Wednesday, December 26, 2012

my heart is broken

(Me and Shelly shortly before we both discharged from treatment in 2007)

I don't even know what to say other then my heart is broken.  She fought a long courageous battle and never gave up - but in the end, the eating disorder was just too strong.  I feel so angry at this disease!  This could have very easily been me.  And I keep thinking "why her and not me??"  She had so much to live for. My heart breaks for her family and friends.  I pray they are able to find peace and comfort.  And to know that even though she was taken away at only 25 years old, that she is finally at peace and in a better placeShe touched so many lives while she was here, and was such an amazing person who had such a huge heart.  She was one of the people who helped me through my first inpatient stay.  We leaned on each other during many painful times. And we laughed and smiled through the steps forward in our recovery.  We shared a bond that we never let go of.  She was beautiful, strong, funny, sweet, and SO many other things.  She will be missed by so many.  This is a poem that she wrote for all of us at the center when she discharged and was ready to go back home.  I wanted to share it with everyone because the words are so heartfelt and beautiful.

The Helping Hand

I open my eyes to darkness, and all I hear,
Is the never ending streams, of my lonely tears.
My heart feels shattered, my chest feels tight.
Then all of the sudden, I see a glimmer of light.
I wipe my tears, and try to stand,
A few steps in, I'm waist deep in sand.
The once faint light gets a little brighter,
I can get myself free, I've always been a fighter.
I'm struggling to get out of the sinking sand,
And then in the distance, I see a helping hand.
I can do this myself, I've done this before,
But there's an aching inside me, right down to my core.
My body's still sinking, I can't even move,
Then I ask myself, what am I trying to prove?
I fight myself free, from the sinking sand,
Only to find out, I'm too weak to stand.
The burning inside me I cannot take,
What do I do, what move should I make?
I crawl towards the light, on solid land,
And again, I see that helping hand.
By now I'm far too tired, I cannot move an inch.
I'm always in control, I thought it would be a cinch.
I soon realize I can't do this alone,
A deep stab in my chest, I can't help but moan.
I reach towards the fading light,
But all of the sudden, it's out of my sight.
But just then, I feel the hand grasp me tight.
It carries me, and for once, it feels right.
So when you find yourself sinking in the dark lonely sand,
Always remember, it's okay to use a helping hand.