You are only human

You are only human.

So when you are hurting, tell yourself this. That you are only human. You are not made up of metal that refuses to break. You are not made up of concrete, that can withstand the strongest of storms. You are not made up of the harshest wind that can knock down even the strongest of foundations. You are allowed to take a break. You are allowed to feel.

And when you are feeling sick with heartache, tell yourself this. You are only human. You have one brain, one heart, two hands, and ten fingers. You ware made to produce salty tears when your heart feels to weak to keep on going. You are made to feel with every bone in your body. You are supposed to ache with loneliness. You are supposed to feel everything that is terrible and everything that is beautiful.

Because you are only human.

And when you feel like you can’t go on any longer, when you feel like you can’t live another day, please remember this. You are only human. You break, you bleed, you bend, and you crack open. And yes, you are not made up of bricks that refuse to fall even during the darkest of hurricanes.

But, please, know this. You are made up of water, of the sea, that can drown the most terrible of feelings. You are made up of currents that can cleanse your soul of your darkest thoughts.

We say we are only human, and that we are weak because we are breakable. But my dear, we all break sometimes, but we always can find a way to be reborn.

You have lungs that work day in and day out to give you inhales and exhales that you don’t even have to think about. You have bones, that protect your every muscle, enclosing your body in a safe haven. You have one heart that pumps blood throughout your body, and you have your brain, that makes you, you.

You are human. But you are so much more than that. Because you see, while your bones and heart can break, while your lungs can weaken and your muscles can grow weary of this life that you live, your heart still beats. Your cells will still be reborn. Your lungs will still move in and out, no matter how tired you have become. Your bones will heal on their own, slowly but surely. And your body will begin again.

So while you are just a human, you are stronger than any natural disaster, than any army of wolves, than any man made metal, and than any tornado. Your body will keep working, even when you don’t want it to. Your body will keep you awake, even when you just want to sleep forever. And your body will keep cheering you on, even when your heart has dropped to the ground in despair.

So when you feel like you can’t keep walking, when you feel like life isn’t worth living, and when you think that you aren’t worth another day on this earth, just remember that you are human. Remember that you are mighty. You are the vision of strength and endurance even when you feel like throwing in the towel. And remember that you are beautiful, you are beautiful with all of your flaws and insecurities, even if you can’t see it now.

Sweet human, you are a masterpiece of cells and bones and heartbeats. You are nothing short of a miracle, because you are here, breathing in this air and this life. You are nothing short of perfection, because you are your very own person.

You are stronger because you are human. You are stronger because you have strengths and weaknesses, and you have insecurities and marks etched into your skin. You are stronger because you can break, and still get up the next day. You are stronger because you can die, and be reborn again. And you are stronger because after all of the time, you wake up each day and continue to climb this slippery slope that is your life. And you must know, that you are worthy of waking up each day, and breathing in this beautiful and crazy world.

So please, don’t stop climbing. Don’t stop breathing. Don’t stop living. Keep on going. Keep on walking. Don’t stop trying. Don’t stop inhaling. You are worth today. You are worth tomorrow. You are worth, a beautiful, masterpiece of a life. And you are worth giving yourself a shot to do more, to be more, and live a better life. 

Life as a survivor is a battle

The journey of a survivor is long and winding; a perfect example of the emotional roller coaster experience. My assault happened over two years ago. In the time since then I feel as though I have completely rebuilt my life.

When a person experiences such a traumatic life event, it shakes their entire being. I felt as though everything I was had ever been was completely lost and that my whole world around me had crumbled into pieces. At first, I did not know how to make my life whole again. The thing about rape is that it causes the survivor to truly experience what it is like to lose all control over their physical being and their circumstances. And that is not a feeling that a person can easily forget. Traces of that feeling stay with you, at times encompassing your entire being. The memory of that feeling is the single most anxiety-inducing thing I have ever known.

My life as a survivor has been a life completely ruled by anxiety. The nights are now my enemy, to be avoided at all costs. As the sun dips down lower and lower in the sky, my anxiety increases. I look forward to the summers. Not for the warm weather, beach trips, carefree feelings and other things people normally look forward to about summer. But because it stays lighter longer. I get more freedom, less fear. As the weather gets colder and the days become shorter, I feel myself becoming more anxious.

This anxiety is all encompassing. It disrupts my life in ways I would have never been able to imagine before. It causes the 10-foot walk from my car to my house to seem like a walk through an active battle zone. It causes any strange person within sight to become an immediate threat to my life, never to be trusted. It has changed me, broken me. I have felt so defeated by it at times that I don’t bother leaving the comfort of my home unless true necessity drives me out.

As someone who has always valued my independence, this has been an adjustment that has been difficult to say the least. When I am alone I am not safe. Or at least this is what my brain thinks. This is what my brain tells me. Therefore, I fear being alone. But I am afraid to reach out for help. Afraid to tell a trusted family member or a friend, “I need you here right now.” Because, for me, the only thing worse than being alone is thinking that when others look at you, all they see is your traumatic experience. Nobody deserves to be defined by their traumas. But choosing not to remind people of my assault, even if it is for my benefit, is a risk I’m willing to take.

And so there are many times that I think, “What has my life become? How did I get here?” It is in these times that I feel indescribably high levels of anger and frustration. Two emotions, in fact, that survivors rarely discuss. Feelings of hopelessness, brokenness, and guilt are discussed ad nauseum – and with good reason. But it is the anger and the frustration that serve as the motivation to transform from victim to survivor. This anger and this frustration are what fuels the realization that this was not your fault. They are what drives you to push through and persevere. Because there is no way in hell I would let them win; I refuse to let them continue to control my life. Of course this sentiment is a hell of a lot easier said than done, but it is a goal I work towards every day.

My life has been a battle since the night I was raped. Every day is a new challenge. Not a day goes by without flashbacks, anxiety and fluctuating emotions. But this is my life. This is what I am left with after a man decided to take the fate of my entire life in his hands. And this is the information people need to hear. Because every statistic you hear about sexual assault is a person’s life. And each one of those lives probably looks like some variation of this. And one life lived like this is one too many.

The Invisibility of an Eating Disorder

Each day is a new day. I wake up with the intention of having nothing more than a coffee for the foreseeable future. I quietly applaud myself if I persist. Each bite of food I take leads to an inner struggle as I question whether I will stay the course and get a light salad thereby cementing my extremely limited caloric intake for the day or do I dare have a sandwich thereby necessitating a insatiable consumption of junk food.

The days alone are easier, there is nothing to hide. I can eat anything that I please with a ravenous gluttony or deny myself necessary sustenance with an unabashed sense of pride. There is rarely an in between.

I cant seem to remember a time where this wasn’t the case. Many have commented on my aptly labeled “weird” eating habits but few have inquired further. Those closer to me have noted that I have a “problem with eating” with little more than exuberant frustration at my decision. As if I have a choice.

Here’s the thing about eating disorders, there is no choice.

In my attempt to manipulate a sense of control over my life and my decisions, I am rendered powerless by food.

I starve myself because I can, because I can control that. Even then though, I cannot, I lose control and I eat. And boy do I eat. A box of cookies, a bag of chips, a cake, because why not? I have already succumbed, what more can I lose? Once the taste of that one cookie has touched my lips, I have already lost, so what difference does a dozen more make? Today is a lost day, I think as I devour the first cookie which will inevitably lead to finishing off the box and looking through menus of food to order.

I am an otherwise intelligent person, and I realize this thought process is neither healthy nor rational, yet here I am still ascribing to it after all these years. And this is where the true invisibility lies.

People can observe the quirky behavior that I take on with food, but in a society where being thin is revered as one of the ultimate bastions of success, the struggle hidden beyond that is rarely ever addressed. The weight loss is applauded with envious compliments. The gluttony is reviled with promises of extended gym trips and future limitations. All of this done with light hearted comments intended to leave little more than superficial commentary but it fuels this invisible battle that I am fighting. 

What is it like to live with an eating disorder?

Starving yourself is a lot easier than you might think. You start out with an itch, but one that comes from the inside, a feeling that fingers can’t reach. That feeling turns to pain, but not the pangs you’ve been promised. It’s a more hollow pain, like that ringing after you hit your head on something, the moment where everything hurts but is strangely clear at the same time.

In time, though, you just get tired. You find yourself wanting to go to sleep, even though it’s only 6:00 P.M., and you wonder why you feel this way. You had a full night’s sleep last night - actually, you overslept. You overslept the night before, too. In fact, you’ve been sleeping a lot lately. You stop to consider this fact and then you realize can’t remember the last time you ate. You know that you had to eat at some point. You just don’t remember.

When you’ve gotten over the pain, staying in this third stage - the place where you don’t feel hungry, just empty and tired - becomes like a habit, the thing you use to feel death inside you. Some people smoke. Some people drink. Some people do drugs. You just don’t eat.

You used to pride yourself on this fact, your ability to go long stretches with almost no food. Growing up without much money to go around, you know that food isn’t cheap, and you think of all the money you must be saving. You look in the mirror and feel an unexpected sense of pride when you see how white your skin is and counting your ribs is like counting the dollars in your bank account. Some people put money into savings. You get skinny.

You tell yourself that you’ll eat later, when you can afford it and when you’ve worked for it. Besides, not eating is a lot better than eating Ramen, but almost everything is better than eating Ramen.

You use this promise of food as an incentive to push yourself harder and to be more beautiful, being the kind of person who has earned a hearty meal. When you’re cramming for an exam or you are on deadline, you feel your eyes closing - well into stage three, for a length of time you don’t know how to count anymore - and you have another sip of coffee. You’ll eat when you get done. If you just power through and get this done quickly, you can eat.

When you don’t think you deserve food, you’ll find any reason you can to not eat. You’ll tell yourself that you’ve spent too much today or that you ate so much for breakfast that you need to skip a meal - or a couple meals - to balance it out. When you eat again, you will attack your food like a lion feasting on prey in the jungle, and friends will say that they don’t know how you eat so much and stay so skinny. Your metabolism is sick. You’ll smile and keep eating because right now, food is the only thing that matters.

You’ll avoid putting a label on it or talking about it and it might not ever occur to you that you have a problem - until a friend confesses to you that she’s bulimic. You’ll say that you have something to tell her, too. You pause, because you know you should tell her something, but you don’t know what to say. You don’t know where to start. You’re silent. Everything hurts but is strangely clear at the same time.

Telling someone will make it easier. Then it won’t. You will go through periods where you eat more and then you eat less again, replacing supplements and diet pills with food. You look at the people on the label of the bottle, one that promises to turn fat directly into muscle, and you wonder if a six-pack is hiding under your abs, just waiting. You are certain this isn’t how it works, but it doesn’t stop you from trying. When you’ve barely eaten in days, anything seems possible.

It even seems possible that you might get better and that one day, you’ll be the person you wanted to be, and you don’t need to starve yourself to get there. You are certain this isn’t how it works, but it doesn’t stop you from trying.

You might not ever get better and you might get a little better. Better might not have a meaning anymore. Better just means different. You might become better at forcing yourself to eat, even when you don’t want to. You keep attacking your food, and you look in the mirror, expecting to look better to yourself. You want your body to reflect the progress you’ve made. But you look the same. You will look different — but always the same somehow — and when someone tells you how good or how healthy you look, the compliment will startle you, as if they are jumping out from behind a bush.

You will thank them, because you don’t know what else to say. You itch, but it’s a different itch this time. One day, you hope to know what to say. When you finally eat, almost anything seems possible. 

Neutrality does not exist in a rape case

Societal standards, most cultural commentators, and both official and unofficial precedent set by the justice system all will take the side of a rapist over the accuser. This is especially true when the accused is rich, white, famous and popular. By  saying "we don't know what happened" what we are saying is "she is lying."

Admitting to being raped is traumatic. Being raped is terrible. People who are raped often do not ever come forward because it makes them feel exposed and vulnerable. Coming forward about a rape means reliving this specific horror over and over for cops, doctors, nurses, and lawyers. Should this go to trial, the victim has to acknowledge that they're entire life is going to be examined. Especially when the victim speaks out against any person in power, their entire life will be torn apart. The public will defend the accused and harass the victim. 

Were they drinking? What were they wearing? Does the victim have a history of being promiscuous? By immediately assuming a rape allegation is a lie, you are making it increasingly difficult for other victims to be able to seek help when they are assaulted. When these questions are being asked, we are saying that there are instances that a person has the right to another person.

“Neutrality” is support for the accused. What facts are you waiting for? So what that only 32% of rape cases are ever reported, less so against the wealthy and the powerful. Maybe only 3% of cases in the United States are ever given to a prosecutor, just because there is enough evidence for this to beat the underwhelming odds of being given to a prosecutor judgment still needs to be reserved. You need to be in court to let go of the nasty ass you’re supporting? The fact that 98% of rapists never spend a day in jail is obviously irrelevant. Are you really waiting for charges to be dropped so the league can sweep this under the rug? 

By claiming that the only way we can truly know what happened is through a trial, you are dismissing the 68% of rapes that go unreported. Are you saying that since there was no trial, it never happened? When you claim that the humiliation of a rape is equal to that which comes from even being accused, you are dismissing the trauma of the initial assault and every other horrific experience of recounting what happened. When you tell me that the only way someone can be classified as a rapist is with a final judgment in a court of law, you are ignoring every case that is dismissed for lack of evidence. 

Rape is not defined by the ruling of our courts. The FBI has deemed rape to be “the penetration, no matter how slight, of the vagina or anus with any body part or object, or oral penetration by a sex organ of another person, without the consent of the victim.” It does not include "after being deemed to be so in a court of law." Thousands of rapists are walking around freely because they have bullied their victim into dropping the claim or, even worse, it never makes it to the cops. 

You say no one deserves to have their rape claim dismissed, yet you are in fact dismissing it with this logic. This is all part of rape culture. This is the problem. 

Never settle for anything or anyone

Never fucking settle.

I can’t stress this enough.

In my 24 years of life, I want this to be the one thing that I have learned better than all other lessons. If a boy asks if you are okay, knowing that you are not, and leaves it alone when you say “yes” please leave. If your best friend is having a bad night and you make her food, lay with her and let her cry on your shoulder and the next week does not do the same thing for you when you are crippled from pain at 3 in the morning, please realize she is not your friend. If your parents invite you over for dinner but antagonize you for dying your hair a new color the moment you walk through the door, please go home and do not let them control you.

Don't let other people determine your worth. Don't let a boy tell you that you aren't worth it. You are. Don't put yourself out there for friends that won't do the same for you. Don't put up with toxic family members that expect you to change yourself for their own comfort. Silence the voices that tell you "no" and that you aren't strong enough. Look in the mirror and tell yourself you are more than enough, you're too good for those toxic relationships.

Please realize that no matter who the person is nor their level of importance to you, you do not deserve it. You do not need people in your life who do not appreciate you or what you do. You do not need to belittle yourself just to make others happy. You need to keep yourself at the top of your priority list.

For fuck’s sake, you are all you fucking have. You’re it. You’re everything. It’s all you, baby.

Please, just fucking make the most of it and fuck the rest.

Don't let the monsters win

This does not begin the way they tell you,
The way they promise you as
you wait in the hospital watching
your friend heaving into a paper bag
There is no way for your body to
make sense of a poison so close to the
heart and so engraved in the mind
They will tell you it is possible to
live a normal life if you remember to
take your pills, and drink your water
and chart your feelings. Like a child
learning the alphabet, I have learned
my way through sad-angry-mad-happy
I have felt my way through the dark room
and slept at the foot of the monsters bed

He smiles at me in the dark, he tells me
He controls the light. You never know
When its going to get better.
The map it leaves is scars running
from your hip bone to your inner thigh
that no man will ever kiss in the moonlight
and you try the new words, tasting them
on your tongue –

“I’m okay.”
“I’m fine”
“How about you?”

Nothing could taste worse than the
uncertainty of being left cold and dead
in the arms of your own self.

My best friend tried to kill herself twice.
I remind myself of her presence, of the way
she is the sun in my sky, the moon in my path.
I cannot feel anything.

My heart stops in the base of my throat.
I remember what it feels like,
lying alone at the bottom of a bathtub,
lungs filled with water.

I have been learning to breathe since
I took my first breath out of that tub.

I have spent too many months,
washing my hands of my own blood,
Tasting the trouble I caused
on the inside of my gums
I am sorry for those I hurt
when I was trying to gauze myself up.

This is remembering that growth
begins with the rough plough
of a man bigger than a seed
But even trees grow larger
than any man.

I wait for the monster to turn on the lights.
Today could be a good day.
If only you take your medicine.
If only you make your train.
This begins with a word
Recovery
and it never truly ends.

This poem is for all my friends.
The ones who gulp for air, and the ones
who are scared to sleep at night.
The ones who became more than statistics,
and subway delays.

I’m happy your monsters didn’t win.

And

This is for every
Personal injury at track level.

I am here in your memory

The quest for perfection

It consumes me.  This desire to be skinny.

Small.

Too small.

Even though I see the numbers get lower, I feel like I look the same.  It frustrates me.  How I feel like I’m the one who works so hard so I should have the skinniest legs.  Perhaps the most disturbing part is the competition aspect.  When I look at a girl and see that I’m skinner I feel like I’m winning.  I almost want to giver her a sly smile (and sometimes do) that says, “See what happens when you work hard?”  Conversely, seeing girls smaller than me is the absolute worst.  And whenever I see a girl that is so bony it looks like I could snap her in half, I am completely envious of her and feel a burning hatred inside myself.

Who am I?  What’s wrong with me that I feel this way?  I remember as a child when food didn’t consumer my mind and it wasn’t at all a highlight in my life.  But back then I had an amazing metabolism too.  I could overeat 24/7 and not gain a pound on my extremely small frame.

Now I’m on a quest to be perfect.

Perfect is the unreachable goal that I know I can’t get to but I’ll never stop trying to reach.  So I’ll continue.  I’ll continue counting my calories and not eating more than one thousand a day.  I’ll continue over-exercising. I’ll continue to feel uncomfortable in my own skin and embarrassed by who I’ve become.  Maybe one day I’ll look in the mirror and realize this girl isn’t me, but that day is not today.

True relationship goals

I no longer want someone who promises to always love me and never leave me, I need someone who understands that life happens and sometimes things don’t work out. I need someone that understands that while we want nothing more than each other, we can survive on our own. I need someone that doesn't make me feel like my life will stop if they walk away. Standing alone is just as important as standing together.

I don’t want someone who sugar coats things and never gets angry with me, I need someone to tell me how it really is and put me in my place. I need you to call me on my bullshit and stand firm in your beliefs. I need to have someone as strong willed and stubborn as I am because I know that I can be wrong. We both will make mistakes and be wrong, but we can understand and accept being corrected.

I don't have to share every interest with you. We don't have to mirror the other's likes and dislikes. I had life before you, I have likes outside of you. Don't change who you are or what you like to please me. Because I certainly won't do that for you. I need to be able to tell you with passion why I love ballet and spill out how a tour jeté makes me feel more alive than anything even when you don't understand. I want to listen to you talk about a baseball team with a record that I don't understand.

I need to be able to go five hours without talking to you and not feel lost or incomplete. I am complete without you. But with you, I want to be so much better. I want to be stronger with you. I will not rely on you to give me self worth or to value my presence. I want to stand beside you. Not below you. Not on a pedestal. We are equals. I want us to grow together and help each other grow individually.

I don’t need you, but I really fucking want you. 

Ten things to remember in life

1. Learn to put on your bracelets and zip up your dresses by yourself. There will be times when you will be alone. There is nothing wrong with this. These times will make you stronger. Embrace this time as you learn who you really are. Know that you can stand alone.
2. Get on a long plane ride. Look out the window. Understand the immensity of our world. Understand your insignificance. Understand your absolute importance. Explore the world. Try new things. Travel alone. Travel with friends. Learn more about what the world holds.
3. Press the send button. If you don’t say it now, you never will. Do not be afraid to tell people how you feel. Don't ever be afraid to tell someone you care about them. It's okay to cut out the toxic people in your life. Don't be afraid to speak up for yourself. 
4. Do not sneer at happiness or roll your eyes at sadness. Be aware that apathy is not healthy. Find joy in the little things. It's perfectly okay that a cup of coffee makes your day. Don't ridicule others for being happy. Be happy with them. Find happiness together. Find happiness alone.
5. You are more than the amount of people who want to have sex with you. You are more than the number of likes on your pictures. Take that selfie for you. Don't rely on someone else's opinion to make you feel pretty. You are more than the number of people you have had sex with. 
6. That pit in your stomach when he doesn’t text you back, it shouldn’t be there. No one should be able to control you like that. Putting someone else first consistently is a good way to show them that you should come second. Don't let someone not responding dictate your day. Put the phone down. You are more than that. 
7. Shopping is cathartic. Buy the shoes and deal with one-ply toilet paper for a while. Buy something that makes you feel special. You are. You deserve the things that make you happy. 
8. It will get better, but it will never be perfect. Learn to live through the small moments of happiness. When they disappear, remember they will resurface. Keep smiles of yesterday in mind when today is hard. 
9. I promise that cookie will not change anything (except that it will make you smile).Don't be afraid of dessert. Stop worrying about every calorie. It wont kill you. The number on that scale does not define you.
10. Please, please, take care of yourself. You are everything to somebody. You are everything to your self. That alone is enough.

The journey after a relationship

“I don’t do relationships.”

That was how all of this began. I never wanted to go through the struggle, the pain, the troubling journey, the constricting lifestyle of a relationship. After a long, arduous and life-altering relationship at an age when I hadn’t even discovered myself, let alone someone else, the last thing I wanted was to go through it all again. To feel dejected, broken, unworthy, helpless, and embarrassed of feeling all these things.

But what I had forgotten was the joy. I forgot the joy of sharing your life with someone that willingly and eagerly takes part in it, yearning to be a focal point. I forgot about the happiness of having someone by your side that wants to make every aspect of your life better and will try anything and everything to make it happen. I forgot the feeling of waking up next to someone that you had hoped would spend the night. I forgot the fulfilling, comforting and beautiful journey.

Or maybe I chose not to remember them. In any case, you were insistent on making it happen, and make it happen you did. You reminded me of all these things, you showed me that my perspective was messed up. You proved to me that avoiding relationships wasn’t the answer to maintaining a peaceful lifestyle. Rather, you achieve that peaceful life by avoiding the unhealthy negativity from a failing liaison and looking for what makes you happy. And you made me happy. Our time together was eye-opening to say the least. It was a combination of bliss, pleasure, happiness, and excitement in a way that words would never truly capture in its glory. While it was short, it was still important. It still meant something to me.

Everything that I had chosen to forget seemed utterly stupid. I myself couldn’t understand where or how I could have possibly gotten those thoughts. Until now.

Now that we’re here, I remember it all. The pain, the struggle, the troubling journey, I remember it all now. But these are not attributable to the relationship. The agony isn’t from the relationship; it’s from the journey after the relationship. The process of returning to yourself, whoever that may be at the moment. The path of rediscovering life as you used to know it. Life as me instead of life as us. Understanding how having you in my life for such a short time left such an impact on me. Going from talking constantly to nothing but silence.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I wasn't worth it. I know I'm a mess. I know I have problems. But it didn't seem to phase you. Maybe I was wrong. I know that I'm still trying to get my life together. Maybe you don't want to wait around for it. I know that it takes hours for me to look presentable when you can wake up and look gorgeous. Maybe you knew you could do better. I know I have a constant battle with food. Maybe you realized I wasn't worth it. Maybe you realized that you deserve better.

It will happen, it is inevitable. Nothing is forever. No relationship will last, but all pains come to an end. Whether it takes a few days, a few months, or a few years, I will recover. Along the way, the days will be long, the nights will be sleepless, everyday tasks will be mundane, and everything that you thought you knew about yourself will be questioned by others and by yourself. But you will return to yourself. I will return to myself.

I just wish this would have ended differently.  

Any minute now... You'll be you.

You function “like a normal person.” You take a shower, get dressed, eat breakfast, and make it out the door in less than an hour. It used to take you the whole morning. And two to three cups of coffee. And a handful of songs that glistened on your ears. (If you made it out at all.) You used to lose time looking out the window because everything was beautiful, and everything in every season had a hazy glow attached to it. In the summer you’d go out to see what the plants looked like after the heavy sky left drops of rain on the leaves. In the winter the fresh snow would cover everything and fill your mind with soft corners.

But now, none of that. There are only dirty sidewalks and messy gardens and more fucking sun and more fucking humidity. The world is a place you are forced walk across to get to work or school or home. At work you answer emails and make phone calls and tie up loose ends and find solutions to problems. Under fluorescent lights you go to meetings and cross things off your to-do list. Your hair is combed, your tights don’t have runs in them, and your boss praises you. You smile because you have forgotten that this is not You.

No, the You you’ve known all your life would not feel good about completing a purchase order or remembering which folder a document is in. The You before the medication had dreams about doing more than this. It was always Which city am I going to next? And now it’s When is the microwave in the breakroom free? The You before medication was always What can I create tonight? Now You are more What if I spill paint on the carpet? That won't come out and I'll lose my deposit. During the day this doesn’t seem like a big deal because you are focused and productive. You see clear goals and paths carved out to get you there. You are medicated, and everything is linear.

But when have you ever been a fan of straight lines? At night you remember how you used to love the twisted ones best. How much time did you spend just wandering, even if it meant not getting where you were supposed to go? You would always find something better, or at the very least you’d see/touch/taste/feel something amazing on the way there. The world was not something you were forced to be in; you wanted to be in it, badly, and wanted it in you. You wanted to put your hands on it and breathe it in. What was that like, again?

It’s too hard to remember because every morning you wake up and swallow a blue capsule that pushes all that out of sight. It gives you tunnel vision, and during the half hour it takes to kick in you can feel the narrowing like waves crashing over you. Soon this part will be over, though. Soon you won’t be reaching out to grab the hand of the person you used to be while the tide pulls her under. You’ll forget her and you’ll forget the way the sun hit the streets just right this morning and how the breeze brushed past you whispering “Follow” as it disappeared around the corner. You’ll be fine, and you won’t dream.

It’s ok because this is what the doctor says is “fine.” This is what your parents and teachers and bosses say is “fine.” But you know this is not fine because fine is having space for your thoughts to breathe. It is thanking the stars or the lord or the Smiths that you are not like the others. It is what you were before you were medicated. It can be yours again, and you know it, and each day it’s harder and harder to hold your breath and go underwater.

One day you won’t do it. You’ll just stop, and you’ll live again.

You’ll stop, and you’ll see and feel and be in love with the world again.

Any minute now.

Where do I go from here?

Anyone who has battled an eating disorder will tell you there is a line drawn through life. It’s not huge or obvious or obnoxious. In fact, it’s quite small and almost always invisible to others. Staying on the right side of the line is a war won not through the end result but the daily battles.

You see, this fine, fine line is occasionally overstepped. Maybe a toe sneaks over the line or a whole step is taken but, whatever it is, you’ll always catch yourself at the edge, back up slowly and resume living on the right side.

But sometimes, when fate decides to come and play, you don’t just take a step or two over the line. The control you thought you had begins to slip away. Slowly, at first, and then like a tornado it rips through your reality, destroying everything in its path. And before you know it, you find yourself falling head first into that bottomless pit.

After several years on the road to recovery, I finally felt okay. Okay to eat a slice of pizza now and then. Okay to indulge in a full fat latte once a week. I was okay.

Fast-forward four months and I have begun to cross that tempting line again. At first it was a missed meal, then a harsh thought after looking in the mirror, followed by an extra mile on the treadmill.

But I reassured myself I was fine. Having an eating disorder isn’t a one-time thing. It can be a struggle to stay afloat. So I had picked up some old habits. It wasn’t as bad as it had been before. I was still better. I wasn't that  bad. Right?

This was different. The carefully balanced scale reached the tipping point.

Eating disorders are disorders based in shame, and I felt a whole additional level of shame. Without even realizing it, I had gone five days without eating. I wish I could have stopped myself, but at that point, it was too late. The dark side had consumed me as I gained ultimate control again. Control over my body, what I chose to put in my mouth and what I chose to refuse.

It was exhilarating. Like the feeling of whiskey running through my veins, I felt alive.

If this path of self-destruction and self-deprecation is familiar to you then you also know that the high doesn’t last long. The hunger pains slowly increase. A permanent winter takes refuge in your bones and won’t shake no matter how many blankets you wrap around yourself. And a glance in the mirror reveals that the days of shiny, full hair are long gone.

But I had crossed the line, that fine, fine line running through your life. Oh darling, I had fallen into the deep end and, once you’re in that deep, the swim back to shore seems impossible. You're out there all alone and no one can see you. No one can throw you a life raft.

What do you do when you’ve gone too far? What do you do when you don’t recognize the face staring back at you? Where do you go from here?

This is not my fault

As you forced your way inside my home, you said that when I'm dressed the way I was, I'm asking for it. Who are you to judge me for what I wear? How dare you blame me for your disgusting ways? I could have been walking around in a bikini and I wouldn't have been asking for it. You might think that because I was drinking I was an easy target. But who are you to prey upon anyone no matter what they had been doing?

This is not my fault.

I didn't know you. You decided a gas station would be the perfect place to find your next victim. I didn't ask for your conversation. You assumed I wanted to be graced with your not so witty mindless chatter. I didn't ask for you to follow me home. You took it upon yourself to stalk me to the place I felt safe from a gas station. I didn't ask for you to come over. You decided that it would be my honor to have you in my home. I certainly didn't ask for you to force your way inside. You decided to terrorize me instead of just let me sleep. And I most definitely did not ask for you to rape me.

This is not my fault.

Why should I be worried about looking over my shoulder? Why aren't you taught not to follow women home? Why should I be the one responsible for how you act? Why aren't you the one taught not to rape? Why should I be the one worried about what YOU would do to me if I drink? Why aren't you taught to keep the women in your life safe from creeps like you? Why should I be the one at fault?

This is not my fault.

You may have victimized me, but I am not your victim. I will not let you ruin my life. Yes, I am scared. Yes, I am forever changed. But I am not your victim and I will not let fear of you and your kind destroy my life. I will come out stranger for this. I will be better than what you did to me. I will not let the fact that you raped me change my life for anything than for the better.

Rape is not my fault. 

Dear Justin

Can you believe that it's already been seven years already? Well, I'm sure you can. You're the one that's gone, after all.

Seven years.

So much has changed. Yet today will always be the same.

I don't think there will ever be an April 1st that I wake up with this feeling of dread. I'll always realize that I've made it through another year when you were taken away far too early. There wont ever be a morning that I don't ever wake up wishing that I could just tell you one last time how much you mean to me. There will never be a morning that I won't wonder what you would have been doing today.

Seven years and everything has changed.

Sometimes I think that maybe you were the glue that held so many of us together. After you left, so many of us drifted apart. I can't even remember the last time I talked to, let alone saw, so many of those friends. We had plans to be friends forever. But maybe that's just how life works. We all drifted apart. I would like to think that would have never happened with us. All of those plans we made and none of it ever actually worked out. I don't know if that's just growing up or growing apart. But we would never have grown apart, right?

Seven years and nothing is really all that different.

I still deal with the same problems that you would spend so many nights talking me through. I guess I've gotten better at dealing. Or hiding it. That really hasn't changed at all. All those late night phone calls and cigarettes and you would call me out on my bullshit when I needed it most. You always had that uncanny ability to look through the facade I put up every day. I have a couple other people that do that, too, now. I guess I'm still not that good at acting okay. Or maybe there are always going to be people like you that can read me.

I'm going to try to make it through the day without having a complete breakdown, but I don't think I can promise you that. I know that you were all about living life for the moment, being happy, and filling the world with laughter and joy. I should try to do the same. But I can't bring myself to do it. Today will always be the day I struggle to get out of bed and face the world that doesn't know what happened. Today will always be the day that I got the worst phone call of my life. Today will always be the day that we never made it to dinner. Today will always be that changed everything.

Seven years.

I miss you. I love you. I will never forget you. You will always be in my heart, Justin, and that is one thing that will never change. No matter how many years go by.

You are not infinite.

There is a certain theme that has been sweeping the millennial population: This is the decade to make our mistakes.

Experience seems to be the be-all and end-all of life in our 20s. We can never be too drunk, too lost, too unsuccessful or too confused. We’re here to “Do it for the story” and “Figure it out as we go.” We urge each other not to bother with finding the right partner, pursuing the right career or building the right kind of life for ourselves. There is no right, right? We’re young. We have nothing but time to mess things up. This is the time for us to let loose and have fun. There’s plenty of time for the seriousness that will come with our 30’s.

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve seen a friend leave a fantastic significant other because they’re “too young to get tied down.” I’ve cringed as perfectly capable peers have put off starting a career in favor of taking the time to “find themselves”. That’s an admirable sentiment. Self-awareness is important. But rejecting what we’re capable of is not what’s going to help us get found. Putting off the real world in the hopes we can “find ourselves” is a selfish endeavor that is bound to fail. The journey to figure who you are is never over.

We have to stop telling each other that 30 is the new 20. It’s not. Our bodies, our minds and our capabilities are aging as we go. We may have time to figure things out right now but that time won’t last forever. We cannot just watch our 20s go by in a drunken haze, moving from dead-end relationship to dead-end job and then expect to wake up at 30 having it all figured out. It won’t happen. We will wake up at 30 confused and unsure, wondering where the past decade of our lives has gone and why we didn’t use it to cultivate something more meaningful.

I’m not saying we have to figure it all out by 29. Success has no age and the maintenance of our triumphs is an ongoing project. But we cannot keep watching time pass us by on the basis of we’ll try for things later. Getting drunk four nights a week and working jobs that have no room for advancement are an insult to the people we could be developing ourselves into. We are robbing ourselves of the period of our lives when we have the most energy, the most creativity and the most freedom to express and create ourselves.

Sure, we have time to get things wrong. There isn’t a successful person out there who doesn’t know what it feels like to fall flat on their face. But the ongoing desire to “Live and learn” only works if we engage in the latter just as often as the former. The motivational speakers who preach the value of trial and error must be taken in context. Failure isn’t the path to success any more than potholes are the road to Disneyworld. They’re unfortunate bumps that we encounter along the way. Getting stuck doesn’t help us get anywhere. It’s the process of steering ourselves out of the potholes that makes for a better driver.

Let’s stop waiting until later to start getting our lives together. The beauty of being 20-whatever is that we do have time. We have time to try hard, fail hard, recover hard and come back hard. We have time to make every mistake that we’ll be damn well glad we’re done making by the time we turn 35. But we can’t let the mistakes be the end goal. We can’t let the experience define us. We’re not 17 anymore. It’s time we start defining ourselves.

Define yourself as a writer. A runner. A worker. A scholar. A painter. A parent. A planner. An adult. This is the time to become everything you’ll build on for the rest of your life. It’s the time to shoot for every pipe dream, develop every prospect and bring to life each ambition you’ve been harboring since you learned to walk and dream.

30 is not the new 20. But it turns out the old 20 is not such a bad age to be.

I'm not that girl

I’m not that girl who always has her eyebrows perfectly plucked. I try standing in front of a mirror for hours attempting to pull every last determined and stubborn hair. I really do. But my eyes start watering and my tweezers are the cheap kind you buy from a corner store for less than a dollar and after an hour or so I can barely lift my arms. And then I get distracted by my cat on the counter because I'm too ADD to focus for that long on something so boring. They’re bound to be uneven and I’ll just find another wild hair a day or two later and my bangs hide the left one (thankfully) anyway.

I’m not that girl who pays her bills on time. I can’t remember which ones are automatically deducted and which ones I have to call in and which ones will only take a check in the mail. I lose track of days or try to stretch dwindling funds in my bank account over weekends and, honestly, I secretly crave the adrenaline rush that hits when I need to make a payment by 5:00 and it’s 4:45. I can’t afford to go skydiving but I can afford this.

I’m not that girl who wishes for white picket fences. Beautifully placed lawn ornaments and a treasured swing tied to the front tree and two barking dogs excited to welcome me home has never sounded ideal. Weekly calendars and consistent to-do lists and monthly homeowner meetings fill me with dread where a sense of accomplishment should be. When things are positioned perfectly and cleaned exquisitely and sparkling just right, I get nervous.

I’m not that girl who’s always put together. I will say the right things at the wrong time or the wrong things at the right time or nothing at all when I should be saying all the things all the time. I won’t always drink too much but when I do I will be a mess. I won’t always cry but when I do it will be hard for me to stop. When eating dinner on a first date I will likely spill on the shirt I spent  an hour and a half picking out. I’ll laugh and call myself a klutz and consider it a fair warning.

I’m not that girl who knows the simple rules. I will clean up tomato juice with a hand towel and put sharp knives in the dishwasher and wash cold glasses in scorching water. I’ll try and fight oil fires with water and I won’t know that cold water actually boils faster and that the middle rack in the oven is for baking, not broiling. I’ll overshare too early and tell the truth during a job interview and constantly wonder how I missed the handbook to life everyone else seems to have read cover to cover.

No, I’m not that girl.

I’m that girl who knows the top three NHL's’ stars of the week, top scorers, best AHL teams, and alma maters. I’m that girl who knows that Ernest Hemingway preferred to write while standing up and met J.D. Salinger during World War II and had three members of his immediate family commit suicide. I’m that girl who wears two different colored socks and regularly misses a button on her cardigan and prefers to have her hair pulled instead of softly twirled. I’m that girl who forgets birthdays but not a deadline and can’t see the floorboard of her car but keeps her inbox perfectly organized and would rather buy new clothes instead of do her laundry.

I’m that girl who’s opinionated but open minded and stubborn but laid back and fierce but quietly breaking. I’m that girl with a spinning head and a wild mind and a hunger that is never fully satisfied.

I’m that girl who still hasn’t figured out what kind of girl she really is.

I hope I never do. 

What's wrong with being single?

Being single is difficult for many people. You reach a point in your life when you feel like you have no one but yourself. It can affect your emotional, physical, and mental health. But being alone does not have to be the equivalent of being lonely. As Oscar Wilde once said: “I think it’s very healthy to spend time alone. You need to know how to be alone and not be defined by another person”. After spending five years in a relationship, I've realized there are many amazing things about being single.

You are alone, there is no one but you. Now, that may be terrifying at first, but it is also liberating. There is no one to tell you what to do. As they say, the ball is in your court; it's your move. You are in charge and you make your own decisions. No one else will do it for you, and you don’t have to worry about collateral damage. You want to go on a trip? Pack your bags and go! You will always be there for you. You are your best listener and confidante. You are your best friend and family. You can go out and not worry about trying to convince someone to go with you. It isn't about someone else's agenda, do what you want.

Since you are in charge, you have no one to tell you who you should be. This is your opportunity to discover who you are. Not only is the journey exciting, but you are closer to becoming the person you truly are. The closer you become, the more you realize you aren’t a collection of other people or what they think of you. You are not who everyone wants you to be. You are who you want to be. Be the best you — no excuses, explanations, or apologies necessary. The more you spend time with yourself, the more you focus on yourself and realize how you have your back. As they say, “If you don’t love yourself, no one will”. The best relationship you can have is with yourself.

There is no one to tell you what to do, but there is also no one to tell you what you cannot do. Being alone allows you to focus on yourself and discover your true potential. The ceiling that at first seemed suffocating, is now made of glass and you are breaking through it. You realize that you can achieve more than you ever imagined. Never be sorry for wanting more for yourself, and if you really do feel like you’re at rock bottom, just remember you can only continue going up from here.

Once you realize what you can achieve, you are unstoppable. You can begin to push yourself to move forward. Even if you fail, you just have to continue pushing. Nothing and no one is holding you back. This is your own life and you must chase your own happiness. If you can do it alone, then you can do it always.

You slowly start to remember those who have always been there for you: those characters from books, movies, and television shows have never let you down. When you were happy or sad, they were always there. You have experienced every possible emotion with them. They do not judge you and they never get tired of you. They will not grow up and leave you and you can always count on them. So watch your favorite shows, escape into your favorite books, relive your favorite movies. And though you may feel like it, you are never truly alone.

It is not the end of the world. You will find new friends. You will fall in love again. You will create your own family. But you will hurt again and people will continue to let you down, and that’s okay. You will become a stronger, well-rounded individual. You will discover who you are and what you can do. It will help you value the little things and realize you are important. Because you are not going to be alone forever, you are simply alone right now…and that’s okay.

I can't sleep

It’s nearing 4:00 AM. I’m sleepy, but my body roots itself to the couch. I mindlessly refresh my social media pages, and look at work projects and emails and writing assignments that I know I won’t be completing tonight. I feel tired, but I don’t sleep. I struggle to control this behavior, but deep down I already know why I’m still sitting here, and I know that I won’t be able to change it.

This has been with me all my life. I’ve always found excuses to stay up late. As a kid it was homework. Now it’s work and social media. When I’m older I’m sure I’ll find something else. I consciously oppose this behavior, but my subconscious always wins in the end. I do what I do without a thought at this point…all for a simple reason. I’m afraid.

I’m afraid of myself. When I lay there at night, in the dark, I can’t run from anything. There in the dark I’m forced to think about all of the things that I’m able to avoid during the day. Nighttime is quiet. The city itself starts to slumber, social media feeds start dying down, and the world itself comes to a halt. I struggle to find something, anything else to do instead of sleep, but as the hours pass, I realize I haven’t accomplished or done anything meaningful.

All I do is kill time, all in the name of running.

I just don’t like the person I am. I’ve made terrible mistakes in my life. I’ve hurt good people. I’ve pushed people away. And I have this fear, a feeling that forces itself into my brain as reality, that I can't achieve any of my goals. The thoughts paralyze me and yet drive the adrenaline through my body as I begin to mentally and emotionally panic.

I can lay down, exhausted, and in a few moments be wide-awake. I try to fool my body by shutting my eyes, but it doesn’t help. I can’t find relaxation or sleep. All I can find is a raw, and unapologetically honest reflection of myself.

And I don’t like what I see.

During the day I’m a great coworker, never failing to live up to and exceed expectations. I'm seen waving hello to coworkers, friends, acquaintances who know me that I unfortunately either forgot or never really met in the first place. I’m frequently complimented for my humor, positivity, and stylish outfits. It makes me feel “popular” and well liked. I’m able to take the words, smiles, and praises of others and play them on repeat over the voice in the back of my head that tries to remind me that I’m not good enough.

But night has a way of distorting that. If I lay down at night those compliments and smiles throughout the day become shallow and empty. They only complimented you because they feel bad for you. Even if they meant it, they don’t know the real you anyway. If they knew what you were really like they’d hate you. You hate you, and who knows you better than you? My mind takes over. I try to fight back, but I feel like I’m a prisoner in my own head. But it’s my head. When it’s all said and done, I’m torturing myself.

This torture leads a vicious cycle. I torture myself because I don’t like the person that I am. When I try to stop myself from torturing myself I’m ashamed at the level of self-hate I’ve allowed myself to sink to. It reminds me that I’m weak and messed up. This note rings through my head, and fuels the torture once again. This repeats and goes full-circle.

The anxiety and fear inducing trial that I deal with if I go to sleep when it is still nighttime rules my life. Every morning I swear to myself I won’t repeat this behavior, but here I am again, going through the motions. I want to change, but I don’t know how.

It shouldn’t be this terrifying for a person to come face to face with the person they really are.

I once had someone tell me, “I wish I was as happy as you always are.” That’s a laugh

It's okay to be vulnerable

One of the most fear-inducing situations to be in is one of vulnerability. We go to extreme lengths to avoid it at all costs. We’re willing to lie to ourselves about what we want, who we really are, what our true intentions are. We close our eyes, shift truths, sabotage ourselves, reinforce defenses.

To be vulnerable is first and foremost to be honest with ourselves. It’s to voluntarily disarm our own defenses and shine light to those festering things we’d rather leave unclaimed in the dark. It’s to fully own up to our shame, our hopes, our insecurities, our fears.

Then to act upon this vulnerability is to expose the very stuff we are made of. Bare our bones, face judgment and rejection. Understand the risks, fight for what we want. Surrender control and hope. Open ourselves up to the possibility that what will happen next will break and remake who we are. To embrace vulnerability is to be made aware of our own fragility and powerlessness. It comes with internal struggle and emotional turmoil - and that is fucking terrifying.

It’s understandable why we would be afraid, why the mere thought makes us want to instead strengthen our defenses. We walk around with built-in security systems designed to find anything that may threaten exposure, to protect us from those who may be getting too close. We focus our energy constructing an attractive, protective, perfect vision of who we are. It’s almost too easy to be someone we’re not, to fall into a routine of distracting ourselves from ourselves. We drink, party, fuck, shop, fall fast and hard into romances that have no substance. Do things for the momentary thrill of escape, for those few moments we can forget ourselves.

The consequence of exchanging vulnerability for an illusory perception of who we are is that we become a hazard to ourselves. It’s an act of betrayal when we shut out parts of ourselves, especially the parts that we are afraid of. We leave the scary bits to fester, grow, and become something unrecognizable within us while indulging in a false sense of security.

One of my favorite songs has the lyrics, “But a prayer without belief is like a pill without relief so I'll just save us both the letting down.”  Being vulnerable means opening yourself up to others, being able to ask for help, being honest with those around you. Being able to let others into your life instead of hiding behind walls and trying to never let anyone down with who you really are. Being vulnerable takes courage, and nothing about this is easy. But the things that make us feel vulnerable and scared are often the things that define who we are.

And to turn our backs on that is to exist in an anesthetized and stagnant state of being.

This past year has been marked by vulnerability. At times, it left me scared, defenseless, exhausted, exposed, defeated, raw, and unnerved. I look back and realize I had a choice every step of the way. I could either take a long, hard look at myself and own and expose my demons within or I could continue to withdraw and protect myself.

And I have finally chosen vulnerability.

We can all pretend, but the parts we’ve locked and vaulted away will still be there waiting for us. So be vulnerable, it will be alright. There’s no regret in being true to who we are, fighting for what is really important to us and evolving into who we were truly meant to be.