The Mask of Halloween by Kate Kaczor

The Mask of Halloween by Kate Kaczor

If you have taken a walk down our Seattle streets recently, you will have noticed a few changes. The air is a bit crisper, the leaves are changing colors, and pumpkins are seated upon the porches of most homes. It is clear, October is upon us. While October brings about many joys throughout the entire month, its claim to fame comes on its final day. The holiday designed to scare our pants off, Halloween, is one of the most celebrated holidays by Americans. We love going to haunted houses, having costume parties, and the pumpkin-flavored, well, everything.

The Halloween we know and love today has an ancient history. The holiday is said to have originated over 2,000 years ago in the area that is now Ireland, the United Kingdom and northern France by the Celtic population. The Celts celebrated their new year on November 1^st. They viewed this day as the end of the summer and harvest time and the beginning of winter and season of hunger and death. In preparation for the New Year, on October 31, a festival known as called Samhain was held. During this festival the Celts dressed up in costumes in hopes they could ward off the ghosts they feared would come the next day to create chaos and destroy their crops.

Halloween has changed quite a bit since the time of the Celts, but one thing has remained constant: the costumes. It is the one day out of the year where it is socially acceptable to dress up however you please and pretend to be someone else. It makes sense that this tradition of escaping our identity has been a constant in this holiday so closely associated with fear and terror. When we are threatened with some of our fears, whether it be spiders, witches, or screaming kids with candy, we often search for a way to disconnect from situations in order to avoid dealing with the fear. Our hope is that if we can avoid being ourselves, the situation that is causing the fear will simply disappear.

This may work out okay on Halloween. After the night is over, the ghosts and ghouls are put away, the kids are calmed down after their sugar fix, and life goes back to normal, until Thanksgiving at least. However, there is a point where this strategy to protect ourselves becomes harmful, where we become so afraid to leave shelter of the costume and strongly fear returning to our own identity.

This is something many individuals struggling with eating disorders can strongly relate to. Many of these individuals have faced situations that were too scary to handle at the time. In order to cope with this, they clung onto something that allowed them to disconnect from the situation and therefore, survive. They put on the mask of the eating disorder, taking on that identity and attempting to protect their own in the process. This can be highly effective in the moment and there is little doubt that the eating disorder does its job. It helps the person survive the situation without having to cope with such extreme pain. But then what happens?

If you are struggling with an eating disorder, you may view it as your lifeline, a lifeline you are not capable of leaving. You may think, “If the eating disorder helped me get through this situation, how will I be able to survive if I leave it?” “Will I be able to make it on my own if I let go?” “Am I able to fully face my emotions and life’s challenges, if I am myself?”

This situation can become very frustrating for those in eating disorder treatment. Often, patients come to a point where they desire to be free of the eating disorder, but at the same time are terrified to leave. There may be feelings of shame, humiliation, and defeat. It is important to remember, however, that it is perfectly normal to have this attachment to the eating disorder. Just as the Celts dressed up in costumes to help ward of the ghosts who threatened their existence, putting on the mask of the eating disorder is a tool we often use in order to get through a difficult time. Without the costumes, the Celts feared they would not survive the winter. It likely would have caused them panic and anxiety to remove the costumes and pursue other avenues such as preserving food or migrating to land with a better climate, even if it made logical sense to them. Clinging to the costumes may have prevented them from achieving their goals, but the thought of doing something different would have created fear. The costumes provided them with such comfort, and they were uncertain of the outcome if they changed their course of action.

The same is true for eating disorders. It is important to let go of shame, acknowledging that the eating disorder is not a character flaw; rather we may have needed it to survive. In recognizing this, we can take small steps to take off the mask and let go of the eating disorder. By taking those small steps we practice living life without the assistance of the eating disorder. There may be times when we return to the mask and that’s okay, we just need to remember that each time we choose to remove the mask and be our true selves, we are going down the path of recovery.

If you need support in letting go of your eating disorder, facing your fears, and living the life that is true for you, call Ramey Nutrition to get an individual assessment with one of our providers.

Sources:

http://www.history.com/topics/halloween

Eating in the Light of the Moon by Anita Johnson, Ph.D (1996)

B is for Boring

I need a hobby. I have decided that I'm unusually boring these days. Sitting in my bed feeling sorry for myself makes me feel icky, like I'm wasting space. I feel like I was more of a human when I was active in my eating disorder. I need to figure out how to get that person back ... sans eating disorder, of course.
I had this project once, that I worked on every night when I didn't sleep. Instead of laying lame in my bed staring at the ceiling I sat on my floor, spread out all my art supplies, turned on my music and went to town. It was meditative for me, calming. A way to express what I was feeling without having to speak. I had it for at least 10 years and then one day I just stopped. I don't even know where it is. Tonight I'm going to start my project over. I'm going to start being more interesting in my life.
Kidney update: Barf, I don't even want to talk about it.
What I don't miss about my eating disorder this far in my recovery today: Not sure. I'm kind of a Negative Nancy today so I'm drawing a blank on the positives.
What I'm not going to miss about my eating disorder when I'm recovered: Obviously the boring me. I need more substance, so I'm going to create it. And Ensures, I'm still sick of Ensures.

ADHD & Eating Disorders

There may be a link between ADHD and eating disorders.

“ADHD in teens may cause symptoms of boredom and restlessness that are temporarily relieved by compulsive or addictive eating behaviors. Overeating or binge eating may stimulate the dopamine reward system and dopamine pathways in the brain.” 

-Eric Hollander, MD

Read the rest of the article here!

Night Baker finds strength, healing in blog readers By Candice Madsen March 11th, 2013

 The Night Baker Video

 

OREM — For a Utah woman battling anorexia, sharing her story with the world ultimately helped save her life.

It's been five months since KSL met Camilla Kuhns — known in the blogosphere as the Night Baker. Camilla bakes and blogs in hopes of raising enough money to overcome her anorexia for good.
Camilla checked into the Center for Change in Orem, not knowing how long she'd be able to afford to stay. Treatment costs $900 a day.
But Camilla said the generosity of family, friends and strangers who follow her blog kept the money and support coming, giving her the funds and the strength to fight for her life.

I'm so much more fun and I enjoy things more. I am excited about my life and that is so much better than being skinny.

–Camilla Kuhns, Night Baker

Five months ago, doctors told Camilla she could have a heart attack at any moment. Her eating disorder has controlled her life for 18 long years.

"This has been a crutch for me for so long," she said. "I just feel like I'm losing my crutch."
Camilla entered treatment terrified to let go of the habits that were killing her. But now, five months later, she has a new take on life.
"I feel so much better," she said. "I'm so much more fun and I enjoy things more. I am excited about my life and that is so much better than being skinny."
Her family is grateful to have this Camilla back.
"I have my daughter back," said David Kuhns, Camilla's father. "She is fun. She's energetic. She's all the things that I knew she was."
Camilla said treatment wasn't easy. She wanted to quit many times, but she knew people all over the world were praying for her.

My dream as a child was to grow up and not be an anorexic woman. I'm getting back to that person who has other dreams, better dreams, and it is just a really good feeling.

–Camilla

"They really saved my life by following the blog and reminding me that I had an audience and that it wasn't just about me," she said.

Camilla didn't realize the full impact she'd had on others until she met a woman who went into treatment because of Camilla's story.
"It's so humbling because this woman is so incredible and she has a family and she is so successful," she said. "I though that if this is the only person who saw my story and got anything out of it then it was so worth any ridicule I've gotten from sharing my blog."
Camilla hasn't completely conquered her eating disorder.
"It's still there and it yells at me sometimes, but I feel like my voice is louder now," she said.
For the first time in almost twenty years, Camilla said she finally feels in control of her future.
"My dream as a child was to grow up and not be an anorexic woman," she said. "I'm getting back to that person who has other dreams, better dreams, and it is just a really good feeling."
Camilla will receive a few more weeks of outpatient treatment at a center in Arizona as she makes the transition back into the real world.

 

Recovery Day Program Patient Testimonial

Ramey Nutrition is a good fit from my recovery because theprogram allows me to live in a real world setting while being in the recoveryprocess. Yes, I will admit, this hasn’t been anywhere near easy and I believethat is why I have had an intense time adjusting to there being more “freedom”with my recovery. This is something that I am DEFINITELY not used to with onlyexperiencing inpatient, residential and Partial Hospitalization Programs (PHP).When I did go to another program, it was acclaimed to be PHP, although it feltmore like I was trapped in a place and I HAD to recover. Being here at RameyNutrition I have the choice to recover. I am scared shitless of gaining weight,fearful of finding my true self. Having those feelings come up, having to facethem is something I am going to experience while I recover. It’s not going tobe easy or fun, and I am ready to be uncomfortable with eating and keeping fooddown. I am taking the next step to gain weight because I want my lifeback. I want to live, be happy, and spend time with my family.

I WANT LIFE AND I WANT ME BACK!!!!

            I am going to do everything in mypower to get that back. By committing myself to that, I WILL:

·        Eat

·        Gainweight

·        Goto therapy

·        Workmy ass off day in and day out, every second to be closer to life

·        Bereal, honest, open, authentic

·        Havedifficult days, struggle AND get through them, continuing to push forward

I am tired of dying and I am going to start living byreviving myself and I truly believe without a doubt that Ramey Nutrition is theplace for recovery and regaining my life back.

-         A.D.

Ramey Nutrition Recovery Day Program Patient

From 58 pounds to thriving By Chelsea Roff

How yoga helped an anorexic recover

STORY HIGHLIGHTS

• Chelsea Roff nearly died from severe anorexia and its complications
• She spent 16 months in Children's Medical Center Dallas
• She says she was lucky to get enough resources to put her life back together
• Now, Roff wants her story to be a "beacon of hope" for others who might be suffering

Editor's note: In the Human Factor, we profile survivors who have overcome the odds. Confronting a life obstacle -- injury, illness or other hardship -- they tapped their inner strength and found resilience they didn't know they possessed. This week we introduce you to Chelsea Roff, who had a stroke at 15 brought on by her severe anorexia. At the time she arrived at Children's Medical Center Dallas, she weighed 58 pounds. Now 23, Roff is a writer, speaker and yoga instructor.

(CNN) -- The first emotion I remember is rage. It was a violent, fire-in-your-veins, so angry-you-could-kill-someone kind of rage.

I wanted out. I wanted the pain to be over. I wanted to die. I was mad at myself for not having the courage to just do it quickly, angry at the hospital staff for thwarting my masked attempt.

I was convinced that I was "meant to" endure this, that my long, drawn-out starving to death would prove my willpower to God. In the days prior to my stroke, I'd had vivid hallucinations -- of Jesus on a wooden cross outside my bedroom window and a satanic figure sneaking up under my bedroom covers to suffocate me at night. I thought I was meant to be a martyr. I thought God wanted me to die.

As the fury subsided, delirium set in. I became confused, defiant and completely irrational. I told the doctors that they couldn't possibly keep me overnight, because my family didn't have insurance or money to pay. When a cardiologist responded that she wasn't sure if I'd live another week, I told her she was full of s---.

I hid the food they were trying to make me eat in my underwear, in flowerpots, even in my cheeks like a chipmunk -- certain no one would notice. I didn't want to get better. I was convinced nothing was wrong.

I remember having nurses turn me over in the middle of the night to tend to the bed sores on my behind, places where the skin was so thin that my tailbone was starting to protrude through the flesh.

I remember waking up to discover I'd wet the bed nearly every morning for the first three months I was hospitalized. I was ashamed, disgusted. I'd lost control of the muscles in my bladder; I was like an infant all over again. I remember shooting a nurse the bird when she told me I couldn't walk, only to crumble to the floor when I angrily pushed the wheelchair away to give it a try.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, my arrival at the hospital had launched an investigation by Child Protective Services back at my home in Austin. The caseworkers deemed my mother an "unfit parent" and my sister and I were placed under custodianship of the state. My care was left to the doctors and nurses at Children's, while my sister was sent to live with our godparents. My mother, herself an alcoholic and anorexic, had literally drunk herself into oblivion (she was later diagnosed with Wernicke's Syndrome, a form of alcohol-induced dementia).

I spent the next 16 months of my life in that hospital. I completed my junior and senior years of high school through a distance education program, talked my way through hundreds of hours of individual and group therapy and slowly, painfully worked to bring my body and mind back to life.

When Medicaid finally pulled the plug on funding for my treatment, I was unrecognizable from the day I'd walked in. I'd gained nearly 40 pounds, and the feisty, fiercely independent spirit I'd been known for as a child was on her way back in (close to) full force.

Although I was still significantly underweight and terrified to leave the security of the hospital, my medical team managed to convince the caseworkers to grant me emancipation. At 17, I re-entered the "real world" as a legally recognized adult.

My doctor at Children's helped me make arrangements to move into a garage apartment with a close family friend near the hospital. I got a job at a local Starbucks, started applying for college, and, by the grace of who-knows-what, was offered almost free weekly therapy by a psychologist who'd treated me at Children's.

Three months later, I took my first yoga class. I was lucky. I was blessed. I was given enough resources to put the fragments of my broken life back together.

My hope is that my story might serve as a beacon of hope for people grappling with their own inner demons in silence and isolation. Whether it's an eating disorder, abandonment, depression or addiction, please know:

There is a way out. You don't have to suffer alone. There are people out there who want to love you, who would be honored to bear witness to your pain. Healing doesn't happen in a vacuum. We are human and we have an inherent need to see and be seen, to touch and be touched. No one heals heartbreak alone.

For the broader community, I hope this story will diminish some of the stigma and misperceptions about eating disorders. Many of us have been taught that people with eating disorders simply want to be skinny, feel like they have to look like supermodels to be worth anything, or just have an unhealthy "need for control." Those are all symptoms of an eating disorder, not the cause.

I realized that I feel like a child who was once desperately thirsty, who was given enough water to survive and shake her thirst, and now feels compelled to go out and give water to anyone who's parched. "Look! Water! I know, isn't it good?! Drink up!!" When I see people drink the water, I can't even describe the feeling -- it's as if I'm experiencing the first sip all over again. It brings me incredible joy, even healing. It's an act of alchemy. It allows me to make light of some of the darkest days of my life.

I once had a therapist who, when asked how I could ever repay her for all she'd given me, told me: "Your life will be all the thanks I need." This is how I thank her. This is how I thank all those who helped me find my way out of the darkness. Share the water.

Destination Recover(ed): Day 677

Thanksgiving was pretty awesome this year. In the past it has always been a chaotic time. Ever year I intend on arriving at my Dad's early in the morning so I can feel like I got to spend enough time over there before having to leave to go to my Mom's for second Thanksgiving (which is a fucking nightmare if you have an eating disorder. As if ONE Thanksgiving dinner isn't traumatizing enough). I never want to leave my Dad's house when it comes time to go and I always wish I had gotten there earlier so it could feel like I stayed longer. So far this has never happened. I'm always running late. If I want to be at Dad's by 9am it's almost guaranteed that I will actually make it there around noon. We do a pot luck Thanksgiving at my Dad's. Dad and Mom always do the turkey (this year they deep fried it. *Awesome* fun times not blowing the house up!) and stuffing and then everyone else brings a side dish. We sign up on the list. It's fun. I made fresh from scratch (NOT from a can) green bean casserole and also fresh homemade cranberry sauce (plus I brought the kind in a can for my sister, who loves it). This year I was ready! This year I was on schedule! Car loaded Thanksgiving Eve, ready to roll out of my driveway at 7am to drive from Stanwood to Shoreline to pick up my friend Natalie by 8am and then make the 1.5 hour drive to my Dad's arriving around 9:30am! No muss, no fuss, no chaos, no anxiety. 
Per usual I was late this year ... BUT not as late as the previous years, so we're making progress already! Last minute I decided to  prepare everything for my Mom that she wasn't able to get done because she was working back to back to back to back schedules at work. I think it's awesome that my Mom is the big head honcho where she works but it requires an obscene amount of her life, especially during the holidays where she is on blackout and isn't allowed to take days off and her company requires that she work until midnight on the eve of eves, and eves of holidays, and then turn around and be there at 4:00am the following mornings. So I felt bad this year and prepped all her food and recipes. I got in my car by 9:00am to go get Natalie. 2 hours late. DEAD FUCKING CAR BATTERY. Apparently when I loaded my car up before I went to go to bed (aka watch a movie because I actually didn't sleep for one second that night) I left the light on above the console. Awww MAN! Are you effing kidding me?! Unfucking believable! :::*pouty face*::: Mom to the rescue (which is completely out of character and uncommon for my Mom). She hands me her keys and says, just replace the gas so I can drive to work in the morning. OMG, am I actually going to be THANKFUL for my MOM this year?! Keys in hand, food and supplies transferred, on the road. I picked up Natalie, and after making a few stops (Walgreens and QFC for the alcohol my Mom called to see if I could pick up) We were at my Dad's house 11:45am. Record Time. I may or may not have sped, but the fact that there was absolutely NO TRAFFIC may have also contributed. And the best part? We were the first to arrive! Everything else basically went off without a hitch, not exactly on schedule, but whatever, family was together, we food was eventually cooked and everyone was set at the table. We started a new Thanks Giving tradition, too. Normally we would go around the table and each give thanks for what we were thankful for that year, but this year was different. This is the first Thanksgiving since my grandpa passed away on December 1st last year. Last year he wasn't present at the table because hew as in the hospital, but we were all kind of in an emotional cocoon last year, everything was awkward without grandpa who was the always the Turkey Carver and giver of thanks and Grace sayer. This year, without grandpa, we started new traditions in his memory and it was beautiful and sad and I cried at the table. Mom carved the Turkey this year (because my DAD doesn't know how to carve a turkey and pulled out the power tools, so Mom took over). My sister Rashel was home this year after a very long year of her taking off to find herself. Dad & Mom weren't wrought with the pain of dealing with Rashel's absence and grandpa's last few days. My Sister Crystal is pregnant with my nephew, Jonah, and she is so beautiful at 8.5 months pregnant (and always) and her and her husband are so happy. My other sister, Shannon wasn't going through (and as everything panned out, never went through) a divorce. We weren't in the emotional turmoil of being at the hospital every single day for a month to be with grandpa and see him so ill. I wasn't just discharged from the hospital, the same hospital and subsequently the exact same room as my grandpa. Grandma wasn't crazy, or withdrawn from the grief. We were OK. We made it through the year. We survived. We had an abundance of love and reasons to be thankful this year. We do every year. I have an amazing family, and not just at holidays. I gave thanks for that this year. I gave thanks that I know we are not "normal" in the way that my siblings talk to each other every day and my sisters are my best friends. I gave thanks that we say I Love You when we see each other on holidays as well as Tuesdays or because it's a Saturday. I gave thanks that I can send my Dad a text at 4am on Monday morning because I just felt like telling him I was thinking about him and he'll text me back and say he loves me and thanks for making his day. I gave thanks that I can open my email and see a random message from my grandma that she loves me and "That Is All". I gave thanks for Scarlett and Sandy for their patience, unconditional love and belief in me. And I gave thanks that for this day, I was able to be present in my life and not worry about the food I was giving thanks for. I was able to engage in conversation and comprehend when people talked to me. I gave thanks that I wasn't bundled up in blankets, looking gaunt and dead, just trying to make it through sitting at the table because I didn't have the strength to hold myself up and the chair was so painful to sit on because my bones protruded and there was nothing to protect them. I gave thanks that my mind wasn't cluttered with my eating disorder, although it was still present it wasn't loud, and it wasn't in charge. Another day with my eating disorder so present is what I strive for. It's my proof of my recovery. It's the bounty of all the hard work and the painful days. It's something tangible that I can say OK, so this is what it's like. Now I know. It's not just like working your ass off doing the the fucking impossible without a clue of what you're actually working towards ... you can't miss what you don't know, and I feel like sometimes I'm just working blindly, not knowing what exactly the payoff really is going to be, other than this "word" recovery ... which means "not dying" "healthy" "not sick" but you don't know what the FEELS like, you just know that you don't want to die, that you don't want "this" anymore, that you're tired of fighting, that "something" has to change. Recovery. You just want recovery. So you do the work. You cry the tears and you scream because it's hard. Some days it's impossible. And you fight, anyway. But you don't know what it's going to be like. You're taking a giant fucking leap of fate, feet first without knowing where you're going to end up ...  I suppose it's like a blind person trying to imagine color. How do you do that? Where would your brain go to know what the color RED is if you've never seen it before? I decided to blog about this because for one day, for one meal, I was free. Whether or not I decided to eat or try food, it didn't matter. I was thinking about my family, present, engaged in conversation, laughing, crying, being alive. This is what it's going to be like to be recover(ed), and while I may be a long long ways from recovery, I am recovering.

Destination Recover(ed): Day 676

Ok, I've been putting off writing this blog because I want it to be perfect. I had the most special spectacular day a week and a half ago and it was such an emotional and perfect day that I'm having a hard time putting words to my feelings in such a way that I can perfectly express how and what I was feeling. But I'm realizing that my need for perfection is what is constantly holding me back. So I'm just going to dive in and hope that I can get it across without jumbling it up and rambling on too much :) so bear with me here ...

 

So I had a spectacular day last week. It has taken me a while to blog about it because I had a difficult time wrapping my head around it to put words to my feelings. So that day started off as a not so good day. I had just left a particularly emotionally difficult appointment with Sandy. EMDR is fucking hard and it's so incredibly taxing on my body. I leave those appointments with the same empty euphoric feeling I used to crave when starving. The "nothingness" feeling. Empty. Only now instead of reveling in the feeling as "success" or "comfort" my brain instead automatically screams "Jesus Christ! I need an Ensure STAT!" (yay for small proofs of recovery!). So I show up for my appointment with Scarlett right after my appointment with Sandy and I'm beat. I'm exhausted. Trauma work is never fun, so I'm a little emotionally blah, not exactly feeling super awesome. I had just spent the last hour and a half realizing that I am affected by my sister's pregnancy in a traumatic way. That while I am so excited and proud and ecstatic and anxious and thrilled and happy, it brings up trauma issues for me. And no matter what I want or how I tell myself I feel, I'm not getting away from the underlying trauma. I can still be happy and excited for my sister, and be traumatized by it at the same time. But I can't pretend that it doesn't bother me, that it doesn't trigger trauma for me just because I don't want to deal with it. I don't want to go there or process it because I don't want to relive it, but there's no denying it and I'm coming to terms with the fact that I have to deal with it even though I don't want to. So it had been "that kind of a day" when I walked in the door at Ramey Nutrition. It actually kind of makes the whole day perfect actually. To have such a wide spectrum of emotion all in the same day and survive it as one of my most favorite days of my life ... it really makes it that much more fucking awesome of a day. Complete. So I had been set up to know that there was something special that was going to happen at my appointment with Scarlett, so I knew that going in but I never thought or expected what was going to happen. Appointment is going as normal and I'm giving the Scarlett the play by play from my appointment with Sandy, discussing intake and body image issues and then ... AND THEN ... there's the knock at the door ... and in walks this guy, who I recognize from Scarlett's pictures on Facebook, and I know his name but I've never met him before. So I'm a little confused as to what is going on and wondering why he's coming in and joining my appointment. I mean, not like "WTF is he doing here", but more like "I wonder what is going on". I won't give his name because I didn't tell him I was going to blog about him, but I so want to tell the world how awesome he is and how he touched my life and filled my soul. He was there because he reads my blogs and wanted to do something for me. What makes it so emotional for me is that I never fully realized how far this blog goes and how many people are reading it and how many people it's helping, whether it be support for someone with an eating disorder or just bringing to light what it's like for someone who doesn't have an eating disorder. A piece of my life and journey that one wouldn't otherwise know anything about. So in one of my blogs I wrote about not looking forward to winter because of the cold and what it felt like to be so cold because of my eating disorder. If you suffer from an eating disorder, you know what I'm talking about ... the cold gets down into your bones and you just can't warm up. Your body is tense all the time and it's exhausting. It's painful. My lips turn this purplish blue and feel like I look as though I'm being preserved on ice. It wears you down. I hate it. You don't have to have an eating disorder to know what this feels like either and it was something that he could identify with. So, as the story goes, my blog affected him. It's weird, it's like my life, what I go through as an every day thing affected the life of someone I don't know, have never met or crossed physical paths with. It's a concept I'm still wrapping my head around. To me, it's just my life, it's what I go through every day so nothing I do or say or write seems profound to me because it's just the way it is, it's just the way things go and I'm just writing about it. So he decided that he wanted to do something and here he was sitting across from me telling me how he reads my blog and explaining how he felt and how he wanted to get me something and he pulls out this coat. But it's not just a coat, it's an awesome coat, a coat that was special made. A coat that he had to call around to different companies to find someone who would help him with this coat. He read everyone he called my blog until he found someone that wanted to help him. (on a side note this coat did NOT come from REI who could care less and didn't want to help and now there is a year long boycott against them ...) A coat, because I get cold and I'm not looking forward to winter. A coat because he knows what it's like to feel that cold, even without having an eating disorder. Now I don't know how to articulate my emotions from this point. It's so much more than a coat. I mean, to have someone you don't even know do something so profound that you can't even speak ... it's surreal. To not have to worry about the cold this year because this coat is so fucking warm and enveloping and to have one less thing to worry about, to not have to dread that pain ... I'm just so touched. It's more than a coat to me. I feel safe in it. It's my armor. I've had a few rough days since then and in the midst of crying and dealing and feeling just so defeated and emotional, I put my coat on and curled up and created this safety nest inside my coat. And it may sound ridiculous, but I don't really care.  I updated my Facebook status that night (yes I'm a FB'er) because I felt this overwhelming gratitude and I needed to get it out but all I could say was this:

 

November 14 near Stanwood

At the moment I am at a loss for words to describe the most amazing day I have had. Today I feel beyond honored and blessed, enveloped by love and safety and truly inspired and motivated. I wish I could find the words to express the immensity of my emotions but for now I will revel in the comfort and joy of knowing that everything is exactly at should be and everything is going to be just fine. Thank You, with all my heart.

 

So I wanted to blog about it so I could say Thank You, you have truly touch my life in ways I may not ever be able to fully express ... and you have warmed my soul and made such a profound impact on my heart and will always be remembered for for helping me to my ultimate destination: recover(ed).

One of the best days of my life.