Tables

And so, life, after declaration begins.

To follow up with the contract requires actual action, follow through, and truly living with oneself. In the legal realm, when one signs a contract, if they do not follow through, the consequences can be quite severe.

This, is true in my case as well. The consequences of not following through, just might mean, my life.

So, this weekend, while I was making my contract with myself, two bloggers who work very hard on Eating Disorder awareness were meeting face to face.

Carrie at ED BITES wrote about her meeting with Laura and found that Laura's table was a great metaphor. As I read Carrie's metaphor, I realized that I'd found the answer to MY meeting my ability to reach my contract with my body.

My comment to Carrie was:

Oh! I love this!

I have the table of my childhood. It, is beautiful. It is round, solid maple. Antique and a treasure. My parents bought it right after they were married ( my mother and my step father, I was 13 months old).

It is the table that I sat around all of my growing up years ...

I treasure this table, tremendously ... I made a promise to my body yesterday ...and have been trying to figure out all day today ...how I'm going to follow through with that ...

thanks for the answer. Sitting, at my very very treasured table ...

Ok, I'm crying now.

Sitting at my treasured table, where my step dad would sit with me is where I will follow through with my promise to my body to nourish it.

Thanks Carrie.

This week, this terrible week, that will remind me of all the things I have lost (this is the anniversary week of my step dad's death as well as his birthday) while I've surrendered ALL of my negative coping skills ... no ED behaviors, no biting nails and no SI ... nothing left ...

I ... will sit at the table of my childhood ... and remember the lessons of my childhood.
The days that Daddy woke me up in the middle of the night, just me, to show me my first meteor shower. The walks to get watercress, the trips to town to get icecream, and gardening ...just he and I.
Daddy's little girl ... I, was "Halfpint" to him. Only more, I was Darling.

This year, I will sit at this table, and I will allow myself to be nurtured, and allow nutrition to go into my body, and my heart and soul.

I will sit at this table, and I will write. I will sit at the table and I will eat. I will sit at the table to read. When I am lonely, I will sit at the table and drink my hot tea, or coffee ... and I will remember it's solid maple has withstood as many tragedy's and joys as I have ... and it's still standing ...just like me.

You know what I will do, I will take out the miniature blue willow tea set Chris and Angie gave me and have myself a tea party! Complete with real tea and real tea cookies! *BLINK*

I will sit at my beautiful table ... and I will nourish the my body.

I will remember that somewhere in the US, Carrie is sitting at her table, unique ... and she is nourishing herself ... and Laura is sitting at her table, having worked so hard to nourish her daughter and her daughter survived! As she sits at her table nourishing the souls of those who's hearts are gripped in fear ...

We'll sit at our tables together, but miles apart ... and I will be nourished. Heart, mind, body and soul.

I will remember ... I'm not alone.

Springtime

A year ago, the address I'm writing from didn't even exist.

The lot was here, but it was an empty corner lot. The street running to the side of our house was the official street address of our lot. Actually, several lots. Then, we got the lots and the city re zoned it so that the house would face Cedar instead of Houston ... and gave the whole several lots one address ... and a new address that never existed before in the city's history was born.

Fedex just dropped off a box of medicine to my house. I was staring out the window contemplating a brand new address that had never existed and he just walked up to the door ... and rang the bell.

Our spring weather isn't really being nice ... it's been kind of painful ... my muscles and joints just are not responding well to the changes and the constant air pressure change. I hurt everywhere and I can't seem to make it stop.

This week, I wrote an article for a youth ministry forum, Youth Ministry Exchange. It is an important, but difficult subject. Written to youth pastors on how to recognise if one of their youth members has been raped. I shared the article with my psychiatrist who asked me, what I hope was a rhetorical question (meaning, I hope he wasn't asking me specificially) question of "How can we better 'equip the saints' to reach past our social etiquette?"

Given how firmly I denied everything for as long as I did, I don't have the answer.

On the lighter side, my son got a digital camera this week. He's going camera crazy. He needs to practice his expression when taking his own picture ... a bit too much concentration. :)

However, I am glad because I finally got a picture of my kitchen table ... I have been wanting to get it. It's a beautiful table and it's unusual. Everyone comments on it when they see it ... and I'm absolutely sure there is some history behind it somewhere. It's maple and it is not veneer. That is thick maple, heavy ... beautiful. We have the matching buffet to it too. My parents bought it at an antique shop in 1965 or 1966.



Keep Teresa and her family in your prayers, she's going to need it for quite some time to come.