The Hero

I guess that this post needs a preface.  I am not in any way pro-anorexia.  It is destructive.  I know this.  I have seen its aftermath first hand over and over.  I am, however, thankful that my anorexia came in when it did to rescue me from a deplorable situation that I would not have been able to handle otherwise.  My anorexia, in its season, was a lifeline.  I am no longer in need of it.   But I do need to thank it for how it helped me when I could not find my voice. 

You slithered in like an unbidden snake, or like a welcome warm breeze.  Or both. 

Flailing, I was drowning in unfamiliar waters. Alone. Assailed by the ghosts of things unseen, unspeakable.  I didn’t know how to swim.  Heck,  I didn’t even know what water was.  I was ill-equipped, unequipped to navigate the consequences of the sins of those who seemed to me as saints. Stamped as evil, I waged a war against mere vapors, remnants of something that never happened.  I fought the air.

I had dreamt of a savior, a redeemer.  I had longed for someone, anyone, to come and purchase my soul back from the night.  Someone to purge me of the evil that followed me.  A pipe dream, until you came, a skeleton riding in on your white horse.

Yawning chasms emerged, emptiness of all self, removed a million lifetimes from the former ghosts. Your lullabies, in minor key, drowned out the screams of the demons of my drowning years.  Hunkered down, sinewy arms wrapped around an empty abdomen, I learned rebellion and anger. You held my hand, mirroring yours, as we took on the world.

You saved me from the monsters. You taught me to swim, and to emerge on dry ground.  You got me out, you grew me up, and you taught me safety.  You showed me how to scream with every deficient fiber of my frail, decaying body.  To scream without words, with no voice.

Translucent skin that they finally could see through. A heart that began beating the arrhythmias of the perversions of a thousand grievances. Miss-firing neurons that short circuited the repeat-play nightmares, leaving blissful white noise.  You re-wrote my body.

Without you, I would have been consumed in the brain-fire that no one would extinguish.  You poured your kind waters over me, removing the smoldering, blazing, searing red-hot pain.  You left me, a pile of ashes, and beauty has risen.  A Phoenix, I have flown, reborn.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

My Beautiful One

"The LORD of Hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our refuge." ~Psalm 46:7

this grateful mama

practicing gratitude and finding joy

mamiepackorg.wordpress.com/

marriage | motherhood | military life

Dirty Sci-Fi Buddha

Musings and books from a grunty overthinker

lessonsfromhome.co

homeschooling, homesteading, and healing from loss

Kingdom Habitation

Lord, I have loved the habitation of Your house, And the place where Your glory dwells. Psalm 26:8

~ L to the Aura ~

sustainability. compassion. inspiration.

HISsparrowBlog

identity through grace

Over the Teacups

Words of encouragement, truth and beauty

adaughtersgiftoflove

Encouraging and Empowering Women

SoulFuel

Words that fuel your soul and open your heart

Through the Stillness

A blog about things I ponder, things I care about, and things I strive to be.

Jumpstart Positivity

Jumpstart Your Life

Stacey Pardoe

Encountering God in the Ordinary

My Messy Desk

Messes. Memories. Masterpieces.

TammyKennington

Restoring hope. Pursuing peace.

Healthy with Jodi

Let Jodi help you get more fit and healthier today.

The Zebra Pit

Spoonie Health and Wellness Blog

Jamison Writes

Not Like The Whiskey

%d bloggers like this:
search previous next tag category expand menu location phone mail time cart zoom edit close