Perfectly Imperfect

 

I don’t write here much anymore, but I’m grateful for this space to be myself. 

Looking back at this blog is like observing the process of growing up. I think I read somewhere that our emotional growth is stunted at the age that the trauma or traumas occurred, and I feel like when I began this blog in my early 40’s I was emotionally in the stage of adolescence. I was self absorbed, angry, confused, and scared most of the time.  I began therapy in a state of complete denial. I was resistant to help or change, and yet there was this deeply buried sense of self love that I longed to find again. I believe we all begin our lives knowing our worth, but it is fragile and can easily be dismantled. Therapy was my first lifeline, along with people who stuck with me even when I was a royal pain in the ass! Sometimes growing up also means reconnecting to the child inside who forgot how to play and be light. Life is so fucking hard, but now I’m not the one making it difficult. I have tried to stop adding to the chaos, and that makes a huge difference. 

My step dad died last November, and I miss him terribly. I love that he read this blog, and that his comments on my posts are still here for me to read. 

Dave and I have three granddaughters and our sons are healthy and thriving. Dave still battles his brain tumor, and since it is growing back, he will be having a shunt placed soon to redirect the fluid that is blocking his 4th ventricle. 

I’m teaching yoga full time between teaching at a few mental health facilities as well as a yoga studio and some private clients. I am grateful that my passion for yoga can also be my career. 

I don’t feel the need to document my day to day existence anymore, but I’m also not merely existing. My inner and outer worlds are vibrant and I finally know and love the person I am. Perfectly Imperfect…

Sat Nam~Truth Is Your Name

 

Truth is your name, not the letters behind them, nor your diagnoses, those labels of wife, mother, sister, friend...

Breathe in your grace and exhale the stories that hold you back

Once I knew a quiet and watchful child who held fears hand

befriending a belly that fluttered

her sweet racing heart a constant companion

Insecurity weaved it’s way into every fiber of her tender being; 

a sturdy fabric for such a delicate soul to wear

This is your time to undress without shame

to shrug the heaviness of that old and tattered garment off your weary shoulders

Drape yourself in the finest silks and gossamer threads

Inhale the heady fragrance of peace as you release the hand of fears icy grip

This is your time...

Angela Minard 2021©

Photography by~ Kristina Makeeva

Always, I Rise

 

Artwork by~ Masaaki Sasomoto

At the height of my eating disorder, when I was entrenched in anorexic behaviors, I also held a full time job working with children with autism and other developmental disabilities. The only time it affected my work was when I took a leave of absence to go into treatment. I have missed work at times for mental health days, and I think that almost everyone at some time in their work history has done that. I would rather take a day for self care than to be sub par at my work. For many people struggling with mental health, routines are a huge part of maintaining normalcy and stability. These days of having extra time on my hands not teaching at the studio have thrown off my routine. I miss the structure, but have found myself feeling more creative, and exploring new ideas. I don’t often embrace change, but it may be time to take more chances, and move out of my comfort zone a bit. I’ve been working on publishing a few volumes of poetry, as well as a memoir, while also finishing up my 300 hr. yoga training. Teaching yoga is still deeply nourishing, and there is always so much to continue learning, which keeps me engaged. I wouldn’t wish having a mental illness on anyone, but working through the challenges and taking steps toward healing is an accomplishment I’m proud to continue. Sometimes I get discouraged, but when I look back on all I’ve been through, these 12 years of overcoming anorexia, and climbing my way through the muck of trauma has been but a drop in the bucket of my 55 years on earth. Even though I have no idea what the future holds, I continue to move forward, often stumbling, but always, I rise. 

Only I Will Remain

 

The Third Eye by Rutuja Padwal

I’ve been dreaming quite often about being hospitalized due to mental illness. It could be because I’m struggling with my mental health, but I feel like many of us are struggling due to the pandemic. I’m not a stranger to needing inpatient treatment, but I’m not even close to that point at all. When I woke up from that dream this morning, I was acutely aware of how healthy I am compared to years ago. I’m not only healthier, but happier. I remember back to when I was working for the local school district, and barely being able to get out of bed. I was burnt out working with aggressive students, and deeply depressed. Now I am passionate about my work, and thankful that I survived that period of my life. I think that my schedule is in flux, and that throws me off. I also know that eventually it will be more consistent again, and so I work on being patient and compassionate with myself. I still see my therapist virtually, which is better than not seeing her at all, but of course it’s not the same. We all want things to go back to normal, and the fact is that it may be awhile, or perhaps never, and that is difficult to come to terms with at times. Because of my sexual assault, and being gagged during it, wearing a mask is extremely challenging. I have worked hard to increase the amount of time I can tolerate it, but it always causes anxiety. I would rather go nowhere than to wear one, but that’s not always an option. It’s funny how that trauma, which I had really worked through, can still side swipe me, and that makes me angry. This political climate wears on me; the hate, the anger, the inequality, the racism, and on and on...aren’t we all afraid? I know I am...

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.” 

~Frank Herbert

Beyond the Pose

planting my hands firmly into the ground

and flipping upside down

shifting perspectives

exploring the perimeters 

a compass leading in all directions

Inhale

expanding freedom

Exhale

releasing into gravity 

the outlines disappear

diving into presence 

hold on tight

savor the moment

and then let it go

dancing with breath

leaning into life...

Angela Minard© 

Lucky White Rabbit

Lately when my mind drops me into the past, it is big and loud, like suddenly being slapped, sharp and stinging...too much in my body, too much hurt. I look around, and I remember the dream where I hide under the bed, shivering on the cold wood floor. A small white bunny hops under the bed to join me, and I’m no longer alone or scared. The end. Only it’s not the end, is it? It’s not a dream. I confuse waking and dreaming because that is how I survived, but even now it is blurry, past and present, real or illusion, hiding under the bed...

Artwork by Richard Jesse Watson

Don’t Forget

The me that started this blog over twelve years ago is long gone, although the strength and wisdom was centered deep inside, it took some digging to discover. Starting this blog was also the beginning of healing from sexual trauma and anorexia, although at times it felt as if all of that digging may bury me.
A couple of times it almost did...
I’m not sure why I’m here, writing I mean...
I was driving home from teaching my Monday evening yoga classes, and my mind was wandering as I watched the first snowfall of the season...wandering to the past, and I thought about the pain that I poured out on this blog. Healing is a gift I finally allowed myself. Yoga gave me the gift of embodiment, and I’m grateful that I can pay that gift forward. I rarely visit the past anymore, but when I do it’s from a more forgiving place. I’m not perfect and life is never perfect, but I’m good...life is good. I doubt anyone reads these words, but if you found your way here, take this poem as my gift to you...

Where there is an ache
joy awaits
buried beneath nutrient rich soil
the throbbing heart
the homesickness
the want
is a reminder of what holds you
Here
Right here
Don’t forget...

Angela Minard©

Strength and Stability

It is strange how when one part of your body hurts, it affects other area of the body. As a yoga teacher, observing bodies is part of the job, and so I find myself observing my own with curiosity. I’m thinking of ways to help my healing, where I need to focus, and the types of body work I may need. In this way, I am looking forward to the recovery process. I already see the ways this is changing my teaching, and I’m already planning a workshop titled Mindful Strength and Stabilty. I feel excitement for the possible roads of learning this experience is already leading me down. There is always more to learn, and I can’t wait to share it! 

5 more days until surgery! 

Eating Disorder Recovery Update

I wanted to share some of what I'm going through lately while continuing to recover from an eating disorder. The lack of much physical activity in these past couple of months has been triggering. I'm losing muscle tone, and although I don't know exactly what my weight is, I do know what it feels like it's doing. I recognize that I may not be accurate in my assessment, nevertheless I'm not acting on behaviors. My appetite has decreased along with my energy output, but I'm still working hard to adequately nourish my body. I have nausea due to some of the medications I'm temporarily on, so I need to keep something in my stomach.  It is challenging, and the eating disorder is loud. I still struggle with negative body image, but I'm not allowing any of that to cause me to restrict. I want to be strong after surgery, and using behaviors will not help with recovery. I want to get back to teaching yoga as soon as I can. I'm practicing lots of self care, and taking time to do things that also nourish my soul, such as writing, reading, and cultivating a more consistent meditation practice. This may be a small road block, but I actually do believe in myself. I would like to be completely recovered from anorexia, but if that never happens, I will never give up. I will come out even stronger, I have no doubt!

Transformed

Transformed

I hold on in my sleep
clenched fists
awakening with aching fingers
empty hands...

"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts," 

I think to myself
drifting back into the same nightmare...
footsteps heavy, looming shadows,
and then the comforting sound of
your voice calling my name

"It hurts," I whisper

as your gracefully opened palms
receive my falling tears
iridescent crystals
spilling through your familiar, outstretched fingers

"I will hold it for you," you repeat softly
until my eyes begin to flutter open

...and for awhile

this pain

beautifully transformed

Angela Minard 2017©

Stop, Drop, and Roll

I didn't realize how long it has been since I have been here to write
Change often seems to create a sense of suspended animation
where the outer world stays the same 
and yet you and everything you do is completely different 
Sometimes I feel as if I'm observing from the outside...
I wanted to heal
and I think I am healing...
I hope...
I remember a winter about nine years ago
when I barely came out of my bedroom
It was dark on the inside 
and I was too numb to cry
too numb to smile 
too numb to realize that I was dying
Years of lying
of hiding being raped 
swallowing rage 
had eventually caught up
and taken a toll
Self harm
starving
and hating myself had left me empty
My husband asked me to see a therapist
and I did not want to 
but there was a small voice inside that I could still hear through the endless chatter
I remember looking through the Blue Cross/Blue Shield book of mental health providers 
and searching for a therapist who specialized in eating disorders
Offering up the eating disorder like a sacrificial lamb
If I could eat 
that would fix me 
and I could be on my merry way...
I still remember sitting in her office for the first time 
terrified...
Sometimes
in her waiting room
I still feel that way
as if nothing has changed...
They say life will eventually come full circle
and so on a day to day basis 
I stare my demons in the face
in the eyes of the patients I teach yoga to in the hospital
I see and feel their loss of dignity
the heavy burden of shame...
It seems almost impossible at times to overcome
The eating disorder was a symptom
a coping mechanism
and by all means 
not the only one
I carry them all in my back pocket
like a smooth stone
a talisman to ward off uncomfortable feelings
To be honest
I don't know what I'm trying to communicate here
only that I know the danger of being silent
of slipping into darkness 
I'm not sure of the perfect way to heal
and although throwing myself into the fire wasn't what I intended
here I am

Stop, drop, and roll...

"The greatest art is to sit and wait and let it come" ~Yogi Bhajan

Days of Glitter

Days of Glitter

I cry...

A lot...

Every day...

I love my new job

It also makes my heart hurt

I've been teaching yoga for awhile now, 
but I avoid teaching children

When I worked with children everyday, 
I figured that I needed a break from kids

When asked to sub kids classes, 
I would adamantly refuse

I never wanted to teach yoga to children, 

and so when I started this job 

teaching yoga in a psychiatric hospital, 

it didn't cross my mind that I would be required to teach children

I wanted to work with the adults 

forgetting that they too were once children

First I was a child

I guess I try to erase that little girl...

The youngest admit is five, 
and then there are the dreaded teenagers! 

I love them...

I know them...

their fears

insecurity, 

feelings of loss...

I see the beauty that they have already lost sight of

I try to remind them

and I see

flashes of a smile

like the sun

hidden for awhile

glittering along the edges of cracked, 
grey pavement 

***************************************

I'm trying to figure out how to keep my heart from breaking 

on a daily basis

or perhaps I bear witness

watching the shattered bits land where they may

sweeping the pieces back together

holding the small mirrored shards gently in my trembling hands

deep breaths as the glitter flies

shimmering sparks

of love

Angela Minard 2016©
Artwork by Anne Bachelier

No More

There is nothing in life that is certain, but most of the time our days flow in a predictable pattern, and that routine is comforting. 

Right now I feel as if I decided to climb into a rain barrel and allowed someone to push me from the edge of Niagara Falls. 

I made the choice to quit a job I had been at for a long time, I brought a puppy into our home, a couple of the boys moved out, and then one moved back in and brought their cat, I'm starting a new job, and I just sprained my foot on my third day at said new job! We need to sell our house, which will be another big change, and none of this is routine. Even good changes can be frightening, and so I find myself slipping into eating disordered behaviors. Relapse is part of recovery, but I thought I was past relapsing. It is difficult not to be disappointed in myself, especially when I'm working in a recovery facility. Beating up on myself is not helpful, and actually gives the eating disorder more power. Silence gives it power as well, and more than anything, I'm trying to let go of shame. 

I have been going through an intense trauma training in order to work in a psychiatric facility, but the training is bringing up my own trauma, which is painful. It makes me doubt myself, and if I have chosen the right path. I feel passionate about teaching yoga as a powerful tool for healing. I know I can help people, but I have to find a way to seperate from my pain while doing this job, otherwise I'm going to be in a world of hurt. 

I have had to slow down while trying to heal my foot, but that gives me more time with myself, more time to ruminate, and so here I am, writing through all of it.

Deep down, I know I can do this, and that everything will work out the way it is meant to happen. I have not arrived in this exact place without a reason. If I expect myself to be perfect, I most certainly will fail. If I believe that others expect perfection, I will also fail. I may tumble all of the way down, beaten and bruised, but smooth waters await if I can have faith and patience through this journey. I can only be honest with myself and others. I don't want to feel alone, and silence is a lonely place to live. It is okay to be exactly where I am, but if I keep it to myself, and hide my struggles, no one can help me. If I've learned anything through this recovery of self, it is that asking for help is crucial for healing to occur. I have so many more tools other than an eating disorder to fall back on, and this blog is one of them. I stopped writing because I was afraid to be honest, and afraid of letting people down. 

No more...

Venus

Venus

I can't speak anymore

of truth

of pain

without my heart lurching 
into the hollow cave 
of my throat

I hear the reverberating echo

of hate

the bitter taste of poison 

on my lips

seething anger fills my belly

You talk and talk and talk

about nothing

while we all 

go hungry

Angela Minard 2016©

Artwork by annadittmann.tumblr.com

Love Makes Sense

I haven't posted here lately, although I still write everyday. 

I'm feeling more private, and not as open about sharing. 

My navigation system is somewhat faulty at times...

I slept fitfully last night with nightmares of being held down and trapped. 

Those dreams are nothing new, but they often come when I am feeling unsafe in the world. 

The senseless massacre in Orlando weighs heavy on my heart. 

I was reading the listed names of the victims in a news article this morning while in the waiting room of a car dealership having my car serviced, and when I made it to the last name, I suddenly burst into tears. 

The horror hit me right away when the news broke, but it takes time for the reality to sink in. 

Real people, with lives, and families, and possibilities, all gunned down...

Why? 

When tragedies such as this take place, it is a helpless feeling, and of course, it is natural to want the world to make sense. 

Hating what makes someone different from you doesn't make sense. 

Violence doesn't make sense, and I don't care to ever understand. 

Love, compassion, and unity make sense, and so tonight when I teach my restorative yoga class, I hope that through community, we can all spread peaceful energy. 

The only way to begin to heal the world is by beginning with ourselves. 

Teach love and compassion in your home, let your family and friends know how much you love them, educate yourself so that ignorance doesn't stand in the way of understanding and compassion, and when in doubt, be kind anyway. 

"Lokah Samastah Sukhino Bhavantu" 

"May all beings everywhere be happy and free."

Wasted

If you close your eyes

am I no longer sitting before you

Can you wish me away

with these words you have heard before

stifling yawn after yawn 

like the wide open, endless yawn of time
wasted...

What good is trying to heal 

Continually ripping the bandage from the wound

too soon

As my silences lengthen

your eyelids flutter

the monotony of our conversations

growing as tiresome

as I am weary

Is this how you leave

or is this how I am leaving

Giving up on both of us 

before you can say goodbye

Angela Minard 2016©

About Caring

I saw this coming... 

I noticed the fatigue, the aching, the tightness in my chest suggesting a panic attack was imminent. I knew I needed to slow down, and had even planned a spring break breather. Fortunately, or unfortunately, my body is on it's own schedule, and spring break wasn't soon enough. The first sign was an unattractive fever blister, followed by the full blown flu. Thank you, Universe! I get it! There is always a lesson, and as my life came to a halt, I had no choice but to listen. 

I love being a caregiver. If you give me a chance, I will wrap you in a warm hug, and tell you how amazing you are. I'm not nearly as comfortable being the recipient, and that may be an understatement. While being sick, my lovely friends offered support, soup, pep talks, and love. When asked if I needed anything, I refused. It didn't matter. I was still well taken care of. I was embraced with care at every turn. Complete strangers cared for me, and it brought me to tears. I have arthritis in my hips, and I needed a steroid injection. On Monday morning, I went to the pain clinic here in town, ready for the giant, terrifying needle. The nurse who checked me in was soft spoken, and kind. She asked if I wanted a warm blanket while I waited. I said, "No, thank you." She draped a warm blanket over me anyway, placed her hand on mine, and smiled. The doctor and his assistant came in and talked with me. The assistant was a yoga teacher, so we chit chatted about yoga, and then she took me back to the doctor. Everyone was incredibly kind, and that kindness began to swell inside of me. That swelling feeling usually means tears, but I fought the good fight. I had the injection, and afterwards, again they asked if I wanted a blanket, or juice. 

"No, no, I'm fine, but thank you..."

Still, I was covered with a cozy blanket, and handed a cup of orange juice. My blood pressure was taken a few times, and when I was on my way out, the nurse who had been with me the most grinned, and whispered, "What is your favorite color?" She disappeared, and then returned with two pale purple tulips wrapped in green tissue paper. My throat was tight, but I managed to thank her as I left with my husband.  I'm uncomfortable with people caring about me, but it touched me deeply, and it made me think of how often I refuse kindness. Why? It is wonderful! As if that wasn't enough, when I returned to the studio to teach yoga on Thursday, my students were the sweetest! At the end of my class, I found two students cleaning up my room, and sweeping the floor for me. Accepting care feels awkward , but I am deserving of care, and as always, I learn from strangers, as well as my friends, family, and students. 

This life is...

Wow!

"The person you'll have the hardest time opening to and truly loving without reserve is yourself. Once you can do that, you can love the whole universe unconditionally."

~Adyashanti

Labels

I have had this blog now for about 8 years

It began as a recovery journal 
and has evolved into a space for poetry

positive thoughts 

and how yoga was the catalyst for my healing

but it is no longer about my destruction 

My identity is not the many diagnoses I have procured throughout the years

I am not anorexic or a PTSD acronym

depressed or suicidal 

I am not manic or bi-polar 

I am not a label 

I am a person...
sometimes happy

and sometimes sad 

I am scared, overwhelmed, giddy, and devastated 

I am human 

I am joyful, and insecure

doubtful, and filled with hope...

We are all a kaleidoscope of brilliant colors

and when our colors radiate out 

the magnificence blinds me 

My identity is more complex than all of those meaningless descriptors 
and yet we can easily allow ourselves to become trapped inside of empty boxes

We begin to wear these labels as an excuse 
and although they can be necessary for treatment 
they are not meant to be crippling
What if we began describing ourselves by our abilities and not our supposed disabilities?
Try something different
If all you ever talk about are your illnesses 
your pain
and why you can't do something
 trust me; you are pushing people away
and it is not because people don't care
At a certain point
if you do not move beyond those lifeless adjectives
you will drown in them
You deserve a life filled with a mosaic of beautiful colors
so begin painting your world with a new pallete
and see what happens

Artwork by~ Carol Cavalaris

Always Love

I have been thinking about healing

and yoga

and love...

Always love

I cannot practice without intention

I set an intention before every practice

and most of the time it is simply to be present with my breath

From the beginning

I needed change

and devotion

and love

I found all of those things through yoga

but also within myself

Self love has been the most difficult

but I am learning 

I want everyone to love me...

Today my friends son told me he didn't like me

He is five

and yesterday he liked me just fine

During savasana

all of a sudden my eyes flew open

wondering why he didn't like me! 

I'm the child sometimes...

It is normal to seek

to search

and to reach in all directions

How exactly does this work?

I want to do it right...

to be perfect

but perfect is never how we grow

and so it works best when I find compassion for my weaknesses

grace in the midst of making mistakes

and love for all that I am

At times I struggle to breathe...

As a child I had severe asthma

which carried over until my early twenties 

I would have nightmares about suffocating

or being buried alive

I would also have dreams where I couldn't move

or speak

I was trapped in silence

but no more...

I have a voice 

I have a strong body

this breath

and always 

love

Angela Minard 2015©

Artwork by~ Amanda Cass

Processing Time

I have worked with kiddos with autism for over fifteen years, as well as having my own son with autism. I'm used to waiting a longer amount of time for a response than what is considered average. People with developmental disabilities, as well as individuals with brain injuries have a longer processing time, so I wait...

I'm just now realizing that I have a longer than average processing time when it comes to my emotions. 

Feelings are unlabeled because I have no idea in the moment what is happening. 

I store my emotions like a chipmunk storing nuts for the winter, and then they explode before I even have a chance to make much sense of them. 

This is why I have a therapist to help me sort through the mess of feelings that confound and confuse me on an almost daily basis. 

Laughter, and joy are easier to accept, but sadness and anger I have labeled as bad, and off limits, so I do all kinds of inappropriate things with those emotions in particular. 

It is where my eating disorder came from, as well as self harm and dissociation. 

I turn my anger and sadness in the only direction I know, which is at myself. 

I have been taught some great skills from my treatment team, as well as from my yoga teachers, but they don't always work, and that is frustrating. 

Nothing is full proof, and when my tools fail me, I feel like a failure. 

My therapist tells me,"feeling is not being," and so feeling like a failure does not mean that I am a failure. 

Tonight I worked all day, went to therapy, and taught two yoga classes. 

I didn't have time to check in or acknowledge my feelings, but they still caught up with me. 

I came home, sat down, took a few deep breaths, and gahhhh...

I'm crying! 

Damn, I'm sad, happy, tired, and fucking confused...

Delayed emotional reaction in progress! 

I can't even get comfort when I need it most of the time, because when it hits me that I need it, there is no one around. 

It is no wonder that so often I feel alone...

I am not alone. 

I am loved. 

I am loved. 

I am loved. 

It just takes me awhile to feel it...