Wednesday, May 26, 2010

"i am not hungry. i already ate."

Anonymous, age 18


twenty three beads on each side. forty six in total. red beads; red is a primary color. a bracelet, my bracelet, tightly surrounding my wrist. i am not hungry. i already ate. i do not feel well. i will eat later. i tell myself what to believe, tell everyone the familiar lies that are supposed to disguise my hunger. the number changes as i feel the release, running miles around my subtle disbelief that maybe i am already enough. following the rules i have applied to my life. collar bones are beautiful, my legs are fat, the feeling after not eating for a day makes you stronger - imagine the feeling after going on longer, running on empty, pretending like you are not wasting away. count the calories. calories in, energy out. burn more than you eat. one hundred is a big number, do not break one hundred, you must weigh ninety five when you graduate next fall, i remind myself over and over, the memories from back when i was only ten. you need to eat. they remind me of why i am so weak, so cold, so drained of life, so on the edge, to tired, so consumed with sickness. i have a red beaded bracelet with forty six beads that fits around my bony left wrist and subtly reminds me that all my thoughts are disordered, and i eat weird and that everyone is right. that the mirror is lying and that i am making myself sick, dying to be something i have always been. it reminds me of the fear of becoming fat, but it twists it around, making me feel like i already am and that i have to take control before i lose it all. it is not all about beautiful. it has never been only about beautiful. it has been about control, when i became a vegetarian five years ago. it has been about being accepted, feeling like skinny is all i have. it is about fear, of self and of growing and of getting older. it is about the voices from my childhood that replayed over and over, never letting me forget, giving me something to hold onto when i felt like i had nothing left, that turned into lies i find hard to turn away from. it is about feeling, about dealing with everything, about living life with a sense of belonging, even if i only fit into the statistics. it is about a story, my story, of how my life began: three months too early, one pound and six ounces, and how i survived, even though the doctors doubted. my life story about where i am today, how i got here. a story i am willing to tell four hundred times more, because maybe someone is listening and maybe they will see that i know what it feels like to desperately try to change the reflection, and i know the hold it has, but i know freedom exists on the outside. i have a little red beaded bracelet as a reminder of who i once was, of the anorexic sickness that i lived, but that was never really me, that was never all i was. there is more to the story, my story. there is always so much more than the skin and bones, or the red beaded bracelet cutting off her circulation.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

"I literally wanted to disappear." Portia de Rossi, actor

"[While anorexic] it just seemed like I literally wanted to disappear. And now I would like to reappear.” Portia de Rossi, actor

Read a great interview with
here (the bits about having an eating disorder are on pages 3 and 4)

Look out for her upcoming memoir in Fall 2010. Read more about it here.

Monday, May 24, 2010

"He says please don't give up on me yet."

Colleen, age 14. Kentucky.

Title: Beautiful Sight

I can't believe what I see before my eyes
It's such a beautiful sight
I can finally sleep at night
and I'll be alright

Healing is hard
and it takes a long time
but you just got to try
It's hard to make it on your own
It's easier if you have a hand to hold

It's not so cold
and it's the last day of November
I've realized now
That I've made it so far from so close
It's not so cold
and it's the last day of November
I've realized now
That I've held on for so long
instead of letting go

Maybe it's his eyes
or his crooked smile
that makes me believe everything will be alright
and tonight I'll fall asleep into a dream
of an almost reality
because I finally believe that I can be happy

(Bridge and Chorus)

He says please don't give up on me yet
Makes me want to cry
I finally realize
I have a purpose in life
Oh, and it's such a beautiful sight.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

"I can't get through a day without an OCD thought. I wish I could." Howie Mandell, comedian

"I can't get through a day without an OCD thought. I wish I could." Howie Mandell, comedian

You can read about Howie's experiences with OCD

Also check out his book Here's the Deal: Don't Touch Me.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

"Where hope grows."

Sarah Plumb, age 31. Ontario, Canada.

My brain is never chatters incessantly...lying to me. I need peace but I'm often on the edge of insanity..SCREAM, CRY, LAUGH like mad. I know I'm in here somewhere but I'm lost in a sea of sadness, obsession and compulsion. Where did it all start?
I see a tiny soul, fresh, new and bewildered by her surroundings. Danger, rushing, fear, cries. Her mother disappears...little soul didn't get to touch her. She was floating in a peaceful ocean then ripped out and damaged. Fear, FEAR rules her life now. Even sleep no longer calms. Such fear, of abandonment, loss, even fear of fear. It's all consuming. Such a change from ocean to sea--nightmares, no peace.

Then finally a light--a hot pink ray of hope. She can't always see it but it's there...always waiting to be freed. It's her natural, pure state. So close yet sometimes so far. So much ground covered but so much more yet to be travelled. The hot pink hope will find her...or is it she that uncovers that hope? There's so much unexplored but life gets in the way. Life is exhausting...too much. She needs balance. The edge can reveal beautiful scenic views. Maybe the edge of sanity and insanity IS the balance. Maybe it's where hope grows.

Friday, May 14, 2010

"Suffering will molt itself completely from your calloused, broken skin."

Kina Nicole, age 17. California.

So, you’re a sick little girl, eh? Think you’ve been broken? Well, when you get to have has many scars as I do, understand that any suffering will molt itself completely from your calloused, broken skin.. Snakes are vulnerable when their vibrant patterns- the diamond back rattle snake: like a vintage disco shirt, bold paisley stretched across a young woman’s blooming breasts; begin to stretch and fade. Its then though, you realize this stop was well needed, a time to let go of everything that once inhibited you while sober and conscious. It feels good to pick off those remaining dermis flakes, still clinging onto the old you, the you that no one liked. Get that last one, DNA attainment isn’t a deciding factor, the flicks of emotion pressing against the naturally enunciated lining on your soft, unspoken lips will deteriorate when this earth is moist and ready, along with the rest of your insecure self. New, tight confidence suffocating tender muscles. When you coil in anticipation; pseudo-anxiety fumes leak between your scales, compensating the lack of what would be there had you raced to the finish line-genuine fear, the predator is led under false pretenses and is oblivious to what his imminent actions would cause. Only a short breath away, his malicious intent sent chilling vibrations into the innermost backbone you just grew and you bit off the man’s prick. Confidence tastes good, you sense the air with forked hissing around the wounded thing, and you decide that you're going to swallow his, whole.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

"The heart puts the head to work "

Nafeesah Haliru, age 17. Nigeria.

Under the moonlight
Without a prelude
Our hearts formed chorus
In rhythm of ecstasy they beat

Descrescendo to crescendo
Bounding in harmony
In the gentle breeze
Our fears blew away

In speechless melodies
Our hearts kept racing
Love flowing in high tempo
We gave in

In duration of interval
Our hearts reached out
With no doubts
Hitched we re in love s chord

In the mist of stars
In unison they sang
Triad (passion, dreams, desires)
Magically turned into reality

Passing throuph dried leaves
Hearts met in the middle
The highest pitci of emotions...
Flowing through

Under the moonlight
Differences we let go
Passionately we held on
To the slow music we danced

The fire of my desire
In your sight all are quenched

The power of your gaze
Cleansing thoroughly my heart doubts

Crystal clear...So pure
With a free mind I live

Star-like...ever sparkling
It bauble me with rays of hope

Perfection I've seen...
That motivate the soul

Inspired by a glance
The heart puts the head to work

Out and about
Sights I've captured but no similarities

The future is not certain
But confidently I passed moments of uncertainty

Lost in mystery
I remain calm like the deep blue sea

Bewildered by ways of life
Steadily...pieces found their places

High have gone the pace of time
Smoothly I sailed

The light that shines...
Through the thick nights and heavy days

All I found
In your eyes

Monday, May 10, 2010

"Feeling like i can break free."

Priscilla Hennen, age 27. Leesburg, Virginia.


i live this life
scarred and broken
uncomfortable in my own flesh.
the pain and fear
rising burning within
stealing my breath
threatening to engulf me.
my only escape
comes closer to destroying me
every time i give in.
i hit my knees
crying out to something
that i can't see
feeling the waves
wash over me
feeling the warmth
feeling the love
feeling like i can break free.
as soon as i feel
a bit of peace
the sadness
it rises.

Friday, May 7, 2010

"Everything circles around and back again."

Anonymous, age 17.

Guilty of Goodbye

I need to get away and
I play the radio loud
When I drive in my car
Because it makes me feel less alone

And you are in the seat beside me
But you are not here
So I wave at everyone that we pass,
And it makes me feel less alone

My worth falls out, dignity worn thin
Everything circles around and back again
I cut the chains, I cut the switch,
And no longer do I have to feel alone

There may be no shoes larger
Than the ones I have outgrown
But, in time, you might understand
That nothing feels more like home

Thursday, May 6, 2010

"I can't even cry it out...Not even a thousand tears."

Nafeesah Haliru, age 17. Nigeria.

I hate this part
When everything is so cold
My head knowing you gone...My heart believing you would always be here

I hate this part
When all I feel is this hurt in my heart
Even though I have to smile to make believe all is well

I hate this part
When I just sit with pictures of you running through my mind
Wishing years could go back to bring you next to me

I hate this part
When all the memories of you close to me bring up the oppurtunities of saying the words

I hate this part the most
When I see you run past me
Only to see it was my mind playing with my heart.

In the pool of confusions
I longed for answers
Dried leaves in heavy winds
Dancing to the rhythm of the breeze
My mind...My mind
Is not at set

Crawling on wounded knees
In the agonies of sufferings
I strived for my freedom
With a teary eye I watched
My rights...My rights
Snatched by evils of hearts

Through time I walked
Days into nights
With all solemnities
I craved for this moment
But now...But now
Silently I watched it pass

Lost in the wind of love
A home I found in a heart
Dream-like yet so real
A hit was never close mind
O love...O love
Reality I face

Looking out of my window
All I could think of was your last smile to me
It has been long...more like ages but that moment has frozen in time
Your sweet words...
Your words of confidence...
Keep ringing in my head
You were mine and I just don't understand why my hands can't reach you now
Is it anything I said?
Is it what I didn t do?
There are thousands and thousands of questions that still remain un-answered
In my heart...I feel you so close
It's hard to believe you re gone
Awake...Memories never let seconds pass
Asleep...Dreams never let your face fade
I feel you in my heart
Stronger than ever I know I LOVE YOU
Days and nights...You keep passing me but why can't you just stop
Just for a moment
Not words
No words...could ever put what my heart carries down
Not tears
No tears I've not cried
I feel it in my heart
Yet I can t put it into words
I can't even cry it out...Not even a thousand tears

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

"Cutting a line that starts out thin."

K. Quimby, age 19. North Carolina.

Done With A Twist

Feeling the cool tile floor against her face

No one to warm her in a big embrace

She wonders how she got like this

Looking down at her cut up wrists

On her wrists she sees unbearable scars

This time she took it way too far

Putting the razor to her skin

Cutting a line that starts out thin

Going deeper than ever before

She just lays there on the floor

As the blood flows out of her wrist

Using the razor for just one last twist

Letting all the blood drain

She feels no more pain

It’s over and done with

Another scar with a twist

Picking herself up off the floor

She is heading to the door

Grasps the door knob tight

She says it’s just another night

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

"You will drown in your own sorrow."

Carol Linton, age 38

The sobbing of the rain
I hear her collapse in pain
On the grey slab
splatter and opened wound
trickle a tear, or two
and you will drown in your own sorrow
an ocean is man made

Monday, May 3, 2010

"Barely there, striving for a reflection you will never reach."

Now that the poetry contest is over, YouMakeMeFeelLessAlone is is back with posts from YOU! Check back weekly for new posts...and send in your prose, poems, and artwork. Read the submission guidelines here.

Your words are powerful. Your words can help people. Share them.

Anonymous, age 18
[step one:]
"my life in a manila folder, scripted for diagnosis. they quote me, writing down my pain of logic, treating it as a side affect. i am scheduled a next appointment - policy. i am considered by statistics, their only determination to cure me. as i am introduced to my aid, they mark my progress with another prescription. i am given a new prospective to life, with vague conception beyond these sterile walls: they are creating my recovery out of medical terms i am bound to understand someday, yet i am reminded 'this is the easiest part.' as i stumble into yet another step towards..... i wonder where it all ends."

[redefine me:]
"one hand on your protruding hip bone, one finger down your throat, breathing deeply in denial, convincing smile, hiding the frantic rush of control. running on empty desperately after a shallow sense of value to fill you up; wasting away in a media driven prospective, giving you little room to see. you feel the gentle break of identity as you fit into the style, conforming to the paper doll appeal. barely there, striving for a reflection you will never reach; dying to impress the goddess of thin. they glimpse across your presence, not knowing the girl blinded by the sight, believing the lies telling her she is not enough. and the memory of beauty is all that remains as you lose yourself. 'beauty, redefine me.....' was the beginning of disaster, Beautiful. they forget to tell you the truth."