Flow it, Show it, Grow it

A few days ago I went out on a limb and posted some pictures and a status on Facebook.  I'm not exactly a private person when it has come to my recovery process, I'm willing to share things if people ask, but I also haven't just gone out of my way to tell people what I've been doing for the past 6 months.  I was having a really rough morning so I got in the shower and scrubbed myself intensely (it's a weird thing that helps) and washed my hair (a rare occasion) and belted my face off.  I got out feeling much better about life.

I let my hair air dry, which was also rare.  Usually I get impatient and put it up in a top knot.  And by usually I mean every day of my life.  Now I'm not fishing for compliments here but I don't really love the way I look.  Especially right now through this whole process.  Because I am actively changing, every day is a battle with my brain, and it's exhausting.  I hate it.  I will never say it's easy, because it is not.

Even though I have always struggled with self confidence with my outward appearance, I adored one very specific part of me.  My hair. I mean...look at it in the height of it's MAJESTY.

I loved it.  It was my defining feature. I got compliments on it whenever I wore it down, which made me never want to put it up (strange now that I wear it up nearly every day....oh how we change). Fast forward to junior year of college and it's just as long but now it's starting to fall out.  In my style of denial (I MADE A RHYME), I started cutting it short.  Everyone loved it so I thought everything was fine.  But the texture of it changed from thick, luscious, and curly to dry, brittle, and thin.  I had chunks missing.  It's so gross to think about it now and even grosser to think how blind I was to it.  Blegh. 

6 months into recovery and I can actually see my hair restoring itself and getting back to what it used to be.  It makes me happier than it probably should. I posted these photos because it is something tangible that I can be proud of.  Never in a million years did I expect the support and love that I got from them!  It was amazing.  ED's are all about trying to do everything on your own, and that is something that makes the recovery process ten times harder.  But putting myself out there and being open and honest garnered more love and inspiration than I ever thought imaginable.  

I have never been more passionate about something than I am about this.  I am so committed to my own journey because I never...NEVER want anyone to have to go through what I have and still am working my way through. Last summer in Spring Awakening, Eric told us to imagine what we would change in the world in order to create our own personal Purple Summer.  This is mine.  I never want anyone to feel like they are less than enough.  I never want anyone to destroy themselves from the inside out.  That's why I'm writing my musical!  So that in the darkest of moments, anyone who needs to can know that there is someone who cares and who believes in them through their own battle.  It truly is a battle.  One that beats me up until I feel like I can't go on anymore and then something magical like this happens.  

Oh and the next day, just to prove my healthy looking hair WAS NOT a fluke, I took another picture. THOSE CURLS, THOUGH! Call me vain, but it makes all of this bullshit worth it.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you.  You have given me so much strength, it's overwhelming.  I love you all. 

It's not just black or white

It's not just you or nothing

there's colors all around

there's colors all around me. 

The Cruellest Month

 April is the cruellest month,

breeding lilacs out of the dead land. 

Mixing memory and desire. 

Daffodils, sunshine walks, damp air, sudden showers.  Nothing can stop people from going outside and shaking off the winter blues.  I'm always amazed how many people are out and about around my neighborhood, all hours of the day.  We've clearly had enough of winter.  There is something so beautiful and so sad about spring time. It truly does mix memory and desire together into a strange restlessness which wells up inside of us as the days grow longer. I love this time of year, but it is a time of change and transition. I have always been a restless soul...always ready to move on to the next thing, and spring time always magnifies those feelings. Due to recent events, I have never been more ready to move on. 

                        

 You gave me hyacinths first a year ago.  

They called me the hyacinth girl. 

Yet when we came back, late from the hyacinth garden

your arms full and your hair wet

I could not speak

and my eyes failed

I was neither living nor dead

and I knew nothing

Looking into the heart of light. The silence. 

Shantih, shantih, shantih.