You told me I was beautiful
You told me I was smart
You told me that I’d find someone
You let me down easy

You held me in your arms that night
You wouldn’t let me go
Your words were filling my head
But I couldn’t let you go

But then the weeks went by
And you saw me carry on
Your words fell flat and distant
Then disappeared

You don’t know where you stand
But you don’t want to stand by me
How I can not go on
When it’s so easy for you to go

For 273 days I waited
I counted every Friday
All I wanted to hear were those words
That I was the one you wanted

They told me you were no good
And no good for me at all
You showed me time and time again
How right they were

Yet somehow you still have a hold on me
Your number is gone and those words
I long to move on and hold someone else
But I can’t let go of you

The Mirror Who Lied: My Life With BDD

This morning, I looked in the mirror and thought to myself, “Damn, that’s not a bad looking body. Those legs are skinny and that stomach is flat.” These kinds of mornings are beautiful. I met with a client and she said, “Wow, you are skinny!” That reinforcement of what I thought made me feel so happy. I don’t mean to sound vain, like what my body looks like is super important, because in reality it isn’t. To me, though, it can make all the difference.

It’s only been a couple of hours and I’m sitting here now, feeling that the waist of my pants is just a little too tight. I can see the birthday cake I had for a snack making its mark on me. I don’t know what to believe anymore.

After a lifetime of struggling with body image, depression, mania, anxiety, and an obsession with food and exercise, I was diagnosed with an eating disorder at 18. Finally, the stress I felt over looking in the mirror made sense. The comparisons I had been making of my body to others since I was a little girl, and the hatred I felt towards myself became clear. I suffer from Body Dysmorphic Disorder, which, simply put, is my brain fooling me about what I actually look like. An eating disorder, of course, is an illness that is based off of control when you feel completely out of control with your life. For me, it manifested around food and exercise because of the lies I saw every time I look in the mirror.

What makes it the most difficult thing to deal with is that I never know what I am seeing in the mirror. I was diagnosed once with delusional depression. Well, that’s what my body is to me - a delusion. Some days, I would refuse to leave the house, dress in baggy clothes, or delete photos taken of me, simply because what I saw what too painful, too fat, too big, too soft, too disgusting. Sometimes I would get positive reinforcement, but sometimes I heard what I saw too. I learned that what I saw was a lie, but what if it wasn’t?

The days I look in the mirror and like what I see are beautiful day. It’s brief but that feeling is indescribable. The kicker? What if I don’t look that good? What if that beautiful body I see is a delusion? There were times when I was heavier that I loved what I saw in the mirror, but I knew that in reality, I didn’t want to be what I was.

Not knowing the truth is so difficult. This illness gets such a bad name because of the stigma associated with it. God, I sound so vain complaining about how horrible I look. I’m just another insecure girl. But I promise, it’s more than that. There is so little we can control in this world and as hard as I try to at least control what I do with my body, I will never be able to see what is really there. I’ll never know the beauty that everyone else sees, that I know must be present.

Today is a good day, despite what I’m feeling now. Today I’m feeling pretty. But I have to remind myself constantly that I am also healthy, smart, caring, and funny. When your looks are all you can think about, it makes life become a daily struggle. Everyone else must be looking at me too. I bet they can see how fat my fingers are.

Please understand - I’m not vain. I have made so much progress in the past nearly 25 years to become the person I am today, a person in recovery who works hard every single day to be healthy and, more importantly, happy. I guess what I’m really trying to say here is that BDD is serious and it hurts so many people by leading to so many other problems. The stigma behind it makes it hard for people to seek the help they need. People need to be aware of the daily struggle we face and be able to provide people the help they need.

Today is a beautiful day because, yes, the mirror is being kind to me. But also - the sun is shining, and I’m breathing. So are you.

I Miss

Sometimes I miss the thrill of skipping a meal
And the energy I got from just a few hours of sleep

Sometimes I miss the strength I felt
When I skipped out on the ice cream and cake

Sometimes I miss the feel of my bones
And when my clothes were too big for my body

Sometimes I miss feeling so weak
When I tried to climb all of those stairs

But I don’t miss the acne all over my face
Or my swollen face from self induced pain

And I don’t miss the stigma
Or the way people stared at me

And I don’t miss feeling so weak
Or having to buy new clothes every month

And I don’t miss not being able to run
Or being unable to enjoy a big dinner with friends

And I don’t miss the lies or the self hate
Or the way I could fail even at failing

I love being strong and steady
And the not misses outweigh what I miss.


When I was a little girl

I would ask my mother how she got her scars

“This one was from a motorcycle accident,

And this one from my desk at school.”

I would ask her repeatedly

To tell me how she got her different scars

And every time she would tell me

And I would hope to have stories to tell one day

But now I know someday

My child will ask me, “Mommy,

How did you get this one?

What are these scars from?”

I’ll explain to him

That I fell off of my bike as a little girl

And his grandpa took me to the movies

To help cheer me up

I’ll tell about that time

I fell off of a school bus on my way to class

And how a nice stranger picked up my books

And how my boyfriend bandaged it for me

But then the time will come

When I’ll have to explain those thing marks

That run up and down my forearms

And how those came to be permanent

What will I tell my child

About that time in my life where I thought

I deserved the pain from my own fingernails

My self inflicted wounds

Do I tell him
That I was weak and insecure

How do I explain to a child

That these are not the stories you want to tell

I’ll tell him about the time

That his mommy didn’t know how strong she was

How she thought that she wasn’t worthy

Of true happiness

I’ll tell him that these scars are reminders

Of a time his mommy didn’t love herself

But that these scars now are a reminder

Of how far she has come

I’ll tell him that he is worth more

Than these scars on my arms

I’ll remind him that he deserves to love himself

And that his mommy was able to learn that too

I’ll hold him tight

And he’ll ask me about my other scars

And I’ll tell him all of the stories

And I will never let him relive mine.

The Mirror Who Lied

I know what the mirror tells me

And a part of me knows it’s lies

But more of me than I want

Believes that these tricks it plays

Are what is really there

Because how can you know

When you’ve never seen what’s really there

How can you tell the difference

Between truth and realty

When it’s always been a lie

All of those years of starvation

Of nausea and pills and scars

Of my own lies to everyone I love

Of coming so close to death

And still trusting in what the mirror says

Because this is the mirror who lied

This mirror tried to kill me

So many times in so many ways

Yet I hold on to the belief

That this mirror wants the best for me

I can tell the mirror I don’t trust it

But the mirror sees right through me

Reflects my own lies back at me

As the mirror who lied

Tells me that it’s me only friend

I spend so much of my energy

Reminding myself that there are people

Actual real life people out there

Who love me and believe that

I am beautiful and should feel the same

So I sit here with the mirror who lied

As it zaps me of my faith

And of my time and of my mind

And I tell it that it is wrong

Just to try to lie to myself and feel that way

Holding On

Maybe it’s my fixed delusions

That keeps me here holding onto you

Maybe it’s, as he says,

My lack of self esteem

My self loathing

That keeps me holding on

To something that isn’t true

Maybe it’s that I’m afraid 

That I’m destined to always be alone

Maybe it’s, as I’ve heard,

My loose morals

My distrust

That keeps me attached

To your face and tone

Maybe it’s my belief

That fairy tales are completely real

Maybe it’s, as I’ve been told,

My faith in love

My belief in change

That keeps me believing

You have that appeal

Maybe it’s just simply

That I am in love with you

Maybe it’s, as I believe,

My feelings for you

My trust in you

That keeps me staying

When everyone is saying it isn’t true.



hey canadians brits and australians have fun at school on monday



Rob’s actually real tall guys. 

But backstory. I’m over six feet tall so this was the decided plan - I crouched, he tippie toed, and we decided everyone would be impressed with his height.


Rob’s actually real tall guys.

But backstory. I’m over six feet tall so this was the decided plan - I crouched, he tippie toed, and we decided everyone would be impressed with his height.