Many years ago, I was at a women’s retreat deep in the heart of East Texas. The weekend’s focus was on renewing friendships, overcoming obstacles and embracing the best parts of our inner self. At the beginning of the retreat, each person was given a stack of note cards with strict directions to guard what we’d written on them. “Some things are meant to be shared. These are not those things. These are for your eyes only. Use as many as you need, but safe guard every one.” Each card was to hold one hurt, one regret, one painful memory. By the end of the retreat, all of my note cards were full.

The last night of the retreat, a bonfire was created and there, under the stars, a crowd of women gathered to cast their note cards into the flames.

A symbolic gesture, yes, but a very powerful one.

Fire has the ability to both destroy and create new life.

Watching my note cards turn to dust, I saw all of my pain metaphorically drift away in ashes.

What was, was no longer.

I’ve thought a lot about that bonfire. How many issues did I “destroy” and then carry around with me for another ten years?

What about forgiveness of self is so hard that no matter how many times it’s “forgiven”, it seems to come back, mightier than before?

Being able to move past the pain and use it for something positive is something everyone should aim for.

Because then, and only then, can fire create new life.

Our world is filled with examples of people who have used the tragedy in their lives to benefit others. One of the most powerful stories like this is that of John Walsh, founder of “America’s Most Wanted” and the driving force behind the passage of the legislation that created the Center for Missing and Exploited Children.

In 1981, Walsh’s son Adam was abducted for a Sears store. His severed head was found 120 miles away but his body, and his killer, have never been found.

But today, the case was closed. The killer? Probably a deceased pedophile who had admitted twice to killing Adam, took officials to the store when Adam was abducted and then to the place where Adam’s head was found, and then recounted his story.
http://www.cnn.com/2008/CRIME/12/16/walsh.case.closed/index.html

Today is a day of great healing for the Walsh family.

Today, their note cards were put into the fire and turned to ash.

New life, indeed.

Forgiveness takes time. Sometimes the heart isn’t ready for what the mind has already taken in.

But I’d like to think that one day, even if it’s years from now, there will be harmony between the two.

Moving forward. One step at a time. One tear at a time. One heartbeat at a time.

Today, like so many others, I feel a sense of closure. The murder of Adam Walsh is something that has been lingering for way too long. How good to know that somewhere, Adam is smiling.

tags: dreams, faith, forgiveness, future, hope, overcoming obstacles, turning tragedy into triumph

I've always found it interesting how people relate to one another. As humans, we are not solitary creatures. Even individuals who pride themselves on being "loners", usually have friends, other "loners" they hang out with.

Fashion trends are started by someone trying to break the mold and create their own style, and invariably it is copied by someone else, and this ruins the "unique" element of their fashion message.

Everyone wants to stand out, to be recognized and celebrated for their unique talents.

But at the end of the day, few of us want to be alone.

How does one remain unique while at the same time being a part (even if it's only a physical presence) of a crowd?

I would say I have been kidding myself about believing I was the only one who self-injured, but I assure you this is true. The things I have thought and done have, even to me, been so bizarre, to imagine anyone else doing them is a stretch.

But the more I speak out, the more I know I am not alone, and this fact gives me some sense of commraderie. If I'm not the only one, then I can't be as crazy as I feel sometimes.

If there are others like me, then I don't have to struggle in isolation.

There's strength in numbers.

The battle seems easier to win if I believe I'm not the only one in the trenches.

I may not be able to see you or hear you, but I can read your words and get strength from the messages I am sent.

So much of life is a personal struggle. Everyone has their own, and few have time to help others with theirs.

How many times have I offered to be there for another person only to realize I didn't have the strength to live up to that offer?

But it goes both ways.

The offer of help is usually a polite one. Few truly mean what they say and I know it. People offer to be there for me, "night or day", but I know in their hearts they're praying I won't call and I don't.

But the offer was expected, it was made, we're square.

I know they care, they feel good because they've shown they care, but that's all. Both of us know that I won't allow myself to be that vulnerable in their eyes and they won't have a chance to feel like a hero, comforting me at three in the morning as I try to pry myself away from the abyss.

Interesting, the games people play.

But in order to be strong, there have to people you really can call at three in the morning and I am blessed to have a couple of those.

Sometimes reassurance is all you need to stand up one more time.

Today, I have that reassurance from other people. I know I am not alone. I know I am not crazy. I know others can benefit from my story if I am willing to share it.

If we're all in this together, what have we got to lose?

tags: compassion, friendship, hope, optimism, recovery, self-injury, treatment

I wonder what it is about me that allows me to fragment...literally feel like I am watching things, not participating in them.

There are many aspects of self-injury that I don't understand and know even less about trying to explain them to others.

In my book, I wrote about feeling invisible. And there were times that was true.

But this is different. This is a feeling of being out of my body, disjointed, an observer in things around me.

I think it's brought on by stress, or lack of sleep, or an inability to mentally make up my mind about a series of issues that continue to weigh heavily on my mind.

But it's literally like watching a movie.

Except I am in it.

My reaction time is delayed. If people around me are telling a joke, I seem to get it a second behind everyone else. If people are in a hurry, I just can't seem to get going.

I feel sluggish.

I feel far removed from things that are literally right in front of me.

I haven't felt this way in a long time.

I'm not sad per se.

I'm not depressed.

But I don't feel like I am here.

Have you ever been watching television while at the same time working on the computer or cooking or doing something else? Before too long, the television isn't the most important thing and its sounds fade into the distance. An entire sitcom may go by before you know it.

But it's been on. You haven't turned down the volume. The laugh track still played.

But you didn't hear it.

That's me right now. My world hasn't changed.

I have.

I feel introspective. Like I'm pulling away until I can get things figured out.

And in the process, I feel like I am leaving other parts of my life behind. So that when they appear in my consciousness again, (you know, a hand waving in front of my face or a "hey, Vanessa...where did you go?") I feel like I've been away on a long trip and just now coming back into my life.

For a long time now I've felt like a complete person. No secrets. No shame. No missing anything from the past.

But something in a dream, many days ago, opened a box I'd had closed and is once again begging to be dealt with.

I'm trying to close it. There is nothing in the box that I need, no memories I wish to re-visit.

But when I close my eyes at night, they are there.

In the daytime, I am swamped with things demanding my immediate attention.

But in those off-moments of reflection, I am no longer a participant in my life, I feel like an observer.

I imagine how confusing this might be to others. It sounds crazy, but I know I am not. So what then?

Here is where I rely on writing to make sense out of things my mind cannot. In putting pen to paper, I am able to see patterns not visible otherwise.

In journaling, I am working through the weirdness.

But I am looking forward to having all parts of me come back together again. When I smile, I want it to reflect all of me, not just the part that I am showing the world at that moment.

But today, there smile is in process. My heart and mind are in different places and until they come together, it's the best I can do.

tags: anxiety, comfort, hope, introspection, memories, recovery, reflection, solitude

I've always been one to sweat the small stuff. My life is one detail after another. In the long-run, this has made me highly aware, incredibly organized, and a world-class worrier.

But today I found out a friend of mine has been given five months to live.

This news has hit me like a ton of bricks.

You'd never know it. She is vivacious, infinately positive and always willing to go the extra mile if it means someone else will benefit.

I just saw her a week ago.

I had no clue she was sick.

It appears, neither did she.

In the time that I've bought groceries, filled up with gas, prepared lesson plans and nearly completed my first week of a new school year, my friend has been to the doctor, then to surgery, through several rounds of chemo and been given the news that her life is rapidly coming to an end.

It is times like these that I realize how misguided much of my worrying has been and is. In the whole scheme of things, how critically important are the things that I allow to keep me awake at night?

I feel ashamed.

I feel vulnerable.

I feel sad.

I want to do something. But I'm sure everyone who knows her does too. We want to intervene in her fate, to say the right things and do the right things to encourage her in this fight for her life...to assure her that she isn't alone, that she is loved and surrounded by people whose lives she has changed, for the better.

As a cutter, I used to know how to handle situations like this. It never made the other person feel better, but I did. Somehow I could purge myself of my own fears and anxieties and watch them collect and then run down the drain.

But even in those hollow moments to "cope", I was clinging to the hope that somehow if I hurt enough, I could take away the real pain I could not control.

Not true.

The reality is that I cannot take this pain away. I cannot remove the fear and uncertainty that now looms in the eyes of my friend.

But I can assure her that I am here for her. I know with more conviction than ever that I have a role to play in making this time in her life easier, even if it's just to send flowers, make a call, share a joke.

I bring normalcy to a situation that is anything but.

In life, I sweat the small stuff. But not tonight. Tonight, I find myself thinking about larger issues that supercede any of the other things that might normally occupy my mind.

I've been given a gift in my friend's bad news. I am reminded once again that now is all I have. No matter how much I want to control my destiny and plan my life, there is too much out there. I won't ever be able to do or control it all.

Instead, I better just hang on for the ride.

I am hoping for a miracle. That somehow my friend will find a way to prove the doctor's wrong.

I know she is praying for that too.

My perspective has shifted a little bit. It needed too. Today was a good day and tomorrow is yet to be. But I can't worry about what isn't. I can only appreciate what is.

And tonight, my friend is surrounded by prayers, family and well-wishes from all who know her. She isn't alone and I hope that gives her courage as she faces another day.

I face it now too with a deeper appreciation of the good things in my life.

tags: cutting, hope, mortality, perspective, self-injury, terminal illness

I have often heard about people having "near death experiences". After a critical incident many years ago, my mother had one and swears to this day that she temporarily passed to "the other side" and was sent back.

Like most things, I believe there are many facets to something. A near death experience for one person may not be the same for someone else. I can look back on times in my life when I was truly at the end: of hope, of money, of energy and will to go on, and those were my own near death experiences.

Because you see, despair means death.

It means you've given up. You no longer have hope or a desire to keep on fighting and so you throw your hands into the air, curse the heavens, and seek out a desperate way to stop the pain.

I've thought about those times a lot. They're difficult to reflect on because the person I was then in no way matched the person I wanted to be or believed I was. But through a set of circumstances beyond my control, I found myself facing an uphill battle I was unprepared for and didn't wish to fight.

It's hard to accept that dark part of yourself.

But we all have one.

It was in these times of greatest despair that I lay on the floor in my living room, shaking because I was crying so hard, and BEGGED for God to take my life. I was so tired. Overwhelmed. Unable to see the bigger picture because the immediate reality was so grim.

And it was in these moments that I had my own near death experience.

There haven't been many. But none of them were glamorous. In fact if I think about what I must have looked like, how weak and pathetic I must have sounded, I might be embarrassed.

But at that time, I truly was at the end of my rope.

My ability to put on a happy face was gone.

My ability to project into the future and see something amazing had left me.

I had distanced myself from family and friends because I believed I was bringing them down and then mourned the fact that I was alone in my time of need.

And I gave up. I decided I didn't have anything to live for and no more inner strength to pull from and so inside myself, I decided to quit.

Quiting seemed so much easier than continuing a fight I wasn't sure I could win.

Quiting seemed to bring about a sense of pain-free resolve that released me from any guilt I might have felt about giving up.

But it was a lie.

Suffice to say God didn't answer my prayers in those times of desperation in a way you might think.

I did receive an answer, but it was usually an exhaustive sleep.

I would wake up, completely cried out, my eyes feeling as if they'd been rolled in sand. And I realized I hadn't died yet.

Maybe I didn't want to bad enough. I never overdosed or slit my wrists. I did plenty of other things to my body, but the will of the spirit is sometimes stronger than the mind.

Despair is a dangerous thing. It robs us of hope and anticipation of what awaits us. And if we don't keep it in check, I believe it can kill us.

Life can be overwhelming. Small issues can take on a life of their own in no time. But perspective is important. Support from others in our lives, critical.

I regret giving into despair. Like a downward spiral, the more I gave into it, the more I believed I would never get out of it. I was doomed. Hopeless. Unsavable.

I know there will be a time again when I feel completely out of control. Feelings of insecurity will lap at my understanding of who I am and what I am all about. But I can never again allow myself to embrace despair. There is always hope. A new chance. A new opportunity to make a different decision.

I wish I knew how to encourage someone in despair. It is a dark and lonely place. But if we focus on what we know is true: that we have value, a purpose, a reason for living, then there has to be something else.

Despair means death and I want to live. I want to use the time I've been given to become the best person I can be and to encourage others who are on their own journey.

tags: death, despair, hope, life, mental anguish, near death experiences, self-injury, suicide

I had the honor of speaking to some of the top SI experts in the world this week. I was asked to come and speak in order to share my story and field questions about aspects of SI that remain misunderstood.

In many ways, I feel like my life has come full circle. For most of it, I have felt like I didn't have a voice. I couldn't articulate what I was feeling and few in my life seemed interested in finding out. (That's my perception!) I coped with life the best way I knew how and allowed my body to speak what my mouth could not.

But once I decided to break the silence and speak out about SI and its impact in and on my life, things started to change. Maybe it was me or those around me, but I finally felt like I had a voice. This voice first manifested itself in the writings my therapist asked me to do, and then in my book, and now, as I demonstrated this week at Harvard, an actual voice.

People who struggle with SI need to know that there are researchers all over the world working to understand where SI urges come from, how they are triggered and manifest themselves, and what can be done to break this cycle.

Listening to these top researchers and therapists stand up and present some of their findings validated much of what (as an injurer), I have known all along. What does this mean?

I am not alone.

I am not a freak.

I am not a hopeless case doomed to struggle with SI forever.

There are literally, and I mean literally, millions of people on the planet who struggle with SI.

All races.

Both genders.

All socio-economic status'.

Rural.

Urban.

Educated.

Non.

So many different kinds of people bound by a behavior science does not yet fully understand.

But I have full hope that one day we will.

In an effort to "plug some holes" and add a "personal perspective", I was brought in to share what my life as an injurer was like. How this behavior first started, what it felt like, what it did to me and how my SI helped me to cope with life. I talked about urges and their power. I talked about emotions and their intensity.

And I talked about the desperation that comes when you feel like you are all alone struggling with something you do not understand and cannot share with anyone else for fear of reprisal.

The room was completely silent.

People were literally hanging on my every word and I finally felt like I had a voice.

A real voice.

And people were listening to it.

This week I believe I had the chance to give a voice to the millions who may not have found theirs yet. I tried to use it to explain the value and urgency of continuing to study SI.

I assured people in the room that all of their diligence was for people like me. And I thanked them for believing enough in me to help me figure out why I am the way I am.

My hope?

That one day conferences like this are a thing of the past.

That SI has been de-coded.

People will be identified and treated as early as possible.

And that no one will ever have to feel, for one moment, as alone and shame-filled as I have my whole life.

I no longer feel like I need my body to speak for me. It has taken me many years, but I finally feel like I have a voice.

We all do.

Search for it. Believe in its power. Use it to change your life in a positive way.

I never imagined where this journey would take me. But it makes me excited for those just starting their journey and knowing what their lives too will be forever changed just as mine has been.

One voice at a time this world is changing.

tags: communication, cutting, hope, research, self-injury, therapy, treatment

Yosuke is an African-gray parrot who lives in Japan. When he flew out of his cage this week and got lost, he was captured by police, taken to the station and then transferred to a vet hospital, where after a few days he started talking to the vet, sharing with him his name and address. Police couldn’t believe the bird was telling the truth, but once they followed up on the information Yosuke provided, they realized he was. http://abcnews.go.com/Technology/Story?id=4910778&page=1

I LOVE this story. I love it because it’s almost too amazing to believe and ends happily. So many times in life we feel “lost” and desperately someone would “listen” to what we are saying so we can get “found”.

Yosuke had been taught by his owner critical information. As individuals, we too possess critical information but may not find the right person to share it with. Without this connection, we remain “lost”.

When my father left, I believe he took a part of me with him. For almost twenty years I felt fragmented and thought if I could re-unite with him, I could somehow get back what was taken from me. If I didn’t, I would forever wander around in an emotional desert, looking for something that no one else could give me but him.

But when I found my father and made an attempt to share with him who I was and the “critical information” I thought he needed to know, his response showed me that he was no longer anyone who could help me. If I was looking to him to give me back something I believed he’d taken, it was long gone.

I was assured by others that I wasn’t in pieces; that I was a whole person even if I didn’t feel like it. Through therapy I learned that my father hadn’t taken anything from me per se, but wounded me so deeply, that I’d internally closed myself off from a part of my emotional self I could no longer handle.

People say divorce is hard, but for me it was devastating. It took me almost two decades to become strong enough to open that sealed off part of myself. And when I did, I realized that I was a whole person after all.

All of us are lost from time to time, as a child, as teenagers and as adults. Sometimes we’re really lost and can’t find our way back home. (Thank goodness for GPS!) But at other times, it is our emotional well-being that is lost. We long for someone to help give us directions, to re-guide our steps, but few in our lives are equipped to do that.

But here’s the good news! We have an internal sense of direction, a moral compass, a brain and a heart. Together, we have all the tools we need to make the “right” decisions.

When Yosuke was picked up by the police, he remained silent. Even when officers tried to talk to him or ask him questions, he didn’t respond. Something inside of him told him it wasn’t the right time. But when he found himself in the presence of a vet, someone who has dedicated his life to animal welfare, Yosuke knew he had found the right person to tell his name and address.

Being reunited with his family only days after being lost proves he was right.

There must be a “vet” in your life…someone who you can trust with critical information and who you know will help you “get found”. Trust that person. Let them help you.

Being lost is one of the worst feelings in the world. But it doesn’t have to be that way. Look around you. Assess what you have and what you need. Use your mind and resources to bridge a gap between the two. You aren’t lost. You took a wrong turn and need to ask for directions.

It’s okay. I believe that one day each of us will be in a position to offer help to others. You know why? No one (unless you’re DB Cooper or Amelia Earhart) is lost forever.

tags: emotional well-being, hope, inspiration, recovery, stress, treatment

I love giving presents. As a child, I can remember sitting on my mother's bed during the holiday season and watching her wrap what few gifts there were for my father and brothers. The colored papers, the bows, the curly ribbon. My mother could have worked as a gift wrapper in the department stores. Her edges were crisp and perfect. The bows centered. The curly ribbon all the same size and equally curled. Anytime there were other gifts under the tree from relatives, one could always tell which ones my mother had wrapped.

Growing up, there were no gift cards. No money envelopes. There were presents. Actual items my mother had spent hours envisioning in her mind and then sought out over time, only to put in the top of the closet to wait their special day.

As I got older and started to earn my own money, I took equal pride in giving gifts to others. I'm not nearly the wrapper my mother is, and so I compensate by making the thing inside the box, the most perfect thing I can think of for that person.

I am giving a gift today. It has been waiting for many months in the back of my closet, still in the shopping bag. But this morning it is coming out and I have envisioned the person's reaction to it in my mind a thousand times.

It is perfect and completely unexpected.

I think the perfect gift should reflect the person it's given to. Sometimes that thing can be found in a store, others times it can't be. But if the gift is carefully chosen and considered, the likelihood of the gift being kept and used is greater I think.

I hate when I hear people say, "oh, I have to pick up something for so and so today. I guess I'll run to the mall after work and look around."

I hope no one ever has to look around for me.

Anyone who knows me should be able to determine exactly what I would like. My favorite colors, my favorite books, my favorite social events.

Many years ago I started to get myself a birthday present. I've taken myself on a Carribean cruise, swam with dolphins, gone cave tubing in Belize, traveled to Europe, driven to other states to see friends, gone to Disney World, seen Broadway shows and gone camping with some of the dearest people in my life. (There were aligators in our lake, but that's another story!)

None of these things could be wrapped or taken back.

But they were carefully chosen and considered.

Do I have expensive taste?

No. I plan each year what I want for my birthday and save many months and work a ton of extra hours to make that dream a reality.

This year? I'm off to Boston. I'm speaking at Harvard in June and am taking that opportunity to see a part of this country I've never visited.

Many years ago someone told me that travel was amazing because you were paying for the memories.

I agree with that.

My life is not cluttered with a lot of souvenirs or trinkets. But I have many pictures that adorn my walls that remind me of where I've been and how far I've come. I can look at myself in those pictures and think, "that was the last trip I took with my husband" or "that was the first trip I took after I stopped injuring" or "that was the first time in more than a decade that I could wear a bikini and not feel self-conscious about my scars."

My gifts to myself have become a legacy of sorts.

I hope the person that receives my gift today knows how much time I spent thinking about who they are as a person. I hope that my gift reflects how much I value them in my life and that somehow, someway, I was able to express my heart completely in the card.

I woke up today and that in and of itself is a gift. Life isn't about giving or receiving presents, but as luck would have it, I have one to give away today.

I hope the person that receives it gets as much joy from opening it as I did thinking about it, looking for it and wrapping it.

It is a gift given from the heart. And today, my heart is overflowing with happiness.

tags: appreciation, celebration, family, friendship, gifts, happiness, hope, love

I’ve always been fascinated with office supplies. There are so many tools created to make my life easier and more organized. Some people get excited about walking around Home Depot. But I get excited just walking through Staples! So many post-its, highlighters, pens, forms and stickers!

I wish my emotions could use office supplies.

If I could, I would paper clip all of my “good” ideas together, write them on index cards and save them for later. In reality, they are scattered across my mind.

I would use an eraser, one of the big pink ones, to delete all of the negative messages I tell myself.

I would use rubber bands to keep a tight hold on my emotions. Sometimes they get the better of me and put me in situations I feel like I continue to pay for today.

I wish I had a file cabinet big enough to store all of my memories. As I get older and have more life experiences, I find that my ability to recall specifics is becoming less and less accurate. There are things that I want to remember forever, and sometimes the only way to do that is to put it in a file, label it in block letters, and pull it out when you’re ready.

I wish I had a ruler to keep my mind pointing in one direction. More often than not I feel like I protractor, wavering back and forth between right now, the future and “back there”. A ruler would keep me going in the right direction without allowing for any stray turns.

I wish I had a set of colored pencils big enough to add more color to my life. Today is a gray day, and I long for something greater than myself to reach down and fill in the blanks with something vibrant.

I wish I had a hole punch big enough to turn the excess paper in my life into colorful confetti. Confetti is so much fun to make, but a drag to clean up. So I guess if I had the hole punch, I’d also need to buy an industrial vacuum cleaner!

And finally, I wish I had a bottle of white out large enough to correct the mistakes I’ve made. White out doesn’t take the mistakes away, but it allows you to write over them. I could use a lot of “do overs”.

tags: coping skills, corrections, hope, organization

I had a weird experience today. I was looking on a hospital website for volunteer opportunities over the summer. I noticed the "babies" page and there are names and pictures of babies born each day. I scrolled down and clicked on a baby name I liked...one I might have chosen had I been a mother.

The picture of the baby popped up and the parents names were listed. The mother's name was Vanessa and the father's name was that of my ex-husband.

This could have been my baby...a different time, a different place.

I've thought a lot about "the road not taken" lately. I'll be turning a year older soon and I can't help but wonder what if.

I have always known I didn't want kids because I thought for sure I'd manage to screw them up in some way...pass the poison that runs through my family tree on to them and I never wanted that.

But as the window of opportunity nears closing forever, I find myself wondering what kind of mother I would be.

This picture today intrigued me.

Here are two people with names I recognize, have fond memories associated with and together they created a life.

I too could have created a life, decided not to and now I'm starting to wonder.

Is it wrong to think that just because I came from an abusive background that somehow I might make a mess of things?

Is it possible to be successful in a career and be a good mother?

What if I projected all of my insecurities and perfectionism on a to perfect and unmarred life?

But what if I were a wonderful mother?

I have so much love to give and so many exciting things to show a child. I love to learn and have spent my whole life helping others to learn as well.

In some ways I think I would be a great mother.

In others, I'm not convinced.

I thought I had this all settled, but the questions linger. The picture today and the names on the screen, together, helped me to see that somewhere, a life was created out of a union I never thought was fertile.

This is ridiculous, I tell myself. I'm not the Vanessa and the man isn't XX, so the kid on the computer isn't mine.

But it could be.

A different time. A different place.

I'm a different person now. I have moved beyond some of the insecurities that held me back in the past.

But what does that mean exactly?

Who am I called to be?

I think I'm still figuring that out.

tags: birth, faith, healing, hope, marriage, new beginnings, recovery

I've talked a lot about hope and the fact that even when things look their worst, there is still a chance to make a new choice, live a new life, find happiness where none was evident before.

In an amazing story of resilience, a 20-year old woman who was only given 10 days to live three years ago because of anorexia, just this week gave birth to a healthy baby boy. Her family hopes that through sharing her story and before and after photographs, others will see that there is hope.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=552789&in_page_id=1770

This story is one of the most amazing stories of recovery I have read. I share it with you today with the hope that you too will find it inspirational and encouraging. Sometimes we feel like we're too far gone, that what we've done is so bad our bodies can never recover. This story illustrates how much we underestimate the healing power of the human body and mind. It's never too late!

I hope you will read it in good health. Tomorrow is a new day. Once the sun sets tonight, it won't matter what you did today. Tomorrow there are new choices to be made. Tomorrow is a new chance to love ourselves, to rise above the voices that tell us we are inadequate, fat, unlovable or weak. You are not alone, this story proves it.

tags: anorexia, eating disorders, health, hope, nutrition, pregnancy, recovery, treatment

Shame is a learned behavior. When we are born, we are not ashamed or self-conscious. We learn to be and feel that way from others.

In elementary school, there were several things about me that contributed to my feeling shame. One, I was given shame-based messages at home. When my younger brothers were born, I had a hard time learning to share and often expressed my frustration to my mother. "Why would you say such a thing? You shouldn't feel that way. He's your brother!" I would walk away feeling totally invalidated and ashamed that I had my feelings. Why did I feel the way I did? Why couldn't I be a better daughter and sister?

At school, I was made fun of because of many things. One, my naturally curly hair wasn't something to be admired. It seemed like all of the girls around me had perfect "Marsha Brady" hair...smooth and perfect. Their hair was never in knots or had to be pulled back into braids. As an over-achiever, I was teacher's pet. I worked hard to be the best in my classes, but this too wasn't something to be admired according to my peers, and before I knew it, I was the subject of whispered discussions and stares in the hallways. I wasn't athletically inclined and was rarely picked for any team; often I was the last one chosen and ended up being a default team member.

My parents didn't allow me to do many of the things other kids did, and this was a mixed blessing. On the one hand, I was more sheltered than my peers and as a result, was rarely in trouble outside of home. But on the other, the idea that I could bring a friend over and play or ask to play at a friend's house without prior planning between our mothers was unheard of. It didn't take long for word to get out that I wasn't someone who should be bothered with an invitation, for anything, because my parents were "strict" and I wouldn't be able to go anyway.

I learned to keep to myself because it seemed that who I was, my feelings and the way I expressed myself just weren't acceptable.

I learned to feel shame and to second-guess everything I said and did as a small child, and this is a behavior I brought with me into adulthood. It has complicated my personal life in ways I cannot express.

Shame is such a pronounced part of my life that I really believed it was like that for everyone.

Not true.

I was talking to another teacher this week about a flight to Asia and how difficult it is for me to sit on a plane so long without moving around.

"Oh, I don't just sit there for 14 hours. I make it a point to get up every couple hours and do exercise in the aisle."

His remark was met with a blank stare.

"Don't people look at you?"

Laughter. "Sure, but do you think I care? I'm not a person that has shame, so I don't care what people think. I need to get up, so I get up. If it makes them uncomfortable or if they think it's weird, that's their problem."

I about fell out.

What a liberating concept!! What would it take for me not to care what others thought? What if I could do what made me happy without feeling bad about it? What if seeking others approval wasn't even on my radar?

In an ironic twist of fate, I happened to pick up a movie at Blockbuster last night. I'd seen it on the shelves for months but after picking it up several times, I'd always put it back for another selection. This time, I picked it up and checked it out.

"Peaceful Warrior" is the true story of a young man training to be an Olympic gymnast. He is in a horrible accident and has to overcome tremendous obstacles in order to compete again. He has a mentor at this time that helps him to see his full potential, regardless of how many others in his life have decided his career as a gymnast is over. It was one of the most inspiring movies I've ever seen.

One of the biggest messages in the movie is the idea that we hold ourselves back from our true potential because of mental "trash": worrying about the past, fretting about the future and missing out on the beauty of the moment. For so many of us, the things we feel shame about are rooted in events of the past. They cannot be changed, but we cannot seem to let them go.

I am on a constant quest to let shame go. I go through periods where I am able to do this quite well and then something will happen that will literally catapult me back into a sea of self-doubt and negative introspection.

Like a warrior, I feel like I am in training. But the battle I am preparing for, is a battle with myself.

Some people seek a life of material wealth. Others seek a life of worldly success.

I seek a life of inner peace. I want to get to a place where I have no regrets. Where I can look at my life and be happy with where I am, who I am with and what I have.

I seek a life without shame. No one can give that to me and that makes it all the more attainable.

There's a lot of power there if I can just find a way to corral it.

If I can do what I am feeling the way I do, imagine what I'll be able to do if I really can get to a place where shame is no longer an issue?

tags: achievement, harmony, hope, mental energy, optimism, past, regret, shame, strategy, success

Only another self-injurer could understand what blood really means to me. It sounds weird, but so many aspects of self-injury do.

As a cutter, blood represented my salvation. If I could "bleed" out the "bad" parts of myself, then I might be in line for redemption. If if bled enough, I could show the world I was worthy of love, forgiveness or acceptance. My making this connection is something that was more than 30 years in the making.

Blood I let counted. Blood that was spilled accidentally didn't count.

I was in the hospital again this week and blood was the cause. Only this time I didn't cause it and that has made it very scary.

At first, it was thought I might have an ectopic pregnancy.

No.

Maybe a cyst ruptured.

No.

As a self-injurer, blood shed served a purpose.

But this week, it hasn't seem to have one.

As the hours pass, I have thought a lot about the real essence of who I am and how much of it is leaving my body.

I think of how much blood I have given away and little I fought to stop it.

And then I think of how much I am fighting now to keep the blood I have to avoid a transfusion or yet another surgery.

I am learning that life is perspective. When I injured myself, I believed I was the one in control. If I bled, it's because I willed it and made it happen. I controlled when it occurred and when it stopped.

But this sense of control was artificial. My body has shown me this week that it has a will larger than my own, and there it little I can do to control it.

Now I wait to see what this means. Yesterday I was met with the possibility of having a life inside of me. Today I am met with the reality that I don't.

I am working to fight through this and understand what all of this means.

Before, shedding blood meant life for me.

Now, keeping it does.

tags: bleeding, blood, hope, redemption, self-injury

When I got up this morning, my bread bag had a hole in it and several pieces of bread were littered with teethmarks. Even though I keep a clean house, it appeared that in light of the cold weather, I had a small, furry visitor.

I laid some traps before I went to work, praying that somehow, some way, the mouse would see them, get the hint, wait by the door for me to get home, then skirt out before I saw him. That way I wouldn't have murder on my conscious. No such luck. When I walked in the door, I heard a feverish scratching sound and a nice, plump gray mouse was desperately trying to free himself from the glue trap.

However, the trap was laid near a small appliance. Somehow the mouse had straddled the chord to the appliance and then found himself firmly stuck to the trap. I could not free the chord of the appliance without literally ripping off the mouse's feet.

I couldn't do it.

Crying, I took the trap and the appliance outside and that's where it sits. I called a friend to come over and "take care of it" and now I'm waiting.

So is the mouse.

He has to know he is going to die and that fact troubles me deeply. What must it be like to know that you were trapped, forever. We've all heard stories about mountain climbers who faced this fate and literally cut off their own arm with a pen knife.

But the mouse doesn't have a knife with which he could extricate himself and so he lays there, waiting.

It sounds ridiculous to cry over a mouse, but this has brought something up within me that I cannot explain. It isn't his fault he was in my house, eating my food, trying to stay warm.

But he gave his life for it.

How I wish he had positioned himself differently! Then I could have put him in a ziploc, sealed it, and he would have gone to sleep. Death seems better to me when it's quick and quiet.

I can't say painless, because is there ever such a thing?

Not when you're stuck to a glue trap.

I hope that when I die I don't know it. I hope I have the best day of my life, have made peace with everyone in my life, go to sleep and never wake up. I never want to be burned alive or eaten by sharks or tortured. And I would never want to be in a position where I could see death coming for me and just sit there, waiting.

I'm so sorry the mouse had to die. Had I been able to catch him and set him free somewhere else, I would have.

So many times in my life I've felt trapped. It takes only a little mouse on a glue pit to make me see how free I've always been.

tags: death, freedom, hope, life, new beginnings, pain

I find my spirits lifting these days now that the holidays are over. I miss the lights and the lawn decorations, but I can't say I miss the commercialism, 24-hour Christmas carol radio stations or the incessant commercials promoting holiday spirit in the guise of gift-giving.

In retrospect, I had a great holiday. I wasn't here. I found myself once again on the road, and it seems that once the bags are packed and the garage door shut, most of my sadness and anxiety about this time of the year, fade. I've thought a lot about where this comes from. Millions of people risk bad weather, traffic and airport delays to GO home. I risk the same to LEAVE home.

I've come to the conclusion that as a child, I felt trapped. I wasn't comfortable in my home 99% of the time, but I had nowhere else to go. We lived thousands of miles away from any relatives, and I wasn't in a position to call a friend or stay with them without being "a disruption to their family time".

But as an adult, I wasn't trapped, and I used that reality to leave home as often as possible. There have only been a handful of Christmas' when I have been with family. Most of the time my husband and I used the long Christmas break from school to take an extended vacation.

As a divorcee, I wasn't confident enough to travel on my own regularly, and so it was only by finding a new travel partner that I found myself once again blazing trails throughout North America, Mexico and Canada. Freedom once more!

As I stand on the threshold of a New Year, I find myself with a new list of convictions. I don't want to say goals because these things that, for many people, may or may not happen. When someone is convicted in something, there is no option but completion.

First, I want to hold myself accountable to myself. I give way too much of my time, emotional and physical energy away to others, only to pay the high price in my personal life. I no longer want to be motivated by guilt, fear or judgement. If I do something, it is because I truly want to do it.

Second, I want the courage to make my heart happy. I need to clean up some areas of my life. There are some people in it that aren't good for me. I deserve better. I want to surround myself with people who challenge my mind, spirit and person. I deserve happiness, and if that means I have to leave certain elements of my life behind in order to pursue it, then so be it. I'm so afraid of being alone, not being loved or rejected that I've held on to some people and things I shouldn't have. This year is about me and my desire for wholeness.

Third, I want to do something this year that I've never done. Maybe I will finally run the marathon I've been training for. Maybe I will go sky diving. Maybe I will learn to snow ski. Something new and exciting is out there waiting for me. I want to find it and embrace the new knowledge that experiences like these can bring.

And finally, I want to be able to say that I've made it through another year without self-injury. I'm almost at my 2 year mark. It continues to be a struggle and one sometimes I don't think I can overcome, but I have. I want to continue to learn new ways of expressing myself so that a year from now, I can say I have almost made it 3 years without injuring!

These convictions may sound simple, but to me, they are very difficult. Each of these is rooted around a deep, personal fear or hang-up. If I can do these things, I believe my life will be richer, I will be stronger and my heart will be happier.

Today I am letting part of the old Vanessa go and ushering in a new chapter of my life.

I hope your new chapter has many blank pages waiting to be filled with good health, prosperity and hope. The events of 2008 are yet to be written, but the pen is in our hands. Grasp it and get to writing! It's going to be an incredible story!

tags: anticipation, companionship, future, goals, hope, loneliness, love, prosperity, regret, self-injury, strength, success

Of all the e-mails I receive, the issue of trust is by far the most prevalent. SO many people have written to ask me how they can know who to trust.

I believe each of us possesses within us an ability to "feel out" who we can trust. It is this sense that allows little kids to know who they can run crying to on the playground, or how young people know which teachers they can confide in after school hours. Trust is unseen, innately felt. For whatever it's worth, we seem to know the most about trust only when it has been broken.

For more than a decade, I have been privy to a host of "secrets", revealed to me through student essays and confidential conversations. Legally I am obligated to report instances of incest, abuse and neglect. This obligation has allowed countless numbers of people to finally receive the help they so desperately needed.

This fact, I believe, reveals a larger truth about secrets and trust. If something is bad enough or private enough to be considered a secret, then the holder feels an urgency to share it with someone else as a way of reaching out for help, either for themselves or for another person.

But how does one know who they can trust with their secret?

I think finding a trustworthy person is like shopping for a life partner: spend lots of time with that person and ask a lot of questions! See how the person responds to people and situations to get a sense of how they might respond to you and your situation. Is the person always spreading gossip about other people? They're not trustworthy. Does the person say, "I shouldn't be telling you this, but..." Then they're not trustworthy.

From my experience, most of the things I have heard as secrets, never should have been a secret at all! The secret label was a way of keeping dangerous behaviors and interactions under wraps. By breaking the secret, the individual was able to finally break the cycle of addiction or abuse.

I am proud to have played a role in this process.

Sometimes we feel like our secret is so big that no one could ever understand it. I would like to assure everyone who reads this, that there are no secrets that someone else in the world can't relate to. If it is happening to you, more than likely, it is happening to someone else as well. By getting help for yourself, you are showing others who suffer that they too can reach out and change their life course.

All of us have had our trust broken. We've been betrayed by a friend, lied to by a family member or put in a no-win situation by someone who said they loved us.

But these situations are the exception and not the rule.

Follow your gut instincts when looking for someone to trust with your secret. Look at people's behavior and non-verbal behavior. Do they present themselves as someone who will be respectful of the information you trust them with?

If the answer is yes, then the only thing left to do is open the door for a meaningful conversation. Here again is a place where many people have asked for my advice.

I would start off by telling the person you've selected to trust your secret with, something like this. "I want you to know how much I value our friendship. I have something I need to tell you and hope that you will listen carefully to what I am telling you. I don't need you to do anything but listen right now. I may need you to be there for me in a different way later on, but right now I just need to talk to you..."

I think it is important to tell the person you are speaking to what you expect from them. Don't leave their reaction you need to chance! By telling them what their role is in the conversation, you are more inclined to get the supportive response you need.

Choosing who to trust is risky business, but necessary. Ultimately, you need to trust yourself. Trust that you know enough about the people in your life to be able to know who will listen and help you in the way you need. Trust that you are worth listening to.

And finally, trust that you are worth helping. Sharing your secret with another person is the first in a series of steps towards helping yourself.

You deserve that help and the better life that outside intervention may bring!

tags: faith, hope, intervention, relationships, secrets, treatment, trust

One of the worst sounds in the world is the sound of horns blaring and squealing tires. Nothing gets my heart rate up faster. Frantically looking in the rear view mirror, side mirrors and around me, physically bracing for the impact. Holding my breathe waiting for a hit that doesn't come, and then slowly exhaling, wanting to pass out from relief when I realize I wasn't the one in danger.

But I think about life and how many "emotional crashes" we are subjected to in our lifetime. Sometimes there is the chance to steel ourselves for the hit and other times there just isn't. I'm not sure which is better.

On the one hand, there is something to be said for knowing something is coming and at least being able to eliminate the element of surprise.

On the other, some things we could never prepare ourselves for, regardless of how much warning we may have been given.

At the state fair this weekend, I went through the car displays and marvelled at the new "crash detection" technology that is now coming standard in most cars. All minivans now have a backup camera that allows drivers to see and be warned if there is something in their drivepath. One of the new automakers has a "lane sensitivity" device that is a camera mounted near the bumper that will beep if the driver gets out of their lane and then flashes a picture of the road onto a monitor in the cab so the driver can see how close they are to the edge.

I wish I knew how close I was to the "edge" sometimes. When I look back on some of the challenges I've faced, it was merely because I took a chance in a situation where I really didn't have that luxury, but believed I did. Maybe if life had bumper cams, we'd all be in better shape!

Life has a way of throwing things at us that we may not be prepared for: loss of a job, infidelity in a marriage, death. And it is in these moments that we are most vulnerable. It is here, in our darkest hours, that we learn how strong or how weak we really are.

In the end, no matter how many blasts of the horn I hear or how long I hear squealing tires, if the impact is going to come, it's going to come. I may think I'm ready, but won't really know until I feel that impact.

I believe preparedness is the one thing we have in our corner as far as life is concerned. I have learned that I may not be able to stop the impacts from coming, but I can be as ready for them as possible.

Know that there are more impacts coming. Some we may see off in the distance, others lay waiting to blind sight us. As I get ready for a new work week, I hope that I am doing the right things to steel myself against the unpredictability that lays in the days and weeks ahead.

No wants to be challenged or hit with something they can't handle. But I know there are some squealing tires in the future that have my name on them. I am calm, relaxed and belted in for what is sure to be the ride of my life.

tags: adversity, assurance, crash, emotional vulnerability, faith, hope, life, obstacles, preparedness

One of the greatest challenges I face in the classroom lies in helping my students understand and navigate real life events. For many, life is one obstacle after another with little reprieve. I work hard to help them see the good in life and themselves, in the hopes that it will inspire them to work harder and overcome their hardships rather than give up and drop out or become part of the criminal justice system as a quick means to an end.

Idealistic? Maybe. But more necessary than people who aren't teachers, realize.

So that I am fully prepared, I try to read the news everyday. This way, if I am asked about a world event and how it impacts or relates to my student's world, then I am ready to respond. My news comes from a variety of domestic and international sources, but because I read it, the horrifying consequences of having someone tell me the news is greatly diminished.

If I ran the world, I would have a newscast that promoted only the good things that are going on in the world. Too often the heroes of our society are pushed to the background while criminals, celebrities and athletes steal the spotlight. It's no wonder then that our children don't see people in their own cultures, backgrounds or neighborhoods as people to admire and emulate.

It had been a while since I'd actually had time to watch a news broadcast, and so last night I took a few moments to do so. When I sat down to watch, I felt happy and upbeat, full of anticipation of a rare night at home. But those feelings were short-lived.

Within the first five minutes of the broadcast, I learned about a local woman who had doused her three children in gasoline and lit them on fire, a local man who believed his girlfriend's children were poisoning his food so he killed her and her two sons (after torturing two young girls and locking them in a closet) before calling 911 to confess, an area high school student bent on revenge who sabatoged school drinks and caused many in the school the become ill, a shopkeeper who tried to keep a robber in his store but was shot in the chest trying to do so and an act of vandalism in a large Catholic church in Dallas so great it was one of the top stories of the evening.

My posture had totally collapsed. My mood, a downward spiral of negativity, and an increasing level of frustration with each soundbite that passed over the screen.

After 10 minutes, I shut it off.

I live in a city of millions. Didn't anyone do anything good today? Was a life not saved? Was someone not helped? Did someones dream not come true? Where were all of these stories? Where was all of this hope that tomorrow was a new day of possibilities?

I felt totally defeated.

For the first time in a long time I was met again with the reality I face each day in the classroom. If the nightly news represents the "world" my students live in, how are they ever to see the light at the end of the tunnel? The "happy" story of the day is saved for the final slot in the broadcast and I doubt many people stick around that long. If they do, they are so beat down emotionally that whatever good the story may illustrate, it's power to inspire and motivate was lost long ago.

I am all for being well-educated about the goings on in our world. But there must be balance! We are members of the most creative, resourceful and motivated race on the planet. Every day, somewhere, some one is making a difference. But if these people aren't recognized, how will our young people ever know that they too can make a difference?

I am saddened by the state of our world today. I do not understand the crimes, hate and misunderstandings that seem to dominate the news today and I struggle to comprehend how sharing with me the attrocities of another will in any way make my life better. I mourn for the people whose lives have been impacted by death, disease and dispair. But there is more out there, and this is the lifeboat we should all be clinging too.

If we want a nation of hard workers, out-of-the-box thinkers and humanitarians, then we have to do a better job of showing the young people that these venues are important and noteworthy. To watch the nightly news and believe that's all life has to offer is short-sighted. Yet so many people do just that, turn it off, and wait for the sun to go down on another day of unfulfilled dreams.

Today is a new day. I woke up with a new sense of purpose and an even stronger commitment to help my students realize the difference their gifts can make to a hurting world. A future world leader, disease-curing scientist or New York Times bestselling author is sitting in my classroom. Not maybe. IS! I see potential in my students that they may not see in themselves and that the world may not acknowledge. But it is there and helping them to understand that today is one of the greatest gifts I can give them and the world.

tags: ambition, current affairs, dedication, dreams, encouragement, faith, hope, inspiration, news, sensitivity, success, world events

Never in my life have I received as many "conflicting" emotional phone calls as I have today. Each call brought with it a flood of emotion and very little time to deal with them. It started with a call from a friend who was sharing the news of the loss of a loved one. I mourn this loss with her and could barely find the right words to say, when another call came through on the line. Hoping to ask this friend to call me back, I hear a triumphant, "It's a girl!" on the other end of the phone. Talk about one extreme to the other! I felt like an emotional ping pong ball. Putting my celebratory friend on hold, I returned to my other friend and offered to spend time with her later in the day. Sadness and sorrow. Check. Regret that I couldn't do more. Check. Shock at the direct contrast between phone calls, literally minutes apart? Check.

The initial phone call had brought forth feelings of sorrow, yet now I was back on the phone with my joyous friend whose uplifted voice and overwhelming enthusiasm literally overwhelmed my sorrowful feelings. In a way, I felt like I was betraying one friend by experiencing more pleasant feelings with another.

Hours later, my phone rang again. "Did you hear that so and so lost his job? Can you believe it? He's had that job for years! And now to lose it to a layoff, can you believe it? He must be devastated!"

For the second time that day, my heart fell. My friend needed his job and excelled at it. His pride in his work was often shadowed by an arrogance I found annoying at times "they can't live without me!", but in reality, he was good at what he did, and he knew it. Unfortunately, money is the bottom line, and by eliminating his position, the company ensured a lower bottom line. Once again my feelings came back in a rush. Shock. Anger. Surprise. Frustration. Compassion. Thankfulness. Therefore by the grace of God go I. I didn't know what to say or do. Surely if my friend had wanted me to know he'd lost his job, he would have told me himself. To know that he hadn't, made me sad. Maybe he was equally shocked and embarrassed.

I hung up the phone and tried to process what I'd learned when the phone rang again for the fourth time.

"Hey there, it's me! You'll never guess what happened to me today! Remember I told you I'd applied for that new position at the community college? I never heard back and thought for sure they'd chosen someone else. Well today I got a call that they're interested in me and want me to come in for an interview first thing in the morning! Can you believe it? This is such an answer to prayer!"

You had to be kidding me.

Four phone calls from four different friends in four different parts of the country with four different life-changing experiences.

What to do, what to do.

As a friend, I did my best. I think I said the right things and sounded sincere. In reality, I was scrambling for the right tone, the right level of concern, the right level of joy and some sort of internal reassurance that I was sending the right messages to the right person.

What an incredible illustration I had today of the unpredictability of life. It reminds me of an old saying, "some days it's chicken and some days it's feathers." Today, I got to experience both vicariously through my friends.

I know that there will be highs and lows but rarely are we prepared for them. But they both have to exist so that we will recognize and appreciate each when they occur.

I feel for my friends, all of them. I know what it is like to feel like you're on top of the world, and I know what it's like to feel like it's fallen out from underneath you. The good news is, tomorrow is a new day.

I hope that I did what I set out to do: be a good friend in a time of need and celebration. It's hard to know the right way to respond and sometimes words just don't seem strong enough to capture the feelings of my heart.

I thankful that today I am in a place to be there for someone else.

tags: appreciation, encouragement, friendship, hope, loss, love, sorrow, support, thankfulness

This has been one of the most difficult weeks of my life. It seems like every time I have turned around, there has been a new life lesson waiting for me. I am one for growth, but I have to say, I think I'm tired of growing for a while!

I believe that some people are brought into your life at just the right moments in order to get you through some tough times. At the time, you believe these friendships will last forever, but in most cases, they don't. Realizing this and watching the ties slowly fade away is a painful, although necessary process.

If each person that I believed would be a "friend forever" truly was, then I would have more love in my life than I would know what to do with. And although this sounds wonderful, the reality is friendships/relationships take work, and to maintain the intensity of the interactions is not always possible long-term.

I have finally moved and sit here in the midst of boxes, unconnected appliances and furniture waiting for a "permanent" home. I am totally overwhelmed and seriously wonder if I'll ever be able to find things again. I have heard that there is a calmness in the eye of all storms, and I feel oddly adrift, waiting for mine. My life feels completely turned upside down.

Part of what has made this move so difficult is the fact that I have left a part of my former life behind. Our plans were to move together, but I find myself now, alone. My heart cries for this new reality and it seems like it is all I can do to get up each day, go to work, and focus on my purpose: helping to mold young lives. My students are my anchor right now. Incredibly, 150 teenagers are the one constant element in my life.

Dr. Phil has said that if we lose someone, we should mourn who they were and not who we wanted them to be. I find this difficult. For so long, I believed they were one and the same. To have been met with a conflicting reality has been harsh and emotionally draining.

I am at a place in my life now where I can focus on myself and I am more scared than I can express. I have run away from so many things in my life and filled the darkness with distractions. Now, there are no more distractions and I am rapidly being propelled forward. I cannot say if I am scared of what I will discover or just the unknown. Change of any kind is difficult for me.

But I keep fighting.

I will not allow myself to mentally re-visit the places where the darkness, insecurity and shame lay. I will not let my mind wander and spend endless hours pondering the inevitable, "what if?" And most importantly, I cannot cut.

I am being tested. My resolve is being challenged and my senses heightened. For the first time in a long time, I being forced to focus on myself rather than other people.

But this isn't what I had planned or desire.

One day this time in my life will be a memory. I will have an objective view that only time and distance can create. But for now, I am wallowing, trying frantically to find a new foothold. If I can just get one heel into the dirt, I know I can make it.

tags: change, cutting, despair, hope, loneliness, relationships, survival