1. 21-day selfcare challenge

    here’s the challenge from @voiceinrecovery on twitter. (as always, being an amazing advocate and roll model):

    http://voiceinrecovery.wordpress.com/

    day 4: november 1, 2010 (yeah, yeah, i missed a few days of specifically dedicating time to selfcare. which makes it all the more important to keep going. i would like selfcare to be a default in my life; not a challenge.)

    yesterday, i cleaned my room. it desperately needed it. ‘too much’ is not a term i specifically believe in applying to wardrobes… but mine was heaped on my floor. and that was too much. so i clean and even, *gasp*, got rid of a few items. and today i did my laundry. and i now have an organized physical space. which makes it much, much easier to have an emotional mental space. 

    today, i took care of myself my creating a pleasant environment to exist in. chaos tends to breed more chaos. and life is chaotic enough without a jumbled mess of possessions covering my bedroom floor.

    —————

    day 3: october 23, 2010. 

    today my selfcare step was small. it got to be 11pm and i thought, what have i done for ME today? well, spent the day surrounded by people i love, being social, watching football games, playing bananagrams… but i didn’t take a moment to stop and make a conscious decision to do something just for myself.

    so i changed the background to my blog. i found an image i liked, took a few photos, spent a little time being playful with my chandelier picture. i like being creative, even if it’s just doodling in the margin of papers, or stringing sparkly beads together. 

    so, tonight, i took care of myself by exercising my creativity a little. by finding beauty and intrigue in something i see every day. and capturing it. 

    —————

    day 2: october 22, 2010.

    when i’m silent, i’m sick. today i used my voice. yesterday, i pushed my boundaries with food in a HUGE way. today, i wasn’t comfortable with that. and i spoke up and said so. three separate time. i said out loud ‘no, i’m not comforatble eating that today’. i refuse to be embarrassed i still need safe food on some days. i refuse to try and ‘prove’ i am at complete ease with food. i refuse to stay silent and let eating disorder actions dicate my day. every day is different. maybe tomorrow nachos or lunch out will be fine. but today they’re not. and i said so.

    today, i took care of myself my SPEAKING UP.

    —————

    day 1: october 21, 2010.

    it’s the end of october, which means we’re solidly into long-pants-boots-gloves-bundle-the-fuck-up weather in central new york. who’s going to see my chipped toenails or my unshaven legs? no one (my boyfriend lives 1,500 miles away).

    but sometimes, it’s important to primp&pamper just for yourself. last night, i was feeling particularly icky. so i took the time to stop studying, take a longggg hottttt shower, shave my legs, repaint my toenails and slather my skin with coconut lotion. and afterward, i felt refreshed and rejuvenated, better about my body and calmer about my test. which a quick shower just to get clean wouldn’t have done for me. i needed to be a little luxurious.

  2. exquisitely epic.

    i am the glamorous goddess of now. 

    i exist to worship myself in the immediate moment. 

    warrior sandals, strong white legs, wrapped in black.

    shimmering lips, painted eyes, dripping jewels,

    arms out wide. 

    the beauty of me, right here, requires no redemption. 

    what i’ve done is gone. what i’ll do will come. 

    bloody battles happen

    and dwelling on defeat, anticipating farther failure,

    only keeps me epically unaware, unable to pray to myself in the present. 

    my divine odyssey is written word by word, 

    every individual letter and curling line contributing

    to making myself worthy of reverence. 

    rereading past chapters…

    instructing myself tied to the mast to resist

    the sweet disorder siren song,

    believing six pomegranate seeds slipping past my lips

    damned me to internal barren winter,

    bending to slake me thirst only to find the water has, again, 

    unreachably receded, 

    feeling the whole weight of the world on my shoulders, 

    always rolling uphill…

    every fable, each page turn of my journey

    is another teaching trial, testing my ability

    to be my own idol, 

    to grant my own absolution, 

    to have faith enough not to look back

    through the gates of hades and lose, 

    to know that no narcissism exists in loving my reflection, 

    in appreciating my perfection exactly as i am. 

    i am mortally, gorgeously my own heavenly muse of this moment.

    mythically

    tragically

    second by second 

    awarely and presently scripting my story. 

  3. magazines spread out across the table. art therapy prompt: choose twelve words. arrange them into a poem. cut out or create an image to go with them. title your piece. my title: mascara tears. bleed. bloom. my 12 words (in poem form): epic eyeliner.  knife-edge alternative iteration reinvents scarred process.  passion producing distinctive equation.  i am floral on the inside. no matter what i look like on the outside. makeup running down my face, dissolving into tears… this i can show the world. it’s okay to cry. it’s okay to be sad. i can still know that inside, my bones bloom.

    magazines spread out across the table. art therapy prompt: choose twelve words. arrange them into a poem. cut out or create an image to go with them. title your piece.

    my title: mascara tears. bleed. bloom.

    my 12 words (in poem form):

    epic eyeliner. 

    knife-edge alternative iteration reinvents scarred process. 

    passion producing distinctive equation. 

    i am floral on the inside. no matter what i look like on the outside. makeup running down my face, dissolving into tears… this i can show the world. it’s okay to cry. it’s okay to be sad. i can still know that inside, my bones bloom.

  4. art therapy prompt: draw your intention for the week. this was my last monday. my intention was, and continutes to be, to take the outside chaos absorb, through osmosis, what works for me. to let the surroundings move through me, become a part of my bloodstream, part of who i am inside.  the words that settled on my heart were, unintentionally,  immediately skill evolving keep this kid this is a continuing theme. i can not take on everything. everything exists, jumbled around me. but i have only to absorb what works symbiotically for me. 

    art therapy prompt: draw your intention for the week.

    this was my last monday. my intention was, and continutes to be, to take the outside chaos absorb, through osmosis, what works for me. to let the surroundings move through me, become a part of my bloodstream, part of who i am inside. 

    the words that settled on my heart were, unintentionally, 

    immediately

    skill

    evolving

    keep

    this kid

    this is a continuing theme. i can not take on everything. everything exists, jumbled around me. but i have only to absorb what works symbiotically for me. 

  5. art therapy prompt: draw a time when you felt pride.  the woods at night:  when i was eight or nine, we had a cabin by the lake. there was no road cut in. we had to hike from a mile away. one night, my dad and i got back late. we had no flashlight and we had to walk down the trial in the dark. as we were walking, my dad dropped my hand. i started to panic. ‘shhhh, nance,’ he said. ‘be calm. look around. there’s nothing scary here. you’re okay.’ and he was right. i was. i walked at the way down to the cabin, in the dark, in the lead. and when we got there, i could not have been more proud of myself. i never feared the dark again after that.  the waterfall: that same summer, i took a hike for the first time all alone. probably, it was only a quarter mile up the creek from my cabin to get the the waterfall. and probably, the waterfall was only about twenty feet high. but, as a little kid, the hike felt like forever and the waterfall looked impossibly large. and the first time i went there by myself i remember feeling the spray on my face and thinking ‘i did this all alone!’  the stairs: and now, where is the spontaneous achievement? as an adult, i am constantly striving for something. i am constantly taking steps to progress. and every time there would be a moment to feel proud of accomplishing something… there’re more stairs. more steps to climb to get better. i can not think of a time when i was not trying to get something accomplished that i suddenly just felt proud of something i had done. as an adult, there has not been the pure, accidental exhilarating realization of ‘hey! look what i just did!’ 

    art therapy prompt: draw a time when you felt pride. 

    the woods at night: 

    when i was eight or nine, we had a cabin by the lake. there was no road cut in. we had to hike from a mile away. one night, my dad and i got back late. we had no flashlight and we had to walk down the trial in the dark. as we were walking, my dad dropped my hand. i started to panic. ‘shhhh, nance,’ he said. ‘be calm. look around. there’s nothing scary here. you’re okay.’ and he was right. i was. i walked at the way down to the cabin, in the dark, in the lead. and when we got there, i could not have been more proud of myself. i never feared the dark again after that. 

    the waterfall:

    that same summer, i took a hike for the first time all alone. probably, it was only a quarter mile up the creek from my cabin to get the the waterfall. and probably, the waterfall was only about twenty feet high. but, as a little kid, the hike felt like forever and the waterfall looked impossibly large. and the first time i went there by myself i remember feeling the spray on my face and thinking ‘i did this all alone!’ 

    the stairs:

    and now, where is the spontaneous achievement? as an adult, i am constantly striving for something. i am constantly taking steps to progress. and every time there would be a moment to feel proud of accomplishing something… there’re more stairs. more steps to climb to get better. i can not think of a time when i was not trying to get something accomplished that i suddenly just felt proud of something i had done. as an adult, there has not been the pure, accidental exhilarating realization of ‘hey! look what i just did!’ 

  6. art therapy prompt: draw the nurturing part of yourself.  later… poetry therapy prompt: look at your picture. write. the landscape is bleak.  this country is such a critical place.  consume and consume and consume and create… mold yourself as the perfect pictures plastering magazines. build a bigger house a better job a faster car a slimmer self.  create material object happiness.  build up your possessions. tear down the body.  buy more shit. sell your soul.  and where am i in all of this? this abrasive environment screaming be better, go bigger, get skinny, attain perfecter… be more. i am the interior.  i am the embodiment of all that encompasses enough. create in creativity. create inside the self.  stand, balanced still, in all the racing, ridiculing world and let my artistic insides spiral out.  relinquish the want for material more and mirrored less.  accept that this is me  and wishing different, striving for the outside, non-existent perfect only gets me sick. and hurt. and stuck. unbalanced, without a sense of self. 

    art therapy prompt: draw the nurturing part of yourself. 

    later…

    poetry therapy prompt: look at your picture. write.

    the landscape is bleak. 

    this country is such a critical place. 

    consume and consume and consume and create…

    mold yourself as the perfect pictures plastering magazines.

    build a bigger house

    a better job

    a faster car

    a slimmer self. 

    create material object happiness. 

    build up your possessions. tear down the body. 

    buy more shit. sell your soul. 

    and where am i in all of this?

    this abrasive environment screaming

    be better, go bigger, get skinny, attain perfecter…

    be more.

    i am the interior. 

    i am the embodiment of all that encompasses enough.

    create in creativity. create inside the self. 

    stand, balanced still, in all the racing, ridiculing world

    and let my artistic insides spiral out. 

    relinquish the want for material more and mirrored less. 

    accept that this is me 

    and wishing different, striving for the outside, non-existent perfect

    only gets me sick. and hurt. and stuck.

    unbalanced, without a sense of self. 

  7. art therapy prompt: draw the purpose of your soul. the purpose of my soul is anchor me in this moment. here. now. judgment about the past and fear of the future do nothing to change the present. and it is only in each present moment that i can make the next right choice for myself. 

    art therapy prompt: draw the purpose of your soul.

    the purpose of my soul is anchor me in this moment. here. now.

    judgment about the past and fear of the future do nothing to change the present. and it is only in each present moment that i can make the next right choice for myself. 

  8. every microscopic action matters.

    it quickly becomes overwhelming to consider the

    pollutive, burning, smogging, dumping overpopulation of our earth.

    among these issues, i am insignificant.

    what i do doesn’t matter.

    if i turn off the water while brushing my teeth

    or recycle my beer cans

    or throw my garbage out of the window

    or buy the fucking florescent bulbs

    what different does this, could this possibly make

    in an ocean of oil

    a mountain of trash

    a pit of seeping, oozing radioactive waste?

    i. don’t. matter.

    and yet, i am a part of the planet.

    i drink the water and breathe in and out the atmosphere.

    i am made up of all the same matter as all of world around me.

    and if i don’t do my microscopic part

    in protecting and perserving and nourishing the environment,

    i contribute to the deterioration.

    there is a caring and a sadness and a longing for better

    that settles in when i pause to really, truly consider

    where our world is going.

    strip mining and strip malls.

    nuclear testing and ozone depletion.

    our planet deserves respect.

    and yet, throughout my life, i haven’t believed my body deserved the same.

    i’ve treated is as a cesspool for toxic chemicals.

    consumed and consumed

    and then done my damnedest to strip it down. 

    if i am a part of the planet and i can hold that in compassion,

    why not, now, myself?

    just as i can project outward my desire for cleanliness and connectivity,

    so, too, can i project in it.

    every little action,

    alive in each moment,

    matters.

  9. devastatingly kinetic.

    last night i was reading through my thoughts from last september, just as a i started IOP. this was my state of being then:

    i know i hurt. i hope to heal. 

    vomit my acidic, vitriolic emotions.

    abuse my body to physically feel. 

    abrasive behavior. damaging. destroying. harsh. 

    never ever ever ever again. i create this pain. 

    i ruin myself. 

    never ever ever ever again. yet here i am. 

          i. fucking. fail.

    feeling fluidity i must be in motion. 

    tornado of terror

    can’t sit still

    express with my body 

    impossible just to STOP. express with my words.

          if it’s only words i only hear. i can not feel.

    the seductive, self-destructive sensations

    cutting. running. chaos. kicking. 

    viscerally, tissueally, FEELING what i feel.

    everything in the external.

    i know hurt.

    and if i contain this all inside me how can i ever really hope to heal?

    i know i hurt. i hope to heal.

    force myself to stop. abruptly pause. stagnated still. 

    i do not feel.

    the whirlwind whipped away compassion

    and when i stopped it left me stunned.

    in standing still there’s… nothing there

    without displacement, painful as it was i feel…

          disconnected. nonexistent. numb.

    just saying, even screaming

    there isn’t enough ACTION in the air exhaling from the lungs.

    expressing without endless agitation is impossible in the moment.

    i mourn the loss of movement

    miss my motion

    frozen if i can not fling frustrations 

    insides empty exterior still go go go go go go

          stop.

    and now i do not feel.

    i know hurt. 

    but in finding my INTERNAL fluid fluctuations i hope i can believe 

    i will succeed and start to heal.

  10. art therapy prompt: visually describe an internal conflict my internal conflict is a constant feeling that there’re not enough hours in the day… there is not enough time… there is too much to do… run, textbooks, homework, mix drinks, engineer, run, drink drinks, textbooks, bikes, homework, bartend, engingeerdrinktexthomebookswork… sleep. repeat.  and i idealize my activities. i want to schedule them into neat, ordered blocks of time. but somehow i end up doing calculus while mixing cosmos or exercising during my lunch break or eating dinner at therapy because it’s the only place i can ‘fit it in’. the lovely idealized blocks shatter into chaos. melt and twist and drip and splatter until it’s all just too damn unmanageable.  and yet, there’s something more enticing about the chaos of this picture than the nicely-rowed blocks. maintaining ME in recovery is going to mean taking some of that disorder and containing it, without losing all the spontaneity. because row after row of monochromatic squares… that’s boring. and that’s not me. i exist in the tangled, transient piece of this art. it’s a balance. i’ll find it. 

    art therapy prompt: visually describe an internal conflict

    my internal conflict is a constant feeling that there’re not enough hours in the day… there is not enough time… there is too much to do… run, textbooks, homework, mix drinks, engineer, run, drink drinks, textbooks, bikes, homework, bartend, engingeerdrinktexthomebookswork… sleep. repeat. 

    and i idealize my activities. i want to schedule them into neat, ordered blocks of time. but somehow i end up doing calculus while mixing cosmos or exercising during my lunch break or eating dinner at therapy because it’s the only place i can ‘fit it in’.

    the lovely idealized blocks shatter into chaos. melt and twist and drip and splatter until it’s all just too damn unmanageable. 

    and yet, there’s something more enticing about the chaos of this picture than the nicely-rowed blocks. maintaining ME in recovery is going to mean taking some of that disorder and containing it, without losing all the spontaneity. because row after row of monochromatic squares… that’s boring. and that’s not me. i exist in the tangled, transient piece of this art. it’s a balance. i’ll find it.