Dear Me.

Dear 30-year old me,

     Woah. These past ten years have gone by so fast haven't they? It seems like just yesterday you were getting ready to celebrate your 21st and start living your "adult" life. I want to write you this letter because I don't want you to look back at the past ten years with regret.

     Yes, you've fucked up a lot. You made your fair share of mistakes when you were my age, but never forget that you also learned so much from them. When you look back I want you to remember all the hard work you put into your treatment and recovery. YOU did that, no one can take that away from you.

     I know you're going to want to forget your early twenties, they were rough, but I don't want you to be too hard on yourself. You worked really hard and that's not something that should be forgotten. I want you to remember what it was like to feel down and out and how empowered you felt when you picked yourself up again.

     Your brain is going to cloud your memories and bring out all the negative things, but I want you to remember that not every day was bad. In fact, even your 'bad' days had something good in them. I want you to remember days like today, March 3, 2013.

     It's a Sunday. You're regretful because you went gambling last night with your family even though you know that's not a good coping skill and your therapists have told you not to do it. You had some trouble with eating disorder behaviors this past week and you were trying to forget it even happened at all. You also struggled with urges to self-harm. Because you went out last night and didn't get home until this morning, you didn't wake up in time to see one of your treatment friends who came in from out of town. You woke up feeling like a fuck up and wanted to stay in bed all day and drown in self-pity... but you didn't.

     You got your ass out of bed, met up with Taylor (yes, the Taylor that you met at Renfrew... your sister Taylor) and she took you horseback riding for the first time in your life. Your day started off badly, but you ended up LOVING today. You were out with Taylor most of the afternoon and you were both able to look back at the past year and say, "Fuck yeah! We've come so far!"

     You had lunch with her and didn't even think about the calories or the affect it might have on your body. You got on that horse and you fought the disordered thoughts about exercise and "burning off" what you had eaten. You enjoyed yourself, you had fun. Most importantly, you reached out for support and found a healthy outlet for your feelings. I hope you're able to put those moments at the forefront and not beat yourself up for the past.

     Thinking of you... well, me at thirty, I feel now like you're going to feel old and jaded. But really, you have many friends now that are in their thirties and their still a kid at heart. I hope you're able to be that way too. Don't be too hard on yourself if you don't have it all together yet. You have a lifetime to figure it all out.

     I do hope that by now you've found someone you can settle down with, but if you haven't that's okay too. Just remember, it's better to take your time finding a 'forever' than to rush for a 'for now'. Remember what they taught you in treatment about relationships, 1+1=3... you+me= we. The formula for a good relationship starts with the PRAISES model. Physical, Recreational, Aesthetic, Intellectual, Spiritual, Emotional, and Sexual intimacy both with yourself and your relationship... but always start with yourself first. You have to love yourself before you can love anyone else. You've struggled with that a lot this past year.

     Your past self is almost twenty-one right now and as I'm writing this I'm looking on the walls and seeing all the positive affirmations I've put up for us. I'll end this letter with reminding you of your "Daily Recovery Plan" sheet and some of the affirmations your friends have given you.

Daily Recovery Plan

EVERY DAY I WILL...

• Spend time with God.
• Acknowledge I am valuable because I am.
• Set boundaries and let others know what they are.
• Set limits for myself.  
• Be aware that others' needs do not come before mine.
• Be still and listen to my inner voice.
• Only sweat the biggies.
• Laugh.
• Be flexible. 
• Forgive (myself and others). [...yes, that's a hard one!]
• Live in the present.
• Do something special for myself.
• Try to have an optimistic attitude.
• Give love. 
• Receive love. 
• Take care of my physical needs.
• Share myself with others (because I want to). 

Affirmations (from friends)

• I deserve to love myself.
• I forgive myself. 
• I am beautiful.
• I can learn to appreciate my body.
• I am compassionate and have many gifts. 
• I am unique.
• I am strong, wise and beautiful inside and out.
• I am kind and gentle.
• I can love myself.
• I am worthy of love and respect.
• I am funny, caring, unique and Cuban. (Thank Kevin for that one!)
• I love my body; I know I deserve for everyone to respect me and care for me. I am Bella Beautiful.
• I'm so beautiful from top to bottom, from inside and out. I deserve the best... always.
• I will NEVER NEVER NEVER give up.
• I am the best daughter a mom could ever want! (Thank Heidi, your treatment mom.)
• I am a special caring woman. 
• I deserve to live life and experience joy!
• I am an epically wonderful person to be friends with.
• I am a special, fantastic, caring, and beautiful woman.
• I can love and accept my body.

Take care of yourself. Nothing that is worth it will come easily, but it's definitely worth fighting for. 

With Love,

Your 20-year old self. 

P.S. If you read this and realize things are not how you expected them to be ten years ago, remember that it's never too late to start over. 

Struggles.

I sat in my therapist's office the other day with tears in my eyes. I fought as hard as I could fight, but the tears still came and I got angry because I wanted them gone. Jess, my therapist, seemed to be welcoming the tears with open arms. "I have to be strong," I said as I wiped what would have been my first tear from my eyes.

I keep telling myself to hold it together, let them know everything's alright, you can do this. And I can. I know I can do this. But I also have to remember that we weren't meant to walk through life alone and as much as I wish I could do this alone, it's simply not possible.

I'm a part of several private support groups for the different treatment centers I've been through and have come to realize that recovery isn't as fantastic as I've made it out to be. Someone who I love dearly, someone who inspires me, who gives me hope when I feel like there's no hope out there... Well, she hit a rough spot and announced she's going back to treatment. On the outside everything seemed to be going okay, but there's always more to people than meets the eye. 

So this is my post, as honest as it gets. 

I've been struggling.

I've been feeling sad, anxious, angry, lonely and overwhelmed. I picked up the phone the other day to call someone and realized that although I have a lot of support out there, there is no one in my area that I can reach out to that will understand without judging. Not one person. So I told myself, "hold it together, Bella... we can do this." I wiped the tears from my eyes and moved on. 

I emailed my therapist who thank God replied within the hour. She told me to breathe, she told me the bad feelings will pass. She let me know that I am safe and that things may happen out of my control, but I can control how I choose to react to them.

That day I had a slip-up with my eating disorder symptoms. The next day was the same way... but on that third day, after breaking down in my boss' office and asking for support from a total stranger, I made a different choice and I didn't act on any ED or self-harm symptoms. 

I've thought a lot about how life has been going ever since I got back. In the grand scheme of things everything has been great, my life is coming together and unfolding as it should. I've been strong, much stronger than in the past. Yes, I've had my setbacks and difficulties, but I've handled it all better than expected.

I've realized that I'm going to feel alone at times. I'm going to have moments where I have to trust others more than I do myself. I'm going to doubt, cry, hurt and feel... something that I hadn't allowed myself to do in a long time. But most importantly, I've realized that after it's all said and done, I am going to heal.

Recovery is not a straight, clean road. It has its bumps, detours, twists and turns, but there is no doubt in my mind that recovery is worth it. Totally worth it. 

Scars.

    Climbing a tree as a kid, falling off your bike or skateboard, burning yourself while cooking or getting wounded in war... Scars are symbols of hardships and overcoming. They are a symbol of strength. They signify certain stages of life coming to an end and for some people they are a source of pride. On the other hand, they could symbolize weakness. A moment in time where something went wrong and one was deeply wounded.
   
     Unfortunately for me, scars are all too common on my body. In fact, I have probably close to 50 scars on my body right now. Some are big and others small; I needed stitches for some of them while for others a simple band-aid did the trick. They are a constant reminder of how I gave in during a moment of weakness.

     Being a swim instructor now, scars are very difficult to hide. When I'm out of the water it's easy to wear long sleeves or pants, but in the water there's nothing that'll hide them. While I was doing my training the other day, I began to feel uncomfortable with my body when I realized one of the girls was staring at me. Immediately thoughts about being fat and ugly ran through my head. I wanted to run out of there. I began to think with my wise mind and told myself that it wasn't my body, it had to be something else. I followed her gaze and when I looked down I remembered that I have four big scars right smack in the middle of my thigh and she was staring right at them.

     I felt so embarrassed. 

     I could feel my face burning red and I was afraid someone was going to ask me what was going on. I wanted to cry but was trying to pull myself together. I told myself it didn't matter, they're a part of who I am. I got in the pool as fast as possible and engaged in conversation to get my mind off things. 

     When I got home I allowed myself to think about it some more. Was it really that bad? I didn't care when I had open wounds there, why should I care now? Did it make me worse than everyone else? Did it make me less of a person?

     No. 

     I am not less of a person for being weak at one point or another. I am no different from anyone else. My scars are meaningful to me and I shouldn't care what anyone else thinks. I've realized that I may look different from other people, but who doesn't? I am not less of a person and I deserve to feel good and comfortable with myself. 

     I am proud of my scars. Sure, sometimes I wish I didn't have so many of them, but I can't change that now. My scars no longer symbolize weakness. They are a reminder of how weak I've been in the past, but most importantly, they signify how strong I was to overcome my weakness. They're a reminder of how forgiving my God and my body is. For so long I caused harm to myself and my body pretending like it didn't matter, but I no longer have to do that. My God watched over me every single time I did that and he left a sign behind letting me know that He cares. If He didn't care He could have stopped my wounds from healing. I could have gotten an infection; I could have died. Instead, my body, God's wonderful creation, did what it was made to do and covered my wounds with new skin. I couldn't be more grateful than I am now. 

     Over time, I know most of my scars will fade. When that time comes I will be ready to see them go but will always remember each and every one of them; they all have a different story to tell. Scars aren't always visible and I think the biggest one of all is inside me. I'll always carry it on me, but even that one, the most painful of them all, is new skin. 

Like me, each scar has a story, but a new beginning as well. 

"Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh.” ~Leonard Cohen

Tradition, Tradition!

     We celebrated the new year last night with an old Puerto Rican tradition. Back home friends get together and build what's called an "Año Viejo". They take a mop and put jeans and a t-shirt and stuff it with newspaper. They add a head and a face that's supposed to look like an old man. After all that is done, they write a note with what they want the past year to take with it, what they want to change.

     At midnight, everyone goes outside and light the Año Viejo on fire symbolizing an end to all the negative in the past year. Last night we made a mini Año Viejo of our own and burned it in our backyard. Knowing that it was illegal made it even more exciting! ;)

     It's the first day of the new year and I can't help but smile at the fact that 2012 is over. The new year symbolizes new beginnings and God knows I need that right now.

     Last night my parents said that they would want to erase this past year altogether, that they wanted it gone. I can understand why they would want that, it's been a difficult year for all of us, but to be honest, I wouldn't change a thing. Last year I learned more about myself than most people do in their entire lifetime, and I met some of the most amazing, loving and understanding people. I learned what it really means to "support our troops" and that trouble comes in all shapes and sizes, but one is never worse than the other. It's equivalent depending on each person and where they are in their life.

     

     God has a plan for each of us and I truly believe that last year was a part of the Plan. If I wouldn't have gone through the things I went through I wouldn't know the true value of life. All in all I am thankful for last year, but I wouldn't ever want to repeat it. 

     This year, if you're going through a rough time, keep your head up, keep smiling and remember that it's all part of the Plan. 

     Here's a little of what went on last night...

                                                                                 

 

New Beginnings!

     It's been a long, long time since I posted anything. I almost started to believe that I couldn't write anymore it's been so long.

     As the year comes to a close, I can't help but wonder where I'd be if I hadn't reached out and gotten the help I needed. It's been a rough road, but it's been totally worth it. I've met so many genuine and loving people, one's that truly do not judge and are always there to support me. It's interesting how I've been able to count on strangers more than friends. Although the strangers become friends in the process.

     I'm about to shed light on my year more than ever before.

     Last year at this time I was making resolutions for a better year, a better life and a stop to my negative behaviors. Two months later I almost took my own life. I was referred to eating disorder treatment and kept getting moved around from one place to the next. I started in Dallas as outpatient, they sent me to Florida for inpatient, then Cedar Springs in Austin for outpatient and finally I came back to the same place I started, here at Renfrew Dallas. I was doing well until my self-harm got out of control. I once again almost took my own life, this time by an unintentional "accident". I need to get stitches and wasn't able to control myself from then on. I was cutting practically every single day. One day I felt so out of control that I felt the need to tell my therapist at Renfrew about it in order to keep myself from doing something really stupid.

     Of course, when you tell someone that you don't feel like you deserve to live, they're going to be extremely concerned. I had the cops called on me, got arrested and taken to Green Oaks Hospital. The worst most terrifying place I've been in my entire life. During the twenty-four hours I was there I saw people attempting to kill nurses, beating down doors and throwing themselves against the wall; these were things I'd only seen in scary movies.

     As soon as I got out and returned to Renfrew, they told me that my case was too difficult for them to handle and I was not able to return until I got help for my self-harm; they didn't even send me off with other options, I was left to deal with it on my own.

     I was out for about a week while my parents and I looked for other options. Lucky for me, I had been in treatment with a girl that works for Presbyterian Hospital of Dallas who recommended I start the eating disorder program there. I was inpatient there for two weeks.

     I wasn't even out for three days when again, I cut too deep and needed stitches. I had done it the morning, wrapped my arm and went into treatment like there was no problem. About halfway through the day my doctor asked me if I had made it through the night okay and I lied and said yes.

     She didn't believe me.

     Of course she asked to see my arm and I was sent down to the emergency room immediately. I was put inpatient again and I wasn't going to get out until I was fully recovered. Well, it turns out that people don't always fully recover even on twenty-four hour watch and I kept on hurting myself in other ways. The last time I cut was October 2nd. But that wasn't the last time I harmed myself. On October 29th they told me that I was being transferred to a trauma treatment center in Louisiana. Finally, my psychiatrist (who was amazing by the way) found the root of the problem. It wasn't my self-harm or my eating disorder, it was that I was holding in too many awful memories.

     I got to Louisiana on Halloween. By this time I had been to so many treatment centers that I knew how to work the system so well that I figured I'd be out soon enough and be left to my own devices. I planned to take my own life as soon as I got out.

     This was the most intensive treatment I had ever been in. There was no way I was getting out until I learned the skills that I needed to learn and worked through some difficult traumas. As much as I tried to avoid the difficult topics, they knew what to do to get me to work. I wasn't getting out of this one so easily.

     I hit a wall the first day I was there and bruised my arm very badly. From then on I was on constant watch; I wasn't even allowed to sleep in my room or go to the bathroom alone. About a week in the took me off strict visual contact and allowed me to start going outside and take care of my personal needs on my own. I was also allowed on smoke breaks and of course when you have nothing better to do, you do what you can to get away from the intensiveness of treatment.

     I had my first dissociative experience and continuous flashbacks while I was there. I also lost my car because I honestly just couldn't pay for it anymore but as time went on things seemed to be getting better. Most importantly...

I found reasons to live again. 

     I got discharged on December 7th and I never felt more ready than I did then. 

     Since being home, I've covered my walls in positive affirmations, I've told my parents all the secrets I had been keeping in, I've reached out to friends, taken my medications as prescribed and kept up with my therapy appointments. I already found a job working with kids and I've felt happier than I ever have before. As cheesy as it sounds, I have seen the light and found freedom. It feels amazing. 

     I can finally say that I've accomplished last year's New Years resolutions. I am so proud of myself. 

     I want to thank every single person that has stuck with me and prayed for me through these experiences. You've showed me what true friends are made of. 

     

     I haven't quite decided what my resolutions are for this coming year but I'm excited to see how much more positive they are than last year. I'm ecstatic about starting over, I've got a clean slate. 

     One of the main things I learned is that if I do have a relapse, it's not the end of the world. Shit happens sometimes and you have to learn from each experience. You take it one day at a time and sometimes on minute at time because really, every second is a chance to start over. Everyone has their bad days every once in awhile, it's just important to not allow a bad day to become a bad week, month, etc. 

     Learn from your mistakes, ask for help when you need it and always remember that it's never too late to recover. You can do this, I know you can. 

Affirmations (take what applies and read them to yourself everyday):

1) I am worthy of life and recovery.

2) I can love and protect my inner child as she risks exposing our secrets to the light. 

3) I fill my mind with peaceful thoughts.

4) I deserve to feel happy. 

5) I am naturally beautiful when I am myself. 

     

     With Love, 

               

                    Bella

   

No weights, calories, numbers or body talk, ever.

I've gained weight.

I've been to several doctors lately and it is only natural that they ask me for my weight. Truth is that I have absolutely no idea how much I weigh and as much as I want to know, I also know it's best if I don't... but I feel like shit because I know I've gained and nothing scares me more than that.

Not my health status,
Or a car accident,
or finances,
love,
or even death.

Nothing scares me more than gaining weight.

For the past few months I've stopped wearing fitting clothes and jeans and blouses... and practically everything in my closet; I've resorted to buying Nike shorts and stretchy pants. Elastic has become my best friend.

I knew that recovery meant eating again and keeping it down, I knew it meant talking about feelings and fears and such, but I never figured that I, someone who has managed to stay in my "ideal weight range", would have to gain. I mean, I knew that I'd probably gain some due to dehydration and whatnot, but... well, you get my point.

Tonight I decided that it was about time to wear 'real' clothes again... My favorite size 5 jeans don't fit me anymore. I remember the day that a friend complimented me on my jeans and asked what size they were. I remember how she congratulated me and she told me how awesome it was that I wasn't a size so and so anymore and I'd finally reached an ideal size. I had lost a lot of weight by then and I really wasn't healthy, but that day those jeans became my favorite and my goal was always to fit in those or smaller.

For some reason or other, as I fought strong urges tonight, Evita (what I've named my eating disorder) told me that those are the jeans I should try on first.

I shouldn't have done it.
I shouldn't have done it.
I shouldn't have done it. 

But I did. And I don't know where to go from here.

Questions like "Do I look different?", "Can others see?", "How much?" and "Why?" are storming my head right now. I feel like I can't breathe and I really want to cry. This horrible disease builds you up in recovery and makes you think you're doing better then all of a sudden it tears you down and leaves you stranded. I hate this... but even Evita doesn't scare me as much as weight gain does and I don't know what to do.

I write this now not for attention, I write because I want others to know what this is like. It's not a diet, it's not something someone can just 'get over'. It's not about grabbing the bull by the horns and it's not about responsibility. It's just so much more than that.... so so so much more.

If you read this please don't answer any of the questions I asked above... Please don't try to convince me that it will be okay or that things are not as they seem. Right now, my truth is what my mind is telling me. Right now, I refuse to believe otherwise but hopefully tomorrow will be different.. hopefully someday these thoughts won't run through my head.

I believe that someday it will be insignificant.

Someday.

Someday I'll be free.

Path To Recovery

So I realize it's been a very long time since I posted anything, and I shouldn't apologize because as most of you know I have good reason to not be posting (plus, I really couldn't even if I wanted to!) but I'm sorry either way! I will try to post more frequently now that I'm getting settled in to my new "home". Temporary home anyway. 

Florida was absolutely amazing. I went in not really expecting anything and came home with so much love and support from so many people that were honestly complete strangers beforehand, I don't think I could find such genuine people anywhere else. 

There's something about being 'stuck' in a facility for an extended amount of time that brings a sense of togetherness to a group, it's just so hard to explain! I was able to be more open and honest with everyone there than I have been with any other person... ever. Don't get me wrong, it was not all that beautiful while I was there; it was very hard work, but it was so so worth it! 

I had an amazing therapist named Ingrid. I could swear it was by the grace of God that I got her, she was fantastic and seemed to really know what she was doing. She is a part time therapist at Renfrew and has a private practice on top of that... plus she's a mother and a wife AND is faithful to her religion. In my opinion, it takes a lot of strength and commitment to handle all of that and not be absolutely insane... Well, she was only halfway insane. ;) I love and miss Ingrid so much more than I thought I would. 

My aftercare coordinator, Gina, walked with me the entire time I was there also. We met every week (although she ran groups as well) and she set up all my discharge stuff for me as well as helped me plan for the future and helped with relapse prevention. She was also just a really great listener and honestly means so much to me. She's almost like a sister to me, I really really do care about her. 

There were many others that helped along the way. Gillian, Deb, Erin, Maya, Cassey, Casey, Karen, Katy, Rebecca, Ruth, Sandra, Anyika...  and SO many more! It almost feels like I went in with no one to lean on and came out with a whole new family... well, one that I will probably not see again but at least we can keep in touch via email!

On my way home from treatment today I saw two girls about my age stopped at a red light enjoying a fast-food dinner together. They looked so happy, and like they were truly enjoying every minute they spent together! I want that so badly... Why is it still so hard? 

I know the path to recovery is a long one and I know there'll be some ups and downs, but I feel like there should be more ups and less downs now that I've been through treatment. I'm just not seeing that since I got back. 

I've moved from six-hour day treatment to 10-hour days to see if taking smaller steps down is easier than going right ahead and leaping for the next step. I know it'll work, it has to. "It works if you work it so work it 'cuz you're worth it!!!" ...Right? 

I'm not going to get ahead of myself and instead trust my new treatment team. As long as I'm honest about everything I need to trust that they have my best interest in mind and they truly know what they're doing... So far they've done nothing to prove to me otherwise! 

I keep telling myself the little things that Ingrid told me... 

"Your brain is stupid, that silly little thing doesn't know the difference!" 

"Do you think my life was all rainbows and sunshines? No. I could sit here and cry about things in my past but instead I chose to wake up everyday and do something different."

"Society teaches us that we have to do the things we love; I say, sometimes we have to do things in order to love them...remember this next time you face a challenge!"

Cedar Springs Austin is different. The girls here are different (not that it's a bad thing at all!). My therapist is different and quite honestly, I've come home to an entirely new world. A world I've decided I want to be Ed free. Now it's time to go out and make it that way, but it's up to me to make it happen. It's up to me to do what I feel like I hate in order to learn to love it. I can do this. I can do this. I'm going to do this.