At a crossroad…

So, here I am, at this unique location, sitting in front of a computer contemplating on what to write. I have decided that I need to be straight up. Yes, I am in treatment and have been since February 12th of 2014. I’m, currently, at a certain point that I’m pretty much balancing one foot on one side and the other on the other side. I have gone back and forth with both feet planted on either side and one on each. When is this tango dance ever going to end?

will update more later


I love two people so deeply that it hurts when one feels like my love isn’t good enough, it hurts deeply.

IDK what else to do. Falling back into the arms of an ed helps me not feel like this, esp since I never felt like this before, this deep love and connection with both means so much.  To me, they BOTH are number 1 in my heart, my life, and my every fiber being. 

I hope they both read this and realize how much they mean to me…..

A snippet of how I view Charlotte Bevan and a link

I will never forget Charlotte, and her efforts towards changing the world in a way whist battling terminal cancer thst ended up tsking her life. Her memory, her work, her words, her silly statements, her dedications should tell you just ghey kind of person she is. Basically, an all around fun person that you feel comfortable at her home and it feels like you ARE home. Miss her already!!!

Ever wondered if what’s happening to you shouldn’t have happened?  Like, you start thinking that theres got to be someone much better and much needier, sicker and truly deserves help…more so than I?

I know I have felt that way constantly, yet at the same time I have all these people rooting for me…people mentioning my ‘pita maed’ method worldwide. Its mentioned in conference’s,  lectures, and more. 

To me, it seems like I am getting an answer to my unending questions to the universe. Will I get all of my wish? Probably not. But, if I can make a difference in someone’s life, heart,  their way of treating this eating disorders,  heck change or make some small change in how insurances perceives this type of issues, then I have done what I set out to do.

As for me, I do want to recover, however I find it extremely hard to let go of old behaviors (usually triggered by home settings). I know my insurance won’t cover all the much needed and necessary treatment length (minimum 6mos- max a year). I believe it’s why one of the pita maed moms created a fund site. It isn’t to fund just treatment,  but to help me start my life bare minimum,  in another state. That’s a whole new life…and, I am worried about surviving, staying in recovery,  along with many more worries. You see, you have a parent(s) who you could return into safe arms, to keep an eye for potential relapses that occurs often…me, I won’t have that….not that I am aware of.

I can tell you exactly what I need..that in-between place, the place you can live/stay with the people who are supportive in your recovery. Then the next step is getting your own place.the rest will follow.

However, my biggest fear is being unable to raise what is needed and feeling like a failure for being unsuccessful with this ‘project’ I started to help not just me, but my peers too. Sometimes I think it is easier to just be an activist to help others recover/receive help, but at the same time knowing that I may not have the same chances.

One of the things that I am fearful of is Rosewood’s caveman-like treatment. I may embody a person with an ability to enjoy the great outdoors/countryside,  but truth is, I am a city girl who need noise (music during nightime to help with sleep), a connection with the people who are a huge part of my life now, and more. Seriously, I am getting worried about such limited activities, hobbies that they provide– you aren’t allowed to bring your own hobbies. Oh theres more. I am scared. I am half wishing I would die from this problematic health issues and all the monetary will go directly to this new pita method along with getting others treatments if needed. Stupid thinking isn’t it…..thought so.

My deepest heart’s desires…cnt…CAME TRUE

Well,  well,  well… looks like I was wrong afterall.  It took me a while to see what I couldn’t, didn’t see in front of me. I, DO, have a mama…the kind I spoke of in my last post about a “Truer” type of mama. Granted, it isn’t perfect as in ‘has everything I’ve wanted’…, but dammit it pretty darn close.

She spent hours on end, at night in the ER ensuring I was well cared for, wasn’t treated improperly, wasn’t alone and to lovingly comfort me as I strived to be brave whist within was nervous, worried and scared…she wrangled and fought alongside another ‘mama’ with my particular insurance company…she falls asleep with me on skype, just because…she worries so much that she checks on me…she ‘played’ Santa on Christmas (her gifts said “from Santa”)… she allows herself to be vulnerable and cry in front of me… she proudly told strangers at the mall that I, on skype, was her third daughter that she was speaking to…and more.

If that hasn’ t convinced you that that is a true blue mom, a mother then I don’t know what will.

— the only difference is…she hasn’t been with me physically…YET. She will be, soon.

The above speaks of only one particular mama. I, DO, have another that comes pretty darn close and the awesome thing about her is she is close to my first mama that they consider each other sisters.  They do share “custody” over me…in a sense.  It’s a legal thing.

Aside the above 2, I, DO, have others. However, one wants to perceive the “others” doesn’t matter to me, because they have their own roles in my life. They are definitely PITA mamas.

I must say that I AM so blessed and well loved. I AM SO GLAD I SEE IT NOW…..

Personal Reflections On Death: In Honor of Charlotte Bevan


Published: January 18, 2014

We all deal with death in different ways. Some cultures provide structure for mourning to help family and friends process the loss of a loved one. Some cultures party to celebrate a life that was. But how we deal with death internally, in our own minds and hearts, is a very personal matter.

Death is on my mind this week because someone close to me, or one step removed, has died every day this week. On Thursday, I emailed my parents urging them to look both ways before crossing the street because I didn’t want them to be added to the morbid tally.

One of the benefits and pains of having a close multigenerational ethnic family is that as a child, you go to many funerals and lose people who are very much part of you. My great grandfather, a passionate gardener, died…

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My deepest hearts desires, yet never will be…

For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted a true ‘mama’…a truer sense of words. The kind that will drop everything and watch me like a hawk. The kind that will do whatever it takes to keep me alive no matter much I scream, fight, or cry. The kind that doesn’t say, ” well, you’re gonna do whatever, so whats the point…goodnight.”

No, no, no, no….that’s giving in. That’s giving up. That’s the tiny child-like voice asking, no pleading….help me. Help me fight this battle. Don’t give up on me now. Don’t hand control over to ed. Dammit!!!!!! Fight for me!!! No, not speaking helping from a certain distance, which seems to be the only way you seem to think you can…but that is NOT the only way. However, it IS your own chosen way. Which is why that huge, huge, huge gaping void within me will never be filled, ever. I will never have a true mama, sure tons of ‘moms’, but not a ‘drop of a hat come rescuse you and do whatever is necessary AT THAT moment’ kind of mom. For those of you who do have that kind of mom…count your blessings. I wish, oh how I wish I could have half of what you have…I do have tastes, an inkling, but its not the same. This is something I doubt I will ever heal from…..all I want is to have the kind of moms that worries, posts frantically, proudly include me in as part of their family they worry about…not a name, an individual, a stranger they came to know.    I know, I know I am making same wishes and beliefs that kids do in Santa, or a tooth fairy or whatever. But, it can’t hurt to journal my deepest desires, my pain, my sorrows… there? Whatev, good night.