Eating Disorders: It’s a Disorder, not a Decision.

It’s a cancer, it plants itself in the smallest part of the ego and stretches itself into the part of the brain that deals with any logical thinking. Once there, it suffocates sensibility like a black cloak, draping itself silently yet eloquently around the brain. Now that is has plagued the organ that controls every single cell in the body, it has gained the ability to control movements, to the point that the victim isn’t consciously choosing insane behaviors. The victim has now reached the stage comparable to one under anesthesia yet awake, able to see and hear, feel, think, but the cancer is the doctor, holding the scalpel and sculpting the victim into what he, the physician, the dictator, the absolute authority, thinks it should be.

As the disease progresses, if Eating Disorders were categorized by stages, we’ll say the disease gets to Stage II.
The victim is aware that the cancer could be causing some other problems in their life. Perhaps it’s creating emotional instability, outbursts, anger, insomnia, fatigue, inability to concentrate. The victim says “Okay I would like to change this.” At this stage, the victim could, with the correct support and emotional stability, kill the cancer early and remain in remission. Under less favorable conditions, the victim could have a strong desire to feel better, but the cancer is happy and growing, multiplying itself with each victory. Now Stage III would be when the cancer get so big it develops a personality, a voice, perhaps several. The victim may find themselves arguing with the cancer as the battle begins between losing and keeping oneself.

Stage III is the climax of the cancer’s story. Stage III is a critical time. At this point the cancer has spread to every cell operating the brain. The cancer’s side effects are no longer able to be contained within its host, the victim has physical defects apparent to association. Personality differences have been obvious for awhile and now holding the hand of the sick body. It’s apparent that the victim is not who they were before; and fear dwells in their hearts and people get hurt and angry. Emotions run high around the victim, as no one can understand this cancer, that they believe, the victim chose to have.
Because who in their right mind would treat themselves that way? Who would treat food that why? Who does this, think that, believe that, live that……

How can anyone in their right mind believe that a person would choose to live this? This War of the Worlds on a minute to minute timer? Why choose a disease that only leaves one isolated and if never treated, dead. Why would anyone choose to hurt the ones they love as they try to cope with hating themselves? Why would they choose to not be like you?

You don’t think we want to be normal?

Who is insane, the sick person, or the person who believes the person isn’t sick.

Stage 4 is obviously a dangerous stage.

At this point the person is completely separated from the authenticity that makes them unique. A strong, supportive person is needed to help the victim figure out which voice to follow, and how to start recovering from the emotional, mental, and physical damage the cancer has now created.

Serious health problems occur at this stage, and the outcome can only be good if the victim is completely committed to killing the cancer, no matter how long it takes, no matter the discomfort, no matter the pain of weight gain or loss, no matter how much work is involved, they must divorce Ed and marry anew. The victim must re-invent themselves, give themselves a new identity that is separated from the cancer.

At any stage, especially in the very beginning, nowhere was the victim given a card and asked to check “yes” or “no”.
Overcome fear with compassion. Disorders….not a decision.

******IF you are reading this and struggling, here’s a personal note from me*******

You have to be willing to shatter the mirror you’ve been looking at. You have to be willing to believe that maybe, JUST maybe the cancer is a LIAR, and maybe you can stop punishing yourself for everything you’ve ever thought you’ve done wrong. You have to be willing to be as committed to recovery as you were to killing yourself. Think of how much planning, thinking, resources, creative manipulation, all the games you played with the cancer. Challenge yourself to play those games with Recovery. Follow the light of good. Change the way you see the world, change the way you see yourself. Embrace your spirit with all the love you would give to your newborn child.

Just think, “What if?”

You can always go back, ya know, so the commitment isn’t even as strong as a cable bill. Any day, it’s your choice, the cancer won’t die until you keep killing it. Your perception, your fight, your words, your self help, your dedication, your support system, your smiles, your laughter, all of this and more will kill the cancer, a little bit at a time, until one day you wake up….

And there you are.

A snippet taken from a mad woman’s head at 4 a.m

I’m a walking contradiction, a curious tangled wired mess. I see both sides, invent a few more in case those don’t add up. I see things from other perspectives, making it appear as if I agree or disagree with all of them. I’m a confusion, a blessing, a curse, an enemy, a best friend. So while I may sound a bit mad, understand that I truly, really am. There’s too many people in my head and the squatters don’t want to move. I say one thing and mean several. I take on your mannerisms, your voice, your opinions, your interests, without notice. When I become irritated or tired with that one, I’ll pick a new one, perhaps like your best friend’s. Not by choice, but noticed through external observation.

This odd behavior leads to the accusation of “crazy”….which fits, of course….but is it a choice to be crazy, as much as it is a choice to be gay? Is it fun being the un-accepted, the out of touch, the out of the norm part of the group? This is a constant, just as the tides, and I can work with it the best I can. But sometimes, like this morning, I told them all to be still and go to sleep and leave me alone. I’m the type that tries to lighten anything heavy, so my sarcasm carries me a long way. Comedians have the unique ability to make people laugh as they express their pain with such. While I never thought to be one, I can relate to the creative expression in the field. While I can usually interject remarks about the labels and disorders I wear, more often than not, ┬áthe frustration of subconscious thinking and endless noise in my head leads me to severe depression, lethargy as the business in my head seems so incredibly exhausting. I let them have their fun for a couple of days until they grow tired and listless and give up so I can start to think again. But then I always wonder, who is doing the thinking?


Awakening to a new dawn, though familiar, strange to look through the same eyes with different views.
Changing, converting, swirling,
Winding paths blending together, out of the smoke, I recover
Old parts burned to dust, the best of me was the rest
Out of the fire and into the sky,
I close my eyes to feel the breeze, make the wish upon the star
Planting roots of faith purely built on hope
You’ll never change if you stay where you are.
Flutter about, ignore the glares, forget the crazy calls
Forget the questionable stares and look upon yourself to care
For, finally, with repaired parts from damaged hearts
And bruises sustained from painful truths gained
But the eyes are bright with wonder, a new born curiosity
For things that can’t be seen, but see the things missed
For sunshine’s amazing vice, for it’s nourishment to the Earth
Remember all that’s forgotten, discard and challenge,
Sing if you never learned and paint if you thought you should
Look around at the rest of the survivors,
Enjoy your re-birth.

The Hell

Dancing with the devil was not much fun
Twirling and tapping my head in his hands
Lonely yet for him, he who understands
Yet now, I fear, yet not, I’m done.

Day one to choose to end the dance
To give my heart a second chance
To beat at a normal pace
In hopes of diminishing that devil’s face

Does anyone know of the panting
Shaking, sweating, is someone there?
Turn to see the empty space
Broken promises don’t seem fair

Sadness envelops me like a cocoon
Hissing at the sunshine, love the rain
Hoping this dance will end too soon
I force myself to feel the pain

Too many thoughts, as fast as a hurricane
Nothing seems to sit still, not even me
Facing that I enforced the pain
Regret and guilt is all I see

Devil’s anger explodes in my dreams
Turning lullabye songs into screams
Wake in blood, yet it was sweat
Is God still there, or did he forget?

Noises appear though not real
Is reality gone too?
My smile the devil did steal
My God, what did I do?

Wait for the hour when the sun will set
Wait for the minute the sun will rise
Every minute is treasured that I get
Fear of the moment I can’t open my eyes

No more dancing, no more singing with thee
Devil you are banished, flee from me!!!!!!


I’ve always felt as if I didn’t belong. I never followed one particular social group, yet I was active and social and always had a lot of friends. I always had teachers look at me when I asked questions, puzzled and confused as to how to answer. My relationships were always powerful and chaotic, much like the times in my life. I tried several churches, organized religions, New Age groups, and while I could appreciate “some” of doctrinal principle and teachings, I still never felt 100% in any of them. The closest I came to feeling at home is when I learned the powerful art of visualization, meditation, dream interpretation, and the constant flow of energy. When I finally got the opportunity, given to me by the Universe and circumstances, to sit still, be quiet, listen, question, and learn, I finally discovered the greatest freedom I’ve ever experienced. I was so very blessed to encounter a light being, who is my best friend and greatest teacher, who I am now engaged to, who has believed in ancient wisdom his entire physical existence. He has exercised patience, understanding, true unconditional love, and have taught me to simply “breathe”. For a long time in the beginning I did my usual acts of rebelliousness and subconsciously did all I could to destroy these relationships, something I seemed to be good at but not actively aware of doing. Still, he remained strong and held my hand, never giving up, only hoping that one day I would come to know what I know.

It all happened last week, when there was a very strong “shift” as we start to ascend. I had been studying in a religious organization but wanted to throw a temper tantrum every time I was needed to appear at a meeting or study. I realized something internally, possibly intuition, was fighting with my frontal lobe of logic and suffocating my free, loving spirit. I made the decision to cut ties with the organization, for many reasons of justification, but in my heart knowing that I could not suffocate myself like that any longer. Then I started dreaming, intensely. I’ve always been taught (by my Grandmother, who was very spiritually gifted) that dreams do have meaning, they are an inner voice of your subconscious struggling to gain your attention. That is why some dreams we remember; those are the strongest messages. The first dream started out as a random one, but by night three it had turned into some sort of ongoing trilogy. The final dream woke me in such a startled gasp that I could actually taste the chloroform in my mouth. Mind you, I’ve never actually even smelled the substance to know what it was, but the taste in my mouth was so prevalent I had to get up and get some water. I realized then I was covered in sweat; my hair was damp and I was soaked yet cool. The strange man had found me, hiding in my closet, and put the white cloth over my mouth just seconds before I woke up.

I couldn’t understand the continuous dream. I’ve had nightmares, premonitions, even recurring dreams. But never experienced a “To Be Continued”. I was very shaken by the people, places, events, and even meeting my own death before I decided to dive into research. I had to search deep within myself, take in the knowledge and experiences of others, to understand that it was a simile to my transformation.

I had to realize that my old beliefs, thoughts, situations, basically the past that has held me captive and sick for so many years, was crying to be killed, and so I did succumb, in my dream, to killing off the “old” me and transforming into the spiritual being I was placed here for. Seeing the world through the eyes of my childhood, where simple things attracted me and I could stare at the stars for hours. I had to see my purposes have been accomplished and now it’s time to move on.

So, I’m moving on.


I suppose a good way to begin a new blogging site is to give you a little information about myself. I love to dance with writing and words and relish in opportunities to express myself. I have ideas that go in the opposite direction of the line of thoughts in the norm. I believe in a little bit of everything and love to research everything, which is good, because I believe I am a perpetual student without a desire to graduate from the school of life. I love studying people-their qualities, their personalities, their loves and hates. I have been told that for thirty four years old I have an “old soul”. This, I believe, is true. Just as everyone else running the marathon in the universe, I have been through some of the most joyous times and through some of the most tumultuous. I want to share some of these, in hopes of not only educating my fellow human, but in hopes to inspire and spark them as well. In a selfish way, writing about my experiences is also a terrific tool to help me deal with it. It’s refreshing to me to write about my experiences to broaden others perspectives but also to enable me to see in hindsight and reflection. Thank you for our symbiotic relationship!