Of Course

August 23, 2018 by Dana Andrews

Yesterday was monumental. I graduated from an eating disorders program. Yes, it was my second stint at seeking to recover from this mental disorder. But this time was different. Of course, it was!

This time the staff zeroed in on the reasons that were not identified during my first treatment there. Neither did I know nor understand the concept of self-care. I felt I did not deserve to honor myself. As sad as it seems, I didn’t feel worthy of turning on the light when I went up the stairs in the dark. At treatment, I would remove everyone else’s lunch plates, “saving” mine for last. My every thought began with “I am not worthy. Really, I don’t even matter at all.” Then, when I was fully depleted of anything left for myself, I binged on everything apart from my silverware and the plate. My mother trained me to believe I would never matter. In my mind, I might as well be as invisible as the hope I couldn’t see. My mother/abuser taught me well. Of course, she did.

We are Butterflies and Trains

August 10, 2018 by Dana Andrews

I was born whole. Ten tiny toes and fingers. Just a little tuft of hair, a sweet little face with pursed lips. Born to be loved and learn to love. But what if the part about being held and nurtured didn’t happen? What if I were crushed like a fragile flower before it could bloom?

What went wrong?

Coffee on Blueprints

July 31, 2018 by Dana Andrews

Here I sit waiting for an initiative to forge through my veins and provide the inspiration I will need to create this blog post. It isn't going to be easy for me to write this; nor will it be easy for you to read.

I should clarify that ultimately this post was written by the victims and villains who each have stories of their own. The villains are many but answer to no one. The victims, they are another story. "They" are us.

It Doesn’t Happen That Way

July 08, 2018 by Dana Andrews

“Your children are not your children.They are the sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, and though they are with you yet they belong not to you...”-Kahlil Gibran — “Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
and though they are with you yet they belong not to you...”
-Kahlil Gibran

Babies are born everyday. So beautiful and unique. A source of joy and a reminder of both the newness and fragility life holds. A giver of dreams and a taker of time and patience. But sometimes the balance is off and things go awry. Frailty follows and this blessing becomes a curse.

Babies aren’t born with the obligation to solve their parents’ problems. They themselves are not equipped to take the moral high-ground when their parents cannot cope. Their innocence is torn away like the arms of a rag doll caught in a “Monkey in the Middle” game. No one wins, but the parents have found a way to release their anger and frustration. The child ultimately loses, because they aren’t born with a toolbox filled with coping mechanisms.

No child is born with a bipolar or eating disorder, depression or anxiety. These are forms of mental illness that develop in response to trauma, abuse or other scenarios that affect development. Sadly, many do not know this and blame these issues often seen in children, adolescents and adults as having been congenital- rather than look at the events in the lives of those who suffer from them. Essentially it becomes a “blame the victim” scenario. Not okay. EVER!

When parents unleash their anger and grief on their children, the die is cast. Day by day the blame is on the victim...an innocent child, whose parents fail them by unwillingness to break their own cycle of abuse. The healthy remnants before the “what was” are scraped away and float a downstream like the bark of a tree after a hurricane. Like a house without a roof or walls, children are so vulnerable and porous that they are unable to protect themselves. They are at the mercy of parents who didn’t have the wherewithal to break the cycle of abuse. Their souls are broken.

And so they pay the hefty price.

Chances are that if you are reading this you or someone you know suffers the predicament as is referred to here. I wrote Room in the Heart and these blog posts to remind others that there is both hope and recovery in surviving abuse. As one who survived suicide attempts and endured years of abuse perpetuated by my parents, I utilize the means of this forum, my book and Facebook pages to offer hope and encouragement that victims DO become SURVIVORS!

I celebrate your journey to not becoming your past, but overcoming it.
I celebrate YOU...

Lines

June 26, 2018 by Dana Andrews

Recently while waiting to board a flight, I made eye contact with a woman standing nearby. She looked to be well into her seventh decade; she seemed quite content, healthy and able. Her pleasant face was lined like a road map; a telling story of her life, travels, successes and inevitably, even failures. Like the rings inside a tree trunk, her wrinkles reflected all the years that life has given her. Reminiscent of a delicate Irish lace veil, her lines offered proof her life has been a well-lived journey.