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

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©

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

Where Success is Measured by Failure

Where Success is Measured by Failure

"Call 911 or go to your nearest emergency room..."

where no one will know you 

or your history

where you will have zero access 

to anyone you even half way trust

where you will be drugged into oblivion 

pharmaceutical numbness;

where you will miss work

and be forced to lie 

in order to keep your job

where you learn 

to keep your fucking mouth shut

vowing that if it ever gets to this point

again

you will succeed

Angela Minard 2016©

Artwork~ "Incomplete" by thuyngan.deviantart.com

Friend, Not Foe

I am deeply and suddenly exhausted in a way that I think comes from surviving and living my life, which we are all doing in our own ways, but as a person with mental health issues, I am constantly having to find and use healthy coping skills. I am a highly anxious person which I think probably surprises many people, because I hide it well. My co-workers are always telling me how calm I am, but on the inside, I'm often tied in knots. I have been struggling with panic attacks, and intense worry over losing the important people in my life.  I hide because of shame. I have suffered since childhood with dissociative episodes, which means that it is common for me to lose chunks of time, where I remember nothing. It is how I coped with trauma, but now it is maladaptive, and no longer serves a purpose, and yet many things still trigger me to dissociate. I use a lot of energy trying to stay grounded, but also I'm worn out from the anxiety over whether or not I'm going to have a panic attack or dissociate. I have found many healthy coping skills such as yoga, meditation, deep breathing, and general self care, but I still fight my demons on a daily basis. 

I was on medication for many years, which I hated, and although I have generally done very well without medication, I'm back to looking in that direction to get some relief. I haven't decided yet, but it is an option I'm considering. I feel disappointed in myself that I don't handle stress in a "normal" way. I even feel angry in the amount of effort it takes for me to manage all of my symptoms, and then criticize myself for being whiny and ungrateful when other people suffer more than I do. Inside of my head there is constant arguing going on! I catch my negative self talk, and work on re-framing. I work hard on recovery, so I will take credit for that. I also have a deep passion to help other people to find their way through recovery, and that brings immense satisfaction.  

I realize that life is ever changing, but sometimes doesn't it seem like the universe is careening out of control? Maybe it is just me...

My dog is sick, my husband has a brain tumor, I worry about my kids lives, my jobs keep me running, and there are so many things going on at one time. I get easily overwhelmed, and I think too much about the small details that I lose sight of the big picture. I will handle whatever comes my way, because I have an excellent track record, but damn, it sure is terrifying at times! I am grateful for the people in my life who support and love me. I have an amazing life, and I am the one who allows fear to get in the way. I want to improve upon how I deal with stress, because I know it can be better. I have come such a long way, and I easily brush that aside because I'm used to kicking myself. Doing the best I can never seems good enough...

I need to treat myself more like a friend because being at war with myself has certainly never worked. 

Another Blog Post About Suicide

I've been sitting here for awhile now, staring at the blank white computer screen with the black cursor blinking at me, waiting for me to type my thoughts on this blog where I have been coming for many years. I'm struggling to put my emotions into words and to make sense of what I'm feeling in the aftermath of the death of Robin Williams. The dialogue on social media has been heartbreaking for me, and for the most part I have kept my distance because it opens up wounds that I'm trying to heal. I have been held in the vice like grip of depression. Twice I attempted to take my own life, and both times I was angry that I didn't succeed. At the time, I certainly could not see my own worth, and believed my husband and children would be better off without me. I had slowly been trying to starve myself for years, so once I had become nutritionally stable and weight restored, I had a whole new ball of wax to begin to deal with, and the descent into hell came quickly. I had numbed all of my emotions through my eating disorder, so on top of dealing with a new body, I was also being bombarded by emotions I had never before allowed. I was seeing a therapist, but I couldn't tell her or anyone else  about my continuous thoughts of wanting to end my life. I tried hard to go to work everyday with a smile on my face, although I felt I was drowning in quick sand, and the effort it took to get through each day became more and more excruciating. You cannot simply tell someone to see their own value, and expect that to happen. Life is not that simple or cut and dried. I'm not a role model, like a few people have suggested, merely because I survived. I didn't want to live, and for months after my attempts, I did not want to be here. I was far from grateful that I was alive. To tell you the truth, I have no idea when I made a conscious decision to live my life, and I certainly didn't do it alone. It was such a painstakingly slow process that I didn't even recognize that the thoughts were dwindling away. I do know that it is damaging for people to hear that suicide is selfish and cowardly. It shuts down communication, and makes it even more difficult for someone who is suffering from suicidal thoughts to reach out. It was the very reason that I couldn't reach out, so if any good is to come from the passing of Robin Williams, I hope it sheds more light on the subject of suicide and mental health, so that more sufferers will get the help they need.  I wish I could tell you that the thought of suicide never crosses my mind, but I would be lying. We all pass judgment at times, and we are all selfish at times, but if we can at least try to be compassionate and understanding, and truly look at where our fear and anger is coming from, this world would be a better place to live. Did anyone else need to write a blog post on this subject? Probably not, but did I need to get these thoughts out of my mind? Yes, I did, and I now feel like I can breathe a bit deeper. 

"I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness, and the willingness to remain vulnerable." ~Anne Morrow Lindbergh  ~from"Gift From The Sea"

*If you or anyone you know is in need of help please call The National Suicide Hotline 

1-800-273-TALK(8255)

Blogging For Human Rights~ Eating Disorders And Health Insurance

This is something that I wrote a few days before I was admitted to Renfrew Center, which is an in-patient eating disorder treatment facility. It was also the night that I almost committed suicide due to the stress of insurance and health care issues.

Today I am just trying to take each moment as it comes, but still, the emotion overwhelms me. I went this morning to have my lab work done. I have spoken with my supervisors at work, and now we are just dealing with the money and insurance issues. It is very hard not to feel like I'm a burden. This is going to wipe us out financially. I feel hopeful and hopeless all at the same time, which is very strange and frightening. I also feel such pressure from myself. My therapist says that there is no way that I can fail, but it is very hard from where I am sitting to see it that way. I do think about just ending all of this. I have never been in the place where I either want recovery so much, or I just want to give up. I don't have an in between place anymore. The middle is purgatory. I'm so tired... My heart is skipping... I need for it all to stop...

That night I was seconds away from taking a handful of pills when my oldest son happened to walk down the stairs just to tell me that he loved me. I felt such horrible guilt over our financial situation. I didn't want to be a burden. For so long I had been slowly starving myself to death and was finally able to reach out for help, only to be told that I wasn't sick enough.

Insurance would only cover a 21 day stay even though I was medically unstable and it was recommended that I stay for 60 days of treatment. Throughout my stay at Renfrew, it was a daily occurrence for young girls and women to be sent home against medical advice. Eating disorders are considered a mental illness, and of course, this country is not going to help the mentally disabled. How many people do we see living on the street who could live happy and productive lives if just given medical treatment?

For more information on eating disorders and medical treatment, go to Caringonline or Renfrew Center .

You shouldn't have to fix it all by yourself.