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. 

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! 

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©

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

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©

Purgatory

Purgatory

When I was a child

 I would play the "breath holding" game with myself

It wasn't the kind of 

"breath holding to gain attention from parents" game

It was simply a challenge

How long could I deprive myself of air?

 life?

The strangest thing is that the longer you hold your breath

the more alive you feel

The heart beats even louder and more ferociously

The body warms and trembles to stay alive

until eventually the mouth flies open

like an ugly, gasping Piranah

an exhale that feels like failure

worn like shame...

As I grew up

breath holding evolved into food withholding

It was simply a challenge

How long could I deprive myself of food?

Long enough for my heart to beat erratically

for my muscles to cramp

 and to shiver all day

even in the summer

Feeling alive...

this slow act of suicide

How long could I press my fingers into my flesh

before I would feel the pain?

the belly I loathed dotted with perfect thumb sized bruises

Where is this poem leading?

to life?

death?

or somewhere

in between...

Angela Minard 2016©

Artwork~ "Hungry" by Leslie Ann O'Dell

Porcelain

Porcelain

Her heart...

imploding

exploding

there is no other way

escape is merely an illusion

but oh, how she tries

less than a whisper into the darkness

the shadows obscure certainty

tiny fists clutching monstrous deceptions

her heart holds it well

Wide eyes

 close

 open

close

open

as if made of porcelain

a vacant, blinking doll

The most beautiful treasures

are veiled

beneath harsh desert skies

like a mirage

resplendent

and yet seemingly unreachable

to love big

is to get small and quiet

until all you can hear

is the truth

Her heart...

imploding

exploding

there is no other way

Angela Minard 2016©

Deserving Pain

I have been in pain for weeks, clenching my jaw through yoga practices, and doing the opposite of what I tell my students to do, which is to listen to and honor their bodies. It isn't the first time I have pushed through pain. Emotionally and physically, it is how I lived for a very long time. Although recovered from anorexia, the toll it took on my body has left my bones and joints weak from osteoporosis. I developed osteoarthritis specifically in my hip joints, and eventually they will both need to be replaced. I manage the pain with medication, but occasionally need steroid injections to decrease the inflammation. I have been teaching a lot of classes, and physically exhausting myself. The added pain is wearing me down. I went in to see the orthopedic surgeon, and the nurse took my temperature. I had a fever of 101.8. I have no idea why. I don't have a cold or anything. I just feel exhausted. I love teaching yoga, but it is difficult when you don't feel well. I'm feeling down today because I couldn't get the injection with a fever. I started to beat myself up with negative self talk, as if the anorexia was a choice, and I brought this all on myself. I know better, but I went there for awhile. Eating disorders are mental illnesses, and not a choice. I don't deserve to be in pain, and I worked hard to get where I am today. I gave myself a pep talk, and I know it will all work itself out as long as I don't allow myself to be defeated by my own mind. Impeccable self care is needed, along with compassion and patience. All of those are a challenge for me, but I can do it! 

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...

Illuminated

The main reason that I started writing this blog was to sort out my thoughts and emotions throughout my recovery process. The reasons that I continue are not only for those same reasons, but also because I have learned that it is important to myself and others, to be vulnerable. I am as honest as I can be here, because we all share some of the same hopes, fears, and basic human tendencies. When I realized I wasn't alone, the world was not nearly as frightening. I'm recovered from anorexia, but that certainly doesn't mean that I don't still struggle with my body image. I do. I'm in the public eye every day as a yoga teacher, and I'm not the hard bodied, lean yoga teacher. I'm the short, curvy yoga teacher, with extra bits here and there, and most days, that is okay. It never matters once I step my feet on my yoga mat because for fuck's sake, it doesn't matter! The days that it does matter, I need to take a few steps back, and ask myself why. It is never about my weight. It is usually about avoiding a feeling, or a myriad of feelings, which brings me to this...

My sweet friend Monica, www.illuminatespirit.com is someone I met at Darling Yoga. She is a massage therapist, yogi, and amazing photographer. She asked if she could take some yoga photographs of me, and I froze! I admire her work, the photographs she has taken of our friends are beautiful, but I wasn't sure about the idea for me personally. It is not that I think I'm ugly. I take a selfie here and there, but I'm the one in control. I can delete, and I never take body shots. That is sad, isn't it?! I avoid the mirror at all costs in the studio. When I'm moving through my practice, I feel beautiful. Flowing with the rhythm of my breath is like dancing with the most graceful partner who anticipates your every move. It is never wrong. It is yoga...union...

Monica is such a sweet, and gentle soul, but I was nervous. I barely remember the ride to our location, and still don't know where we went. It was a beautiful fall day, with a touch of crispness to the air. I was giddy and flighty, but as soon as I would settle into a posture and breathe, it was yoga; my home, where I am safe. We laughed together, and I do remember that the location had huge houses that looked like English mansions. It was more fun than I thought it would be, but then the fear of actually seeing the finished product was terrifying! I know only too well how critical I am of every perceived flaw. I am strong in my recovery, but I still remember...

I am fearful of anything shaking my foundation, and what if I was disgusted by my extra bits? What if it sent me into starvation mode? What if I disappointed Monica by not being happy with her photographs? Every time she would see me, she would reassure me. 

"You need to see what we all see when you practice. You are beautiful." 

Last weekend, she texted me to let me know she had sent me the link to her website to look at the photographs. A half hour later she texted me back, wondering, but I hadn't looked. I was scared! I went to the studio to practice, and she was there after class with her laptop. Beaming, she said, "This one is my favorite!" It also happened to be my favorite pose. Eka Pada Raja Kapotasana~Mermaid pose. I remember the light, the trees, and how the breeze felt on my skin. It was beautiful because I felt beautiful. Again, it had nothing to do with what I looked like, but how I felt. It was exactly like what I'm always telling my students. "Feel the pose from the inside out, because that is when you know." When you allow yourself to feel, you know everything! 

Thank you Monica, for the gift of knowing, and for making it comfortable, sweet, and painless. I love you. 

Never and Always

Never and Always

There is never enough time

to tell you everything

the questions always come too late

and I am left waiting  

for another chance

"What do you want to ask me?"

Searching your face

disarmed by your gaze

I look away

The words seem to vanish

without an answer

only the beat of my heart

thundering, yet insignificant

a resounding ache...

There is never enough time

to shatter the silence

and I am always left wanting

and waiting

for another chance

Angela Minard 2015©

Giving and Receiving

I want to follow up on my "Friendships and Loss" post, because although that loss was painful, and occasionally stings, I do not dwell on it any longer. In the past few years I have developed a circle of friends who rally around me, love me unconditionally, and continually make me laugh to the point of aching cheeks and throbbing belly. It was difficult to have relationships with people when anorexia was my constant companion, so I didn't have many friends. I know it was confusing and painful for anyone close to watch me struggling, and I lost a couple of friends in the process. Friendships, and relationships in general are important to me, and maybe because I spent so many years building walls, I crave true connection. I feel loved because I allow myself to feel love. I'm hugged so many times a day that I lose count. How great is that?! Working in a yoga studio definitely doesn't hurt. Those yogis are huggers! They also tell you that they love you, and they mean it. I'm in a very loving environment daily, and that has fed my starving soul. On my birthday, my friends took me out for meals, they sent me videos singing me "Happy Birthday," they gave me sweet, hand written cards, thoughtful gifts, and my feet were rubbed during savasana! This year I embraced it all because life is too fragile not to allow yourself to receive such beautiful gifts. It is only through loss, I suppose, that you can truly appreciate the abundance of love and life that surrounds you. Fearing loss is my nemesis, and my fear often gets in the way of appreciating what is right in front of me. I am blessed with so many people whom I love, and I feel such true caring and love in return. As much as my feelings can overwhelm me, even the good feelings, I'm learning how to receive. The quote below is so powerful because all of my life, although I felt I was a giving person, I was not. I could never ask for help. I found it weak, and shameful. I never wanted to seem needy, and so often my needs were not met. 

I'm learning...always.

"Until we can receive with an open heart, we're never really giving with an open heart.

When we attach judgment to receiving help, 

we knowingly or unknowingly attach judgment to giving help."

 ~Brene' Brown

How It Feels

This is dissociation as I experience it~

Sitting with a group of friends, I'm surrounded by their familiar laughter. I vaguely feel the muscles of my face contort into the shape of a smile, although it feels somewhat ghoulish, and I'm aware of a floating sensation in my limbs, hollow, and yet strangely weary. The rise and fall of conversation is barely an echo that I'm desperately trying to grasp a hold of within my mind. I am a stranger in these moments of separation, watching with detached curiosity before I slip into oblivion... 

I'm learning to catch myself before falling...

Counting the length of my inhales and exhales, or naming everything I see that is the color blue, anything to remind myself that I am a part of this world. I've stopped asking myself why because the reasons are many, and complicated. I can't always figure them out, and sometimes I think they are more internal than external. If I tried to avoid the triggers, I would be a recluse, and even that wouldn't solve the problem. I think that part of the reason I love yoga is because the teacher is constantly cuing you back to your body, back to your breath, and back to the sensations within and around you. I need constant reminders or I drift away. I daydream, fantasize, or catastrophize, and I wonder if it is because I somehow think this will help me control my environment, or prepare me for any and all situations. FYI, it does not! It only causes crazy amounts of anxiety and stress! I think back to only a few years ago, when deep depression was all I knew, and it is a different beast. I will take this over depression any day, but I'm one to never be satisfied. I always want more, or better. I often beat myself up because I think I want too much, but I'm working on challenging those thoughts. I'm always telling my yoga students that they are deserving of care because I know how deeply those words touched me as a student. 

We are deserving...

I am deserving of a life free from dissociation, depression,  and eating disorders.  

I'm finding a way. 

It isn't perfect, and that is also okay. 

I'm on a journey...

an adventure,

 and like all adventure stories, there are monsters and dark nights. 

There are also beautiful winged creatures, 

and one day I trust that I will fly...

 "Since the earliest period of our life was pre-verbal, everything depended on emotional interaction. Without someone to reflect our emotions, we had no way of knowing who we were." ~John Bradshaw-"Healing the Shame that Binds You"

Today Is My Birthday

Today is my birthday...

the final year of this decade in my forties.

It has been tumultuous to say the least. 

I clawed my way through, 

sometimes barely hanging on,

but here I am! 

I would like to say it was a beautiful ride,

but not so much...

At first glance, 

you may have even wanted to avert your gaze, 

but there was quiet celebration 

if you could focus your gaze long enough to see the details. 

The celebration in no particular order, because I find them all to be miracles...

• Finding my voice, which meant finally speaking out about being raped
• Going to therapy
• Getting treatment for anorexia which meant going inpatient and being away from my family
• Surviving two suicide attempts{Feeling my feelings was overwhelmingly painful, and I wanted to die.} I'm thankful that I was not successful. 
• Finding yoga and an accepting community
• Continuing to work through the process of trauma with my amazing therapist and nutritionist
• Graduating from yoga teachers training.
• Teaching yoga, and especially serving the community of people struggling with eating disorders and PTSD. 
• Working through continuing panic attacks, and symptoms from PTSD. {I decided to go off of all pharmaceutical medication two years ago, and there have been some ups and downs, but I have learned many tools to deal with my anxiety. That does not mean that I may never again need medication. It was beneficial to my recovery, and I will never rule it out}   

*I was just offered a job to teach yoga in a hospital based intensive outpatient eating disorder treatment facility, and that has been my dream ever since I discovered the power of yoga for recovery from my eating disorder. 

**49 is feeling good! 

Like the Lotus Flower

They say that the most stunning flower of all, the lotus, grows in the filthiest part of the pond, feeding on its filth to produce its beauty. My therapist also likes to say that strength comes from falling face down, sucking mud, and still being able to rise up and move forward.  I try to remember this when the pain and shame cause me to feel dirty and flawed. I work through it every day, and some days are easier than others, but I am healing and creating beauty through the practice of yoga. There are still days when I put on my yoga clothes, which are not forgiving, by the way, and I look into the mirror, and I don't love what I see. Some days I even think about staying home and hiding instead of walking into a class full of people, where I'm exposed. Recovery is like that. I'm not this women who recovered perfectly from anorexia, and never looks back. I would like to be, but then again, each time I look back, I learn something new about why I sometimes fall into disordered thoughts or behaviors. It is never about weight, or food, or appearance, but what else I'm trying to control or avoid. During those moments in the mirror, when I'm struggling with the bitch in my head, who I know very well is me, I still walk out the door and go to the studio, and I get on my mat. As soon as I center myself, feeling the solid foundation of the earth beneath me, all of that crap falls away. I never feel more beautiful than when I'm flowing with my breath, and it has absolutely nothing to do with what I look like or if the postures are all in perfect alignment. I often tell my students to first feel the posture from the inside. For me, this is where the yoga begins, with breath, creating space in the body, rooting into the present moment, expanding and contracting, dancing with the breath. When you can pinpoint how a posture makes you feel on the inside, you can recreate that feeling anytime you need it. My therapist who doesn't even practice yoga, helped me discover this by moving me through postures during our sessions. She would say, Do a pose that makes you feel strong, or safe, or joyful, or whatever emotion she is helping me to tap into, and it helps because I'm not always skilled at knowing how I'm feeling. I checked out of my life by denying strong emotions for a long time, so it is still new to me, and sometimes I lose my footing. The mud is always there, but I have faith that like the lotus flower, I will not only rise, but bloom. 

Touch

Touch

I knew exactly where it was hiding

beneath my sternum

 longing to reach inside

fingers searching for the center of the wound

I wanted to press into the ache

until it radiated throughout my entire body

begging to see the poison

some confirmation of damage

I remembered playing my bones

like an instrument in the darkness

my fingertips dipping into the hollowness

I knew exactly where it should have been

but there was nothing to soothe

Now, buried underneath this flesh

breathing its own breath

alive

I still cannot capture

this pain

Angela Minard 2015©