Come Away With Me

I had been asking to call home for days. 

I knew something was wrong. I told them. I tried so hard to call home. 

I’m not sure if I’ll ever stop wondering if it would have made a difference. 

“Hi Bella, it’s me. I’m driving home. Um, can you call me? Okay, bye.” 

Was I the last person you tried to contact? 

Had you already taken something at that point? Was there anything I could have done? Is there anything I can do now? I need to make this better. 

I need to make this better. 

I’m choosing to believe you’re not in a “better place”. I really fucking hope you’re in paradise, singing Norah Jones at the top of your lungs and sitting near the water... but I’m choosing to believe that you’re not. This is going to sound selfish, and maybe it is, but the idea that you’re in a better place sounds enticing for someone that suffers from depression. I want that better place. Wherever it is, I want it... but I have to keep telling myself that in due time I will be there, with you and others, blasting “Come Away with Me” and other songs that most people don’t even care for anymore. 

People don’t really care how you are in the months following a suicide. It’s true. They ask and they check in every so often, but they don’t really care for the truth. “I’m okay” or “hanging in there” are perfectly okay replies because no one wants to hear about the dirty stuff. The fact that I have a storage unit full of personal possessions I can’t bring myself to go through- no one cares. The fact I haven’t been able to work because the thought of caring about someone else so deeply again and losing them in the blink of an eye is debilitating. I’m physically capable of working but I’m having these debilitating panic attacks where my hands cramp up and I have no use of my fingers or hands, at one point getting so bad that nurses had to put the pills and water on my mouth so my body could relax enough to breathe again. And the worst part is I don’t really know what brings them on. The only thing I can do is change my medication and hope for the best... what a way to live right? 

At this point my team and I have decided the best step for me is to get a fresh start. 

Leaving Texas won’t solve my problems. 

When I’ve mentioned to people that I need to get out of this state that is usually the first thing they tell me. I know this, but I also know and trust that it will help. Over the last eight years I’ve had a team of professionals looking out for my best interest— they know me best. They know what I do from the moment I wake up each morning to the moment I close my eyes at night. My therapist has been seeing me the longest, almost ten years and she was the first to tell me to leave the state. I think most people think I’m trying to run away from my issues, but really, I’m trying to find safety from my issues.

I currently live three main blocks away from my old apartment. Each time I drive past the Lakefront Villas sign I get flashbacks of the night I found out she was gone. There were only three people there that night, one of which has become a lifelong friend, but only three people really know the pain this caused. If you weren’t there I don’t expect you to understand. 

I also currently live a short ten minute drive from the place where I was raped. I don’t think I’ve ever put it out there just like that, but it’s the truth so why not right? When I finally started telling people I was raped, I got some support, and I also got the standard response, “are you sure it’s not just something you regret?” He doesn’t live there anymore as far as I know, but I recently found out he still lives in the general area. I shouldn’t have to say this, but I will— it is nearly impossible to heal in the same place that you were broken. 

After years of work on my sexual assault/abuse and trauma I am for the most part okay. I can talk about it. I can write about it. And I’ve even learned I’m pretty damn good at making art with it, but it’s not fair to ask me to be okay living in it. 

I’m struggling with day to day living. I’m working jobs where I don’t have to work on a set schedule or with a schedule I can make for myself (i.e. Wag! Dog walking and Favor). My team (MD/psych, therapist, nutritionist and nurse) all agree that a fresh start will make this 100% easier. I’m not running, I’m simply changing my environment. 

I’m not sure how I’m going to do this yet. I’ve applied and am being considered for jobs in other states- I’m praying I hear something back. I’m trying to save up money— again with just trying to survive day to day this had proven to be difficult, but I’m working on it. 

I’m trying not think of the hard stuff. 

I know it sounds backwards, but like I said in the beginning of this post, that “better place” is very enticing at times. 

To be honest, I’m not completely sure why I started typing this tonight. I just wanted to put some stuff out there in the Universe I guess. Here is some of my art from December. 

I might fail at this whole life/moving/becoming thing. I may thrive too. I can’t know until I try. 

Peace to y’all tonight, 

Bella 

The Body Keeps the Score

I don't expect you to understand.

I'm doing amazing. My eating disorder is mostly in full remission. I never thought I'd get here. Just last week when this plan was being set into motion, my therapist said that with everything going on she would have expected me to relapse a long time ago. I'm hanging on. Actually, most days, I don't even second guess food or eating.

I'm crashing hard. I had to set my navigation to get to work so I could talk to my boss about taking a leave of absence. I've driven to this place every week for the past two (almost three) years and I couldn't remember where to go.

In the past 48 hours I've slept a total of one hour and 20 minutes. I have so much to get done and yet I can't seem to finalize anything.

Everywhere I look there is a reminder that I am the problem.

"Boys will be boys."
"What was she wearing?"
"He's such a good athlete."
"How much did they drink?"
"He has a wife and kids."
"It's just how things were."
"That was so long ago."
"Why bring it up now?"
"Making a big deal out of nothing."
"How could you not remember?"
"It was the 60's, 70's, 80's..."
"No one could be a politician."
"They gave him a pass."
"He has such a bright future."
"He was such a nice man."
"All the kids loved him."
"How come she's the only person bringing charges?"

The list goes on and on and on... sex abuse scandal after sex abuse scandal, allegation after allegation. Still, we belittle the victims claiming all they want is money or to ruin someone's life. What about her life? His life? Mine?

Last time I went to treatment I told myself it was the last time. Just like I do every time, but this time I meant it. You know what? I have to give myself credit because as far as the eating disorder goes, I think I did it. That was the last time.

My therapist keeps telling me to think of this as something different. I'm not going back for eating disorder support. I going back to fix the problem.

Since March I have been going to therapy at least twice a week and doing EMDR to work on trauma. The more processing I do about my trauma the more I remember and the more I realize how much I don't have answers. They keep telling me I have those answers. The body keeps the score. "You know everything you want to know, but your brain is protecting you until you're ready." Each week I get a little more of the picture. It's like a 10,000 piece puzzle all kept in fragments in different parts of my brain. What does that even mean? I just want to stop thinking that the answer lies in death.

Little Bella cries at night because she's scared. Teenaged Bella wants to self-harm and take pills to make it all disappear. Adult Bella gets angry because if these high profile cases are thrown out in court, what the fuck does that mean for me? Adult Bella is angry that she can't fix herself. Adult Bella is sad.

Why didn't I report?

I didn't report because the first time I was told it was just a game. The second time it was a relative. The third time he was older and he liked the way my boobs looked. Nine year old me thought it was awesome that a 17 year old was into me. The fourth time I was in love and I believed him when he told me I was a slut.

People judge me on the outside without knowing what's really happening on the inside. My scars tell a story you know nothing about. Still, all people care about is how ugly those scars are... no one cares about the ugly, disgusting, horrifying story behind them.

I'm not running away from my problems by going into treatment. I'm running full force into them. I know many people won't understand this and I don't expect you to. It's difficult to understand something that most would consider unfathomable. I pray you never have to be the one on this side of the keyboard. I pray you never have to be the one finding it difficult to understand when your loved one tells you this happened. I pray that if you are a survivor, you see yourself as just that and nothing less. I pray a lot lately, though sometimes it doesn't sound so much like prayer.

I know many people will judge. I also know that I've worked with my team for almost eight years and I trust them more than I trust myself.

I'm not so angry anymore, I'm just hurt. I'm lonely. Confused.

Please don't give up on me.

Ramblings....

I am so scared.


I'm a little girl, lost and afraid. I'm pleading for help but no one is around. Even the shadows on the wall scare me. I feel hopeless and alone. I sit, cry, and wait for help. Will they ever come get me?


I am on top of the world. I am nine, or maybe ten, and I am on top of the world... nothing can get me here.


But then it does. Why? I wore a low cut tan-kini top. Must've been why.


I am thirteen. I pour candle wax on my legs because I like the way it stings. It gives me something to focus on. I'm going to be a BMX superstar. I build a ramp. I go full speed off the ramp, flip forward half way and land on my back in the grass with my bicycle on top of me. I can do it right next time. I can do it right the next 20 times. I can't.


I can't do a lot of things at this point.


I can't play tennis. I can't lose weight. I can't stand how the spanx feel but I need to learn to suck my tummy in. I can't make myself look like the others on the beach. I can't drink milk anymore. I can't eat the things I like. I can eat before 4:30pm only. I can hide. I can throw up. I can fight werewolves in Michigan, it shows on my skin, but don't ask me how I have time for that.


I become Little Debbie. I look like her. I eat like her... or at least my entire Spanish class thinks so.


I turn inwards. I lose friends. I can't sleep at night without crying myself to sleep.


I may have found love. Or maybe love found me. Or maybe it was those shadows from my childhood disguised as love. They're coming to get me.


I can't go through all this again tonight. I need to rest.


I keep wracking my brain trying to figure out where things went wrong. What did I do wrong? How can I fix it? Though I wouldn't wish this on anyone else in the world, why was it me?


I ask for help. I answer a lot of questions but I only give half truths. I only share half the picture. The other parts are dark. I just can't remember. Why can't I remember? I need some fucking answers because I'm drowning in here. The water is past my mouth and I can't speak any longer. There's not much oxygen left and my chest feels tight. I want to sleep but I'm jerked awake in fear. Sometimes I wake up crying.


I am getting ready to start school again and I am terrified and excited. I feel like maybe I can do it this time though a part of me fears the monsters are back. Full force. I am hanging on. I am hanging on because I didn't die when I could have. I am hanging on because my friends are getting their six-month email, letting them know they've been out of treatment for half a year and that's a huge accomplishment. Mine should be coming soon and this makes me happy. I'm hanging on because even though I was three weeks late on rent this month, and with little food in the pantry, I am living on my own and I'm e x p a n d i n g  my support system. I'm hanging on because this year, when I went for my yearly check-up, I panicked a little but I didn't cry, and I allowed myself to go to someone I feel I can trust. I felt embarrassed about my panic, but I felt safe. I'm hanging on because I was accepted into Capella even though I was sure I wasn't going to be able to go back to school.


Some time in the future, this may all make sense. Or maybe it won't. I've come to realize you can never be sure of anything. Well, except death. But I try not to focus on that now.


I'm still that little girl, afraid and alone. Little Bella. I'm still the one that can't. I still turn inwards and cry. I still crave for something to focus on... something to tend to. Something to make it all go away. Except now I try to acknowledge where I am today. Sometimes that's sleeping with baby cologne on my blanket, sometimes that's cuddling my dog while I cry. Sometimes it's busting my ass at work. Sometimes that's allowing myself to speak full truths to my therapist and her allowing me the space to cry and wonder why. That's me-- Bella. That's the me that wants to believe that the best is yet to come. That may only be a half truth for now, but maybe in the future that will change. Maybe.


But without that maybe I lose all hope. I need to hang onto that maybe.

When Life Doesn't Go as Planned...

In 8th grade, I had to do a scrapbooking project as part of my final grade in English class. We were asked to put together a scrapbook and were given certain writing prompts to pick from to include in our books.

One of the ones I picked was about “where I [would] be 10 years from now”. At 13 I had to write about where I would be at 23... if you don’t want to read the whole thing below, I’ll give you a bulleted version:

•  Graduated college

•  Fulfill my perceived version of my fathers dreams and become a vet

•  Live on my own or with a fiancé and five dogs

•  Dream job

•  Other career options: doctor, animal cop, nurse, veterinary assistant

 

So, to be honest, at 23 I had like a fifth of one of my dreams checked off the list... actually, to be really honest, at 23 I did get my own place, and also had a suicide attempt that same year and had to give up having my own place.

So the path I took was nothing like what I thought, hoped or expected it to be. I don’t have a degree, or my dream job, I JUST moved out of my parents house a few months ago and I am not even in a relationship so fiancé isn’t even in the near future... and although this is not where I dreamt I would be, I still know that I am blessed and eternally grateful for where I am today.

If life had gone as planned, had I not shattered into a thousand different pieces, I wouldn’t have met all the wonderfully-imperfect people I’ve met today... the ones helping to put me back together again.

I’ve had to learn to be humble and ask for help when I need it. I’ve made mistakes and learned from them too. I’ve learned to set boundaries. I’ve had adventures some people never get to experience, sure, it may be because they happened in a hospital or residential treatment, but trust me— they are adventures nonetheless. Cue: “who left the bag of vomit in the stairwell?” And: telling stories of whose gone the longest without pooping.. adventures. No joke.

I’ve lost.. a lot. I’ve lost friends, family, money, time.. but I’ve gained my life, at least for now. And I know this is a moment of clarity because in reality I’ve been really depressed lately, but I am grateful to still be here and fighting this fight. I’ve also built relationships that I know will last a lifetime and have an outpatient team that supports me 100%. My therapist has been through hell and back with me and she still smiles when she opens the door to see me every week.. sometimes twice a week. If I had to sit and listen to myself talk in circles on a weekly basis for the past six years, I probably would have quit on me by now (but I guess that’s why I have her right?!).

I am grateful. I am blessed. I am not where I thought I would be, but I am much better than I could be. I may not have everything I want, but I have pretty much everything I need. And for those that have stuck around, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Congrats, you met and exceeded 13-year old me’s expectations! (see photo below)

Peace to you tonight—

Bella

On a Monster They Call “Ed”

They say that it gets better, 

But when will that day be? 

We’re holding it together, 

As we’re falling to our knees. 

Sending prayers to nowhere, 

Feeling so alone, 

One foot in front of the other,

Feeling worse, they say you’ve grown. 

“Grown in your recovery, not as bad as you once were,”

They keep saying all this nonsense, and still, it’s all a blur. 

Precariously we listen, follow and concede, 

Exceed the expectations, 

Trusting we’ll be freed. 

An alcoholic stops their drinking, 

A drug addict stops the pills, 

Not comparing illnesses—

It’s all about your will.

Your willingness to give in, 

Or your willingness to fight,

We’re fighting for recovery, 

And just to do what’s right.

Brittany, Heidi, Morgan, Steph—

A reminder to us all, 

This illness has no limits, 

It laughs each time we fall. 

“A cancer of the mind,” they say, 

A monster they call “Ed”, 

To me it seems as though

We should name him “Death” instead.

Yet death seems so appealing, 

When Depression’s in the game, 

That’s why I’m keeping tabs

On each of my friends names. 

Say them loud and say them clear, 

And let it all be known, 

That even though they fought for freedom

They’re now just names on stones. 

That’s why we can’t just give up, 

We have to fight like hell, 

Until this is a story of redemption, truth and courage..

and recovery as well. 

On the past and the future.

I am a pre-existing condition.

I am 3 am night sweats and night terrors 

Debating whether or not to send an email, 

Crying out for help. 

I am five years old, six years old, seven

The fight is over we are moving away

No more playing house because mommy says it's not okay

That's not how kids play house but I didn't know any better.

I am eleven years old, grazing a safety pin across my skin wondering what it would feel like to push it in deeper. 

I am twelve, thirteen, fourteen

Two fingers and my thumb holding a razor blade to my leg, sliding it back and forth, and back and forth 

Wondering how deep I'll have to go this time to feel relief. 

I am... 

I am sending the email this time. I am reaching out for help. 

I am on Medicaid and the government paid psychiatrist tells me and my parents this is a normal part of growing up. 

I am fifteen. I am sixteen. I am losing control. I am losing weight... fast. 

I am black circles under my eyes because I haven't eaten in days. 

I am graduating high school. 

I never thought I'd live this long... 

I am falling in love. 

I am going to the emergency room because I need stitches and I don't want anyone to know. 

I am being told I hit a vein. I am alone. 

I am in therapy. 

I am telling secrets I have never told anyone before. 

I am talking about being five years old with a penis my mouth not knowing right from wrong. 

I am eighteen years old. Drunk beyond consent.. but I only had one maybe two glasses of wine. I am an adult, I should have known better. 

I am keeping secrets. 

I am crying in my parents room. 

I am telling my mother I was raped. 

Almost two years too late. 

I am in treatment. 

I am in treatment. 

I am learning I am not alone. 

I am learning it wasn't my fault. 

I am getting better. 

I am falling again. 

I am twenty-two. I thought I was better so I stopped taking my medicines. 

I am feeling alone again. 

I am throwing up after I eat because it's the one thing I have control over. 

I am cutting myself again but this time I don't care who knows. 

I am over fifty scars on my body mostly in places that no one will see. 

I am bandages over my wrists and stitches on my ankle where the doctors tell my parents I almost hit an artery. 

I am too much for outpatient treatment. 

I am in treatment. Again. 

I am a disappointment. 

I need to grab the bull by the horns. 

I am doing well on my meds and debating going back to school. 

I am living alone. 

I am scribbling a poem down on paper. 

This might be my last one. 

I am waking up with blood all over my sheets and my dog licking the bandage on my leg. 

I am needing to see a doctor but terrified that anyone would find out. 

I am changing the bandage, 

Five times in one day, it won't stop bleeding. 

I am going to the hospital almost twenty-four hours later because I can't control the bleeding. 

I am in treatment. Again. 

I am hundreds of miles away from home, 

Learning once again that none of it was my fault. 

I am learning to breathe again. 

I am learning to cope. 

I am doing better.

I am doing so much better. 

I am in recovery. 

I am in recovery but things are starting to get dark again. 

I am in therapy saying that I don't think I need this anymore. 

I am twenty-five. 

I am waking up to night sweats and night terrors and would rather not sleep at all. 

I am debating sending an email or a text. 

I am anxious. I am depressed. 

I am struggling. 

I am aware that I may lose my health insurance and then I will have no choice on whether or not I need therapy anymore. 

I am in serious debt. 

I am wanting to go back to school. 

I am holding down a job that I love. 

I am thriving in many ways. 

I am learning that I was born with a brain that works different from others. 

I was born with a genetic predisposition. 

I am more than my anxiety, depression, PTSD, and eating disorder. 

But to you, 

I am a pre-existing condition. 

Not For the Faint of Heart (or Stomach).

This past week I had a session with my dietitian. It went as it usually does, I stay surface level, we make goals for next week, I get weighed and leave to go see my therapist right after. She said something this week though that grasped my attention... "I feel like you're keeping me like.." and then she held out her arm as if to say, "at a distance". I am. I always do. My dietitians never know as much as they maybe should. Why? I give them just enough to know what's going on but not enough to really know. They wouldn't stick around if they knew.

Okay, maybe I don't know that for a fact, but I feel like that's true... you know? I'm going to give you an example but it's not going to be a personal one, it is something that has truly happened, but not to me. I had a friend years ago who had somewhat recently started purging. The thing with purging is that over time it gets easier and easier, and it's safe to say it gets nastier, more careless and just well, gross.

So this friend of mine had gone to a party, she'd been drinking and she ate more than she normally would. She texted me saying that she didn't know what to do because she had made up her mind that she was going to purge, so the more she ate the more her body wanted to push it out. She went to the restroom but didn't make it to the toilet and had to throw up in the sink. She texted me saying that she didn't know what to do, she was currently scooping cheesecake out of the sink, she felt terrible and just wanted to go home. I know this sounds like a young high school girl who just drank too much and got sick, but that's not the case. She wasn't drunk and she didn't "get sick", she purged. Her body purged. It's hard to explain, but once you see it, you get it. I've been in treatment with women who throw up so much they can't sit through a meal without throwing up. I have literally sat next to someone who was asked to step up to a higher level of care because she would throw up into her plate as we were eating. We felt terrible for her, and hated her all at once, because with this disease it is very much mind over matter.

Back to my point, these are things you can't just throw out in the middle of a session... or maybe you can, but I have a hard time doing it. A couple weeks ago I told her that many times I turn to carbs over other foods because carbs are "harder to get rid of". I was hoping I wouldn't have to go into details on that one, and thank God I didn't. I feel like each week I test the waters a bit, putting more out on the table hoping that she doesn't just stand up and walk out. So far, so good-- but we'll see how long that lasts. It's hard to trust when your trust has been broken so many times.

I'm going to go back to this topic at the end, but I do want to give a short update first-

It's been a bit of a rough go lately, but things are definitely much better than they've been in the past. I've been feeling like I'm barely keeping my head above water, but with everything going on, I think barely above is better than it would normally be. I'm trying to stay focused on work and just doing what I need to do. I can't take care of anyone if I don't take care of me.

I have a really great manager and I'm doing pretty well in my new (maybe not-so-new) position. I work with a pretty great team and I get to work with my best friend so you know, that's always a plus! I just got my yearly evaluation which lined up with what I thought I was going to get, my numbers are looking pretty good (I should be working from home soon) and I got a 100% on my first monthly quality review! So yeah, work is going well.

Even though all that is going well, I'm currently struggling with feeling a constant void. Like, something is missing. Something isn't right. This is a difficult time of the year for multiple reasons, so it's not too surprising, but it's still not any easier to deal with. I feel like I'm constantly reaching for something to make the emptiness not as strong. I've noticed though, that the more empty I feel emotionally, the more I yearn to feel empty physically. Maybe that has to do with not wanting to feel emotions. Maybe it ties back to self-harm and preferring to feel things physically and externally rather than dealing with them internally, and yet, maybe it doesn't. I don't know, but I don't like it.

Maybe I just need more Jesus in my life. Maybe I need to reconcile my relationship with my higher power. Maybe I don't. Maybe I have the right to be fucking furious. I don't have the answers, but I hope to find them soon.

My dietitian asked me to think of food rules and write them down this week, so I thought maybe it'd be a good idea to share them with you guys... I have two reasons for this:

1) You can call me out on these rules if you see me having a moment and
2) It's possible some of y'all have rules of your own that you don't realize you have, so maybe seeing some of mine will help you see your own or maybe those of someone you care about.

So here it is--

FOOD RULES

1. There are no good foods, but there are definitely better foods. 
2. Food is an inherently bad, yet necessary part of life.
3. Eating is a chore and it always will be. 
4. If you're hungry, drink water first. 
5. Most people eat one meal a day, no reason for 3 meals and 3 snacks. 
6. Carbohydrates such as bread, grains, and desserts are bad (delicious, but also the devil)
7. Meat is disgusting, don't eat it. 
8. You shouldn't eat after X time.
9. Eating in order is better because you'll fill up on the "good" food first and not eat the bad food. 
10. Eating is shameful
11. Eating around other people is disgusting
12. Feeling full means you ate too much, get rid of it. 
13. No eating outside of "normal" meal times, pig. 
14. Just don't eat in general. You have enough in your system for a lifetime. 
15. You're supposed to be counting calories, but you don't anymore, that is sickening.

Okay, so here's the thing... I noticed something. I'm trying really hard to not go back and change this, but I definitely noticed it. When I first started typing these rules I was having a hard time, I am trying keep myself separate from my ED, and when that happens I tend to completely shut off that side until something triggers it. Well, so 15 rules took about 25 minutes to write. Mostly the first five or so took a while, but then something shifted and they just started coming out. The thing is, I feel like you can see the shift. I kid you not, I have not gone back and changed anything... But my eating disorder definitely took over on some of those. 

I feel like I need to share these, but I also don't want to trigger anyone reading this, or give any ideas, so in order to try to keep myself and my readers safe, I'm going to write counter thoughts to the rules above, feel free to read them, or skip it if you'd like, but if you read the rules I'd encourage you to read the counter thoughts... 

COUNTER THOUGHTS 

1. Every food serves a specific purpose, there are no good or bad foods, they're all just different. 
2. Again, there are no good or bad foods, the breakdown of it is all the same. Your body doesn't know the difference between cake and fruit, it all breaks down and gets separated to go where it all needs to go. 
3. Eating doesn't have to be a chore. Eating can be fun, it can be enjoyable, it can help build friendships, relationships and it can even be inspiring. Trust me, if you've never sat around a table of eating disorder patients helping each other finish a particularly tough meal, you can't say food can't be inspiring. 
4. Drinking water to fill your stomach does you no good. It will only fill you up for the time being, but in the end you are still going to feel the hunger pains and are only going to end up binge eating or sick (or both!)
5. There is a reason for three meals and three snacks, it boosts your metabolism, gives you energy throughout the day and keeps your GI system moving at a steady pace.
6. Carbs are good for a quick energy boost. There is no devil food, there is no bad food, there is no bad food. It's all just food!!! 
7. Ehhh, this one is hard. Meat is... meat. I have a harder time with it, part of it is that it's played a major role in my ED, and part of it is just something I struggle with morally. Everyone has their own beliefs on this one, but there is no denying that eating meat goes back longer than absolutely anything else on this planet, so maybe it's safe to say it's truly just the circle of life?
8. Eating shouldn't have a time limit. Saying that we shouldn't eat after X time is inaccurate, because we are all on different schedules. I have read that it's better not to eat right before bed in order to get a better rest at night, but I don't even know how accurate that is. 
9. Since there are no good or bad foods, the rule about eating in order has already been disproved. It's funny because this one has always been hard for me, so when I was in treatment they kind of gave up on telling me not to eat in order so I was stuck making myself miserable because I couldn't break this rule but I still had to eat all my food. I will say, it gets better and easier over time. 
10. Eating is NOT shameful. Eating is necessary to survive and you shouldn't feel ashamed of wanting to live, and honestly, not just live but to thrive. 
11. Eating around others is a part of life, eating alone is pretty miserable honestly. I remember when I was younger (and this could actually go back to the shame thing), I would refuse to eat alone. If I was hungry I'd have to convince someone to eat with me or just not eat until everyone else did. It's a part of bonding and community, it is not disgusting.
12. Feeling full is normal and it will pass. Nothing more to say to that, the full feeling will pass.
13. Oh God, this was my ED speaking and I feel like I've already addressed this one. I'm going to move on because honestly, I'm embarrassed to even share this one. 
14. I deserve to eat, feed and nourish my mind, body and soul. 
15. When I was counting calories, I was consuming double digits each day. I was very sick and honestly just killing myself. I have decided that counting calories does me no good and I prefer to first off trust my treatment team with that and second, to trust that my body will do the right things with whatever I give it. 

This has been a very long post. I had more I wanted to say, but it is now 2 am and I'd honestly be surprised if anyone actually read all of that. I will update with more within the next week, but for now I'm going to stop here. 

Feel free to comment, share or send me a private message on your own food rules (or mine)! Also, I'm going to try to write more often, so if you have any topic you'd like me to address, feel free to let me know in some way. I'd actually like to get to know the people that actually read my stuff, so please, let me know you're here!! I'm working on a poem, so look forward to reading that and hold me accountable for posting.

Peace to you all tonight, 

Bella