken out.  Now a huge, ugly house is being planted in the ground.  They've just finished the structure for the basement and they're putting in the floor on the first level today.  It's super irritating to have to wake up to construction noises at 6 in the morning.  Why couldn't they just buy one of the many houses on the market that people are desperately trying to sell because we all need the money?? Did they really have to build a brand new house right there?

I saw a kid get pantsed in the hallway at school this morning.  I know it's totally mean and inappropriate, but it made me smile a little bit . . . I told Stacie about it, and she thought it was awful.  "I mean, seriously, how old are they??" she asked, in reference to their immaturity. 

"Well.." I said, "I pants my 26-year-old sister sometimes..."

"Yeah, but that's funny," she replied, and we both burst out laughing.  I love her. :) I'm going to miss her so much when I graduate!!! 

I can't believe there are only 47 days (not including weekends) left of my senior year.  It's wild!  After graduation I'm going to move in with my grandma in a town 20 minutes away so I can be closer to my church and college.  I'm going to be a grown -up.... weird....

Spoiler Alert: Hunger Games

My mental health is taking a turn for the worst.  I went to church yesterday, and normally I am elated to be there.  I love going to church; it's my favorite place to be.  I wasn't as excited as usual, though.  Just relieved.  I felt tired.  During service I cried.  Kayla put her arm around me and I cried harder.  What is it about affection & touch that makes my heart and spine feel electrocuted?  When people show concern or care for me I feel like I'm having a little 2-second heart attack. 
 

I saw my girlfriend last night.  She came with me to youth group and we went out to eat.  I was struggling to eat, which I know was hard for her to witness.  She thinks I purged, too, but I didn't.  I want her to believe me and trust me when I tell her I'm trying my hardest to get better for her. If it weren't for her I wouldn't be putting nearly so much effort into recovery. It's exhausting. 

I got to go see the Hunger Games yesterday.  It was really good!  There were a lot of details that didn't match up with the book, but other than that it was a fabulous movie.  It was terrifying yet moving to see all those kids simultaneously killing each other and banding together to protect each other.  My favorite scene was when Katniss laid Rue to rest with a bouquet of Queen Anne's Lace in her hands and blue & purple Lupins framing her face.  Katniss's compassion for the little girl and her three-finger salute to District 11brought me to tears.  I wish Rue could have made it out alive with Peeta and Katniss.  :(

Emmaus at Peace

Here is a drawing of me holding a 6-week old baby at church.  He's so precious and warm and tiny.  Last Sunday I got to hold him for half an hour while he slept, and it was wonderful.  I love the little squawks and baby grunts he makes in his sleep.  :)  It's so calming to have a tiny body curled up and sleeping on your chest.  I sang the lullaby my mom made up for me to him. Usually I can't remember it except for a vague semblance of the tune, but when I sang to baby Emmaus I magically remembered all the words. 

Jesus bless you, Emmaus
While you're fast asleep
You'll awake to loving smiles
Sunshine rays & cloudy days
And I pray your whole life through
Angels will watch over you
Loving you the way I do,
My Emmaus sleep well

...and he cooed and gurgled at me in his sleep.  I thought I'd share that little bit of bliss with you.

In other news, my girlfriend and I are taking a "break" now.  I posted about this yesterday as well, but I had not yet talked to her about it.  If you listen to the song "Call it off" by Tegan & Sara, you will understand my current situation.  Tegan & Sara sum it up beautifully. 

 I hope and pray that I can figure my shit out and we can stay strong until prom at the very least.  She blames herself, despite my insistence that none of this is her fault.  It's all in my head.

Today I must eat.  I must, I must, I must.  I'm looking forward to Sunday.  I need some church and some more Emmaus cuddle-time.
 

Create a beautiful day...  

Crisis Update

I'm having a rough week.  In the aftermath of my meltdown two weeks ago, I am struggling to keep my head above the figurative waters.  I eat only because I have to, and only when I absolutely must.  The youth pastor at my church is keeping me afloat by making sure I tell her what I eat.  Last night she called me and I was able to talk to her for a while.  The thing about not eating is that once I start restricting or fasting, it's hard for me to eat again.  Starvation for me has a snowball effect - If I skip even one meal, or restrict just a little, I think, "Why not keep going? I'm on a roll."  It's a horrible, destructive cycle.  I wouldn't wish this misery on anyone. 

I also feel like my relationship is just hanging on by a thread.  My girlfriend is very loyal to me, but right now I"m not able to give back to her because of my decaying mental health.  I want her, and I want to be able to love her as much as she loves me but right now I can't.  I'm beginning to feel that our previous friendship impedes our relationship because we know each other's weaknesses and thus are too careful of each other.  I hate cutting our relationship short; I hate the idea of just throwing it away after all we've been through to get here, but I'm contemplating taking a break from the romance at the very least.  When J and I got together I thought I was ready for a relationship and that what we had could last, but lately I feel like I'm always walking on eggshells.

At this point, I want to forget all my problems and just focus on school, my art, and I want to create tons of art and read a lot.  That sounds fabulous! I wish it were that simple - just drop everything and relax.  It doesn't help any that I'm sitting in a library as I write this and I see so many great titles lining the walls. 

Speaking of books, I'm going to write a letter to J. K. Rowling.  I hope I hear back from her!  She is so fabulous. 

Dear readers, I hope you are having much better lives than me.  And for anyone with an eating disorder reading this, please seek help.  I know it seems like a good idea to starve right now, but in the long run you'll regret it.  If you don't regret it, it means you're dead. 

Create a beautiful day...

So here's what's up:

 My meds just stopped working out of the blue. I had the two most fantastic weeks I've had in years, and I thought I was, like, cured. But on Sunday morning I woke up and I knew it was over. I was at church camp and my pastor and I sat in a coat rack while I cried and cried and cried. I probably scared the shit out of her because I scratched through the skin on the back of my left hand and couldn't explain why I was so upset because I was crying so hard.  Also, I just didn't know why I was so upset.  I didn't know what was wrong at first.

I tried to go to school yesterday, but I just sat in front of a computer and cried for two hours ,so the counselor let me go home. I told my parents I needed to go to the ER. I didn't want to hurt myself or kill myself but I needed serious help and I didn't know what else to do. They determined that my outpatient treatment is failing, so I have to start from scratch again. New meds, new doctors, new routine. It fucking sucks.

Yayness and Bliss!

Last night I brought my girlfriend to church with me for the Ash Wednesday meal and service.  I had a wonderful time!  I ate vegetarian soup with fake beef in it (or at least I assumed it was fake beef, and I really, really hope it was).  There was also delicious French silk pie for dessert, which I ate with strawberries. 

 

It was so good to be at church, surrounded by friends & my girlfriend.  I thanked God over and over for leading me to such happiness.  I really am phenomenally happy.  I also get to go to church again on Sunday.  I love going to church.  I go to a United Church of Christ, and it is so welcoming and accepting.  The church community there is like a family.  I love them all so much! 
Next week I’m leaving for a retreat with the youth from my church.  I’m so excited!  I can’t wait.  Next week is going to be sooo long! Especially Friday, since I have to go to school until 2pm before I leave for camp.  Yay! I’m blissing out! 

Hugs, cuddles, and blessings to you!