mended

Tonight I couldn’t sleep. So I ate popcorn and watched Grey’s Anatomy at 1:30 in the morning. I finished all that’s on Netflix and I didn’t know what to do with myself after.

On Macs, at the top of the screen, there are saved bookmarks. Maybe they tell a lot about a person. Mine probably reveal that I’m super boring. One of them I haven’t clicked on in about 6 months, and it was tumblr.

So I went and looked at my tumblr from so long ago and I found a blog full of beautiful pictures. Of dogs. Of nature. Of little stone homes in foreign countries. Of food, lots of it. Of flowers and skyscapes and all these beautiful images. And it made me cry.

Because I can’t remember posting a single one of those images. Those beautiful pictures - the things I saw and connected with, that I defined as beautiful and lovely and wanted to remember them - to associate them with who I am. I can’t remember looking at any of them though. I had no idea what to expect as I scrolled through my blog, but what I found was me.

6 months ago I was starving. I had an eating disorder. It first started the summer before my senior year of high school and it clung to me for my first two years of college. But 6 months ago, somehow, I started to eat. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. It’s still hard. But it’s also the most worthwhile, the most best thing that I could have done.

For the first time in a long time, I am not starving. I am not underweight. I am not terrified of food, controlled by it. I am not dying from it. But for so long I was. It stole so much from me. So much time, so many memories.

I think the fact that I couldn’t remember any of those posts from my tumblr was a reminder to me of what I was. I can’t remember much of high school or the past two years. Sometimes people will say something to me -- when they first met me or what I was like when I first started counseling and I can only listen and wonder where I was and how I became okay with the fact that I was starving - that that was what I wanted and I wanted most desperately for me.

In October I started writing poems for the first time since I started struggling with anorexia. And I kept writing. I still am writing.

I ended up writing my story on paper. It’s a hard story to read, but it’s a story of freedom. It’s mine, all of it. How I found freedom -- freedom that I never believed would be possible. Freedom that others told me for years I could find, and now I know what it can look like.

Heartbeat Sound is the name of my book of poetry. It’s 500 pages of my story from the past year. It’s hard. A lot of it is hard to read. But I think some of it is good. It’s my struggle, my healing, my eating disorder, my fighting to find God and truth in my life.

It’s got some hard themes. Within those pages, I struggle with the desire to live, to be free, and to unwind truth from the lies I came to know and be known by. There are a few curse words. There are some poems that are so dark I can’t really read them anymore most of the time. There are hard things. But I decided that I will not delete, change, or rewrite any of my poems.

This is the story I have been given. I’m tired of lying, pretending, letting it rule over me. I want to share it with you. I want to give it to with the hope that you find something, anything within its lines. I’m scared, terrified. But I also believe that I need to share, to show what God has done for me in my life. The people he’s put in it. The journey I waded through to see what he wanted for me. So I shall share it with you soon.

I have been thinking of submitting it to some publishers, but I’m not sure. I may just go ahead and self publish again like I did with Riley Girl. Either way, any way, some way I am going to put it out there.

I am excited, nervous, terrified, happy, crying, wise, naive. I am loved, brave, scared, and growing. Healing, breaking, being grown into something. Saved, redeemed, given a second chance at life. I am lucky. I am alive. I was still me, in some magical way, 6 and 8 and 24 months ago, but now I get the freedom to be more me than I have in years. And that me can’t wait to do this adventure called life with you.

“What is broke can be mended. What's hurt can be healed. No matter how dark it gets the sun is gonna rise again." - Meredith Grey

I mean, I couldn’t not end with a Grey’s quote, because I am still me, and I am still cheesy.

Much love always,

Gabbie