I talk honestly and openly about my experiences with mental illness, fibromyalgia, and chronic fatigue syndrome through the lens of feminism, fat acceptance and process theology. I also do recipe and book reviews. My mission is to spread the message that hope is always real for a better life, despite living in a world that is often very harsh.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

A Beautiful Nightmare and Some Fatshion

Last Sunday night I had a dream that I at first thought was a nightmare, but upon further reflection, I think the dream was very helpful in processing some complex feelings I was having. I dreamed that one of my close friends jumped off a building and hurt herself. I was visiting her in the hospital and she told me,
"Right before I hit the ground, I saw Godde."
And then when I woke up, I had this phrase stuck in my head:
My pain has made me beautiful.
Deep, huh? Funnily enough, even though I was a little creeped out from the dream, I still felt pretty good. In fact, when looking in the mirror for the rest of the day, I would smile and tell myself that I was beautiful, which isn't something I do naturally. I think the reason for the dream was that I was in Milledgeville visiting a friend, which is where I went to college for several years. I had been conflicted about going, because I was afraid I would feel triggered and bad about myself. I had never finished my music therapy degree that I had started there and for a long time I felt like a failure for not doing so. Milledgeville is a town full of unpleasant memories for me, but through those bad times I have learned a lot and have really matured. I think that is what the dream was telling me. My life in Milledgeville was as bad as jumping off a building, because I was not living in recovery, but through my pain, I saw Godde. I found a renewed sense of purpose and hope and I now know that I am truly strong. I am beautiful from the inside out and that is partially due to my painful experiences. Because of my pain, I am a more compassionate and understanding person. I am a fairly good listener and I am in touch with my feelings. These are all very beautiful things. Speaking of beauty, it's time for February Fatshion! I still have a lot of pictures of myself from last year and hopefully I will have the chance to catch up on showing them to you.

Here I am wearing a pretty shirt with a butterfly on it.  The butterfly is a symbol of transformation and so I think it is pretty apt for this post!
(shirt from Cato's, black pants from Torrid, and sandals from Rack Room)

I really like this picture:
I look so happy!  And I am a lot happier lately.  On my way home from my Milledgeville trip, I had some more revelations: one, that I very glad that I am not in school anymore - school was stressful and hard and I do not have to do that anymore!  Two, instead of thinking of moving back home as a failure, why not think of it  as knowing my limitations.  I knew that I was not happy anymore and that I needed to move back home.  I made a choice to respect my limitations and that is a good thing.  And a beautiful thing.  My pain has made me beautiful and has enabled me to see parts of Godde.  Of course, that is not all that my pain has caused, but that is what I am going to focus on today.

Recommended Links:


 “A poem is a sword,” Saheera Sharif, Mirman Baheer’s founder, said. Sharif is not a poet but a member of Parliament from the province of Khost. Literature, she says, is a more effective battle for women’s rights than shouting at political rallies. “This is a different kind of struggle.”

Culturally Disoriented - Letter to Melissa Harry Perry
Indeed, talking about mental illness as the source of gun violence isn’t just factually incorrect. By talking about “the mentally ill” as though they’re all ticking timb-bombs, ready to explode into violence and aggression, we are further stigmatizing people with mental illness.

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