Friday, December 27, 2013


"I fought who I am inside
Until I wanted, I wanted to die
Instead of finding balance I found hatred
Consumed by failures and ignoring my own strengths 
With no lungs to breath 
I had almost lost everything." 

It burned so fucking much.
I squinted my eyes and threw what I had into the lateral raises,
My trainer stepping in to spot me for the last four.
"10... come on, two more, 11.... 12! Nice!"
I went to my knees immediately, hanging my shoulders, trying to alleviate the burn.
"The pieces are so pretty when you're all put together. It's a shame when they fall apart."
His words echoed in my mind
I hadn't fallen apart, trust me, I've been unstable before
And it wasn't this time.
Just hurt.

We had talked
But it always ended in an argument.
He was done; I'm not what he's looking for.
I messed up, that much I'm positive of.
How can I be so selfish sometimes?
He gave me his heart and trust and I wasn't careful with it.
Never seemed to be able to be careful with anyone's
Busy hiding my own away.
Move on Eve. Move on.
God knows how many times I had begged myself to be normal.
Always too aloof and unemotional
Or falling apart at the seams.
"I want you to make me hurt. I don't want to be able to walk tomorrow."

Hurt it did.
I walked like a geriatric giraffe to the bathroom,
Wincing as the sweet soreness
Grew and burned away the stiffness.
Christmas Eve I had let the emotion take hold
Of the bar.
"Alright, we're going to do body weight bridges. Let's try to get 10."
I sat on the floor and rolled it towards me,
160 pounds forced to the sky.
Thrusting my hips up easily for the first five,
I began to struggle at six.
At nine I was gritting me teeth, but I wasn't giving up.
"I can do 12." I forced out.
It was a weak 12, but 12 none the less.

It seemed like I was always forcing myself to do something:
Starving, eating, crying, being happy, learning, doing, growing, changing, moving on.
Could it ever be enough?
Why was I always too much?

"Okay, this is the last set. You're only doing one rep."
"Well, dead lifts are very taxing on the central nervous system. You're using everything."
"How much?"
"You're looking at 140. It's going to be heavy."
I went into a crouch, placing my hands shoulder length apart,
Supimating my grip to take on the load.
Standing suddenly, knees slightly bent, wiggling my hips and breathing deeply in.
Exhale, completing the routine I had found myself accidentally doing before I began a set of dead lifts.
I crouched into position and breathed out as I tried to lift up.
Frustrated, I walked away for a second.
"Gotta concentrate. It's in here." He pointed to his temple.
I nodded, hands on my knees, staring down the cold metal on the floor.
"The hardest part is overcoming the ground."
A small grin played at my lips.
With a sudden stroke of still confidence, I looked up at him.
"It's not that heavy." I said,
Sure smile
And I knew in my heart that it wasn't.
Burst of exhale, bar sliding up my shins, over my knee, thrusting my hips out.
My legs took the burden, forcing it up in defiance of the struggle,
Letting it slowly down,
Thunking the ground in a loud display of triumph.
My trainer high fived me, I, basking in my success.

Those pieces haven't always been put together.
I can't tell you how many times I've sat in the corner of my bathroom floor crying.
I can't tell you how many times I've yelled into the silence of my cold car
Bundled to keep out the cold that seeps into your spirit.
I had been up and I had been down.
Seen and felt a lot of pain and yet also known joy.
I had held on far too long to some people
Broken trust
And not tried hard enough for others.
Being manipulative when angry was too much of an art for me
With words that cut and tore.
They trusted me.
I was never good at being honest with a boyfriend.
Made excuses for why I couldn't move forward.
The plight of being human.

I can't talk about my feelings because I hate them.
So I talk about the gym because I became emotionally dependent on it.
Feeling my chin, pulling at my stomach and cheeks,
Trying not to believe that I got fat.
I'm 160 pounds.
There was a day when that number made me cringe and pull at myself
Trying to find the zipper.
Now I'm more solid than I've ever been.
I remember when the holidays were something so scary and now I'm shoveling in plates of food.
More concerned if it's clean or not than the number of calories going in.
Worried about losing gains than losing.
We figured that my basal metabolic rate for a day, the amount of calories I need just laying horizontally awake, is 1500.
In order to maintain this muscle I need to eat 2462 calories a day.
That's 205 grams of protein
307 grams of carbs
and 46 grams of fat
In one day.
The capabilities of being a human astound me.
I've lived on 300 calories in one day, plus exercise
And on the other spectrum I've lifted my body weight.
The flexibility and perseverance of being human.

"I mourn the days that I wasted 
Trying to change what has been set 
Fighting against myself
Before I tear, tear out my eyes
I'll just admit they're part of me." 

"I hope you know I don't want it to be like this. I just think I'm doing the right thing. I am fighting for what I think is right. And I'm fighting so fucking hard."
"I know. I just want everything to be okay. I wasn't careful with your heart and I'm so sorry. I was afraid you were going to break mine an I broke it on my own."
"Sorry I overreacted."
"Thanks. It's okay. I'm sorry I can be so insensitive."
"I do love you. And I don't just say that."
"I know you do. You wouldn't be letting me stay in your life if you didn't. I've realized that this is not at all how you usually do things. And I love you. I mean that."
I wish I could hold on to him,
But you never grow if you're always lifting the same amount.

Sunday, December 22, 2013


It was ten after eight and we were running a little late.
"Just pull over here! We have to run!"
My best friend hates being late.
Quickly I grabbed my cap and gown, discarded my coat, and bailed out of the car after her boyfriend.
So many faces making their way towards the arena and I held a piece of her gown in my fingers while trying to fix my hair around the awkward cap.
I had drank the night before and my stomach wasn't happy.
I had only drank one cup of coffee and my head wasn't happy.
We made our way over to the College of Arts and Sciences table and collected our number.
With last names different, we weren't sitting together, but she and I navigated our way to the bathroom and then our respective lines
Navigating much as we had done together in the last three years of college.

I sat amongst the others in a sea of black.
A little over 1000 of us total.
Faces of families blurred together in the endless mass.
There, in the far corner-mom, her boyfriend, grandma, grandpa, L., and his mom.
My six seats of pride.
I could feel them glowing as they scanned the bobbing caps for mine.
Our senator spoke, something about preferring to try and fail then never trying at all.
The day before my former boss had pulled me into a warm hug, telling me never to settle for anything.
I could only see a few rows ahead, girls trying to fix their hair under the awkward caps.
Guys hunched forward or sitting tall.
All of us waiting, about to set off into the world.
In that moment I wondered to myself how many of us would settle.
I wondered who would have a beautiful life an who would strive only to gain nothing.
Would we marry and have children and work in the field that our degrees were meant for?
How many of us would be professionals in our field and how many would work somewhere completely unrelated?
Would we died young or live old?
No matter the destination we all sat, hopeful, anxious, smiling, and frowning.
All of us about to embark on a journey.

At first I had felt that maybe it wasn't such an achievement.
I mean, many people go to college, but as the administration called for my college to receive our diplomas, I felt a little pride begin to warm and grow.
My row rose , and with slight nervous anticipation, I straightened my cap, smoothed my gown, and stepped forward to accept what would be the first step into the professional world.
Being an adult.
The faculty members congratulated me and I realized then that What I had done was worth of pride.
I had spent many a night awake until four and five in the morning fighting depression, had weathered a divorce and mom's attempted suicide, an unhealthy relationship with a boyfriend that had gone to prison, had endured anxiety attacks, a relapse of anorexia, lost and gained friends, made many a poor choice and spent plenty of drunken nights on a floor or two.
I had studied abroad in Greece, held many great leadership positions, worked while going to school, been accepted into graduate school, and decided to recover.
When I finally found my family once we were dismissed I looked at my mother.
Gosh. She was so proud of me.
"Don't cry mom," I said as I took her in my arms and held her tight.
I don't think I've ever been so happy that I had made my family proud than the day I graduated valedictorian and the day I graduated college, about to move on to my masters.
The days that all that work and support was brought to fruition.
I couldn't have done it without them not by a long shot.
I didn't graduate with distinction but it didn't matter.

I'm really nervous, you know?
I've never done this whole growing up thing and I never believed I was going to recover from my ED or ever truly escape depression.
It's scary moving to a new place where I only have two acquaintances there and I don't fully know what to expect when I start my masters, but I'm hopeful.
I wanted things to work with that guy and in the end I learned that our choices have consequences, ones that you can't always fix or change.
Things have been aching and I've felt the fatigue of finals week and changes seep in.
I'm really nervous but I'm hopeful,
And sometimes that's all you need to be.

Friday, December 13, 2013


It started with a Guiness. 
I was never good at ordering for myself at bars, didn't ever really have any favorite beers.
So he picked for me.
He said that he'd never driven after drinking before, not even after one.
Or that he'd never just told someone he'd just met about his father dying.
That was when it was still warm outside
And the approaching fall made exploding colors of leaves and hearts.
"You're the kind of girl a guy leaves a door unlocked for."
That door was unlocked and his bed open for several weeks before I let myself loose.
Still stays unlocked and open
Even now.

        It started with some Blue Moon and Redd's
Homework spread on the bed and desk
looking at his broad back and the line of his tricep.
Lowering myself to his lap, where we still find me every day
Feeling his lips for the first time
The way I have his skin, his eyes, the way he talks and moves
        And ends January 3rd.

"But not everything in the past is bad."
Coat zipped to my nose, white fog from my breath rolling over the edge.
"It was really good. 99% of it was great but the past is the past and I don't go back."
Last try.
"I would do anything it took to make it work..."
"I know you would, but I just don't."
"I understand."
The street lights of 3 am rolling by ice frosted windows.
The heart I drew still on the windshield corner.
I hope it stays there.
I hope he forgets to wash his blanket with the gold and red strands on his pillows,
Pieces of me
Folded into the creases of his comforter
When she comes into his room.
I hope the smell of my Japanese cherry blossom perfume still lingers when he turns over to sleep at night.
And maybe the bottles from that night he saved will still line his shelf
Until the end of the year.
Maybe he'll think of me.

Sometimes he would tell me about when he was on Warped Tour
And play some of the songs from his band.
Hearing the double base
Smiling as he air played his drums
Knowing I had sat on those legs
And his fingers had lingered, explored, held me.
Nights we had laid naked on his bed
And he played his guitar
Pulling the blanket up the my chin
Watching it snow.
Now I skip them on my shuffle
Because it hurts too much.

I don't know if I love him.
It's more like he's one of the fibers that I'm made of.
Please don't make this the end....
Bitter, flamed, heated anger at myself
If you could open up this cool exterior
You would find me
Writhing and twisting
Crying and disintegrating
Hopeless and hopeful
And empty
Too full
Too feeling.
Needing him but knowing I'm able to move on
I hate that you won't let me make it right
Hate that I made it wrong.
Make it cold, seal it up, make me indifferent and accepting.
Make me feel like you.

He wants the world
Something I want too.
He'll do what it takes
And succeed.
Success is seductive to me.
His drive and attitude contagious.
What could have beens
I'm holding on to like certainties.
No one will ever contain him
He lives for himself
And shares with those he cares about.
Wants to see the world.
Will be rich enough to do all the things he plans.
Intriguing, painting a picture of a life of adventure I want.
He'll never be tamed but somehow he quiets and ignites.
I'll never find someone that does what he does to and for me again.
Never duplicating.
Maybe that's the beauty of these experiences.

Move on
Move on.
Starting graduate school in January.
Nervous about the loneliness of moving to a new place
And making new friends.
Planning on making my training more intense and focused since we won't be working out together
Trying to be more strict with my eating
Driven with my studies
And still moving forward with my growth.
I'll make a life of adventure,
I swear.

I hope
I hope
I hope that we'll collide now and then
Because it's a rare occasion when you meet one of the people that
You're made of
And they
I hope.
Because until then
That siren in my heart
Will keep singing your song
Of fibers
And physicality
The one
You taught me.

Wednesday, December 11, 2013


I brought in my 23rd birthday with a cup of cheap diner coffee in one hand,
Pencil in the other
Scrambling to finish the collaboration of homework assignments
Piecing together questions I had missed
Looking for the English translations of my Spanish texts.
I'm not sure whether I'm melting or dying
But it's dead week.

It truly brought a smile to my face and heart when those of you that I'm friends with on Facebook or that I talk to on the phone sent me all kinds of love.
I started this blog on a downward swing of a relapse and I don't know what I had hoped to get out of this.
What I did get was much more than I had ever though possible.
I just know that I was really hurting, and while I still hurt for one reason or the other (often times my own fault) I have received more love and support than I ever thought possible.
There have been days I was was manic, sitting on my dorm room floor sobbing, writing, trying to feel and not feel, trying to make sense of life and myself.
Anywhere is better than that time though, and I couldn't have done it without everyone's gentle reminders to keep going.
There have been times I've been stern with some of you, but it's only because I care,
And there are times that you've allowed me to share in your joys and victories, big or small.
I started out at 162, was 129 by May, and I'm again 160 (I checked.)
But this time, this time I'm stronger, made of muscle and actual pride in myself and the work I put in to get here.
I finally broke out of my unhealthy relationship, I committed to recovery, mind and body.
I still have to work on bad habits like cheating, fearing commitment, and doubting myself.
Let's see where I am next year. :)

I wasn't sure where to go from here, if my blog was even worth reading, or if was even that good, but I would miss everyone too much and I like airing out my thoughts and heart now and then.
Why not stick around for another year?
Thank you everyone for hanging in there and thank you for your support.
Some of you have been my 2 am calls, pushing me to keep going and making sense of things when I struggled to understand and see how I and any of it was worth it.
You're all some of the best people I've ever "met."
God truly blessed me.

I think it's fun when I read more about the people behind the blog so I thought I would do a few things about me (courtesy of those ridiculous "ask me anything" lists) and maybe you guys can add a little about you.

1. Favorite food: ice cream and pulled pork
2. Favorite color: turquoise or green
3. Biggest turn on: confidence, intelligence, kindness
4. Biggest turn off: arrogance, being egotistical
5. What's your style?: I don't have one ha. but really, I like work out clothes or dresses. Hate jeans. It's all about being comfortable for me. Also, love tattoos and piercings.
6. Hobbies: lifting
7. What are you most proud of?: being accepted in my master's program, graduating college, committing to recovery
8. Favorite book: any books written by Ted Dekker
9. Favorite movie: Forrest Gump, LOTR trilogy, Seven, The Machinist
10. Favorite band: In Flames, As I Lay Dying, Avicii, Periphery, 10 Years (House and Metal are my two favorite genres)
11. Three words that describe you: Quirky, Sweet, Blunt
12. Favorite poem: anything by Emily Dickinson or Pablo Neruda
13. What's your most outstanding personality trait?: I'm very loyal to the people I care about, almost to a fault.

I'm usually never on time, I'm really laid back about things, I care a lot about people (sometimes to the point that I need to learn to care for myself), I love Spiderman and hate making plans. I'm from the Midwest and grew up in the country but I don't want to stay here. Just need more opportunities at life. I love to to travel and volunteer. I fear commitment but stay long after the relationship should have ended. I like to take long trips. When I get stressed out I nap (don't do that!). I loved studying Psychology, even though people say it's an easy major for people with daddy issues. Whatever. I prefer coffee over tea and I'm afraid of carbs even though I need them. My favorite flower is the orchid and my favorite drink is a margarita. I'm a night person and I hate sleeping past 9:30, 10 am. I love rain and hate winter.  I have five tattoos and twenty piercings. I make awesome pie and know how to work hard. Velvet makes my skin crawl and I can't be naked with my socks on. I'm bad at putting my laundry away but hate a dirty kitchen. I hate deadlines but need them, procrastinate, and want my next car to be a manual transmission.

So there's a little bit about the girl behind the blog.
I hope you're all doing well. Thank you again for the birthday wishes!
I graduate next weekend and so I'm sure I'll have lots of thoughts and worries. Plus, you'll need to see me all dignified in my cap and gown! :D

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

No Poetry In It

There's nothing poetic in heartbreak.
I don't know why people romanticize it so much.
I don't feel like a martyr refined by some idealistic fire.
No, I feel like I'm 22, (23 next week), lost, trying to make it work in a world full of uncertainty.
My best friend's friend kissed me and I didn't tell him the night it happened.
I told the friend that I was seeing someone but it happened at the bar anyway.
Didn't matter to the guy I was seeing.
He considered it as me lying.
"I can deal with a cheater, but I can't deal with a liar. I'm sorry but I let you in and you are no longer allowed in."
And just when he told me he loved me.
Then revoked the phrase.
I'm so terrible that I wish I would have lied.

Even now I'm starting to cry.
Haven't been able to eat.
Just want to sleep because the dull ache that fans to a roar throughout the day is too much.
Still friends.
He taught me to merge the emotional and the physical and all I want to do is escape.
I pulled the emergency hatch to keep myself locked in, forcing myself to feel emotions.
So many apologies, hoping one would stick.
Formulating argument after argument.
In vain.

Why is it that I feel more attachment to someone that I knew for only a few months,
Someone that I knew would be temporary?
And yet I couldn't fully stick to L who would provide me with a safe, loving environment to grow?
Someone who was careful with my heart.
Yet I want the someone that forced it to beat faster, with fury and passion, forcing it to grow.
Someone make sense of it for me.
Because the scope of my analytical mind can't go to this boundary of understanding.

I was never with someone that allowed me to be completely honest.
I was always punished for my candidness and now I have lost someone that gave me entire trust in exchange that I was open with him and I wasn't.
It wouldn't have lasted when I went to grad school, but we could have enjoyed these last three weeks.
We could have ended on better terms.
I hate myself right now.
I hate myself for hurting him when he was absolutely good for me.
I hate that he says he doesn't want to be without me but he doesn't want to be with me because of this.
I hate that I hurt and I hate that I have such poor character that I wish I would have lied.
I'm going to regret this for a while.
Heartbreak is the worst, and there's no poetry in it.