My Messed Up Day-That Ended With God

Yesterday was a whirlwind of day, that had me on a merry-go-round from dusk to dawn.

It started out with a pall. A feeling of utter illness, from my head to my stomach to everything in between.  I don’t know what came over me but it was the devil’s flu to say the least.

I was off all day, and went from laying down to getting up, and just not able to find a comfortable place to rest or do anything else.

I got the news I was expecting from the podiatrist, that he won’t be able to do my surgery on my bunion. This is highly personal and unprofessional, and sets my surgeries back. I now have to go to a new sports medicine clinic and get the straightforward surgery that poses no complications done. I am contemplating moving all my care to another sports medicine clinic just for cohesiveness.

I am disappointed, but the breakdown in our interpersonal relationship made this surgery almost impossible. He went back on his word, after giving me specific instructions to move forward with the surgery was straightforward and emphatic. I did what he required, and then he changed his mind, and told me this was complicated and needed to be reviewed. Out of no where this came and with no feasible rationale to his change in mind.

I was aggravated but knew this would be the outcome so it was go to get the final answer and move on and forward. I was at the point where I didn’t want him to operate given what had transpired between us, so I am glad I guess that there is closure and I can get an evaluation appointment today with another clinic.

So on top of the devil’s flu, the cancellation of my bunion surgery, and a day where I couldn’t get my head on straight, no matter what I did, I had to go to my Bella’s volleyball championship late in  the afternoon and find a ride out to the match. Right when I was finally getting sleepy and finally able to rest, I had to grab a cab out to the volleyball championship and watch on pins and needles, while Bella’s team lost in a 2 out of 3 match. It was a bummer as they lost in the third game by two points. They had a great season and have nothing to be ashamed about. However, when you are in eighth grade it seems like the end of the word.

Bella was very nervous and played nervous as they all did. They had already beaten this team in three games in the regular season giving them their only loss, so they should not have been scared.

Being a division 1 full-scholarship athlete I don’t get nerves, or playing scared. We are all different and have different experiences, but it is something I can’t relate to.

I then got a ride home from my ex-wife and we took Bella out to her favorite  Mexican restaurant and enjoyed ourselves completely. Bella was able to turn her mind around and really bask on the great season they put together.

I then got dropped off at home and was cold with the rainy, raw weather impending and the winds beginning to blow.

I got Julia Bleu all settled and fed and got ready for bed and got myself all warm and comfortable in my delightful bed.

I got out my journal I am writing to God, and wrote for a few hours. I was writing about the evolution in my persona and my attitude towards life and my future as I  now welcome God and the Holy Trinity as my God and my Holy Trinity. I was so comforted writing to God last night and working through my trials and tribulations with my body injuries and my discomfort with my podiatrist.

I have a new lightness of being in my breathing and my constitution and I have come to realize I was really in a dark place that was far away from the light. Light eluded me to such a degree that I didn’t even know the light I was missing, and I thought life was just pretty bland really at this point. I wasn’t down but I wasn’t high or over the moon, I just was. Now I know with my soul filled with the Divine that I have a lightness of being in my step and my soul’s life is brighter and I am never left feeling alone or without companionship.

I was NEVER depressed ever by any means, I have Pure Mania but I was sort of flat so to speak.

I can’t explain the fusion in my heart and soul and the difference other than a quiet veil of peace that covers my being and comforts me at all times.

I look so forward to writing in my journal to God as I try to make time every night to write and read the Bible a little each night or during the day as a time of solace and revelation.

I am so very grateful for finding the unwavering faith that both the Bible brought me as well as my Divine change of mind that steered me in the direction of God and the Holy Trinity.

I am so over the top happy. Not an ecstatic happy, but an inner-deep happy like I think my pug feels when she is curled up on my lap. I think it is something like that, and I pray for every day as I become more involved with my faith that I experience this to a deeper level on a plane that I have never experienced. The beauty of my unwavering faith is I KNOW there is a plane I have yet to transcend or more than one plane I haven’t experienced.

I ended a really negative day on the best note! Ending with  a warmth in my soul and God in my heart I can’t think of a better way to end a bad day, and I look forward to essentially setting up every night with the hopes of ending my day with the Bible in my hand in God and the Divine in my soul.



Not a Singular Sensation


It is a sensation and feeling I know all too well.

When I was a kid, and it was time for dinner, I would run in from the outside, wash my hands, and eagerly wait for my mother to serve me. We couldn’t eat until she was in her seat, and my father gave the okay to literally dig in. I was so hungry from playing outside, and this was after multiple snacks after school.

My parents did not control our portions as there was never a weight issue in my house. My mother insisted we drink three glasses of milk a day, one with each meal. Seconds were allowed, and by two hours later, I was hungry for a snack or a bowl of ice cream. My parents were slight French people and they never thought twice about size, portions, or frequency.

My mother made a proper meal each night, which including some sort of meat, a starch, a couple fresh vegetables. My father was not into casseroles, or anything much more than meat and potatoes, so that was the standard fare. My mom didn’t have a formal dessert,  but there was always something delicious for after dinner.

I might even make an English muffin with peanut butter before going to bed. That is when being hungry was fun, and food was my friend.

When I had my own daughter, I was very conscientious about our family’s eating, and what we put into our bodies. Organics were the latest and greatest so of course we only ate organic produce, and free-range organic meats. Dinner time was joyous, as we all sat down, for the first time of the day as a family. My ex-wife was busy climbing the corporate ladder and some nights we ate without her. My daughter, Bella, was a “foodie” and loved to eat. It brought me so much joy watching her eat and always wanting more. Having my genes food was not an issue except for my ex-wife. Unfortunately. she didn’t have our genes and it was the first time I witnessed any sort of restriction placed upon eating. We never spoke about it, but I don’t glean meal time was a fun and easy-going time for her.

From preparing my family’s dinner, and readying Bella’s breakfast, lunch and snacks, food remained my friend and I had no problem with any restriction of my own.

Then I got divorced, or I should say divorce happened to me. I was in a situation I couldn’t not control, and once I was through it I made the decision to come out of retirement and go back to school for my Ph.D.

It was an incredible time of rapture, exhilaration, and my abilty to control everything in my life. I was rigid about everything to do with my coursework. I set my goals high: a solid 4.0 GPA in all my courses, and induction into the most prestigious honor society in the country when I had enough credits. I was a perfectionist’s perfectionist.  I slowly and without any recall as to why, I began to cut back on my food, because I could. I also began excessively exercising. I have deconstructed my brain a million times, and I still have no idea why I began the urge to restrict food.

I restricted without pain, and honestly I had a high and euphoria like I never experienced before in my life. The high was so great, any pangs of starvation were erased.

Eating was now something I wasn’t interested in, and I loved watching the scale go down. I didn’t have a pound to lose so this weight loss was noticeable from the start. I lost the desire to eat, as I perfected school and my insidious anorexia. Gone were the times when food made me happy, and long gone was my appetite I had carried with me for my entire life.

The perfection with my coursework continued, but I was starting to feel the affects of the starvation. I lost 20 pounds really easily and quickly, and the scale continued to plummet. I began to feel hungry, no starved, even ravenous. I fought with my sick and twisted mind not to concede. I was a perfect anorexia, and nothing was going to get in my way. I began to hate food, and eating, and meal times. Somethings that had brought me such joy in my childhood, and as a stay at home mother. I detested the thought of an impending meal, and now food was not my friend and didn’t make me happy.

I learned quickly what it felt like to be hungry by my own self-induced starvation. I was disappearing right before my eyes, and it never occurred to me to stop this sick and twisted game. I got myself into a life-threatening situation, bottomed out from 130 pounds to 69 pounds. Not very smart for a smart person.

Today, after an arduous climb back to 100 pounds, I remain mixed about food. I miss the carefree abandon I once had, and I long for the day where I just dive into a plate of food.

Food. Hungry. Happiness. It is so twisted for me now I don’t really know where I will end up. But I will never forget all the years that food brought me joy, and happiness with family and friends..



Last Night-Rain and My Pug

The sky was angry without stars, and clouds accumulating in the heavens above.

A wintery rain was posted for the maniac’s hours and I huddled in my bed, covered in layers in layers of blankets, and a fury warm body.  We huddled close, as close as we could be, and both drifted off to a mediocre  night’s slumber, as the impending winds started to swirl around, and rain was surely going to pelt the ground.

I awoke at 1:45 am, much to my meddlesome fury warm body, that was my pug, huddled closer until she lay directly upon me.

I was unable to fall into a brand new slumber, as side wards pelleting rain, tapped on so gently on my window above my bed.

I looked out and all I could see, was my reflection of the pug staring back at me. She wasn’t happy, as she new me too well, and new I was up for a long, night’s spell. I tried as I might to readjust amongst the layers in my bed, but got frustrated with the pug, now creeping up on my head.

I finally had had enough, off came the covers, and I stood in the rough. I hadn’t decided upon what to do.

Go to the store because I was hungry, or delve back into the bed in a hurry. I opted for my stomach as it was a growling, and headed out into the storm that was howling.

I took my pug, very reluctantly, as she knows without a doubt when the weather is grumpy. I donned her leash and gave her leash a tug, the pug, as you know can be give a swift tug.

Down the stairs of the porch we flew, with my pug, Julia Bleu leading the way.

Determined was she to get out of the weather, and she dodged every puddle with the lightness of a feather.

We arrived at the store, and Julia Bleu would have not a moment more, of braving the rain which we both thought at this point was rather insane.

What was I thinking, bringing us out in this weather, cold, wet, and wind, not weather for a fury pet.

I hoped she would forgive me once we were home, and I toweled her dry, and stop her from shivering, with her drenched bug eyes.

She raveled indeed at the sight and feel of the warm towel. I had made the wrong call taking us out in the storm.

We ate our food, fast and furious, and Julia Bleu looked at me perplexed and curious….

Were we headed back to bed, Julia Bleu’s eyes were filled with hope and dread.

It would be like me to stay awake until the morning, but the storm took the swell out of the early morning I wanted to make.

So under the covers we arrived once again, and we both looked at each other like this is where we should have been.

We were wet, but too cold and raw to get changed, we huddled together as we shivered and our bodies panged.

Did I learn my lesson? Oh hell not so! I would be right back out there ready to go.

With a stomach still growling, as the wind was howling, Julia Bleu looked at me and spoke OH NO!

Don’t you dare take me out in that nasty weather, she groaned, grunted and gave me her best pout.

I fantasized about the balmy summer weather, and knew it was along way off in the distance. A distance so far, I could hardly imagine, Julia Bleu and I walking out in balmy weather.

But alas soon as it will appear, my pug and I will be out walking without a care.

For now, we must get through this grueling weather and cold, and dress warmly and forge out with all the muster we can bold.

We are last warm and somewhat dry, as can be, and I pray to the angry sky for sunshine to pass this wretched storm.



Finding Understanding-Digging Deep

After yesterday’s marathon session at rehab, I have a new found understanding for the injuries I sustained in my fall in August.

I have only had one operation, and had a cast removed from my hand, but the gravity of the injuries I sustained have come into new light or perhaps darkness.

I have possibly four operations pending, and the extended duration of the road to well is daunting. I have just started therapy on my knee that had the first surgery, and my thumb that was casted for six weeks.

The possible procedures that lay in front of me are much more involved and invasive and the recovery time is far greater.

I could be looking at surgery into the New Year for a simple fall off my porch steps. I am trying to remain optimistic, but with the delay of the next surgeries, I am losing ground on remaining hopeful. I realize surgery is the last option, but my thumb is not going to get better without it. Sending me to occupational therapy is taking up precious time that I could be using for immediate surgery and recovery.

I am frustrated with my doctors and don’t think the overall outcome is going to be positive for a swift fix of my injuries. I have been patient and I have waited and now it is the end of October and the fall was in August. I worry about the winter and surgery and school and surgery, as I can’t take anymore time off from school and at this rate my surgeries are going well into the New Year.

I have thought about switching Orthopedic offices but I will have to start from scratch. I hope and pray my bunion gets approved and after that my thumb can be fused. That still leaves the minor surgery on my ring finger for a growth that is not part of the injuries, and my main complaint my right knee with a patellar that keeps dislocating.

I just want my body back, as I am looking forward to getting back to the gym, and adding some lean muscle mass. I have been going to the gym, but I am unable to work my lower body, and with my bad thumb my upper body is limited.

I have put my body through so much with my anorexia, and as I crest the mountain I fell so steeply, I am now hung up by these injuries that aren’t being addressed in a timely manner.

I will continue to do what I can at the gym, and I will stay focused on trying to be positive about my other injuries/ I can’t go into the middle of winter with school and impending surgeries.

I will email the doctor today about my bunion and see where my surgery is on my finger with the growth. At least getting those two surgeries done with the hopes of thumb surgery coming next gives me a good start before the winter.

I am frustrated by my doctors and by my body. I know the fall was bad, but it was made worse with the ever present anorexia.

I am trying to really overcome my anorexia, but it appears that every step forward I take I take two steps back.  I am now beginning to question am I a lifer? I never would have thought yes, but time keeps moving and I am still sick. It is very disheartening to me as a person, who has a lot of living left to do.

I just emailed my doctor regarding my bunion. His manner and actions are very unprofessional, and at this point I believe I have to escalate this matter. Not very helpful  for the patient-physician relationship, but I know my rights, and I know proper interaction and this is neither of those two things.

I am just trying to keep from sinking lower than I already am. I have held my head high and nothing is panning out. Especially in a timely manner.

I wake up everyday, a little less optimistic than the day before. I am only one person, and what I have had to carry on my slight shoulders is a big burden especially with this foot doctor.

I have decided that I will call the office today and speak to the higher ups. I am done playing the complacent patient and self-advocacy is warranted on my behalf.

I am going to take a new approach and if this doesn’t get sorted out this week I am scheduling a new appointment with a new Ortho office to handle my complex case appropriately I feel like I did something wrong and that should not be how I feel.

I think I will get myself together and stop this complaining and make something of my day and myself.

Yes, I just read what I have written so far, and it is pathetic as am I. I need to restart my mindset and get into gear, and be strong, and know what I am expecting is appropriate.. I am taking this doctor’s inappropriate behavior and accepting it as my own.

I am going  to make the most of today, and spend the latter part of the afternoon, watching Bella lay for her volleyball championship.

Time to get myself in gear, pull my head out of my ass, and get on with my day. I am still tired so I think a little rest will help rejuvenate myself and position me for a stellar day.

This poor me thing has got to go and I am done with the complaining, and action is definitely in order.

I am grateful for getting this poison out of me, putting it on electronic paper, and moving on as quickly as possible.

I may not be well, but I am no pushover and I will take the high road and road less travelled to get the care I deserve.

I am getting pumped up for the day, I have overcome my poor-me syndrome and I am going for it. I have turned the corner and I am rising from the ashes. Nothing is going to stop me, nor is my head going to get in the way of my goals and my mission I am on to make the most of my so-called life and see my dreams come true!



Yesterday-Many Realizations

Yesterday I started my new physical therapy routine for my knee and thumb.

It is going to be hard and long, but the road to well and healthy is worth it!  I am committed to two days a  week at Wentworth Douglas Hospital.  I show up at 9:00 am and I leave it 11:00am. Yesterday was my first day and I was overwhelmed by the work and time commitment.

I made it through both sessions and had a brace made for my thumb. I think eight weeks of this regime and I will be in a good place to evaluate further surgery on my thumb, and I will have an answer on my bunion that is holding me up at this point.

I see my old friend prepping for body building contests, and I have mixed emotions. A couple of years ago she was smaller than me, and very far from the body she has now. She is a good 40-50 pounds heavier and completely dedicated to her sport. She doesn’t look anything like remember and I don’t know whether I like it or not/.

I still prefer thin, and lean and with the muscle bulk she has put on she will never be thin again. I don’t know where she is the competitive field, as I have seen other women and they are not as big and bulky and I know that is one of the issues with female body building. I saw a girl today who had what I thought was the perfect body.

She was lean and ripped and had a stomach to die for. My friend is not like that, and is bulky and somewhat mannish with no stomach definition to speak of……she has one line in her stomach yet the 6-8 pack eludes her. Before she got skinny she had a weight problem, and I think she is naturally predisposed to bulking out.

I look at my own fragile body and for just a second I wonder if I could turn my body around. I have no desire to be like my old friend, but lean and strong, with shredded muscles does seem appealing. The girl I thought had the best body is more my style. She is shredded and cut without a lot of bulk. My friend is so big and has only been doing this for two years, and I wonder if she is taking steroids-she is that big.

It has made me think about getting in shape and getting in top fitness form, but I hesitate because I don’t want the bulk. I doubt I would be able to put on bulk like my friend but the thought of it stops me in my tracks.

I will watch her compete in the show and because she has dedicated her life to this now I will wish her well and hope she does well. I know they have all these categories so maybe she will do well in one of the more muscle bound groups.

I do know that seeing my old friend made me aware of the lean machine of a body I used to have, and I am somewhat drawn to the gym and working out for my own physical fitness. I have been going to the gym regularly and starting easy and light so I don’t over do it and I ease into cranking up my body. I am really anxious to see how my friend does, as I never would have thought she could put on as much muscle as she has.

I am at a point of realization where I have a lot going on and I have many goals I want to achieve. From getting back into school and rehabbing my body, plus the surgeries I have coming, it is going to take a lot of time and effort. I can’t do everything I want, so picking my goals carefully is something I must consider before I head back to school in the Spring. School is definitely the main priority and with that said, other goals that are time intensive are going to have to be fettered out and prioritized accordingly

I am psyched for the campaign to be coming to a close, and I still don’t know whether I made the right decision about taking two semesters off of school. Obviously if she wins I will be so happy, but things look really tight and I don’t know if the American people are up for her as president..

I am going to take some time today and write in my journal about the next phase of my life. Time is ticking and I don’t know what the future holds for me. I know with hard work, which is a given, I will be able to attain the goals I set for myself.

Yesterday the realization of 8 weeks of physical therapy set me back and I need to wrap my mind around it differently. I am a broke down person, with all my injuries and I need to turn myself around and get focused and determined to kick the shit out of these 8 weeks to get one knee and my thumb back on track.

I will continue going to the gym, and upping my workouts, as I am able. I feel no envy towards my friend, as I don’t want her size or bulk. She is never going to get skinny again, and that still remains a priority for me.

We are all different, with different life circumstances and I wish her the best as her competition nears, and I concurrently make and find my way in this maze of questions and unknowns facing me at this time.



The New Normal-Sleep Eludes Me

Today I start my new physical therapy and occupational therapy regime.

It has been a long time in the making and I finally got the orders and made the appointments for two sessions every Wednesday and Friday. It is a major change in my schedule and is going to take patience on my part to getting there and taking the hospital transportation to every appointment.

I had no idea what to expect today and I made the rookie mistake of calling the office and getting them all worked up. I was unsure of whether they were doing to pick me up, and more nervous that I would miss my appointments and everything would get messed up and off schedule.

Thankfully, I got the van to the hospital and made my appointments and all went well, but this is a huge change in my life with two days a week being dedicated to therapy for the entire morning and not getting home before 12 pm noon.

This is a major switch in my routine, and right now I am looking towards an eight week regime of these therapies. I have only had one surgery out of a needed four, and I am not thrilled about the prospect of cold weather and heading out to multiple appointments, surgeries, and continued rehab.

I hope that my second surgery is soon, and I can get started on rehabbing my body to its fullest capacity as right now I am really like a broke down human, in need of mechanical intervention.

I am struggling today with reality and my body which is so sleep deprived just needs to sleep these ills away. I don’t know whether I have the flu or if it sleep deprivation. Whatever it is my demeanor is not mine, my thoughts are off, and I feel so tired but sleep eludes me, and flu like symptoms invade my body’s orifices. I wish I could just pass out and sleep this away and get the respite I so desperately crave.

I am lost this afternoon, and trying to act like I am okay while in truth I am not, and I am scared of another sleepless night.

I must rest tonight for a bit and get some peace into my soul. I am so uncomfortable with my body’s ills and general feeling of unwellness. I want to cry but there is no tears. I need to sleep and there is no rest. I am in a dark hole of misery and pray for some, any type of relief. I welcome any break in the multiple maladies I am experiencing.

Anxiety runs through my veils and sits like a heavy rock in my chest. I yearn for a deep, solid breath that eludes me and my soul.

I am panicked that I won’t sleep tonight and I will have strung three nights together without rest.

I pray for peace, as I got an hour of sleep in this afternoon. It isn’t much but it is enough to take the edge off. I am dying for real rest and a comfort of slumber that I  haven’t had in a long while.

Sleep is a funny thing. It gives us peace and serenity like no other facet of the human dimension. The torture of sleep deprivation can drive one mad and loss control of one’s senses.

I am barely at my wits end and I yearn for rest and renewal of the best sort.

Tonight is the deal breaker and I will either sleep or have a horrid night of eyes wide shut stillness without the gift of sleep.

I am at the point of begging for sleep, although I don’t know who will hear me…….



My Ordinary Life to Unwavering Faith part 2

I mentioned in my first blog regarding my new-found unwavering faith that it didn’t take reading the Holy Bible or anything so Divine. It was through the ordinary that I fell once again onto unwavering faith.

This time with some Bible reading and copious journal writing I found my way through the midst and clouds of unsurety in the Divine and flatly and without hesitation found unwavering faith in a very peculiar way.

It appears my writing in my journal to God is the best and most robust means to get in touch with my Divine soul and its beliefs.

It was this past Friday and as I already mentioned in a

previous post I was staring at another weekend facing Adderall withdrawals. Given my only experience with Adderall withdrawals one would suspect that I would have been in a state of desperation, and calling, if not blaming the forces that didn’t line up to make this implosion on my weekend.

No, none of that happened and I simply accepted my punishment for a system that failed me, and somehow turned to my God journal and began to write. I didn’t write asking for help in getting the medication, I wrote out of a sense of solace and belief that I would endure the Adderall-free weekend and with God and the Holy Trinity and all that is Divine I asked for help and guidance in managing what I knew was going to be a terrible outcome.

I was serene and calm, as I quickly realized I wasn’t going to get my Adderall for the weekend. Due to what I believe was Divine Intervention, I focused my attention and my written words on being helped by the Divine to see me to Monday at which some point I would get an Adderall script. I noticed I wasn’t afraid, or trepidatious. A veil of calmness and giving it up to the Divine was my first instinct, as opposed to trying to circumvent the matter at hand and pray for what appeared to be a miracle in obtaining Adderall for the weekend.

I am not sure whether I had any pills left, but it certainly wasn’t my full dosage, and I was certainly in for a very rough ride over the next three days-none of this bothered me. I grabbed at my cross and medallion around my neck, and I KNEW I wasn’t going to go through this alone. Where did that knowledge come from? Before when I had unwavering faith I was still always escalating and feeling lost and all alone. It was not the case this time. Serenity filled my body, my soul, and my entire room.

I remember exactly what time it was when the phone call I never expected came through. It was 6:07 pm, and last I talked to medical personnel it was like 4:30 pm and the office closed at 5:00pm. I saw the number was local and I answered it instead of my usual let it go to voicemail. It was to my astonishment an affiliate with my doctor’s office calling to tell me that they had called in a script for Adderall to get me through the weekend.

I honestly can not put it in words what I felt, but I KNEW right then and there was a God, I didn’t really know too well, and a Divine moment had just transpired.

I slowly and quietly hung up the phone, and I began to cry. I had never experienced Grace like that before besides my daughter’s birth, and the saving of her live at 11.5 weeks, and I NEVER gave thanks to God or the Divine either time. God had never entered my mind at either one of those times.

Now here I was, sitting on my bed, with my journal to God out, and lots of writing, and I had just experienced a minor miracle. I was sure it was from the Divine, as there were no questions in my mind or soul, and now there were no questions about God, the Divine, and the Presence of God in my life.

Sure you say, you are addicted to Adderall and you got your fix! No not so,; nothing could be farther from the TRUTH. The most amazing part of this story is the calmness, and solace I had from God and the Divine regarding getting through the weekend without Adderall. It was someone else’s mistake as to why I didn’t get the script and I didn’t lash out at anyone which was very new for me.

My Adderall withdrawal was so scary and something that spooked  me so much the last time it can only be Divine Grace that gave me the solace and comfort to take the high road and not go ape-shit on any unsuspected person. The calmness and the solace I felt going into the weekend without my Adderall script was second to nothing I have ever experienced before. I gave up all mortal control which is essentially none, and I submitted to God and the Holy Trinity for my comfort and level-headedness about the situation.

I can only say I will continue to read the Holy Bible and get to know God and the Divine as well as I am able as I rest assured I have unwavering faith and complete faith in the Holy Trinity.

I am forever changed, I am not sure what to call it-Born again? I am not sure what that really means but I experienced a moment like none other. I will leave it at that, forever changed, and with solace running through my core that I am never alone in this world.



Beating Anorexia and Regaining My Life Back

Today I had a deep and sobering conversation with a dear friend. It is they who are struggling to keep their boat afloat and for the first time in a long time I was the friend who listened and comforted.

The issues surrounding my friend have a lot of pieces to the shattered puzzle and on top of that with the gravity of the world upon her shoulders she is facing having to tell her child that life as the “perfect parent” might not be continuing as the child as known it their entire life.

It brought me back to lots of places of a parent but most searingly to the point three years ago when I was stricken with anorexia that was at its worst and told by a doctor I wasn’t the parent I wanted to be to  Bella and nor could I be. In fact, the doctor went on to say that I wasn’t in any position to parent Bella. She continued as she hammered me over the skull with a sledge hammer to inform me it was in Bella’s best interest not to see me in my current state of starvation, as it only made her worry and parentalize me. Meaning in layman’s terms she was taking on the role of parent and worrying about me as if I was the child. I took mostly from the conversation that I was a failure and a burden to my beloved Bella.

Of course that isn’t what I wanted to be or do, so I promised my ex-wife I would step back out of Bella’s everyday life and free her from worry, and my inability to be the parent I so desperately wanted to be.

Those were some really dark times. I love my daughter Bella like nothing else in the world, and I was so distraught at the truth that I couldn’t parent Bella at this time. My anorexia had grown so big and so unyielding that it spilled out of my life and into Bella’s life which was not acceptable. I cried everyday, all the time. I cried for poor Bella, and I cried for myself. Nothing could be so painful as being sidelined as Bella’s parent.

I begged and pleaded with God to take away my pain and the pain sitting on the top of Bella’s shoulders. With true love it doesn’t work that way, and we both had to suffer the consequences of my anorexia. Never have I felt so helpless and guilty for the situation I unknowingly put Bella in. I had grown used to pain and suffering in myself, but the thought of putting it upon my daughter was too much to bear.

I eventually found solace in knowing that Bella was not in pain or stressed about me. It was easier once I accepted my role in Bella’s life as not healthy. I wanted nothing more than for my little girl to feel safe and without worry for me. I was willing to sacrifice my needs and wants with Bella to see that she was a happy, normal kid without me dragging her down.

My friend and I get along so well for so many reasons, but it is the shared love of our children that really is the glue of our friendship. I hurt and ache for my friend right now. Her pain is my pain in a funny sort of way.

I pray for her and her child that things start to turn around soon for them. I don’t know what the future holds for them and if things are going to get worse before they get better for them. I do know where there is love their is hope, and my friend lacks for no love for the world and her child.

It is funny in a sick sort of way how other peoples problems drawn us in to our own lives and pain that we have experienced.

I am so grateful to be where I am at this moment with myself and with Bella. The anorexia has not won and the battle continues. With this past weekend with Bella and sharing in the campaign together, I am mustering up the strength to fight more fiercely and more ultimately. I know there are too many good times that lay ahead for myself and Bella if I can just put this monster of anorexia to sleep once and for all.

As it is now three years later, and I am back to being a mommy to Bella, and coming off a magical weekend together where her dream of working on the Clinton campaign came true with a little help from mom, we were able to make calls to prospective voters to see if they were voting for Hillary. It was amazing, as I set beside her on a phone and she sat next to me with a phone and we worked to see our candidate get closer to getting elected than before. We did this both Saturday and Sunday, and BLISS is the only way to describe it.

Anorexia as a disease robbed me of many things, too numerous to mention, but at the same time as I have slowly recovered I have had so many amazing moments that wouldn’t have been so amazing if they hadn’t been taken away from me at some point by the insidious anorexia.

I am far from a full recovery and that is what I really want to discuss here. Even with partial recovery I am so much more filled with life and living and enjoying moments like this weekend with my Bella. It is hard to go back to the beginning and realize the arduous journey I would so painstakingly traverse on my way around the circle of life and well to enjoy living and life once again.

So much is still eluding me with Bella and in all types of other ways. I think my message here is about lost and found. I lost my life to anorexia and as I recover I celebrate to  the high heavens all that is returning to me.

I sit here right now and wonder with the blissful experience of this weekend with Bella, who come I can’t just snap out of my anorexic mindset all together and get on fully with living and celebrating life? I wish I had an answer for this question. I do know that the more I return to normal and weekends spent like this past one with Bella I am urged on inwardly to prevail and overcome whatever next hurdle lays in my pathway to a full recovery.

It wasn’t that long ago I was pretty sure I would not see a full recovery because my mind was so twisted with this disease. After a weekend like this one, I am newly encouraged that I may be able to feed off the bliss and connectedness of sharing life with my loved ones, and maybe, just maybe make a full recovery despite my hesitation and the doubts of those who love me.

Anorexia is so complex and it completely ravages the body, mind, soul, and life of the patient. There have been so many times I wanted to overcome Anorexia and I failed and missed out on really meaningful family stuff that I can’t get back. I have learned not to harbor the past and my failures, but to look ahead to the future and position my mind and body for success that once failed me.

Anorexia is insidious, but I truly believe it can be broken and boxed up and dumped in a far away dumpster that will not let the pain and suffering endured haunt a patient forever and a day.

I am of the belief that the greatest challenge is the first success that a patient experiences with overcoming anorexia. No matter how small or minute it is the seed that gets planted in the healthy psyche you still have for future successes to come your way. We are all different and no two anorexic stories are a like. It is senseless to compare yourself to another anorexic patient in the worst of times and the best of times.

I believe this weekend shared with Bella is a major turning point in my recovery from anorexia. This doesn’t mean I am cured or will not miss other opportunities to succeed but it gave me a sweet taste of life and living it to the max that has eluded all of us with anorexia and will elude us further unless we gain the courage to make a small success that you needn’t even share with anyone else.

Overcoming anorexia is not a competition and I hope that I am not coming across as someone who is out of the darkness. I am far from a recovery where I feel safe to say I am in remission. All I have is today, yesterday and the magic, and the possibilities of tomorrow that are complex and my walls of my disease are not just going to come crumbling down.

I am here to say I am with you in pain and anguish, and I am also here to share in the feats of success whatever and however they may come on your road to recovery.

I have doubted myself as a recovering anorexic for a long time. I believe we must grow our positive thoughts as small as they may be, and let the journey of recovery envelop us as we still stumble, fall, and get back up on the road to well and recovery for everyone of us.



Well This is a Post That Started Far From Where it ENDED…….

I am thinking a lot about my head and all that is going on in it.

I first, and most am grateful for my brain and mind! I know, very weird to be so into my head and its workings……I have been trying to normalize my speech and my discussion of my fiery brain and my mind that is morphing, into the mini-mental epicenter of my Universe.

I started my DSYORDER blog and hope to have a more radical place to write about my Pure Mania.

I can’t write without the Pure Mania being part of my persona and part of anything I talk about in relationship to myself.

I am feeling stifled and shut up and off on my blogs as I try to take the Pure Mania out of my persona, but it is an impossible task.  I am Corey, I have Pure Mania, and I am very different in the way my brain and body work.

Maybe that is saying enough, it certainly doesn’t cover the realities and examples of my differences, and I don’t know how to write and be authentic without my brain, and its energy over my body being brought up, and woven into my writing. How can I leave out a defining piece of myself in my prose that is written from  my soul?

So maybe I write with my Pure Mania, but I regulate it to the basics and not the eccentric and the oddities that comprise the disease that defines me?

I will try to write with a little less of me in my prose and hope that my authenticity is not lost on my writing or on myself. I feel this is all wrong to be honest. I think in reality I got too raw with my Pure Mania and that can certainly be driven back without sacrificing my authenticity and the originality of my writing.

Today I had an amazing conversation with a dear friend, that caught me off guard, and drove me to my knees. It was regarding our children, and trying to be the “perfect parents” to our children. And then the day you have feared in your worst nightmares arrives-You realize from one source or maybe more, that you are NOT the perfect parent, and that in fact, what lays in front of you will make you far from the parent you have spent your life with your child trying to be.

Three years ago in battling anorexia, and being much sicker, I had a psychiatrist tell me to my face that I wasn’t the parent I wanted to be to my Bella, and at that time I couldn’t be the parent I wanted to be. Today the conversation came up and surprised me, and in sharing my story I was instantly driven to tears from the pain and anguish of that time in my life three years ago. Yes the tears, and heartache were right there instantly, as I recanted the story and the feelings of dying, of failure, of desperation, of not wanting to let my little girl down.

There were no guarantees given to me that she would be okay. But this weekend, Grace, as I know it was experienced by my daughter and I together. The details are not all that important-we were able to go work at the local Clinton campaign office and because of my National affiliation she at 13, was able to sit beside me and call prospective voters to see if they would be voting for HRC. It was something she has begged me to do, but I knew she wasn’t old enough and we weren’t signed up. By the grace of God, we showed up, and after introducing her as my daughter, the local staff let Bella experience her dream come true of working on HRC’s campaign. I sat at the table with her, gave her instructions, and she and I made phone calls both Saturday and Sunday, blissfully as mommy and daughter, three years after being told I couldn’t be the parent I wanted to be.

As I told my friend, our children love us unconditionally the way we love them. Bella still worries about my health, but we ate, and we were involved together in a cause that means something very much to the two of us. I told my friend who is coming to terms with her imperfections, and the impending conversation she might have to have with her child, and I felt immediately leveled by my own story and situation. The tears quickly dried up with the story of this weekend and so many other things that I have returned to being for my daughter.

My friend doesn’t have hope right now, and nothing is as enormous, and empty and stark as hopelessness. I have no magic words for my friend, only words of a tomorrow at some point where she too will share a moment of bliss once again with her child.

Oh how I wish I could take her pain away and make things all better for her and her beloved child. However, I am a mortal and I am without the proper equipment to change her path and her journey that she must traverse. I could guarantee her that her child will once again love her unconditionally. That much I know is true of good parents and amazing children.

So this was a post that was supposed to be about me and my Pure Mania, and instead it is about the human condition in all of us, and the pain guaranteed in this world, no matter how much we do to avoid it. I didn’t neeed to mention my pure Mania, and in fact during that heart-breaking conversation, my fire in my brain quelled, my body slowed down, and my heart and my soul grew to envelope her and her pain. Life is so filled with pain and joy, and you can’t experience one without the other. I know I didn’t help solve anything my friend is facing, but I gave her what I had to offer, ME. Flawed, damaged, risen from the ashes, and now enjoying a rest inbetween the pain and sorrow that life will bring to me.

I am so grateful to my friend, I should be at the campaign, but she needs me as sleep eludes her, and I vow to myself not to leave her before the peace she so desperately seeks cradles her fragile being. Sleep is not her answer, and her answers may cause greater pain than today, but a respite of sleep for her broken heart and beautiful soul and person are in order. As she settles sown I list through the phone, and I here the ebbing of her pain momentarily as she finally soothes herself with the darkness of night and the solace of the quieting of her mind.

Tomorrow she will have to deal with this more, and come to resolutions she may not like, or that don’t seem acceptable to her. Tomorrow is a new day,  as she finally yawns and gives in to the momentary peace that sleep will provide, I will eventually make my way to the campaign, knowing my dearest friend is asleep for at least enough time for me to work at the local campaign, before coming home and working the national campaign.

Sleep is coming to her, my heart is heavy yet light. We all traverse through this world at different trajectories and different times and places. I realize with myself, I am coming out of the darkness, the pain, and the angst, and joy, love, and light are right in front of me. My dear friend reminded me of where I was three years ago, and although I wish it wasn’t because of her current life’s circumstances, I am so grateful for the warmth, and the totality of being, I have waited three long years to experience.

I believe her sleep is very near, as her restlessness settles down, and the hard breathing of her heaviness of heart and soul are overcome with the lightness brought on by sleep. She isn’t fully asleep, and seems to be fighting it, I believe in fear of waking up tomorrow with a mountain planted right in front of her. We aren’t talking, I listen to her as I quietly type on my keyboard. Yet she knows through the phone and the various sounds of my house and noisy pug, I am HERE and I will not leave her. I was granted this gift at one point in my life and never thought I could repay it. Well here I am, I am in the bunker with my dear friend, who mentioned SHE might be too much for me, and I gave her my WORD, she is not too much and I give her what I have to offer; ME.



Maniacal Musings: The Day Ahead

I slept for like an hour between 12-1am. It is a bit unusual that I have been sleeping less than 2 hours a  night. I am hanging in there and don’t feel any adverse residual effects at this time.

When I wake up in the maniac’s hours ready to work I see in front of me this big day filled with lots of endless possibilities and potential. I never wake up grouchy or out of sorts, and I go from completely being asleep to completely being awake. There is no transition.

My mindset is always a hurried a basket of rapidly paced thoughts to work out as fast as possible.  I first go to the store with Julia Bleu and get my coffee and race home to take my Adderall to complete the golden elixir.

Lately I have been reading the Holy Bible and writing in my journal during the maniac’s hours. I didn’t do that today, in fact I didn’t do much besides goof off on Facebook after 8 am as I had internet problems. I spent the maniac’s hours writing in my Word documents and trying to configure a website that would be more helpful to my anorexic readers.

A friend of mine on Facebook gave me the blog site of her brother, who has compiled an amazing blog on everything Bipolar. I can not wait to read his blog in its entirety as he has many personal posts, and a wise array of helpful links. I can’t help but think and wish I had Bipolar. There is medication, a community, and lots of support. I wish I knew just one other person with pure mania to talk with and share experiences. I have tried talking to normal people or people without pure mania and it is always a disaster, and always falls way short of what I am looking for.

Yesterday I started a new blog for my Pure Mania called DSYORDER, and I will keep my crazy and Madness to this blog for the most part as I think as I delve deeper into my brain and attached mind I am not sure I am connecting with readers who have no idea what the hell I am writing about.

I wrote a lot this morning and saved it, and printed it so I could rework the words and configuration on a hard copy. I called the internet provider at 8 am and had my router hard set and I was back on the internet. I called my friend in Australia on the Facebook phone and began to think about my first blog of today.

I wanted to write about my mindset of what it is like when I wake up for the day. If I start where I left off, I would say that after the golden elixir I am rearing to go and chomping at the bit to do something productive for those early morning hours. I am engaged and happy whether I am reading and journaling or writing a blog.

I feel like my blog writing has taken a turn away from the anorexia story and I want to get back on that story today as a number one priority. I still have quite a ways to go in the story and I know I have been slow with the writing.

I usually start getting antsy around 5 am or so, and the last hour until six am is usually hard on me. I always push through and a lot of time pick up a second wind that jets me well past 8 am.

Today, my day is not usual or customary and I am struggling to stay focused and in the moment with my writing and get this blog of my mindset out to publish in a timely manner.

After around 8am, I usually take a break from writing and the computer and try to get as much done around the house as I can in a little less than an hour.

Julia Bleu gets fed and taken care of, and I usually try to make any familial phone calls during this time.

The only way to describe the waking up in the maniac’s hours is crazy, enthusiastic and motivated.

My productivity is usually quite high and my spirits are just as high and I needn’t the time or have the desire for talking to anyone else besides my beloved Julia Bleu.

I am super psyched for the day today, have way too much to do, and accomplish, so prioritizing will be essential to a fruitful day. I am as always optimistic and I feel like for the most part I am walking on clouds.

This is all part of the Pure Mania, put I see there is a way to write without words that spook anyone or turn anyone away. I am happy to share my mind and what I think, and I am grateful this morning to share with you the morning perspective I own from when I awaken.