In the Burning Phase of My Life.

To befriend the shadow girl in the mirror…

Thank you!

I want to say thank you to everyone who is reading my writings so far. Some are older things that I just feel have a place here, but I’m also going to write daily on anything that my mind brews and serves to me. The writing is coming more easily now…yet paradoxically it is far more difficult for me at the same time. The ecstasy of headlong creation that was (strangely) possible while I was busy starving to death two winters ago seems to have left the building. With true clarity comes ordered thought, and with ordered thought comes a strange kind of regret. Now I am my own constant companion, the passenger in my own sidecar. I am exquisitely aware of each moment and the attendant feelings, both fair and foul, that come along with having the blinders of constant chaos lifted.

So, what am I really trying to say?

Right now, things are feeling more than a bit uncomfortable. I am working on the sequel to The Vanishing Point and the going is, well, ¬†rough. There are a lot of things that I don’t want to remember…and even more alarming, ¬†many more things that I simply don’t remember. I am trying to reconstruct the story moment by moment, which is parallel to the way that I am trying to orchestrate my recovery…minute by minute.

Thanks again for stopping by. I am eternally grateful for anyone who reads my words. If you like what you read, or even if you don’t like it, please leave me comments here…no overly-sensitive writer likes to labor in black and endless space. We may live and die alone, but along the way it’s always nice to gather those you love around you in front of a cheery fire.

Love, luck and passion to you all.


March 13, 2010 Posted by | Deep thoughts with a side of coffee. | , , , , , , | 4 Comments

The Dark Half of the Road.

I would like to think that I never know when it’s going to happen, but that’s not strictly true. I can feel it in the marrow of my bones when I am about to slide downhill into the murky well that is the very bottom of my psyche.
Wow. Such a cliche. I’ve seen messages inside greeting cards that are more ably crafted than what I am writing now. The muse seems to have abandoned me, thumbing a dubiously dangerous ride down the highway to perch on someone else’s deserving brow.
She has found me wanting as well.
It starts thus. A few nights with less sleep, uneasy restlessness causing me to thrash under the covers as though I am running from some unseen predator. Then as I wake up, the burning feeling in the pit of my stomach, the cold fingers of Not Right brushing over my skin. My brain turns ’round and ’round on a monotonous track, hysterically cataloging what is going wrong.

(nothing I thought it was nothing but I guess it’s really something)

The phone rings. I curl up inwardly, a cold and greasy clamshell of blocked emotion. I cannot answer.
The insect buzz of the cell phone heralds text messages. I scan them listlessly, but cannot respond.
I am a dead person, and the dead cannot articulate.
I don’t know how long this chemical acid bath will last this time, but I hope it will not wring me out for too long.


March 13, 2010 Posted by | Anorexia and Disordered Days., Bits., Mind Shadows. | , , , , , | Leave a comment

In the Full Dark-written on New Year’s Day.

The new year is a time that we are programmed, culturally and spiritually, to take stock of where we are and where we’ve been. Normally at the start of a new year, life has changed in just subtle ways from the “same time last year,” but this year is a notable exception. A year ago today, I was a month into inpatient treatment at Rosewood Ranch in Wickenburg, wondering what a fledgling 2009 would bring.
Now, I am “free,” in New Orleans, the city that I love, with my husband and son who are my world.
So why does everything feel so broken and wrong?
No one told me that it would be this hard, that a slump could lead to an emotional landslide, indeed. My thoughts ping around the inside of my skull, vibrating with nervous tension like the hot and trembly chest of a baby bird. This is not supposed to happen.
If I happen to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, the image is not, not ever my friend. There is too much of me on display everywhere. I am terrified that others will see it, this excessiveness, and turn away. I grip the anchors on my physical form that used to provide hellish inventory and comfort, and they are disturbingly hidden by betraying flesh. I stare into my flat eyes and the same thought courses through me, relentless as a brooding toothache. I need my bones.
I’m sorry if this triggers anyone…this is not my intention. The triggers are everywhere for me, because they are attached to the very substance of me. No matter how I turn and angle myself, I am still there.
I want this to not be true, even though the more sensible part of my brain, the part that marched me bravely to treatment in the first place, knows that this is so wrong, an emotional fox trap to be avoided at all costs.
Easier said than done.
I hate talking about this. I am the “I’m fine” girl. But I am afraid that if I don’t I will unravel. I want to be there for everyone else, but to erase myself at the same time.
When the baby steps become so halting that they seem to be moving you backward, what next?
No, don’t.
Please do.
I love you all. I feel so tiresome, so much like I should just GET OVER IT.
I have had my fifteen minutes of fragility and dependence.
But even if I broke all of the mirrors, I would still be there.
I will try to make this New Year better, minute by minute.
I guess that is all that I can do.
How can I be so utterly tired when I just arose?
I guess I will find out as the days unfurl.
Thank you for reading this. It really does mean so very much.

March 13, 2010 Posted by | Anorexia and Disordered Days., Mind Shadows. | , , , , , | Leave a comment