Eating Disorders, Depression, and Self-Harm

I'm a bit behind on posting the latest weekly videos here on the blog. I remember to tweet them and FB 'em, but somehow forget to embed them here after they go up on YouTube.

We've started a rotation about eating disorders and comorbity - there are so many conditions we'll be discussing. Here's from 2 Wednesdays ago:

We Are All Special

I know that sounds like something out of a children's book, but it's true. So hear me out.

So often, there is a feeling of "specialness" associated with having an eating disorder. It's a big part of the reason people are afraid to really recover. They fear losing that specialness, that part of them that makes them someone, that feeling of power, that deep seated persona.

The thing is, we are all special. Specialness does not die with your eating disorder--it just gets re-applied, reassigned to something WORTH that feeling.

Why are bones special? Or feelings of hunger? Or conquering those feelings of hunger? Or being in control of depriving ourselves day after day? Why is self-sabotage special? Will holding onto unhealthy ways really keep us special? It's a fallacy. Believe me. It is.

Depression. Dying. Misery. Pain. Confusion. Since when are those things special? I mean, really special?

Your mission, if you choose to accept it: FIND OUT what REALLY makes you special.

Because I promise you--it's NOT your eating disorder.

To the Girl

This is to the girl who lost her friends,

Became a loner or made amends.

This is to the girl who learned to cope

With strange devices, minus hope.

This is to the girl who cried all night

And wished someone could hold her tight.

This is to the girl.

This is to the girl who finds her way,

Year by year and day by day.

This is to the girl who’s growing up

And wondering, “Am I enough?”

This is to the girl who falls apart

Because there’s pain inside her heart.

This is to the girl.

This is to the girl who gives away

All her power without a say.

This is to the girl who starves, or cuts,

Or binges hard and then throws up.

This is to the girl who drowns her pain

In alcohol or self-disdain.

This is to the girl.

This is to the girl who cries afresh

Each time she sees her own real flesh.

This is to the girl who loses sleep

Because anxiety is steep.

This is to the girl who longs for eyes

That see her as the perfect size.

This is to the girl.

This is to the girl who wakes up sad

And lives her whole life feeling bad.

This is to the girl who needs a hand

But thinks no one will understand.

This is to the girl who wants escape

From food, or numbers, fear, or rape.

This is to the girl.

This is to the girl in all of us,

Struggling still to be enough.

This is to the girl—this is to you,

From another girl who was there too.

This is to the girl.

This is to the girl who’s in my heart,

Who’s in my head at each day’s start.

This is to the girl—this is to you,

From another girl who was there too.

This is to the girl.

© Arielle Lee Becker 2008

I know you’re out there. And I’m right here. For you, I’m here anytime: arielle.becker@gmail.com

Reach out.