Inspired

It's been a hard week for me.  I don't feel like I belong.  Part of me holds resentment towards the dance world, or maybe myself for being so alone.  For the most part I don't sit around, sulking.  I've tried to reach out.  I've tried to get out.  It's summer, but it feels like winter in my mind.  

I prayed that I would have a meaningful experience during my weekly volunteer shift at Inova Fairfax Children's Hospital.  No such luck.  There were 5 volunteers and no patient needs.  Okay maybe 1, but the baby quickly fell asleep and then the parents came to reclaim their position in the rocking chair.  Well, I needed to make up some hours and went in on Saturday.  I knew there would be nothing to do.  If Friday was slow, imagine Saturday when a lot of parents don't have to work.  Well, my negative attitude quickly faded as I realized that there was 1 of me and about 4 babies and a toddler or two that needed rocking or playtime.  I spent the entire 3 hours with one baby.  Her parents had come in earlier that morning, but had not held her.  She was fussy.  "I like to be held" was written on the white board in her room.  This sweet little girl, who was probably too young to see much, began to look all around.  The view from the hospital crib is...wait a minute there is no view between the metal bars and plastic overhang.  Finally her eyes would settle on me and then to the toy I was told she loved. After about 45 minutes of feeding through her NG tube, she fell asleep.  And so did my arm.  I would try to reposition her and she would begin to fuss.  3 hours passed when I put her back in her crib.  I began to inconspicuously leave the room, but she began to wail.  I peered back in, and once her eyes met mine, she stopped for a moment.  It seemed as though she was telling me, Please, don't leave.  I apologized to the nurse and expressed my regret that I had to go.  The nurse thanked me and noted that it was something the little girl really needed and that she would be fine.  I knew that the nurse meant that the little girl was used to lack of attention and would quickly soothe herself.  Having been in the hospital since birth, this infant would never be afraid of strangers.  This was her life.   And this is mine--to learn to fight.  Not a tangible health condition like this little girl.  No, something that I fear I will always have to fight underneath the facade that I am well and happy.  Something I have become skilled at doing.  The brutality of an eating disorder.  The devastation of depression.  And, the fear that I will never find happiness.  

The meaning behind the title of this blog keeps ricocheting in my mind.  I am learning from others how to love myself.  Maybe this infant had a larger impact on me than I had on her.  Just maybe this experience which she will never remember is one that I will treasure forever.