While Dreams of Sugar Plums Danced in Their Heads...

Every year I perform the Nutcracker, I have a very different experience.  No two Nutcrackers are the same.  

I was fifteen and I distinctly remember being told by the ballet mistress at the Washington School of Ballet, in front of my entire class, that I was a horrible dancer who should have never been cast in the Nutcracker.  In retrospect, I know this was all a lie--a form of verbal and emotional abuse.  The Artistic Director of the Washington Ballet liked me and before the founder of the Washington Ballet died, she told my parents that I had great potential, I just needed to eat more.  Even this ballet mistress had loved me at one point.  But every time I came close to excelling, she would pull the rug out from under me.  That was my last Nutcracker before I reached my breaking point and quit dance.

Fast forward nearly 6 years.  I reconnected with the ballet teacher I had when I was 6 years old because I knew she was one of the only teachers I had who cared about her students as people, and nurtured them with love and compassion.  I knew that if I was going to face this monster named "dance," I would have to do it with someone I trusted.  Within a month, I was recruited by this teacher to perform the Sugar Plum Fairy in a shortened version of the Nutcracker.  I overcame great emotional struggles to perform the role that year.  I cried, I panicked.  The voices of ballet past came back.  But, I did it.  I have many mentors to thank for that.  One in particular has been my rock over the past few years, encouraging me every step of the way.  I went on to perform in front of loving friends and family.  I was on cloud 9.  

The following year, I performed the same role again.  The only difference was there was no partner to dance the Grand Pas de Deux with me.  I was much more relaxed, and enjoyed the time I spent with the little dancers.  I was touched to see so many parents, volunteers, and teachers come together and sacrifice for these dancers to put on a production to remember.  This was the first full length Nutcracker the studio would perform and it turned out to be a great success.  

This year, I performed two solo roles: the Snow Queen and the Sugar Plum Fairy.  This time I had a partner.  Interestingly enough, we had danced at the same studio when I was growing up.  Funny how things come full circle in this small world.  He was a great support and personal cheerleader.  I am so grateful we had the opportunity to dance together.  I rehearsed and dedicated much of my time to the production, hoping that my racing thoughts would come to halt.  This was the case.  I have a loving second family who took care of me at my lows.  My co-workers took me under their wings and nurtured me and helped me realize that I can do hard things.  Dance is therapeutic for me.  In the moments when I dance, my whole mind, body, and spirit are focused on that one thing.  There is no room for worries, fears, or negative thoughts to flood in.  And, when I'm on stage, it's just my partner and me.  Occasionally I would take a peek into the curtains and see my mentors and rocks watching lovingly as I danced.  Those images are ones that I will hold dear to my heart forever.  I wish I could thank thank to the degree to which I am grateful.  But for now, that is impossible.  I am truly indebted to them.  

I felt like a celebrity in Fauquier County this year.  I was featured in the Fauquier Times-Democrat, Warrenton Lifestyle, and had my picture plastered all over the town.  At the end of our last performance, I was bombarded with little girls wanting to take their picture with me and to have my autograph, telling me I was their favorite part of the Nutcracker.  How could a timid, beaten down girl turn into a blessed, passionate hero of little girls?  It's taken a lot--both from within and from outside support.  I wouldn't trade these experiences for anything.  Not even a chance to dance with a top-notch company, for dreams are actualized in the humblest of circumstances.  

Did We Know?

The holiday season is a blessing and a curse.  It is a celebration of all that is good in this world: family, gratitude, friends, and most importantly, our Savior Jesus Christ.  However, it is stressful and the meaning of the season is often overshadowed or forgotten.  My last Christmas was everything a young 20-something would want: a simple final exam schedule, a serious boyfriend, a mostly-stress-free Nutcracker, loving family, supportive friends, a great church environment; the list could go on for days.  This year I'm living deadline to deadline, which means I have a lot piled up on me as far as school is concerned.  I'm performing 2 huge roles in the Nutcracker, with rehearsals out of the wazoo (not to mention being stuck in traffic for 2+ hours to get to Warrenton most days).  The Nutcracker also falls on the night of my church's Christmas party, meaning I won't have the large turnout of supportive friends that I had hoped.  I'm attempting to catch up on my 225 hours that are due next week for my internship.  I feel I haven't been able to give each responsibility and duty in my life the full attention it needs.  Then pile on the ensuing guilt, frustration, self-loathing, and sadness.  Oh, and don't remind me that I'm single.  Needless to say, I have been a "hot mess" this past month.  

Amidst all this, I have been reflecting on God's greater plan for each of us.  We are told in Job, 38:4-7: "Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? declare, if thou hast understanding.  Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? or who hath stretched the line upon it?  Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? or who laid the corner stone thereof;  When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?"  We, as spirit children of a King, shouted for joy when we knew we were to come to earth to receive a body and experience mortality.  I then wondered, did we know how hard life would be?  I can't imagine knowing that I would be challenged with such deep depression and self-hatred that I would want to end that life which God gave to me that I would want to endure it.  How could we have known?  How could I have jumped for joy knowing that I would experience so much heartache? 

I was then reminded that in Matthew 26:39, we read that Christ "went a little further, and fell on his face, and prayed, saying, O my Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me: nevertheless not as I will, but as thou wilt."  Christ prepared as much as He possibly could for His mortal and eternal mission.  Yet, even He did not understand how painful and unbearable the burdens placed on him would be when in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Ultimately, the Father had to withdraw His presence and Christ felt utterly alone.  

As I think of Christ's birth those thousands of years ago in Bethlehem, I am brought to my knees in awesome wonder and gratitude for that miracle.  Without the Savior's birth, we would never be able to experience and utilize the power of the Atonement in our lives.  There would be no way for us to return to live with our God, who gave us life.  And in turn, we can know that WE are never alone.  Because Christ walked the same paths that we must endure, we are NEVER alone.  

I wish you a joyful Christmas--one full of remembrance and gratitude.  Christ is the source of our joy and gratitude.  Remember Him.  

It's More Than Casseroles and Conferences

I have lots of things I could blog about.  But, as I was driving my mother and myself to dinner tonight, she told me that my thoughts on "Conferences and Casseroles" would make a good blog title.  

Most of you know that I am a proud member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  As a woman of this church, I am also a member of the largest women's organization in the world: the Relief Society.  Established by the Prophet Joseph Smith in March 1842, the organization still stands strong today.  When instituted, Joseph Smith stated that this organization was meant "for the exercise of all benevolent purposes."  

Having grown up in the Church, I distinctly remember Daddy coming home early once a week to relieve my mother of her "motherly duties" so she could attend a weekly gathering of the sisters in the Relief Society.  Sometimes my father would even take my sister and me to get root beer floats at Friendly's, and that made being without Mom alright for a short while.  She would usually come home with some handicraft or new recipe to try out on us.  

If someone had asked me the first word that came to mind when they said "Relief Society" a few years back, I would have immediately blurted out the association, "casseroles."  To many young women in the Church, Relief Society is an old ladies' club that delivers casseroles to widows and new moms.  But oh how wrong they are!  It's far more than the casseroles and women's conferences!  And yet, it took me four years of being in the Relief Society to finally catch the vision.  

I look at my life, especially the past 5 years, and sometimes have feelings of dismay and despair because all my friends are now married and most of them are beginning families.  I've always wanted to be married.  I thought I was ready when I was 19!  I grew up like many little girls playing with Barbies, but my Barbies always ended up marrying Ken in my pretend LDS temple.  I have always wanted to be a wife and mother.  My heart aches (and somedays even breaks) with each passing day that puts me at, what feels like, a farther distance from being sealed in the Temple to a worthy Priesthood holder.  I will now be older than all my female family members when they got married (my mom, sister, aunts, grandmothers, and cousins).  

BUT...

I do have one advantage over all of them:  I am able to focus on becoming me.  Just me.  Not a wife nor a mother (though those are my heart's strongest desires).  It is distressing at times, but I know that I have come so much farther than I could have if I was in a family ward.  Being in the young single adults' ward has allowed me to realize the full purpose of Relief Society: to become a true disciple of Jesus Christ.  It's not about the age-old traditions of baking bread and delivering casseroles.  It's not even about book clubs or conferences.  It's about learning to love who we are, growing as daughters of God.  

The Church's website states, "In the first meeting of the Relief Society, Sister Emma Smith [the first Relief Society president] said, 'We are going to do something extraordinary.' Relief Society is filled with examples of ordinary women who have accomplished extraordinary things as they exercise faith in Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ."  I know this.  I have come into contact with women who have so many insecurities and heart aches, but the world would never know what they are struggling with, as they are inspiring and productive leaders and examples.  I love every sister with whom I have come in contact and they have shown me the way to become a better disciple of Jesus Christ.  They have taught me true charity.  They have taught me how to love and be loved.  They have shown me how to live a virtuous and exemplary life.

We are often told as daughters of a King to "live up to our privilege."  I have often struggled with listening to the demons in my head and "settling" for something less than what I deserve.  Please, do not do this!  A loving Heavenly Father wants us to be happy, so much so that He sent His Son to suffer every imperfect thing we must suffer through, feel, and experience.  The concept of living up to our potential is simple, but it is never easy.  We are cast to and fro in today's corrupt world, even among those who we think are friends and our allies (or in my case someone who I thought would be my future spouse), being told we are not good enough, worthy of love, or beautiful.  This is not true.  We truly do have a divine potential to live up to.  Never give up.  Believe that there is something greater waiting for you, know that your time will come.  

The Blessings of Revelation, Part 2

I could write a whole post on all the wonderful packets of spiritual inspiration I received from the talks of the afternoon session of General Conference today.  However, I feel the need to focus on just one talk:  Elder Holland's inspired counsel.  

Mental health and mental illness are topics that are not discussed openly in the Church.  In fact, there are many in the Church who are misinformed and lacking in education regarding these topics.  In addition, as far as I know, there has never been a talk given in General Conference about mental illness.  As many of you know, I was diagnosed with anorexia at age 12 and major depressive disorder (MDD as Elder Holland referred to it) shortly thereafter.  I was silent for decades about my struggles, but remembered that when in the midst of all of it, what I wanted most was someone who had been through it to give me hope.  Elder Holland provided the world today with that hope.  Though he did mention that he struggled with a bout of depression, that was not the ultimate source of hope he offered.  The hope he referred to comes from our Savior Jesus Christ who suffered everything so that we can have the ability to rise above everything.  Elder Holland expressly stated that there is much to cherish and look forward to in this life.  Life is precious and we should look forward to the day when we will be made whole and perfect.  He said, "Believe in miracles."  

My life is a miracle.  

I have endured many trials surrounding my depression and eating disorder, some surrounding those who simply do not understand the challenges, and blessings (for there are many blessings) that come with mental health problems.  However, I testify to you that the one thing that got me through those dark and hopeless decades, was looking to the ceramic model of the Salt Lake Temple I had in my room every morning as I awoke.  The Book of Mormon tells us to, "Look to God and live."  Certainly I looked to the House of the Lord, and literally lived.  I look forward to the day when I can enter His Holy House and reap the blessings of living with my "eye single to the glory of God."

Fellow bloggers, friends, family: this talk was an answer to my fervent prayers.  It was my personal epistle.  I never knew that my prayers could be answered so directly in General Conference. 

To those who doubt that life with depression or any other mental illness can be enjoyable or worth living, take this counsel given by Jeffrey R. Holland:

"Above all, never lose faith in your Father in Heaven, who loves you more than you can comprehend."

Life is worth living, even if just for the beautiful tulips that peek through the harsh winter snow, or for the crisp leaves that begin to change one-by-one rather than all at once.  Maybe joy comes from the cool sea breeze coming from the ocean, or the beautiful sunsets that come on late summer days.  I know that God's creations were created to bring us happiness and hope.  They were made just for us.  

Elder Holland went on to say not to place judgment on those struggling, rather to show them kindness, love, and hope.  I would add that we who suffer need to do those things for ourselves as well.  Have faith and take heart that you are not alone.  You are loved.

Take care, my loved ones.  And, never doubt the power of prayers, both uttered and in our hearts.  Heavenly Father knows us.  He loves us.  He blesses us.  He yearns for our happiness.

May God bless you in all your righteous endeavors.

The Blessings of Revelation, Part 1

I don't think I have ever been as excited as I am today to watch the General Conference of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  There are times in our lives when we are forced to our knees in desperation.  I certainly have experienced those times.  However, I recognize how blessed I am to kneel before our Father, through my own desire, to talk to Him at any moment.  One of the greatest blessings of the Restored Gospel in these Latter days is that of revelation, both personal and church wide.

Elder Jeffrey R. Holland, an apostle of Christ's church, stated the following:

"If we [the General Authorities of the Church] teach by the Spirit and you listen by the Spirit, some one of us will touch on your circumstance, sending a personal prophetic epistle just to you."

I love the idea of receiving an epistle from the Lord, through the mouth of His servants.  Can you imagine sitting at the feet of the Savior, or maybe Paul or Peter, or even Isaiah or Abraham, to hear the messages they offered?  The words pronounced by our living prophets and apostles today are just the same.  The authority that was on the earth during the times of the Bible has been restored!

I have knelt in prayer so that I can receive instruction, guidance, and answers to some of my biggest obstacles, challenges, and questions at this point in my life during this Conference.  I made sure to clear my schedule in order to watch both days' sessions.  This morning I debated whether or not I should attend a required rehearsal for the Nutcracker performance to which I am committed.  I decided to drive home after teaching my pre-ballet class instead.  I made it home just in time to hear Elder Robert D. Hales' talk on the importance of preparing for, listening to, and, afterwards studying, the talks and testimonies given during General Conference.  What a personalized confirmation that I made the right decision!  

I later heard Elder Dube speak to my heart when he said, "Faith always looks forward." I cannot move forward if I keep looking back, or if I stall my progression.  Faith looks forward, never back.

Sister Stephens asked with authority, if we know our impact and divine nature as daughters, sons, mothers, fathers, wives, husbands, aunts, uncles, sisters, brothers, and friends?  We must live worthy of those callings and responsibilities we are given as spiritual children of our Heavenly Father.  

President Uchtodrf counseled us to, "Doubt our doubts before doubting our faith."  Hold on to what has been revealed to us in days past.

I look forward to listening to the coming 6 hours of Conference.  Will you join me?  Look for byutv on your channel guide, or stream it on lds.org.

It is quite easy to day dream (or dose off) during 8+ hours of talks.  What do you do to stay focused?  Over the past 4 years, only during Conference, I've slowly worked on embroidering patches for a quilt:

I'm still working on the bottom two, and I have 10 more to go!  Hopefully I make more progress this Conference!

Best wishes,
Your Conference Buddy

To Be Continued....

Beautiful

Some days are Katy Perry days.  Others are the Fray days.  Today is the latter.  

I received unexpected grief for my last post.  I am sorry for those I unintentionally hurt, but at the same time, I do not revoke any of the emotions that I expressed in my post(s).  Is it fair that I can't have my closest friends and family (90% of whom are on the other side of the country) peek inside my heart, soul, and mind?  I think not.  I need to stand my ground, and I truly do stand by the things I feel and believe.  I will not back down simply because it is inconvenient for someone to know the truth.  

Friday and Saturday nights are typical "date nights."  I had not spent any weekend outside the house over the past 4 weeks.  It was too painful and too triggering.  However, I had a friend reach out to me last Friday night.  How refreshing it is to be with people who care for you and are there to comfort you, and still have fun.  This wonderful and beautiful woman turned to me at dinner and said, "Mackenzie you truly are loved by so many."  I've been playing that statement in my mind over and over again this week.  Why is it that I can't accept the love and support that is coming my way?  Don't get me wrong, I greatly appreciate those sweet sentiments, but at this point in time, I would rather have that one person still love me than for the whole world to love me, as bassackwards as that sounds.  I (and I assume we) have many irrational thoughts, but that's why we have family and friends to call us out on them and force us to slowly change our thought processes.  

In my social work class on trauma, I've learned so much thus far.  But perhaps the most powerful things came from lecture yesterday.  In brain scans, the neurons and dendrites that contain traumatized and negative thoughts are dark.  However, those that contain healthy, positive thoughts are normal.  But what is even more astounding is the plasticity of the brain.  We can literally change our brain and the way we think!  Slowly but surely, as we divert the pathways of negative and traumatized thought processes, we change the wiring in our brains.  "Fake it till you make it" took on a whole new meaning yesterday.  It takes a lot of work, but we can change how we think.  There have been studies on Holocaust survivors, and they have been able move past the injustices against them by reframing, re-sensing, and re-purposing those traumatic events.  I would add that forgiveness plays a huge factor in that as well.  Another dear friend made this profound statement:  "Mackenzie, you can demonize and hate someone, but then you have a bigger problem in the end: forgiving them."  Forgiveness isn't about believing what someone did to you was acceptable, or that you deserved it.  Rather it's letting go and not letting the ill feelings consume you.  It's about love.

For the past two weeks, I've been able to sit with a woman who is not only my co-worker, but mentor and inspiration on Tuesday nights for dinner after dance.  She asked me a hard question last night:  "Mackenzie, what are you basing your self-worth on?"  I began to choke up.  I may say I'm recovered from my eating disorder, but I still base a large part of my self-worth on beauty.  That "one" person used to tell me every time he saw me, "Mackenzie you are the most beautiful girl I know.  In all seriousness, you are."  No one has ever made me feel like royalty, but he did.  Now that no one is there to express those same sentiments, my self-esteem has involuntarily plummeted.  I'm definitely not admitting this to receive comments to make me feel better, but to realize that I cannot let someone's opinion of me make or break my day.  I am beginning to learn through all this that I deserve certain things and in that same vein, I certainly don't deserve to be treated as I have.  To come full circle, I can divert my association of worth with beauty to rewire my brain.

Brigham Young said it best: "Why should we worry about what others think of us, do we have more confidence in their opinions than our own?"

Another mentor gave me a kick in the pants years ago when she told me, "Mackenzie who is going to stand beside, up, or with you when no one else will?  You need to be your own best friend and stand for you."  More than ever, I need this advice.  

Here is a song that I have listened to a couple hundred times over the past few weeks that reminds me that "I am here":

Not only am "I here," but so is my Heavenly Father and Savior.  In Doctrine and Covenants 101:6 Jesus Christ says, "Therefore, let your hearts be comforted concerning Zion; for all flesh is in mine hands; be still and know that I am God."

Broken

Blogging has always been very therapeutic for me, and thus I write on a subject that is very tender to me.  I spent the weekend in Moscow, Idaho and returned late last night.  While I was there, I spent a lot of time contemplating a good title for this blog.  I knew it needed to be written in order to begin healing and I thought of several titles. However, I think this one word sums it up well.  I am broken in so many ways and broken things need to be fixed.  They will never be the same, but I hope and pray my broken heart will act as a muscle--one that will be stronger once it has healed from this devastation.

Instead of rehashing all the ugly details of the past week, I want to focus on a quote that pertains to everyone, but feels as though it has been written for me:

Even if you cannot always see that silver lining on your clouds, God can, for He is the very source of the light you seek.  He does love you, and He knows your fears.  He hears your prayers.  He is your Heavenly Father, and surely he matches with His own the tears His children shed.

--Jeffrey R. Holland

God knows the pain I am feeling.  He cries when I cry.  He hurts when I hurt.  He counts my tears and mourns for me.  He knows the fear and frustration I feel as well as the torment and despair I am suffering.  However, He, the Father of all creation, also knows what is in store for me.  If I can just weather the storm, there will be glorious blessings in the future.  If I but serve the Lord, the righteous desires of my heart will come to pass.  Maybe not now, but surely by the time I reach heaven.  

I have seen tender mercies poured upon me over the past week:

 

My best friend in Virginia did not wait for me to ask for help.  Instead she appeared on my door step just minutes after I returned home from the moment of my crucible.  

My forever friend allowed me to escape to her home this weekend, with practically no notice.  She wasn't even planning on being home the day I flew in, but God knew I needed her and for an unknown reason, her and her small family travelled back to their home in Idaho just when I needed her the most.

Several quotes have been tailor made for this situation and I know I have found them this weekend, not by coincidence, but by divine intervention.

The last miracle that I will mention on this public blog involves the moments before my hour of need.  I had been praying and fasting that things would be okay, that things would work out.  I also pleaded for peace.  Before traveling into the utter chaos and distress I would soon experience, I felt peace.  Perhaps, the most peace I have felt in a long time.  I thought for sure everything was going to be okay.  However, when things turned to hell, I questioned why I would receive such an answer in one of my most vulnerable moments.  My mother, my spiritual giant and supreme earthly example, suggested that the Lord was embracing me and protecting me before entering the front lines of this emotional battle I must endure.

To those who have supported me and looked after me this weekend, thank you.  My heart will be forever indebted to you.  The texts, phone calls, messages, and social media comments have not gone unnoticed--neither have the prayers on my behalf.  I hope I can do the same for you in your hours of need.  Much love and many thanks to each and every one of you.  

Loved and Alone

Many times it is so much easier to hate yourself than it is to love yourself.  It is easier to give into the worries, anxieties, and fears than to rise above and remain positive.  I may be recovered, but it certainly doesn't mean I am perfect or that I have a flawless life.  Recovery isn't about having it easy or always being able to see past trials.  I have far too many bad days full of discouragement and self-loathing.  However, the difference is that I have learned to sit with the feelings, and figure out the lack of logic behind them and the antidotes that will best alleviate the hurt.

I came home less than 4 days ago from a 16-day vacation to Italy and Greece.  Paradise, right?  Well, not always.  Being abroad has its downfalls too.  The outlets and their voltage are different.  Euros seem like monopoly money, and you can't help but buy everything when you feel that way.  You can't get Diet Coke, only Coca-Cola Light.  You're viewed as an easy target for scams and overpriced taxis.  The aforementioned are mostly insignificant.  The real thing that hurt me most of all was that I was completely disconnected from those I love.  I spent far too many days realizing how incredibly vulnerable I am to the self-hatred when I am in new and different environments with complete strangers.  How ironic these feelings were, considering just days before I had successfully let my doctor weigh me for the first time in a year and a half and felt as though I had just climbed Mt. Everest.  However, it was just too easy to let the hurt and pain rush in, looking at myself with a magnifying glass of biased scrutiny.

In a world of several billion, to feel alone is tragic, yet all too common.  I spent a lot of time in and on the Mediterranean Sea during my travels, whether traveling or swimming.  On one specific day near the end of the trip, I was on a ferry cruise.  I looked out from an isolated spot on the top deck and realized how alone I really felt.  With the expansive waters and uninhabited islands, I realized I am just one of the hundreds of billions of God's creations.  But, then so very quickly I was reminded of Christ, the Creator of this earth, calming the stormy seas.  He, who descended below everything and suffered more than any living thing will ever have to imagine, knows me.  He can calm my rocky heart.  I then felt the impression that the mountains, islands, sea, and all things therein were made for me.  The impression was crystal clear.  I am loved.  It's been said that Christ would have died even for just one of us.  I would extend this to believe that He and our Heavenly Father would have made this earth, whether for just you or for just for me.  Truly.

Now, I sit here with tears dropping onto my keyboard.  I am having another one of those days when it's all too tempting to criticize myself, telling myself I am nowhere good enough to be who I am.  

I just need to take a deep breath and remember, I may feel unworthy and alone, but I AM loved.  I cannot be so quick to forget this.  I am a daughter of a King.  Now, get up and go get 'em, Mackenzie!

Giving Up the Race

I have recently found a new hero.  She is around my age, blonde, very girly, a college student, and a former dancer.  Rebecca Houseknecht was one of the several dancers featured in the recent ballet documentary, First Position.  Before I even watched the 90+minute film yesterday, I knew (from my excellent skills on the internet) who she was and why I liked her.  She competed in the Youth America Grand Prix at age 17 and soon after received a contract to dance with the Washington Ballet.  After dancing as a main member of the company for a year, she gave up running the race.  

When I was at BYU and struggling with the eating disorder, I began a "rededicated effort" to be the "best anorexic."  I put these words in quotations because they are illusions that many who struggle with an eating disorder get caught in.  They are deceitful ways in which the eating disorder captures its prey.  During this period of time, I remember one therapist telling me that if I could just give up the goal of being the "best anorexic" with a certain goal weight so close to my grasp, I would become a hero.  Maybe just a hero to myself, but a hero nonetheless.  He had me picture a marathon runner, a runner running not because she loved it, but because she wanted to prove herself a slave to the pavement.  She was just a few strides from the finish line.  Now, I'm not saying that running marathons is a form of slavery, but rather a prime analogy of what was going on in my mind and body during this time.  Next, he had me picture her tearing off her number, and walking off the race track.  She didn't look back.  She just walked off.  

I look back at all the life changing moments I had to walk away from a potential "win" so I could find happiness and life.  Dance was one of these.  I figure that Rebecca and I are quite similar.  Except, she had the opportunity to live the life of a professional dancer before taking the leap of faith into normalcy.

Several months ago, my mom asked me if I wish I had never had such traumatic events pull me from ballet at age 16 (referring to the eating disorder and depression).  Confidently, I told her, "Mom, if it wasn't for those experiences, I would never have reached the level of self-awareness, happiness, and insight that I now enjoy.  I would have never been happy being a ballerina anyways."  The beautiful thing: I truly believe it.  

For those who are interested, here is the mash-up of Rebecca's story from First Position and an article from the Baltimore Sun newspaper:

News Article

First Position Clip

Little Smiles

How can it be so easy to miss the little smiles in life?  We're all guilty of it.  This weekend my thoughts focused on one thing: the yearly Spring Recital.  I have to admit, I was beyond nervous and anxious and stressed.  Living in Fairfax and trying to travel down to Warrenton at 3 pm rush hour traffic from Monday through Saturday is stressful.  But, that's not all.  I rented a costume from a potentially sketchy website that cost me a couple hundred for a dance I only rehearsed once a week for a little over a month and it only arrived on Wednesday.   In addition, I felt the pressure of not living up to the expectations of parents, students, and co-workers alike as I debuted my first piece of choreography (mind you, for fourteen dancers, aged 5 to 10 years, and ranging in all sorts of ability).  

Nightmares always accompany big events, but I just recently made the connection that when dance is at the forefront of my mind, the flashbacks of horrific and traumatizing past events exponentially increase in my dreams.  As a result, the little demons in my head begin to taunt me more and more, telling me that I will fail and that I am not qualified to proclaim myself an amateur dancer or even a dance teacher.  Don't you hate doubt?  It eats at you like no other.

By the end of the performance, I was able to look back and say everything turned out alright.  My only wish is that I had spent more time with my tiny dancers than time worrying about myself.  The few hugs, smiles, and words of personal achievement by my little dancers I was able to catch melted my heart.  Why hadn't I remembered that those little smiles are for what I live?  It's not the applause or even the compliments; it's the growth of self-efficacy and self-esteem in those I teach and mentor for which I live.  Ultimately, life doesn't matter about you.  Life matters about those you help along the way.

  

Gordon B. Hinckley said it best:

"Being humble means recognizing that we are not on earth to see how important we can become, but to see how much difference we can make in the lives of others."

My loving and caring man, Mark, does this for me.  He sacrificed of himself and his family to come make a difference in my life by coming to my performance.  He drove over 5 hours beginning at 5 in the morning to get there to surprise me.  I love him.  He has taught me so much about humility, selflessness, and service, for which I could never repay him.  

Let's all learn to cherish the people in our lives a little more.

Questions and My Answers

I have to admit I have been savoring the memories of the speech I gave a month ago for National Eating Disorders Awareness Week since I gave it.  The event was spectacular.  Better than I could have imagined or even hoped.  I felt comfortable in the spotlight, perhaps for the first time in my life.  It was natural and the best part was I was speaking from my heart.  Every thing I said was true and genuine.  I wish you all could have been there.  I wish even more that it was recorded, so that I could relive the experience without the fading capacity of my memory.

I want to focus my post not so much on the speech I prepared, but the questions I answered.  Several patients asked questions with the "Is it really possible?  Are you really recovered?" undertone.  While my story is unique in the fact that I truly am recovered, it is not impossible.  I tried to remind the patients, and their loved ones, that the road was hard, unbearably hard most of the time.  However, just because life is hard doesn't mean that there isn't a way to overcome.  One patient began her question saying, "I assume that you have to fight the urges to engage in eating disorder behavior every day, at every moment...."  I was confident when I said, "I wouldn't say I have urges.  More like thoughts that creep into my head.  Temptations.  But, I realize the cost of living in such fantasies."  It truly costs more to live in the eating disorder than it does to live life, no matter how pathetic it may seem.  This is key for anyone with an eating disorder to realize.

Another question came from a former patient regarding finding friends and the emotional pain that it takes.  This question reminded me of the introvert nature I have.  Especially after leaving treatment, social situations were a big trigger.  However, I knew that I needed friends.  Social support is key in recovery.  In response to her question I expressed a concept that I had learned from a former therapist: emotional intimacy.  Emotional Intimacy relies on three things: (1) honesty, (2) security, and (3) "the gift."  The first two are mostly self-explanatory.  However, "the gift" raised a few eyebrows when I mentioned it.  "The gift" refers to the genuine interest two people have in getting to know each other and wanting to be with the other; to disclose and divulge, to weep and to smile, to work and to play.  If even one of these criterion is not met, the person you are interested in becoming friends with is not worth your time.  Making friends can be a draining process, however it is important to know not to share yourself with just anybody.  Being selective in who you choose to be friends with is a secret that really shouldn't be kept from the world.  It is best for everyone's social, mental, and emotional health. 

There were many more questions, and it is a shame that I cannot remember them all.  The last one that I do remember was asked by a mother who was so brave.  Her question was perfect.  I was the only one on the panel who had experienced severe depression and therefore was the only one could relate and to and answer the question with honesty and earnestness.  After the presentation, she thanked me and I felt that she yearned for more: more interaction, more hope, and more assurance that her daughter could recover.  I will never be able to guarantee someone that their loved one will recover.  However, I do believe that I can offer a conditional guarantee:  If your loved one can visualize recovery, and you support him or her in his or her actions to achieve, then recovery is possible, if and only if you both are willing to fight like hell.

I am excited to work as a therapist once I graduate with my MSW (hopefully by 2015).  I once thought that I could never work with patients who have eating disorders.  However, I'm beginning to re-evaluate that thought.  When I entered the eating disorder unit in February, this time as an advocate instead of a patient, I had no remorse, no regrets, no urges, no jealousy.  I was not ashamed of my body.  I was not self-conscious.  I was proud.  I was empathetic.  I wanted to help.

Awareness for eating disorders is growing.  However, I recently wrote a policy analysis paper on eating disorder screenings in Virginia and was appalled to learn that eating disorders are still largely under-funded.  Here is what I wrote:

"One way to intervene and prevent the development of eating disorders for all genders, socioeconomic groups, age groups, and ethnicities in America is through research.  Research funding is scarce in relation to the number of Americans diagnosed with an eating disorder.  5.1 million Americans suffer from Alzheimer’s Disease.  This disease is allotted $450 million for research.  3.6 million Americans live with Autism.  $160 million go towards Autism research.  Nearly six times as many Americans suffer from an eating disorder as compared to Alzheimer’s Disease and almost ten times as many Americans suffer from an eating disorder as compared to Autism.  However, the amount of money allotted to eating disorder research is a mere $28 million.  In more practical terms, an average of $88 is given per Alzheimer’s patient for research.  For an individual with an eating disorder, he or she will receive $0.93 for research (NIH, 2013)."

Astounding.  I do no discredit the need for research for Autism or Alzheimer's, but I can't help but feel a little dismal when I hear that eating disorders are not given the same amount of attention, funding, or impact.  

Maybe I've found my niche.  Maybe I've found what I'm passionate about...

What Will You Lose?

I always have a problem with the slew of weight-loss and exercise advertisements slung at us in January.  This year, I've let the "Special-K" commercials stew in my mind a little too long.  So, I hereby dedicate this blog post to body awareness and appreciation.

The "Special-K" ads glorify and glamorize dieting and body-envy.  At first glance, the advertising techniques employed trick you into thinking that losing weight will free you from your problems, stress, etc.  But then you have to step back and think, "what is wrong with my life?"  But, as the famous children's book goes, "If you give a mouse a cookie..." or in this case, "If you give a woman a TV ad on weight loss, she's going to question her body and then she'll envy the 'feel-good' messages of 'a few pounds here' and 'a tummy tuck there.'"  Not to mention that all the women who step on the scale in these commercials are beautiful, average sized, if not less-than average-sized, women.  What is wrong with this picture?!  Their slogan, "What will you gain?" is a slap in the face to women.  Why is feeling good about yourself and appreciating who you are, tied to your weight?  That is not what life is about.

The last week of February into the beginning of March each year is National Eating Disorders Awareness Week.  It's no secret at this point that I struggled with anorexia, but this year I'm taking my awareness to a whole new level.  I will be speaking at Reflections, a comprehensive eating disorders treatment facility in Falls Church, VA, to provide inspiration to patients and family members as they embark on the journey of recovery.  As I have been thinking about what I could possible say to sum up my 10-year struggles and my change from resisting treatment to thirsting for life, I had somewhat of an epiphany.  I realized that when I began to understand I had far more to gain from living than from dying, my thought processes and attitude began to transform from that of a sick, dying, starved patient, into that of a survivor.

So, I want to ask you, first what you will lose from associating your self-worth with your weight or appearance?  Then, what will you gain from living?

There is so much more to life than focusing on a goal weight or size that you know will never actually get you what you need.  I promise that as you focus on what you're missing in life, it won't be attached to a number.