I decided to bike to the pharmacy tonight instead of drive. It's probably no more than 2 miles away, it's a perfect, summer night, and I was sick of driving today. I don't particularly care for driving much either. Today was an exception. I would have driven much further for this cause. Today was the National Eating Disorder Awareness walk in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin. When I was even just still debating whether or not I wanted or was even capable of fully recovering from anorexia, I could have cared less about awareness, prevention or advocacy. I really didn't believe that recovery was anything I would ever truly experience. I couldn't have been more wrong. Lo and behold, I take any opportunity I can get to promote research and prevention for these life-sucking, relationship-demolishing, and joy-killing disorders. I want dieting to be a word that kids learn about in history books, not health classes. I want eating disorders to be diseases that can be prevented, and I actually HATE talking about the depths and dark places. I don't believe in talking about my eating disorder...I'd rather talk about how to let kids be kids, eliminate weight stigma, and promote body gratitude and positive body image. The walk was a success. I saw people in all stages of recovery. Some have left it far behind them, and others walked around scanning and comparing bodies. In some eyes I saw longing and aching for freedom from this, in other eyes I saw fear, and in a few I saw fire. In the picture a friend snapped of me and one of my lovely, kindred-spirit, ballerina friend, I saw in my eyes for the first time in many years, the fire that I thought had burnt out for good. I don't know yet for what that fire burns, but I'm content in waiting for now.
When I left the pharmacy tonight and stood outside the door searching through my bottomless pit of a bag for my bike-lock's key, a woman (a stranger) approached me, and stepped right up to me, touched my shoulder (causing me to look up, startled, from my searching), and said, "Those are some really happy, bright-colored shoes! They just look like really happy colors. I really had to tell you that." I was astounded that someone would actually approach a noticeably preoccupied strange young woman, break her concentration, and compliment the colors of her shoes. It seemed like a lot, and somewhat risky, just for shoes. Then I remember why I like bright colors. I like them because they represent how I feel inside. Loud and obnoxious, perhaps, but mostly just beaming-ly joyful. And there's a funny thing about being joyful; no matter how much of it I give away, I always end up with more than I had when I started. So, if my happy-colored shoes can be an excuse for me to share my joy, bring it on.
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| NEDA walk 2013 (I'm on the right, my friend Melena is trapped in my hug!) |
from my Facebook response post to today's event:
ReplyDelete"When it was too scary to fly and our wings hadn't quite fully grown, we had to be held down until we could do it on our own. Some of us are a little stubborn, so we had to be reminded and pulled down from the places that could've hurt us. But now we have our wings, and we know how to fly. We don't need to be told anymore, and we know we are bold and fierce. It's time to fly. The only question now is, how high? As high as you want my beautiful, as high as you want. There's nothing but sky to explore now--go and find your dreams. I promise you, they're out there.
Even though I felt this before today, I saw it in each pair of eyes I met today at the NEDA walk...hope, longing, uncertainty, fear, but in most--a fire. Believe it and don't run from it. There's more to life than safety and rules. Don't let the fear hold you back. Grab it by the hand and let it come along. Take the challenge. I promise it'll be ok." MD, 2013
I've got a tiny pinpoint of a spark and I am holding on to it for dear life! I find that reading pieces like this kind of akin to using a candle that's already lit to light one that's unlit - I can use your energy and beauty to start to fuel my own fire. Thank you for that.
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