Tuesdays

I am really starting to loathe Tuesday's in general. I have no real personal problem with the day of the week per se, but they always seem to end in some sort of despair, crisis, and/or complete world destruction lately. However, I love hyperbole :) I will ponder Tuesdays and try and figure out how to reclaim them as the fun-loving end of the dreaded Monday.

To eat or not to eat?

I am once again faced with this dubious question. To eat or not to eat? When I don't eat, I feel good, present, almost whole. When I am eating healthfully I feel good, but foggy and splintered. My body image is wacky to begin with, but when eating lately (or maybe just existing) I feel as though I am looking at myself in a severely fractured mirror in a hot and steamy bathroom. At least that is the perception that my often warped mind has identified.

 Now I know to anyone who knows me or my history only has one reply to this question.

EAT.

I will continue to eat, but if anyone has any ideas on other ways to maintain clarity, presence and wholeness, I am open for business. Not only is the fractured image of myself disturbing, it is also quite distracting and not terribly compatible with leading a fulfilling, meaningful, "NORMAL" life. And I do so crave to be normal.

Day 47: When it Rains it Pours

To say our family has undergone some stress in the recent and remote past may be the understatement of the year. Death, family issues, kids, illness, heartache, financial woes--it has all been there. I guess it is what some people call LIFE. I should probably stop whining and examine the good in my life, of which there is plenty. But before I embark on that journey of butterflies and rainbows, I have one more thing to whine about.

Last night our poor little Guinness, yes I know he is a crabby old man but just go with it,  got into a brawl and was essentially scalped. So instead of watching a movie with me, Clay spent the evening at the emergency vet, where G-man had some minor surgery to clean up the wound, insert a drain, and get his scalp stitched back in place. Then the poor little guy cried all night. So another heartbreak, a pathetic little dog,  $450, and a sleepless night. Some may call this a bad day, we here at the Foster house call it Tuesday. Happy fucking Tuesday, everyone.

Day 44: OFF

I have been told I seem "off."
I feel "off."

I am not quite sure what that means, however. Could it be literal? Not on, but off, numb without power.  Or off the path or target? Skewed. Off somewhere else? Missing. Just not right? Wrong.

I feel all of these, off, skewed, missing, wrong.
Not myself.
But who am I really? Do I need to redefine my sense of self? Or at least adapt it to accommodate these parts of me? Only time will tell. In the meantime, I'll search for the switch.

Day 41: Misfit

Why am I such a misfit?
I am not just a nit wit!
I'm a suffering eater
Why don't I fit in?
Why am I such a misfit?
I am not just a nit wit! 
There's no place for me
OH SHIT!
Seems I don't fit in.


I may be different from them all
I try and stall
But will I fall?
I am truly a misfit
Feel entirely unfit
Need to find other misfits
That's where I'll fit in!

Day 35: My 30 Day Chip

Red, metallic, round
Celebrate hope and promise
Thirty days of life

Day 34: Lenten Sacrifice

Today is Ash Wednesday, marking the beginning of Lent. A time of preparation, of self-reflection, soul-searching, repentance. Traditionally one makes a sacrifice or promise during this time, demonstrative of their repentance. I thought a lot  about what that means for me this year, having had somewhat of a spiritual awakening. Since I can't give up food or feelings (sorry, little anorexic humor there), I have decided through self-reflection to abandon perfectionism. For 40 days I will greet the day accepting that I am not perfect, reside in humility rather than expectation. Life rather than fear and paralysis.
Here is the reading from "For Today:"

The maxim, "Nothing avails but perfection," may be spelled "paralysis."
-Sir Winston Churchill

"For today: Perfectionism is another obsession, and I pray to be relieved of it. I do the necessary footwork by taking one small step toward a project or activity I have been putting off."

Perfectionism counters growth and acceptance. One tangible way that I will do this is to give up weighing myself. I am not a number. I am a living breathing imperfect human being.

Bring it on Lent.

Day 33: Find the Light

always been the good girl
the overachiever
the perfectionist
now I am lost
a dense fog hovers
thoughts like drag-racing freight trains
impossible to ignore
difficult to endure
need to move
my leg is bouncing
I can restrain it with the weight of my body
heavy, I sit
accomplishing nothing
uncomfortable
no focus
failing by the minute
going no where quickly
no help, no savior, no salvation
in the dark without a match
seeking escape from this dark cave
no help
I must find the light
find me
succeed
without that
who am I?
find the light
find it fast

Day 32: Me...Lucky?

So Smuggler's Notch found my skis! YAY! I hate to say it but I almost feel like I won a contest or am imbued with luck, like I should play the lotto or something. I also fell asleep at acupuncture for the first time ever, I allowed myself to let go. It is so rare that these "little miracles" happen that  it has truly made me so grateful for small favors. It really forced me to take a moment and pause to admire all the miracles and joy in my life, there is so much more below the surface. Too many too list here in a profound enough demonstration, at least. I need to focus on these instead of struggles, while forgiving myself on days when I am lost in the fog and can't see my own hand in front of my face, never mind count my blessings. But for today, I am so grateful :)

I will take it!

Good bye shit magnet, hello luck, prosperity, and gratitude.

Day 31: One Month Down, Only a LIfetime to Go

It has now been a full month since leaving treatment and though there are definitely some slippery days, overall I am doing pretty effing fantastic. I am sticking to my program, going to appointments, going to OA, working some, and managing my family and relationships fairly well. Woot woot for me. I am excited for Wednesday when I will be getting my 30 day chip at OA :)
I am very proud of these accomplishments, but humility is important. I still have a long way to travel, keeping in mind that  life is a journey not a destination. Powerful concept. With that in mind, now is the perfect time to reflect on the changes I want to see in my journey, whether they are realistic, and actions I can take.

30 days at home without ED's abuse (longer if you count treatment). For today, I am proud.

Day 30: 30 Days

Thirty days home and in recovery. I am proud, however some jackass at Smuggs took off with my skis (yes, actually took my skis--they are gone) cutting my day of celebration and happy mood short. Perhaps tomorrow I can celebrate this accomplishment, but for today I am just a a little too pissed off.

PS-I also super-glued my own finger to the tube of super glue. Yep. Go ahead laugh, I would.

Day 29: Am I Doing Something Wrong?

Emmett  is struggling again. Really struggling. It is painful to watch, and I can't help but wonder if it's my fault. After all, I did just desert him for several months of selfish treatment. I always worry about Clay with him, but perhaps I am the problem. Now that I am home he is acting out again, at school, at home. Or maybe the time of year? Whatever the reason, we are back on the school's radar and I just feel like recipient of the worst parent of the year award for the second year in a row. I know, it's not about me.

It is so sad to watch him melt down, get angry, throw things. He is obviously hurting. Am I hurting him? Not about me, I know, but if I am the cause maybe I need to change or leave or do something differently so he can be the happy wonderful kid he is inside. I know he needs further evaluation, but I am not even sure how or where or what. He just needs help and I DO know that I have to get that for him.

God, please help him. Help me, help him. Help us, help him.

Emmett, I love you and hate to see you struggle so.....

Day 28: Fuck it.

No concentration

Give it time they say to me

Done, I'm out of time

People tell me no

I need to focus on me

It is part of me

Help.

Day 27: Recognizing the Truth

So I have come to realize that the scale is unavoidable. Shocker. They are at work and I get weighed twice a week anyway, so I know my weight. Plus, there was a little incident with the home scale, and how it was supposed to be gone, but actually wasn't and now it lives under the seat of my car, not weighing anything or anybody, but just there. A great story but not the topic of this particular entry. I am doing great with my meal plan, trying to live the life of recovery that I so desperately want, but the scale. That damn scale. The truth is, I am addicted to the scale. Sure it is part of my ED, but also has power outside the ED as well and just as you cant ask an addict to stop their behavior, it is unrealistic to ask me to stop with the scale. That being said, however, I need to find a way not to let the number affect my progress. I weighed myself on Tuesday and Wednesday, with a loss of 0.4 pounds. Though this is not the goal, and could have been due to any combination of many factors, I got "that surge." That all to familiar anorexic power surge from that small decrease in "the number." The good news is that I recognized it and it did not affect my meal plan or mood for the rest of the day, but it was a wake up call. If I can't give up the scale, but still have that electric current that can surge at any moment, activated by a number, what the hell do I do?

For now, all I can promise is honesty. Here is today's reading from For Today:


"Only God can fully know what absolute honesty is. There fore each of us has to conceive what this great  ideal may be- to the best of our ability. - Bill W.
Truth is always the same; honesty changes with my awareness. Honesty has many facets. There is cash register honesty, usually accompanied by making making sure other people know about it. There is let-me -tell-you-for-your-own-good honesty, which is hurtful, perhaps dominating. There is one-sided honesty, which is a recitation of my spouse's, lover's, or friend's wrongdoings, sometimes dumped at a hapless OA meeting.
And there is self-honesty, which serves the purpose of keeping my life in order, and personal honesty, which is a sharing of feelings, experiences and strengths without egotism, self-pity or exaggeration.
For today: A fundamental principle of the program is to be as honest as possible with myself and everyone my life touches."

So that's what I will do. Be honest. I am addicted to the scale. You can't expect me to just stop a behavior, so please help me deal with the information and maintain my recovery.

Day 26: Valentine's Day

I awoke at 2:30 this morning, thank you very much prednisone.
My irritation, however, was eased by the thoughtful flowers on table emanating fragrant peace to my LONG morning. They say scent is the most powerful sense, lilies dancing in my nose to bring me joy at 2:30 in the morning is proof of that.

Fragrant lilies' scent
Awaken my spirit's love
True love and true bliss

Happy Valentine's Day.
I love you, hunny.

Day 25: Anaphylaxis

Dear tree nuts,

You suck, leave me alone.

Here is a haiku and a limerick about you:

You sneak into food

Trying to make my throat close

Tree nuts, I hate you

There once was a girl from the farm

Who ate many things without harm

But a sneaky tree nut

Found its way to her gut

Anaphylaxis is losing its charm

Benadryl, proair and epipen

Given to save her life from the end

EMTs were around

She was hospital bound

And now she's on steroids again

Yup, exposure yesterday. Boo. Went to the ED. Super Boo. Home safe and sound. Yay. 60 mg of prednisone. Boo.

Day 24: Two Paths

Emmett announced today that he had a religious vision.
In his vision he came upon two hallways in the church. Each hall had a shelf, one with a purple stuffed monkey and one with a doll house. He chose the path with the dollhouse, which led him directly to Sunday school. He was happy.

Chew on that.

Day 23: Redefining MySpace

No I am not speaking of the social networking and music sight, but rather MY space (so much better). Though not complete, it is certainly well on it's way, and Clay helped me get it there today. I love it :) This idea has grown from a simple pillow/altar an the floor for prayer, meditation, and escape. My safe space incarnate. Now it has become that, plus a craft center, desk and room of solitude. I figured that this would be a fantastic time to post some photos of how it is coming along, and I figured a little limerick wouldn't hurt ;)

In my house, there is a special door

That leads to mindful tranquility and more

Embrace the green 

Sit in the serene

It fills my soul with joy to the core

Day 22: Just Done.

These lyrics mean more than I can even explain, in so many ways.

You’ve got some kind of nerve
coming back here for more
like i’m just going drop everything i’m doing
so you can humiliate me a little more
you’ve got some kind of nerve

you got some kind of ego
yeah for looking at me like that
like your eyes are going to make me crawl back to you
like what am I supposed to do now, just forgive you?

but baby i’m done
i’m done with you
yeah baby i’m done
i’m finally done with you
so if you think that you might have made some sort of mistake
in leaving me
well guess what
you’re too late

you got some kind of mouth
for talking to me like that
bragging about your Hollywood friends
like that’s going make me want you again
makes me think you know that you never even knew me
makes me understand
that the whole time it was you
just using me

but baby i’m done
i’m done with you
yeah baby i’m done
i’m finally done with you
so if you think that you might have made some sort of mistake
in leaving me
well guess what
you’re too late
i’m done with you
yeah baby i’m done
i’m finally done with you
so if you think that you might have made some sort of mistake
in leaving me
well guess what
too late
your too late
your too late
your too late
-MF (Melissa Ferrick)

Day 21: Clay's Birthday, an Excuse to Shop

Today is Clay's birthday (Happy Birthday, Hunny!), but it is also a day of reckoning, truth, insight.

I reckon that I have substituted restriction, alcohol, marijuana, smoking, etc. with shopping.
 Ouch. The truth hurts. I am an addict.

Probably need to do something about that, seeing as I am not working, I am in debt up to my eyeballs, and really don't even like shopping!!

 WTF?

Day 20: Mourning and Rejoicing

Today marks one year since my Grampy passed away. 

Today was also my first day back at work.

In the true spirit of trying to grieve his loss (which I have not yet done), I chose to watch the slideshow that I put together for his funeral. For someone who has a hard time with "emotions," I truly felt his loss as I watched the show. I cried (sobbed really) and laughed as I remembered all the times with him, camping, swimming, skiing, parties, so much laughter and good memories. His mumbling and dry wit, which I happily and luckily inherited. I miss him so much, and my Gram who I feel I am grieving as well, because she does not even really remember me. The paradox is that the loss is so sad, but the memories are so wonderful, so I have decided that I do not to have a choose one emotion.  I can cry and grieve their loss, but also rejoice in the wonderful times we had together, how I spent weeks with them in the summer and how they adored my children, how lucky I am that they got to meet them at all. So today I cried, a good hard, cathartic cry and I rejoiced in his memory, and I feel like I may have actually started to deal with this.

Work was wonderful, I was so happy to be back, be productive, be competent. I worked hard and had a good day, but there was that same paradoxical feeling, exhaustion, overwhelming anxiety. This surprised me because I often feel like superwoman and the idea of being tired after a short 4 hour day brought shame into the emotional mix as well. I was not expecting this, and thought I was ready for more. But, I am not. Yesterday was good, baby steps. Listen to my heart, my soul, my body. Embrace the paradox. Let the feelings flow. 

Cry.

Laugh.

Yell.

Feel it all because now is the time. There is no time like the present. It is possible to mourn and rejoice, be competent and overwhelmed, just let go and feel.

To my inner critic, you did a great job today, and I am sure you will continue on Friday with baby steps.

To Gramps RIP, I love you.

Day 19: Productivity?

Today was a day of productivity. Not the type where you have a lot to show for it, but more just shit that needs to get done. Phone calls, filing, laundry, meetings, etc. Busy day.

Productivity is a very challenging concept to think about for myself, because I am left brained productivity equals measurable results, there is no room for wishy-washy intangible progress. I am thinking this is probably something I should address with Amy, the more I think about this, I think it may relate to the perfectionism.

No tangible progress = failure. Hmmmm.
So I guess today was busy, not productive, by my own standards anyway

Day 18: A Day of Fuzz

Doing the best that I can
Invaded by thoughts and feelings
Suppress and forget
Suppress and forget
Overwhelmed by the fuzzy
Craziness abounds
Instability holding me together
Abstract vision
Time swirling
Inattention is my focus
Vibrating with restlessness
Evading the world in the sanctity of my internal escape

Day 17: Limerick of Loss

They went in as as favorties to win

"Pats all the way" was the din

Brady was feared

Gronk was cleared

Yet still it happened again

The first quarter was completely insane

The safety set the mood for the game

Intentional grounding

A field goal-astounding

Yet the Pat's score remained the same

In the second quarter some hope did arrive

Spirits rose with the 96 yard drive

Downs were made

The path was paved

The Pats went into half-time alive

The third quarter was rather benign

All seemed to be going just fine

But the tone changed

As some plays arranged

And in the forth quarter it came down to time

Giants had possession, Pats up by two

The minutes remaining were few

Down the field they went

With their time time slowly spent

Their touchdown left a bleak view

One minute left Brady came through door

80 yards to go, but he's done it before

But some incomplete passes

A sack by the masses

And a hail Mary that failed to score

New York cries erupted throughout

Superbowl 46 Champions no doubt

The Pats sidled off

Fans pissed off

For the Mighty Brady had struck out

Day 16: The MEGABUS

I spent most of today preparing for and commuting to Boston to get my hair did and prepare for the Patriots to kick some "giant" ass. In my travels I got to experience the megabus. What a delightful experience. For those who are not yet acquainted with this stellar mode of transportation, let me enlighten you. It is a big bus that costs next to nothing, transporting you to south station in Boston. It's a beautiful thing. If you buy your tickets far enough in advance they are $1. Yes. $1.00.
Not to sound too much like a fast food chain, but seriously, what can you get for a buck. These days, not even a cup of coffee. But you can ride the MEGABUS! Yay. Now I have that Venga Boys song in my head, "The Venga (Mega) bus is coming....doo doot doot doo doo doot doot."

All in all, excellent experience. Just to put it in perspective, the trip is just over 216 miles. On a good day, my car gets 25 MPG. That equals out to 8.64 gallons and at $3.50 a gallon that is just over $30.00, one way. I bought my last minute ticket for $15.00. Hmmm...it is good for the earth, it costs less, plus, lets not forget the most important part, I DID NOT HAVE TO DRIVE! I took a nap. Yes, a nap and I am not a napper. I was just that relaxed.

My name is Meghan Foster and I am pro-megabus :)

So I am just going to say it

Day 15: The Power of Serenity

Serenity. The noun form of the adjective serene, defined as  by Webster as calm, untroubled, tranquil,clear and unclouded. Shit Batman, that is one powerful word.

I have come to realize the importance of this word in my life. I start my day each day with the serenity prayer:

God, grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change
the courage to change the things I can
and the wisdom to know the difference.


It has become an integral part of my living and being. In fact, I noticed that I literally lather, rinse repeat with it each morning. My body wash is called serenity, purchased based on fragrance not the name, which I did not even realize until this morning. Freaky? Yes, yes it is. According to Nivea serenity smells of hibiscus and aloe essence .
Mmmm... serenity. I even like the way it smells. In fact it seems to soothe all my senses. Due to the fact that I often use the prayer as a chant in meditative practices, my brain has formed a beautiful neuro-pathway paved with delicious, tranquil serenity. The word itself is beautiful:

Not to mention the way I envision it, envision me, there, serene. It also just has "that sound" to it. Not quite onomatopoeia, but close. Serenity. Serenity. I feel calm just saying or hearing it, it brings me to a place of tranquility and stillness. It feels like heaven too, both in the literal and existential sense. The body wash leaves my skin so soft, while that art of practicing serenity leave that same silky smoothness within the soul. Plus, as we have already covered it smells like fucking hibiscus and aloe essence . How can you go wrong? As for taste, apart from the obvious tasting of the body wash, which is not something that intrigues me whatsoever, I think that may be some sort of all-emerging transcendental experience that I have not yet achieved. But I will, for today I will open my soul even more to serenity.

Today, with the help of God, I surrender to serenity.

Day 14: Two Weeks Down on My Way Up

Today marks two weeks since my return home. It has been marked by many joyous events throughout the day. I can feel things turning around, it really is going to be just fine, just like Andy Grammer says.

First of all, feeling better, got up determined to get back on the saddle with eating and did just that. I planned and ate like it was my proverbial (or literal?) job. Go me. Then on the same theme, I got cleared to return to my real actual paying job for a few hours next week. Not much, but progress is progress, so Amen and Hallelujah to that!

Next I spent a few hours with one of my favorite people on this earth, who (once again) saved my sweater project from the depths of hell. Thanks, Dawnie! I will finish this sweater. Mark my words. I would like to have t done for the 9th, we shall see, but that is my goal and I am putting it out there into blogger-land and the universe for accountabilities' sake. Anyone want in on that action?

I spent the rest of day in bliss. Acupuncture, accomplishing menial tasks, shopping and getting phenomenal deals on fantabulous sweater dresses, meeting with Sue and playing some good old canasta in my sparkling clean home.

And I stuck to the meal plan because I am just that awesome.

Holy shit, what a good day. I don't even care about the stupid Groundhog. Two weeks down, but years of awesome yet to come. Bring it on, bitches!

Day 13: Still Sicky-poo

Still sick :(
Haiku it is!

stomach bugs are gross
would rather anything else
going to rest now

Day 12: Sick as a Dog

Not much to write today as I have been plagued by some horrible stomach virus and spent the majority of my waking hours at the WICC getting fluids. A haiku perhaps:

the stomach wrenches
lips dry the room is spinning
curse those germy kids

Day 11: Blessed by Employment

I feel truly blessed, for I love my work, my work loves me (for the most part) and I will be allowed to return soon and I can't wait! How many people can say that?
Sure it is stressful and there is drama, no work environment comes without these, but all in all, I am blessed. I work in the same room as one of my best friends, I am able to use my brain and gifts daily, and generally leave each day feeling productive and fulfilled that I have helped my patients.

How does one embody that same productivity and fulfillment in care, love and preservation of self?
Anyone? Bueller?

Day 10: Space

Space.
Outer space.
Physical space.
Mental space.
Emotional space.
Personal space.
Shared space.
Common space.
Private space.
Your space.
My space.
Sacred space.

My wonderfully unique, beautifully green, personally designed, sacred space. Where I can escape the chaos with physical, mental and emotional space. Until recently, I did not understand the importance nor desire for such a space. I liked to fill my life to the top, void of space, no room. Now I have room, my room, and space, my space. Sacred.

Day 9: Unstoppable bliss :)

Troubles abound

Raw hurt hovers

Unwavering self-doubt surrounds me

Each molecule of air heavy

But the air glides smoothly and effortlessly through my hair

Laughter lights up my insides

Icy breeze awakens my spirit

Sunshine heals the hurt

Skis carry me away to happiness

Day 8: D-Day in a Whirlwind

Well I will  not be returning to work next week, and I am working on being ok with this decision, as I know it is in my best interest. When I pause, mindfully examining the situation it is the right thing and there is peace in that for me.

Today was busy, so many appointments, very little time to think, to process. I went to my PCP in the AM, did the grocery shopping for the week, unpacked and put away groceries, saw Sue, saw Dr. Fadness, saw Amy, visited work (where I was supposed to have a meeting but it was cancelled), got up the courage to talk to Mark again, went to the pharmacy, picked up the kids in Jericho, got them to bed and watched a great movie (Burlesque-highly recommend it). Somewhere in there I also managed to eat three meals and three snacks. In general, this is a dangerous cocktail, not only with ED but in life. I have discovered in my 8 profound days of recovery that mindfulness is one of the most challenging and rewarding gifts you can give to yourself. I have also discovered that filling every moment of everyday precludes one's ability to be mindful, as one is always moving, never still. Without mindfulness, I feel reactionary, impulsive, constantly falling short of expectations and honestly disconnected from myself and others around me. How is that life? It hurts me and it can hurt others drawn in. So tomorrow is a new day, my hope for myself, mindfulness. Practice enjoying and taking in every moment of the whole day without worrying about "what next?"

Tomorrow's goal: Try living life, not anticipating it.

Day 7: The Eve of the Indecisive Decision

Tomorrow I go to see Dr. R. to discuss my potential return to work. Sue said earlier in the week that she was against my returning so fast, even part time, Amy concurred though with less vigor. They were both going to discuss with Dr. R. I am unsure how I feel about it....

pulled in different directions
an all too familiar feeling
upholding duty, passion
holding up my body and spirit
clinging to security
letting go and letting God
undeniable work ethic
self-defeating behaviors
structure and distraction
fragmented me
sliding down the icy mountain freely
making the trek slow with crampons and equipment strapped to my back
time to spare
time to heal
uplifting competence and confidence
sitting, sinking in emotions
moving on, soaring forward
moving on, trudging through the muck
risking everything to prove my determination
my determination is everything and proves nothing

Day 6: Hannah Montana Forever may have Possibly Saved my Life

Lame right? But so true.

WARNING: this next part is not happy, it makes me sad to type it and it could be triggering for those still suffering.

Monday I had my first "slip," since returning home.  It was scary and basically destroyed my confidence that I could handle this eating thing in the "outside world." It felt really bad. Then Tuesday followed, as tends to happen after Mondays, and things only got worse. I continued to slip, and even missed a meal, which for me is a HUGE red flag. I felt doomed, done for. I emailed my nutritionist, who I love by the way, and some supports who all reminded me to be gentle with myself, take it one day at a time, and recommit to recovery. I went to sleep trying to embody these suggestions recommitting myself to God and recovery, but on the inside I still felt like a failure and that there was no way to "flip the slip," recovery had been short lived.

These thoughts echoed through the night, still resonating in the morning. I sat down at the computer, searching for musical inspiration both to continue my journey and paint my meditation room all by myself. I googled "slip and flip lyrics" and it responded with a myriad of musical genres and choices. That is when I found it. THE SONG. I already secretly like Miley Cyrus because my daughter loves her and dances around and sings every time she hears her, plus "The Climb," c'mon people that song is awesome. Anyway I came across the song "I'm still good," the lyrics:

So I might slip again
Let it in now and then
That don't mean anything
I'm still good
Tryin' to be my best
When I fall it's a mess
Pick myself up again
I'm still good
I'm still good
When days are like that
And I can't shake 'em
It's weighin' on my mind
So I'm just sayin'
I'm only human
Life gets you down sometimes
I think about it
When I wanna give up
How to keep on goin'
How to keep my chin up
Somehow I know it
I'm not gonna give up
Never gonna give up
So I might slip again
Let it in now and then
That don't mean anything I'm still good
Tryin' to be my best
When I fall it's a mess
Pick myself up again
I'm still good
Life puts up a fight with me
But I can take on anything
I'm gonna make it real
This dream I believe in
I think about it
When I wanna give up
How to keep on goin'
How to keep my chin up
Somehow I know it
I'm not gonna give up
Never gonna give up
Oh oh oh
So I might slip again
Let it in now and then
That don't mean anything
I'm still good
Tryin' to be my best
When I fall it's a mess
Pick myself up again
I'm still good
I'm still good
Pick myself up again
I'm still good
I'm still, I'm still good

Needless to say, I downloaded it and have been listening to it, A LOT. I also download some Bell Biv DeVoe ("smack it up, flip it, rub it down") such a guilty pleasure :) But hey, whatever works, right? Hannah Montana Forever helped my recommit. I was 100% compliant with my meal plan today. Thank you, Miley.

When I went to OA tonight, I decided to take a new medallion, celebrating my one day in recovery, one step at a time. Not to celebrate or condone the slip, slips happen, but as a reminder that, "I'm still good."

Day 5: Morning Gratitude (a limerick)

the day greets me still dark and new
to rise i know what to do
my arm silently passes
as i reach for my glasses
but even silence doesn't fool my crew

guinness stealthily crawls to my chest
a cold baloo nose on my shoulder does rest
montey bounds without care
landing on my body somewhere
my morning doggie greeting's the best

Day 4: Sacrilege? Possibly.

Disclaimer/Spoiler: It has been a rough day, The content of this post may offend some (as I compare myself to the Virgin Mary) which is certainly not my intention. Read at your own discretion.


First of welcome to my pity party. I hope you brought your "plus 1," because it has been lonely whooping it up by myself. But I digress.

Today I found myself comparing myself to the Virgin Mary, you know the mother of God, highest of all creatures. Right, that one. Like me, she was just going along, minding her own business, living in what we assume would later be called the "Christian way," when something happened. She was chosen, there was an angel, she gave of herself completely, with grace and mercy. She sacrificed her life as she knew it to carry a child and raise him, the Son of God. She did this without fear or hesitation (little Blues Traveller reference there), because it "was the right thing to do."

Luke 1:38 "Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

Similarly, I was living my life, trying to be a good Christian, a virgin, a child really. But that was taken from me. There was no angel, except perhaps in disguise, but turns out he was a demon with lots of little demon followers. Still, I willingly gave myself to him, not to bear the Son of God, but "in accordance with his word." I trusted him as Mary trusted Gabriel, blindly in faith. He was my savior, who I would go to any end to please, because "it was the right thing to do." My sacrifice had huge repercussions on my life, as did Mary's. One of the key differences though, besides the virgin birth of Jesus, is that I did not possess Mary's grace and mercy, perhaps I did, but now I am just effing pissed and bitter.

Meghan 1:32 "Here am I, having served you, and it's not fucking fair, I WANT MY LIFE BACK THAT YOU STOLE FROM ME!!!"

Day 3: Destination Meditation Station

So I think I am pretty freaking clever. In fact, as I type this I am chuckling to myself. At the end of treatment, I realized that I need a place of my own in my house, to pray, read, meditate, blog, "feel"......and even hide. Thus I have coined the phrase "Mindful Creation of my own Destination Meditation Station." Can you dig it?

With the help of my husband, we have begun transforming a large oddly-shaped closet into my only little piece of heaven, or at least a place of peace and reflection with a door that shuts. So far I have a Grateful Dead blanket (that I have had for years and LOVE), a little whicker stand with a burlap cover designed to keep personal items, books, and treatment materials inside and all sorts of soothing items and aromas and sensory items all at arms reach. My goal is to paint the room, and hang inspirational art, poems, lyrics etc. on the walls to create my real and virtual safe space. My sacred space, when the world is too overwhelming, where there is always escape. Here are some photos. More to come, but for now a word from our sponsor, Miss Emily Dickinson.

"Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotion know what it means to want to escape from these.”

Day 2: The Powder in Hope

APPREHENSION. FEAR. DESPERATION. EXPECTATIONS OF FAILURE. UTTER TERROR.

all this

abandoned as 

the powder flies underfoot

perfect frigid flakes flying at my face

marking my glasses indelibly with relief and joy

my karmic body returning the favor of perseverance

no pain, only freedom biting my face as I lift off, ethereal

my dreams come alive again, filled with hope, enduring in ecstasy

i have been waiting for this opportunity, not cognizant of my blessings

not aware that my body is such a powerful tool, that requires love and nurturing

i will not harm you again, you have given me the ultimate gift, I praise God in gratitude as I fly

finally reaching the bottom, it feels like a paradox, because I have in fact reached the top, the summit

thank you for this gift, this chance, almighty God, i will not disappoint you, i will live big in your namesake.

covered in the powder of hope, i head back up the mountain.

Day 1: The Caffeine Incident.

Today my proverbial java-filled bubble was burst.

I left treatment with the lip-smacking, revitalized conviction to resume my delicious coffee habit, complete with dreams of dark roasted, espresso laden, caffeinated goodness. So this morning, I relished in a cup (or two) of my intention. Absolutelyfuckingdelicious. Heaven sent nectar of the gods (may be pushing it but you get the idea). I greeted the busy day refreshed, hopeful, caffeinated.
My gratitude was immeasurable  as I have not been sleeping well on the prednisone and my day was literally jammed with follow-up appointments. Not to mention that it is my ONLY remaining vice, as I have decided to abstain from drinking, smoking, not to mention taking up eating and "feelings." Just the boost and glue that I needed to make it through day #1.

This all came to a screeching halt around 10:30 on Friday morning. My doctor, whom I love, asked the question loaded, cocked and ready, the Colt 44 pointed at my gut, "Are you drinking coffee?" Since I love her and I have also given up lying as a vice, I meekly answered, "yes."

"I don't think that is on your meal plan, or the best idea, you better stick to decaf."

So the balloon of hope, empowerment and revitalization was untied, sent shooting around the sterile office spraying my espresso-filled aspirations all over the walls and floor of the 8x8 exam room. Though my face dropped I showed no sign of struggle, merely relinquished power, watching the my dark-roasted dreams slip slowly down the walls into an evaporating puddle on the floor, drying quickly, leaving only stains of defeat. "Okay," I managed to stammer after a minute, what's one more unrequited passion.

So we continued on the rest of the day, still upbeat and high from my gift of my "last temptation," acquiring some imitation gold on our journey home after a long day. My new wanderlust. Decaf coffee. Yum. Just keep saying it. By the time we got home I had radically accepted this new way of living, though still pining and reveling in that last day of caffeine. Tomorrow to start anew. Letting go.

The next morning a large guffaw echoed from the kitchen as Clay prepared the morning coffee. Barely able to catch his breath,  Clay came into the kitchen holding a coffee can, baring a striking resemblance to the new canister, just purchased the evening before. We had been drinking decaf all along. Figures, son of a biscuit.

Recovery Mountain

Written in reverence to my leaving treatment to reenter life.

Cracked, broken shells walk through these doors

clinging and reaching for the summit of the decaying mountain.

So fragile.

Barely alive, hands sweaty, grasp slipping from the cliff of sanity

ready to let go.

To plummet.

The vast valley of submission below

death.

Taking the literal and figurative step into this house

a choice is made.

The pain, labor and strength required for the climb is obliterated.

The body is placed back on solid ground.

The summit firmly underfoot.

The palms are still cut and bleeding,

the psyche engulfed by the hopeful terror that the cliff will just give way.

ending the pain and preventing any further exertion.

Releasing the resentment of disempowerment,

having wanted to complete the ascent independently.

Knowing, “I can do it on my own.”

Faced with the decent, jumping off the edge seems inviting.

The body, so tired, apparently unable and unwilling to take the first step.

D

O

W

N

the mountain.

However, awareness recognizes the surrounding people

who unite in setting the spark for the journey to begin.

One step at a time.

Soon, putting one foot in front of the other, progress is made without realization.

The trek down is difficult,

marked with ravines, crevices and rapid water carving through the rock.

Rushing, again, inviting.

Thankfully the accompanying guides are prepared.

The journey’s pace is comfortable yet slow,

punctuated by rest, food, water, comfort

there are rafts, ropes and boards to cross obstacles,

lost time back tracking searching for lost or forgotten items.

The trip seems endless and stagnant,

yet step by step the safety  of the mountain’s base approaches,

even though the flat land appears distorted and seemingly unreachable.

But the distortion lifts as feet reach the flat stable ground

Replaced by surreal pride.

No longer broken or empty, scars where wounds once were

regaining strength daily.

The guides, now trusted companions, must depart now,

headed for the next adventure, the next descent.

As they leave to lift another body and spirit  from the peak

they bequeath the ropes, boards, rafts and sustenance

to continue on the journey, knowing there will be more mountains,

different guides, new adventures.

You are ready.

Start living.

-MDF 11/29/11-1/19/12

Snapped.

buckling, bucking, agony
the stairs take me back in time
against my will.
the pain is unbearable.
tied. passive twister.
beasts ravaging their slaughter
pushing, pulling, unaware or unconcerned with the rope and bungee tethers
lack of elasticity.
the human body can only take so much.
unlike the spirit
which can be broken
over
and
over
again.
trampled and torn
limbs disfigured.
A sudden H A L T.
the feast stops.
the beasts retreat.
too far. too risky for them.
lifted into the air.
returned to safety
my savior and my sufferer
protector of my prostitution
healer of this horrific hedonism
ice and a warm cloth of comfort await me in the back of the car
act two.
attention waits at home.
a new unknown variable.
am I deserving?
my head sinks in.

Grounded.

A heaviness comes over me.
weights and chains keeping me still.
here.
on the ground.
I have stopped fighting
ready to accept my undeniable penance
each muscle rigid, paralyzed
the anticipation and prodromal doom literally shake my physical form.
My senses overwhelm me
forcing my presence to what seems to be
inhumane
deterioration
of
self.
Reconconstruction of the soul.
The firm grasp and constant pull of the chains subdue me.
My breath s t a g g e r s
Inhale.
Exhale in pregnant hesitation.
Then it happens.
The chains release, though I remain restrained in grief.
Fists, clenched, eyes glued shut
the pain intensifies, growing harder to ignore
to escape.
A tear bursts forth, cleansing my face as it burns down my cheek
temporarily staining my shirt in indelible devastation and shame.
More follow.
The shaking, burning and staining continue to torture me,
Now inviting my nose to swell and drain in sadness,
every nerve in my suddenly awake,
on fire.
The seconds pass in hours,
infinitesimally slow and devastating.
No choice.
My body slides to the sanctity of the floor
I lay there
P A I N F U L L Y  P R E S E N T
just waiting for the ref to call the round.