The first link for where this posted is no longer available but the second link and text compliment this one as we come through our own personal storms with deeper appreciation, courage, and insight. Always remembering to love ourselves and one another. Love, Shay
Source: Jo-anne De Jager
fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You
change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the
storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance
with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something
that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you.
This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in
to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up
your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step.
There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just
fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's
the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.
And you really will
have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No
matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about
it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will
bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that
blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.
once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how
you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the
storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the
storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this
storm's all about."
— Haruki Murakami
Let Love embrace you again...
Weathering the Storm
by Big Girl Bombshell
August 28, 2011
is a lengthy post but a break through of the healing storm I have been
enduring. The break through of finally hitting publish. It may have
some triggers for you, but this is part of my own journey. ***
The boat has capsized, overturned by the stress of work
and the tiny memories that the actions and personalities, trigger. The
bingeing and disordered thinking reared its ugly, lushness monster head
toward the end of February. I had a pretty good run of it. All the
hoopla of the Slimdown, a food plan that was working; and the biggest
reward: coming out of my self-imposed, crab-like shell.
I felt important.
Then the rough waters hit, like a hurricane storm. The
fast paced, swirling of emotions, trying to catch my breath and find the
eye of the storm. Within 2 weeks, I appeared on national TV with an
early morning Skype, HUGE out of my lifelong shell; the passing of my
Dr. Jekyll – Mr. Hyde relationship with my Dad, the step-father who
loved me yet abused me, and a last conversation of an apology and a n
“I’ve always loved you” — the two things I thought I always wanted, and
lastly the milestone 50th birthday.
Then in March, the downfall continued. A bad review at
work, sitting on pins and needles each day and the only comfort was bags
of cookies and a vending machine that continued to call my name. The
harder I tried to please, the worse it got. I started to ask for help.
But it wasn’t helping, or so I thought.
So what did I do…I started planning a wedding. I
finally set the date to fulfill my commitment to the one man I had found
that loved me for who I am. I juggled all the stress at work, checked
out by planning a beautiful and totally unique wedding. I wore my Ruby
Red Slippers. I was headed toward my somewhere over the Rainbow.
In June, the hurricane was bumped up to a Category 3,
with a contract, probation, and a performance improvement plan at work
that could take away everything that I felt was my stability. That was
just the winds. Throw in a dash of rain in the form of the stress of
the wedding. Each week, building toward the monumental life changing
event, I also had to deal with evaluations of every tiny thing I was
doing wrong – in someone else’s eyes. And it felt as if all eyes were
on me and THAT was uncomfortable.
The wedding was beautiful, unique, and beyond any
expectations I had. Looking back at the pictures, I honestly was the
happiest woman I had been in many years. I sat in amazement with all
the smiles and obvious laughter and joy that I had not seen in I don’t
know when. That was the final straw, the breaking point, the “Oh I have
to do something about this” moment. During my two weeks off of work, I
sought out the help I finally admitted I needed. I swallowed all my
pride, all my nothing is wrong with me that a little willpower and
commitment can’t fix. Yes, I sought out a specialist and admitted what I
was doing to myself.
I was diagnosed with an eating disorder as the result of
PTSD – post traumatic stress disorder. My job and the environment with
the sea of personalities that expect perfection had become my toxic
triggers. With this diagnosis, the treatment and the hard work really
began. I wanted to run, to quit everything – my job, my writing, the
whole weight loss blogging world, and everything I knew made me feel
better, or at least provided me with some sort of support or stability.
But here is the real truth of the matter: I am
grateful. I am grateful for all the triggers, the BS I am enduring at
work, and all of that because it made me look hard and fast at the
“real” problem. The solution can only come when you dig deep to “see”
The weight is not the problem, my past survivor habits and traits,
while they were awesome in the midst of the terror, no longer serve me.
This week, I have begun the journey of looking at my
“core” values and challenging those. It is like being stripped of
everything and left vulnerable in the eye of the hurricane
It is calm right now with all the old stuff spinning out of control
around me. But the one thing I know for sure. I can no longer let my
job and all that is occurring there to drip its toxicity into my outside
life. It’s just a job. Yes, it is my lively hood but if I am to
continue on this path, I can no longer hide and allow the verbal and
emotional beatings feed the negativity monster.
Friday, I was thrown a life raft. It was yet another
series of Fridays. You see, on Friday’s, at the end of my week, I sit
through my improvement evaluations. It is a verbal beating each week
with each of the tiny things of not meeting expectations. Sometimes, I
feel they are ridiculous and I have no voice to defend myself. Everyone
else’s opinions seem to matter more than MY truth. THAT cannot and
will not occur anymore. My emotions took over and I “missed” an
extremely important to me conversation. That was my wakeup call…my life
This is one of those things were the serenity prayer
comes into play. To accept the things I cannot change, to change the
things I can and the wisdom to know the difference
. I have kept my diagnoses a secret and tried to keep things all compartmentalized. But no more!
I will not protect that side of my life, step away from
my blog, my writing, my truths, for the sake someone finding out my
“secret” THAT is one core belief I choose to let go of. My writing
helps me heal and this blog and this big girl attitude is who I am and
it is time, once again, to step back into the fold.
for hanging in there with me. I will be back on a more regular basis
to share this part of the journey. I do not have to do this alone or in
secret. There is no shame as it is a part of my life that I cannot
change, it happened, it still exists in the core, and I am choosing to
change those behaviors I no longer need.
I am Jules. I am a survivor. And I am on a journey to heal from this hurricane!
'May we live in peace without weeping. May our joy outline the lives we touch without ceasing. And may our love fill the world, angel wings tenderly beating.'