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chica.not.forgotten

Follower of Christ. Social Worker. Diaspora Girl.

Coming of Age

This poem was written in 2008, when I was in grade 11. As I look back, I realize that it was then that I admitted to myself that I struggled with depression–it was the first time that I acknowledged and recognized how it influenced my life, how it made me wear to faces. As I look at where I am now, facing the ups and downs of depression and recovery from ED, it’s stunning how far and simultaneously similar of a place I’m in. I wonder if there will ever be a time where there are no remnants, where I don’t read past poems and weep–feel my heart ache with pain for the young girl that cried out and begged for relief. I wonder…But for now, I have this….

 

Each day the sun rises and falls
And with it, so does my mood
It’s an ongoing process
Though I never seem to make in progress
My struggling days are filled with anger
While my restless nights bare no delight
Just the overburden of life’s fight
Everywhere I look, I seek
But these efforts are often unrequited
For I try to speak
Yet I can never quite think of meaningful words
To comfort my torturous wounds
Others around me seem to catch on
They all grasp what they can
While I struggle even just to breathe
The air that so many others have inhaled
And soon after exhaled
Then all over again
It’s like a game you see
Those who catch on early
Receive compassion for their endless actions
Because their reactions to these steadfast equations
Are only in my psychotic imagination
Which acts as my friend
While reality is my undefeated foe
Because I always seem to turn my back
Upon life and its back-breaking duties
So that my alternatives are my undying fantasies, yet however fallacies
Because you see I can’t turn around and face these foretold prophecies
For when I do
Reality will hit like an unexpected enemy
Without preparation or mere anticipation
I’ll just be bombarded and distorted
Until the rapid malicious ticking of time
Will halt and with it the unleash
Of my frightening and threatening
Fears that as I look up to the cursed horizon
There’s no doubt
That my childish ways and once thought out plays
Have suddenly ended
And I’ve just been thrust
Into life’s growing up phase
And as these tears streak my face
Along with this heart stopping change
I must leave what I love in the dust
In order to fulfill life’s earthly wage
For then in the end and from the very beginning
This was to be known as my coming of age

by: Wangui Muya/May 2008/

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Loneliness

This loneliness

It’s like an emptiness

One that never goes away

One that always remains

It lurks around in the depth of my soul

It prowls around trying to devour me

Trying to drown me

I’m trying to swim

Swim away from its consuming darkness

Swim away and yet

Yet I feel a heaviness

Like an anchor is tied around me

Tied around my ankle

As I try to reach the surface

Try and take a gasp of air

So that I can breathe a moment before I

Once again find myself drowning

I’m fighting

Tears streaming now as I cry out to

The One who rescues

I’m reaching up my hand and calling His name

Pleading with Him to throw me a lifeline

One that will stop the drowning

And yet as I’m crying, begging, pleading

My voice is drowned out

I’m sinking

And quickly at that until only my hands are showing

And then nothing

I’m hitting the river bed now

My lungs fill with water

I struggle for my last breath

Because in my loneliness

He never answered

And so I drowned.

 

-Wangui M

My Heart

My heart drops,

My voice shakes,

Tears stream…

Drop by drop

Staining my cheeks,

With deep streams

For the years I’ve cried

For the years my heart

Has been broken...

Piece by piece

Each bit of flesh

Ripped off,

Torn apart,

Harder than the last.

My heart shakes…

Sadness perhaps?

No…

Deeper.

Despair,

It chokes me

As I think about

Where,

And when,

And how

 This is all going to end.

As I think…

About the wreckage I’m standing in–

The ashes melodically,

Rhythmically fall

With my flowing

Tears.

…And then,

Fear strengthens the grip

That despair has

Around my neck.

Barely breathing now,

My heartbeat slows,

My breathing shallows

As the tears too—they begin to

…Dry up.

And as I struggle to breathe,

My last breaths…

I think how it is,

That this will…

End.

How is it that I’ll fix this,

Because this time,

I realize that I’m on my own.

Because the One that was once there,

Became the one that

Was ripping me apart.

And so I left,

And no longer with that option...

It’s either surrender,

To One or the other

Yet both have broken me…

And I can’t tell,

The trustworthy of the two.

The tears have dried now,

My voice has become…

Faint.

My breaths are escaping

Out of  my chest…

Disappearing from my tired lungs.

As I struggle for my last bit of…

Life.

As I struggle for my last taste of hope,

I’m filled with regret…

For when I trusted in One...

And left the other,

I didn’t imagine…

Never fathomed...

This very fate.

The fate

To which my heart,

Is shattered beyond repair.

The fate

To which

It is in danger

Of no longer beating.

When will this end?

Despair answered my hearts pleas,

Fear echoed its response.

“Your nightmare,

Became your reality”.

Written by Wangui Muya Dec 23, 2017 (Nairobi, Kenya)

 

A Present-Future Love

Love…

I wanted to know

To know what love was

To understand what it meant to be

Loved.

Loved by the One who made Love

Love…

I wanted to know its roots

To understand its depth,

Its width,

Its height and length,

Its very heart beat…

Its inner core.

And so I lay there,

In the dead of night,

In the warmth of my bed

Turning thoughts of Love in my mind

As I pondered…

As I wondered…

What it was this Love of sorts was

I did so, with ‘child-like’ curiousity

With an innocent delight.

And so I found myself asking,

Whispering with a drowsy, sleepy smile

To the Lover of my soul,

To the Keeper of my heart,

What it was—

This Love of His was…

As I lay there,

Sleep blanketing my eyes

I felt my heart skip a beat—

A flutter of sorts.

As the words of Love were whispered

To the depths of my soul…

My heart flooded with emotion,

My eyes brimmed beautifully with tears,

As I heard these blissful words:

“Love my darling– my Love for you, is like this:

“As I have seen your desire for children—

Blessed your future

With bundles of joyous delight—

As you will Love your children when they come…

I my child, Love them before you’ve seen them,

Before you’ve even known them

I Love them not only before you’ve conceived them,

But before you’ve named them…

I also Love them before you’ve met their father,

Before he’s set eyes on you

Yet my daughter

I see them…

I see them and Love them

Before they’ve come to be…”

And with that—

I knew…

I knew that my question of Love,

Had been answered…

For the Lover of my soul revealed

That it was the very same way,

In which He  had always Loved me.

 

 

 

I have loved you just as the Father has loved Me; remain in My love and do not doubt My love for you”. ~John 15:9~

 

“You saw me before I was born.
Every day of my life was recorded in your book.
Every moment was laid out
before a single day had passed
” ~Psalm 139:16~

One Year Ago Today…

Wow. It’s been 1 whole year. 1 ENTIRE year, that I was admitted into the Inpatient Eating Disorder Program at the Ottawa General Hospital.

One year ago today, I was nearly dead. I was 69lbs.

Skine and bone, despising myself and wanting to die.

I nearly did.

The days leading up to my hospitalization, I cried out to God and told Him I give up. That I had no strength left. The hospital had told me I would have to wait another 3 months, to which  I knew I’d be dead by then.

And then, 4 days later. A door opened and by God’s grace, I was admitted on April 20th, 2016 11:30am. I remember that day.

That day was the day that I remember God clearly speaking to me. I stared into the mirror in my hospital room and I heard, “Look at the girl today, for you’ll never see her again”. I stared and saw an emaciated, living breathing skeleton. An empty shell that was being given a second chance.

One year ago today….

And so in honor of this anniversary, though I’m still facing the ups and downs, slips and falls of ED recovery, I want to pause and post my entry on the day I was hospitalized…

One year ago today.

Be blessed!

April 20, 2016: Admission number 3..that’s what is..my 3rd admission into an eating disorder inpatient program within the last 3 years. Actually I lied because in total it will now be my 4th round of treatment…
And how do I feel about This? My first instinct is to feel like a failure like a never ending bundle of hopelessness and despair…forever doomed to suffer an eating disorder …to battle with it BUT I’m not that me anymore…I’ve come from far

So how do I really feel? Yes it’s my 3rd impatient attempt. Yes it’s frustrating because I just want to be free and I just Want to walk in what God has for me. I want to feel his goodness and witness a miracle in my life in regards to this prison that I’ve live in for so many years. I want to enjoy food and love and nourish my body and take care of it. I want to be fre from all the lies of the enemy and the venom he’s spewed about my body. I want to have joy and singing in my life rather than constant dispair and dread. Yes I want all these things and at ththe name time I’m scared. At the same time I’m terrier of the weight gain, of the food, of the loss of control. I’m afraid of having made the wrong decision in choosing to try again but most of all I’m afraid that God will disappoint me again. BUT YET and still…there’s a place deep down in my heart…deep deep down that says God will honour you…That this time is different. Yes there’s a sweet place deep down it may be small but it’s still there and that sweet small place is confident that God has heard my cry. That he is really setting me free in every way possible. That his beautiful favour is upon me and he is smiling down upon saying ” my daughter your faith has made you well, go in peace and believe in me and watch and see what I will do in your life, it’ll blow you away”. Yes this is what I hold onto.  This time I am free. This time I am at peace. This time he has cleared a straight and clear path for me to recover. This time I will be at ease. This time I will enjoy the journey and sing his praises along the away. Yes indeed this time I will never go back, for my God has seen my cries and has destroyed my enemies in Jesus name. This time I am set on solid ground, this time I am in balance, this time my God will take every single lie the enemy has manifested in my life and not only reverse it but disarm and destroy it. This time I am not walking out of these doors, four north on shaky ground. No in Jesus name this time I am walking out of here being a living and breathing testimony of Gods supernatural power. These things I have declared by the blood of Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit.
Yes that is how feel.

Her Mask

Her eyes open

She lies there

Lies there in the warmth of her bed

In the comfort of her sheets

Wrapped around her, shielding her from the day ahead

As she’s just woken from a deep slumber

She’s woken and her eyes stare up at the crisp white ceiling

She’s awake

She’s alive

 And it’s morning

Her brain tells her all of this

Yet her heart

Her heart dreads the new day

Her heart aches as a new day begins

Her mind tells her

“Let’s stay in bed…”

“Let’s sleep the day away…”

Yet her heart knows

It knows that despite the ache

Despite the quivers and quakes in its bruised chambers

She must wake up

She must rise

Rise and face the day

*******

She throws the covers off

Makes her way to the bathroom

And peers into the mirror

“Hello again…”, she whispers

Her reflection greeting her with sorrow as she stares back

“Hello again self…”

“I didn’t expect to see you today…”

“Yet here we are…”

“Are we ready for another Oscar winning day?”

She stares

As if waiting for her reflection to give an answer

She waits….

And waits….

And while she does

She stretches out her hands and gently touches the mirror

As if to stroke her self

As if to comfort her soul

As if tell her reflection that it’ll be okay

“It’ll be okay…”

She sighs…

“Are you ready?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer

Because her reflection simply nods in agreement

It’s time to wash her face

Wash her face and put on her mask

Put on her mask for the world to see

She gently applies her makeup

Hiding the dried tears that she cried in the night

She carefully chooses her colourful clothes

Intentionally picking out her ‘chic’ jewelry

Ensuring that all is complementary

Ensuring that all is in place

That all looks well, as if trying to save face

Because she wants to ensure

Ensure that her loud, joyous outfits

Hide the brokenness in her heart

She wants to make sure that she’s put together

Because she’s learned that she has to be

She has to put on this mask

This theatrical act

Because to be vulnerable

To be vulnerable

She’s learned is to be weak

And to be weak

Is to be needy

And to be needy is…

Well it’s to be left alone

It’s to be labeled as too much

It’s to be seen as damaged

And she doesn’t want to be seen as damaged

She doesn’t want to be labeled as weak

She doesn’t want all of it

Because she doesn’t want to be alone

And so she’s learned to hide

To hide behind her smile

To hide behind her loudness

To hide behind her crazy laughter

To hide behind her boisterous outfits

To hide behind the image of one strong in her ‘Faith’

She’ s learned to hide it all

Yet inside she wonders what they would do

How they’d see her if they knew

If they knew

If they truly knew

How she spent her nights

If they knew the tears she shed

Each night on her bed

If they knew how each morning

As she opened her eyes

She sighed and wished she could sleep the day away

She wonders…

Yes she wonders…

Wonders if they knew

If they knew what she hid behind the mask

If they knew about the scars deep in her heart

Some still fresh, some healing

And some re-opening time after time

She wonders if they knew

If they knew about the scars on her arms

The scars that have healed on her arms

Yet the ones she hides with her colourful clothes

Because they remind her of her once most painful days

She wonders if they knew

If they knew her struggle

Her struggle with an illness

That dictated her every move

That made her feel guilt for every

Morsel of food she consumed

An illness that spewed so much hate

And poisoned her mind

She wondered if they knew

If they knew this and so much more

She wonders

Wonders if they’d leave

If they’d no longer want to talk to her

Want to be seen with her

She wonders…

And the fear of that

Leaves her clinging to her mask

Clinging to it

And refining her theatrical show

Because she can’t bear the thought of being left alone

Yet as she spends her days perfecting her act

Perfecting it and hiding

Hiding behind its intoxicating comfort

She still feels alone

Alone within her self

Because each day

As she retires her mask for the night

She wonders

Wonders if it’ll ever come off

If it’ll come off

So she can be free

Free to bare her scars

And say to all

Here I am

Yes here she is.

By: Wangui Muya

The End of my MSW Semester

April 6, 2017

It’s a Wednesday night. Scratch that. It’s actually Thursday morning at 12:21 AM. I should be sleeping but I was just in the process of racking my brain–looking back at how far I’ve come.

I can’t believe that it’s the end of the semester–year 1 of my Masters of Social Work Degree. My degree, is supposed to be 1 year, so technically I’m supposed to be graduating now, but I had a relapse of sorts in 1st semester. Despite that however, God’s grace has kept me.

I’m just taking it all in. I never thought, in the midst of my relapse in December of 2016 that I would make it this far. I had thought I would have to move back to Ontario (where I’m from, as I live in Calgary, Alberta atm for my education) and call it quits.

But God’s grace? Yeah.

It’s pretty frickin’ awesome.

I’m sitting here, in the midst of procrastination, creeping people on FB, and listening to worship music and thinking about how I’m here–here now in this moment, getting ready to be done for school.

I’m amazed. And in honour of that, I thought it would be quite fitting to post something I wrote the week I arrived in Calgary, with all my fears, worries, and anxieties staring at me in the face and mocking my ability to be sitting here now.

So here it is. It’s called Before Opened Doors. And it’s in light of all the prayers I made before such a loving Father in regards to discerning His will for me to move more than half way across the country and start fresh. Mind you I was doing this 1 month after being discharged from an inpatient ED program, so you can understand why I am amazed that I am sitting here, with my eyelids fighting to stay open at this late hour, but still thinking of how I actually survived. I SURVIVED!!

So without any further ado, happy reading, as you get glance into the abyss of my mind that was that September I moved–moved to the place of mountains.

Before Opened Doors—there were Prayers Prayed

Moving. Moving. Yes “moving”. Moving in the sense of going to a different place. Not the “moving” of moving furniture, or moving over in those speed lanes in traffic. No, rather I mean “moving” (am I getting annoying yet? Confusing perhaps?)–moving to a new a place, a new location.

Yes that moving. It can be a word that evokes so much emotion

 

Excitement, fear, hesitation, terror, worry. Just so much.

 

And so I’ve found myself doing just that—moving that is. Moving to a new city myself, has been ‘interesting’ to say the least. I’ve found myself trying to make this place my new home, my new residence, my new normal. The reality has hit me, that I have indeed moved to the ‘almost’ end of the other side of the country in the name of education (side note: I give ‘mad props’ to those who move to new countries; shout out to my parents/friends from university—y’all know who you are!); and I’ve found myself experiencing so many “ups and downs”—“highs and lows”. It’s been exhausting really, both emotionally and physically. I find that my mind has been racing at 100 miles a minute—constantly thinking of day-to-day technicalities like:

Will I make friends?”

“What are people’s first impressions of me? Am I talking too much?”

“Will I do well in school? Get good grades?”

“How am I going to get through all of my assignments?”

“Will I graduate in June or October?”

“Should I drop a course? Does that mean I’m lazy?”

“Will I make it financially? Will I have enough?”

“Will I find a church home?”

 

Then of course there are the more nagging, worry-inducing, thought-provoking, deeper questions that keep me up at night such as:

 

What if people find out about my struggles? What will they think?”

“Will I be able to continue with my mental health?”

“What if I get sick again?”

“What if I fail?”

“When will I break free?”

“Why do I feel so ‘black’, yet I’m in a ‘diverse’ city?”

“Will I continue feeling lonely? Will I feel connected?”

“Is this my new home? Will I settle here? Get married here?”

 

These, amongst so many other questions, but for the sake of not writing a novel (or blabbing as I’m usually prone to), I’ll leave the others out as you get the point.

These questions often become so overwhelming—so consuming, that too many times in the past 2 and a half weeks I’ve found myself saying, “I can’t”. I’ve found myself bursting into tears as soon as my key opens the door to my apartment. I’ve found myself sitting on my living room couch and crying about all the mountains I feel that I’m climbing—funny enough in the city of mountains. I’ve felt as if I were going to explode; and mind you the urge to pack up and go home has at times overwhelmed me—engulfed me.

But…

But then I stop. I stop and hear a small whisper, a still small voice. And it prompts me to cry out all that is within me—that is on my heart. It prompts me to cry out to him—let it all out and then some.

 

To rant, to scream.

To yell. To weep.

And so I do.

And soon…

Well soon I find myself transitioning…

Transitioning into a prayer of desperation…

 

But it’s in my tears that God reminds me…

 

He reminds me that it is He that brought me here. He reminds me that it is He who heard my prayers many months and years prior to opening the doors to this city. It is He who cleared this path for me and will continue to do so. He reminds me that it is He who will now sustain me, comfort me, and become my best friend. He reminds me that it is He who will show me, lead my every step and direct me through my daily plans. He reminds me of John 14: 1-4, and as I read it, my heart quivers and shakes with so much emotion—yet so much peace—a dichotomy really.

 

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, trust also in Me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me, that you also may be where I am”

~John 14: 1-4~

 

 

And as my heart is shaking, and my lips are quivering, and my mind racing, He reminds me—whispers to me:

 

“I never said there wouldn’t be any fears, my dear daughter. I never said it would be perfect; and I never said you wouldn’t question your being here. No my daughter, my sweet child. What I did say is that I WOULD and WILL sustain you. I will bring you peace. I will bring you purpose. I will bring you direction. I will give you hope and give you courage. I will wipe your tears and catch you before you fall. Remember our times together—the prayers you shared with me before I led you here. The hopes and dreams you whispered to Me. I did not bring you here to fail, nor to fall. But rather I brought you here to mold youshape you, and show you My GLORY. To show you My STRENGTH. To show you My POWER. It is I who brought you here, and it is I who will take you through”.

 

Such beautiful words—such peaceful whisperings He showers on me. He’s spoken this to me today, and He’s speaking such beautiful words to you as well. Whether you’ve moved (there’s that word again), or not. Whether you’re planning to, or not. Whether you’re starting a new job, moving out, starting first year, or finishing your last year…

 

Whatever the circumstance, it doesn’t matter. What I want you to take away for tonight is this:

 

If God BROUGHT you to a place, then He’s GOING to TAKE you, and CARRY you through it. It may be bumpy, prickly, uncomfortable—heck some tears may even be shed; but He’s GOT YOU. He’s going to sustain you and give you STRENGTH that you never knew you had.

 

Sometimes God takes us OUT of our comfort zones to SHOW us His power, His strength; and to grow us in our RELATIONSHIP with Him.

 

Let Him, LEAD you.

Let Him GUIDE you.

And along the way, don’t be afraid to cry out to Him—to ask Him for help.

Don’t be afraid to tell Him your fears, worries, and struggles. He wants to hear it. He wants it all, and then some.

Because in the END, He wants to show us how it ALL came TOGETHER.

 

Mind you, it won’t all be rough. There will be good times. There will be fun times. And I encourage you, don’t be afraid to enjoy these times. Thank Him for the good times. Bless Him for the rough times, for it will all come together.

 

He knows what He’s doing. Trust Him.

Because if He brought you HERE…

He will take you to the end.

He’ll COMPLETE His work because…

Because He’s not a god of incompletion.

 

Though I myself have just started this journey, I remember all the prayers that were prayed for this opportunity; and I’m reminded and humbled that indeed I am not only WHERE I’m SUPPOSED to be, but that I’m in His will. I want to encourage the same for you, whomever you may be…

 

Whatever the circumstance.

Don’t forget the prayers that you prayed, the tears that you shed

For they all brought you to the path that you’re on now.

 

I leave you with this my dear friends and hope that you remain encouraged:

 

 

“The WILL of God will never take you to where the GRACE of God will not protect you”.

 

 

 

Be blessed!

Love,

Wangui M (September 18, 2016)

Lessons of a “Broke Down” Fridge

I love food.

It’s crazy that I’m admitting that, but this ‘story’ illustrates JUST how MUCH I do.

I’m obsessed with food.  Even though I’m in recovery from an eating disorder, and I’m still very much afraid of many foods, today–yes today I realized how much I still am very much ‘drawn’ to food.

Now before I begin, mind you, this is typical for those who have eating disorders, and those in recovery. For those of us in recovery, this ‘obsession’ will fade away (or so I’ve heard, as I’ve never been recovered long enough) as your body begins to trust you with you providing it adequate nourishment. Adequate nourishment which I’ve been learning to do, day by day, hour by hour. But anyways, I digress.

So, what triggered (the irony) this discovery? This epiphany of sorts? This realization that I’m still very much ‘attached’ to food, ‘pulled’ by it, and ‘obsessed’ with it?

Well….

To put it shortly (of which of course I won’t )…

My fridge broke.

Yes, it broke.

“Broke down, good for nothin’ fridge!”

And the frustration, and panic that ensued–well–shed light on the truth. The truth that I’d been running from (man, it seems like I’m always running).

Let me set the scene…

I was prepping my breakfast, planning to get it ‘down’ so that I could go for my weekly grocery run. As I’ve limited myself to trying to only buy food once per week, because I often ‘overbuy’ food (also another characteristic for some ED peeps) So yeah. Back to the scene. I cooked up my french toast (my new fave), and poured my milk into my coffee, and grabbed my ‘delightful’ bowl of strawberry yogurt. I was kind of excited.

Kind of. 

Well, because it’s one of my favourite breakfasts, and even though I’m struggling to accept my body at the moment, it’s one of the foods that I genuinely say, “To hell with you ED”. So yeah.

Okay, so as I took my first sip (y’all know that FIRST sip) of coffee, and I realized it tasted off. I decided to try a swig of the milk I had poured from my jug, and I immediately spit it out ( I should’ve smelled it first). I was mortified at the taste. But, more than that, I quickly began to panic. Why? Because the previous night I had been drinking from my other jug of chocolate (my other fave) and I noticed that it tasted kind of funny, despite the due date being 2 weeks from last night. So I poured it out. As I thought back to the previous night and my awful tasting chocolate milk, I realized that something must be wrong with my fridge. I linked the two. And that’s when–when I-

Began to panic.

I frantically checked the temperature of my fridge with my hand and it felt unusually warm. It seriously almost felt like room temperature. I quickly tasted my yogurt, and to my dismay, it too tasted ‘off’. And I continued to panic. I checked everything.

Every….

                   Single….

                                 Food item….

And they were all warm.

Crap. Shit. F^&^&&*&! 

Yes, I really did swear. I think God understood (LOL).

What was I going to do? 

I checked the freezer. And to my luck, it was actually working.

Weird.

But still. I had no time to think about that.

I was in all out, full on, red-alert panic.

My food. MY FOOD!

My PRECIOUS FOOD!

It was going rotten. All rotten. 

All that waste. All of it.

Part of me cried. Part of me was grieved.

And I’m not exaggerating.

Now here’s where I’ll explain how this situation all ties in.

As I began to throw out all the spoiled food. I realized that my unnecessary ‘meltdown’ from disposing of this ‘uneaten’ food, was tied well–well to the remnants of the eating disorder.

I realized that there were are still roots left. Roots that would take time to be uprooted, and burned. My sadness surrounding throwing out food was related to how I still spent a lot of my time thinking about food. Grocery shopping. Planning grocery shopping. Opening and closing the fridge. Planning meals….

You get the picture.

And I think this showed me that even though my body is at a now normal weight, my brain is still very much disordered.

Food obsession has been linked to starvation and eating disorders (Google the Minnesota Starvation Study). The more deprived the body has been of an adequate food supply, the more it (the brain) becomes obsessed with food. With getting it, securing it, and inhaling eating it. It’s a built-in protective factor that God so cleverly created within us. But the body can’t differentiate between real famine, or self-induced starvation. Hence the food obsession, the food driven behaviours. Thus, perhaps explains my reaction to having to throw out the spoiled food.

A ‘normal’ ( I dislike hate  this word, because who REALLY is normal, but I mean those without EDs) person  in this situation would probably have experienced some frustration, annoyance, anger, but most likely the person would move on. There would be no grieving, no panicking, no trying desperately to save the food. And definitely no thoughts of either wanting to ‘binge’ to make use of the food. Or thoughts of, “Fine, the food is gone. I may as well not eat then. I don’t need to replace it. I’ll just restrict because it’s more money that I’ll have to spend.

Yea–yea, no. 

There wouldn’t be disordered thoughts like this. Now I’m not bashing myself. But I realized just how disordered such thoughts are. How ED infested these thoughts are. How food obsessed I still am--that to part with it, means either “ALL-OR-NOTHING”.

I realized how….

Well just how DUMB, ED really was.

Because if I really think about it…

I mean if you really think about it….

Okay let’s think about it together…

I was willing to ‘starve’ all because my fridge b-r-o-k-e  d-o-w-n.

I was willing to eat the entire fridge, to salvage what was in danger of being lost.

I was willing to put my recovery in ‘jeopardy’ because ED just couldn’t let me throw out one morsel–one ounce of food.

ED screamed at me to save all I can. That without this food, my world would implode.

I was willing to do all this. I contemplated all of it.

Man, I was so ready.

But in the end…

In the end,

I won.

I won.

And so I thank God my fridge broke down.

Because really, everyday in this journey, I’m learning something…

Something new.

I gained insight into my behaviours, I learned how sneaky ED thoughts are; and I learned what I still need to work on.

So here’s to my “broke down” fridge. And here’s an F-U to ED.

I won.

 

By Wangui Muya (March 22, 2017)

Mad love and blessings!

P.S. Maintenance showed up and replaced my “broke down” fridge with a completely new one! BOOYAH!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

Dance with The Devil

 

 

God I’m scared.

Scared that I’ll never recover;

Scared that I’ll never be free.

Scared that my dance,

My waltz with the devil—Eddy,

Will last forever.

I’m scared that I won’t be able to let go,

Let go of Eddy’s firm grip on my wrist,

His heavy hand on the small of my neck.

Scared of his inhuman strength;

Scared that he’ll continue to rage,

Continue to scream,

Scream that I can’t leave,

Scream that I am his, and his alone.

I’m scared he’ll look me in the eye

Look me in the eye and tell me that—

Tell me that if he can’t have me, then no one can.

He’ll look me in the eye and I’ll stare,

I’ll stare right back and he’ll tell me,

Tell me that I’m going to die,

That it’s inevitable.

And Oh God I’m scared,

So scared I’ll submit–

Submit to this idea–

This idea of being his forever,

Forever chained.

I’m scared I’ll stare right back at him

Stare right back and nod my head–

Nod my head in surrender

Surrender and acceptance.

Acceptance of Eddy’s premeditated plan of my imminent death;

And with my acceptance,

With it, I know he’ll laugh–

Laugh and grab my hair and neck.

Yank them hard and force me to look–

Force me to look at myself in the mirror;

And while he has his death grip—

His hands like a vice around the back of my neck;

And his fingers buried and digging, pulling at my hair;

He’ll whisper with an evil laugh at my ear and force me,

Force me to look up into the mirror–

Force me to look at the reflection of the two of us–

The two of us together.

He’ll laugh and whisper to me in an evil cackle,

He’ll ask me with bone-chilling, taunting laughter

Ask me what it is that I see?

He won’t let me finish, won’t let me answer,

As he’ll go on to tell me–

Tell me to look for the ugly girl;

The disgusting woman I am, that I’ve become and are becoming.

He’ll tighten his hands around me

And shift his mouth to the other side of my other ear.

And there, he’ll again ask me,

What it is that I see?

And this time he’ll pause,

He’ll pause and wait for me to answer.

And I’ll look, look up and into the mirror

And search for what it is that I can see.

But as I’ll look, expecting to see the two of us,

The two of us in an entangled and chaotic, abusive embrace;

I’ll step back in shock;

I’ll choke out a muffled cry–

As staring back at me

I’ll only see me,

See my wasting body,

My dull lifeless eyes.

Yes I’ll only see me,

And what I’ve become

Become one in the same with Eddy—a package deal.

And deep inside I’ll break.

I’ll break as my heart quivers and quakes–

Quakes in fear, in sadness–

Sadness for the girl consumed–

Consumed by Eddy.

And as I’ll be breaking and my heart shaking,

Tears streaming down my face,

Eddy will be laughing, laughing in my head—

Laughing all around me.

And I’ll look around frantically;

I’ll be looking for him, for where he is—where he’ll be at;

Where he’ll be hiding and watching me from.

But his laughter will grow in intensity,

And he’ll then be laughing hysterically,

And he’ll say,

“Didn’t you know? Know that the two shall become one?

Didn’t you know? Know when you decided to court with me?

To court with death? To accept my proposal and marry me?”

And it’ll be then that I’ll have a flashback

I’ll remember the day we first met,

The day he smiled at me with a twinkle in his eye.

The day he gave me an intense stare and I stared back into his eyes and fell in love

I’ll remember the day I was so attracted to him

So attracted that I felt my heart flutter

I’ll remember the time he stretched out his hand

And I placed my hand in his and looked up and smiled up at him

And he looked down and winked back

 I’ll remember the day I felt his embrace

The day he kissed my lips

And promised me that I’d be forever his

That he would never leave me

Never.

And I remember thinking to my self what a lucky girl I was to have found this one—

This one who would never leave me, never forsake me

If only I had known then what I know now…

What Eddy had really meant, what he really had planned.

I’ll remember how it was that day I’d professed my love

I’d given him my trust and my whole heart

And it’s then that I’ll realize, it was back then in the very beginning that I made a mistake

The biggest mistake of my life…

And he’ll continue laughing

And I’ll collapse in horror

As I’ll finally realize

Realize how it is that I married a monster

A monster that I can’t get rid of

That no annulment or divorce paper can free me of…

And as this reality hits me–

Smacks me in the face

I’ll black out from the extent of my emotions

Hoping and praying

That I’ll either wake up from this nightmare

This dance with Eddy, this deathly waltz

Or that he’ll quickly finish me

Finish me off and give me an eternal sleep

And finally…

Finally some peace, and leave me be

As he’ll have finally killed me.

December 28, 2014 by Wangui Muya

In the midst of struggling towards pushing on in recovery

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