Separating From Ed

     This week I had the opportunity to share a bit of my eating disorder story and recovery with my foster daughter. She had opened up to me initially about previously having disordered behaviors, then the following day, she read me an email that she had wrote 5 years ago. She was so vulnerable and open about how she felt in her body.      I asked her if I could come in and then gave her a brief synopsis of my disorder. She was extremely kind and asked if I was hurt by anything she said. We've talked about exercise, too, but mostly food as that seems to be a cause of stressful thoughts and negative emotions towards herself.      Two days ago, we had a wonderful conversations. She told me about some of the things in her past and some of the things that have happened to her. It hurt me to hear those things because no child should be subject to that treatment once, let alone repeatedly, plus the rejection, neglect, and abuse that occurred,...

     It is hurtful. It's not appreciated. It's definitely not wanted. Please stop commenting on my body, other people's bodies, or even sometimes your own.      I'm not trying to say don't talk about your own body as I understand that sometimes we need to talk about our own. Sometimes it is okay for me to hear it and I know that sometimes it is helpful to discuss what you are feeling in your own body.      I also know that sometimes your comments don't hurt me. They aren't harmful. I know that you don't intend to hurt me usually, especially if you and I are close or you love me, but these things can hurt. Watching our words are so important. The phrases that come out of our mouth can do serious damage, a lifetime of pain.       Sometimes you get so caught up in speaking what comes to your mind, saying your truths, or attempting to be funny that things slip. I understand that. I'm not saying that I never do these...

Dear B,      There is something so sweet about you. Your presence has filled my heart in a short 24 hours. I am delighted that you are here. I wish you could see how much you are loved and cared for as you are, right here, right now, no strings attached.      I wish you could know the love of your biological parents. I wish for that so deeply. It hurts to know that you don't experience a willing parent. It hurts to know that some people in your life make things difficult for you. It hurts that you aren't at your own home. It hurts that you don't get to see your loved one. It hurts that others have to make decisions for you that might not be the best for you. It hurts that you don't get to spend time with your boyfriend. It hurts that you have to rely on others when you so desperately want to gain independence. It hurts that you are embarrassed and ashamed of your situation. It hurts that you don't get to live the life that you want. It hurts that you ar...

     Dare.      Vulnerability      Shame.      Silence.      Resilience      Own your story.      Judgment.      Belonging.      Being.      Barely surviving is not living.      The Critic who counts      Normalcy and fear      It's about the album, not the picture.      My story is not unlike others'. Many people struggle with the idea of vulnerability and opening up regarding shame, their past, decisions, or other areas of life. Often, we are closed to the idea of vulnerability for fear of the potential judgment, shame, and silence that can accompany it.      The thought of opening up, being vulnerable, showing up, being seen, and letting others into my stories can rightfully be terrifying. However, as I journalled my way through Brené Brown's " D...