April's CR Diary

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August 7, 2007

Never Knew We Could Be So Strong

It was just a few months ago, in the heat of my second to last campaign, after one of my nurse leaders got fired and his reputation dragged through the mud, that I emailed my old friend Sam-I-Am (no, that's not her name! It's the name she used in her comment on my "How To Save A Life" post. You can read it here.) and said that I was listening to "Morning Glow" from the Pippin soundtrack.

Morning glow, morning glow
Starts to glimmer when you know
Winds of change are set to blow
And sweep this whole land through
Morning glow is long past due

It took every ounce of strength I had to make it through that campaign, and to do what it took to lead those nurses to victory. And yes, we won.

Sam and I had been out of touch for awhile. I totally understood her decision not to see me once she found out about CR... after all, anorexia had nearly killed her, and on the surface of it, CR can look a lot like anorexia. Especially if you've never seen a real live CR practitioner, but only read the media accounts.

Sam was my closest friend in high school. We stood by each other through horrors that no child should have to endure. She taught me that sometimes, your best friend is the person you tried to kill the day before. That you can fight, you can scream and cry, you can be who you really are, and at the end of the day, there is someone who loves you.

Sam taught me how to love somebody else, and how to accept somebody's love.

Sure, we fought. A lot. There was the time I thought I was going to do her a big favor by washing her towels on a Sunday morning, and she was mad cause she wanted to shower and her towels were in the dryer. Or the time she wouldn't stop playing the Beatles "All You Need Is Love." I blame her for my lifelong hatred of the Beatles. That's all seemingly trivial stuff, but we were working out our identities as teenaged girls, trying to find our independence while realizing that we needed each other just to survive. And hating the fact that we needed each other, and wanting to be free, but being so bound up together for our very survival that we had to work it out.

When my boyfriend dumped me, she went with me to the other side of the lake and we went swinging on the swings and we sang songs from Chess and Pippin and Les Miserables until I felt okay again.

And there was the time I threw my geometry book at her. But she really was being obnoxious that day. :)

When I got really, really sick in Vermont, she was the person I turned to.

When she got sick, I tried to be there, but I wasn't always strong enough. Her husband was there. Wow, he earned my admiration. On their wedding day I just kept thinking, "Thank you so much for being there." He stood right by her. I've never felt so good about a wedding as I did about theirs. That was seven years ago.

We'll be present at the birth
Of old faith looking new.

When she got sick and was in the hospital, I didn't visit her. I was busy with my life, but more than anything, I was scared. I was scared of the pain, scared of the hospital, scared that my friend would die, scared that I would be powerless to stop it all.

I called. I wrote. I wanted to do what I could. But I was so scared. So terrified, so desperately afraid.

I was doing all I could to save myself. My little Kay was still calling me (I was at Yale but she was still at Interlochen) and asking what to do if one of her friends had cut herself so bad she couldn't stop the bleeding.

Morning glow is long past due.

Sam made it out. She fought through years of treatment, and she made a life for herself in which she spends most of her time taking care of others. I am so proud of her. She didn't have to dedicate herself to helping other people, and heaven knows she could have made more money elsewhere. But she did, and I know the people she's helped are grateful for the change she's made in their lives.

When I started CR, I was at the end of my rope. I was not healthy at all, and I was lonely and scared and starting to see my life slipping away. Somehow a voice called me out of the darkness, and I learned to save myself.

My friends were supportive. My now best friend, in fact, was the best. He made it clear that he wanted me to be happy, no matter what.

Of course there were naysayers. Somebody spread rumors that I was anorexic. Some people didn't like my new thinner body.

But those who really loved me were right there. My parents, my grandparents, my best friends, and eventually my angel MR. I know how lucky and blessed I am to have such support in my life. Sometimes I feel guilty when I screw up at all, since I have such a wonderful support system that you'd think I'd never have a bad day.

But Sam decided that she needed to cut off communication with me for awhile. I understood, of course. She was at a point in her recovery where talking about CR just wasn't going to be cool. And you can't meet me or MR without talking at least a little about CR. I mean, that's how we met. I met the love of my life, my partner, the man with whom I own a house and who feeds my cats and whom I wake up next to every morning through CR. It's there. It's a part of our life, our story.

Sam wasn't in a good place to deal with that. I understood, but I was sad, and I was angry too. I felt rejected. It didn't seem fair. But I still understood.

I made other close friends. My darling MR, who has been my rock through a time of tremendous transition and stress. My best friend in the world, who's stood by me through everything from the grand tragedies to the everyday stress. Susie and Lisa, my organizers, my tiny goddesses who inspire me every day with their dedication and hard work. Allswellinhell/Ashley goddess, my Jedi writer warrior who pulled me out of depression when Rebecca Traister and Julian Dibbell and all the other journalists who trashed us got me so far down I didn't know how to get myself out. Robin, my role model, the girl who says I set an example for her. Z-mu, so far away, fighting with all her strength across the oceans to send me positive energy when I needed it most. You know who you are, all of you. Perhaps my one magic power is the ability to draw to me people who will give me so much energy and love... I can only hope that I will love you in return and help you reach your own God-given potential and exercise your True Will.

But there's been a big old hole in my heart since Sam and I have been out of touch. I never had a sister, but she was like one to me. I understood, of course. But I was never happy with a vision of a future where she wasn't a part of my life.

Then she got pregnant with a baby girl, and she invited me to the shower but I couldn't go because I was coordinating the Mprize meeting.

Then the baby was born, and I haven't seen her yet.

But I will soon.

Sam will be relieved that I'm not all that skinny, I'm the same crazy happy loving goofy energetic but has to crash by ten pm girl I always was. I haven't changed much. A few battle scars on my face now, to be sure. But I'm just about the same as I always was. My mother says I'm the most consistent person she's ever met.

It wasn't until just a few days ago that I started to let go of the guilt I felt for watching my friends descend into the hellish depths of anorexia. I didn't go with them. I've been thin, I've been overweight, but something inside me wouldn't let me go down that anorexic path. I don't know what it is, and I'm sure I'm not worthy of it. If I could have traded my health for my friends' at some point, I suspect I would have tried. But I couldn't. So I ran away from the pain. I started this life that is so far from all of that. I wasn't always there for them. I was sometimes too weak, too scared, too terrified to be there when they needed me.

But I'm older now, and stronger.

In a few weeks I am going to visit my grandparents. My grandmother has been practically imprisioned with my grandfather, who won't eat, stares at the walls, but gets very scared when she leaves. My beautiful grandmother, who is still stunning at ninety something (she won't tell us her age!!!) hasn't left the house for more than three hours in a row in seven months. They used to travel the world, but now he just wants to sit at home. He says he wants to die. She doesn't want to let him go. And who can blame her? They've been married for seventy years! I imagine MR saying he wanted to die, and I'd say, "Oh no you don't you orange idiot freak boy! Live on! You're not going without me!"

She wants to live, but he doesn't. And he's stopped eating. The doctors can't find anything wrong with him, but he's definitely very sick.

And my step-mother and father and many other family members have been wonderful but I have only been down for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I am going down to spend a weekend with them in three weeks. Just with them. I will finally be there for my grandmother. I am old enough, strong enough now, to face the pain.

"It's a matter of facing the pain," said Great Uncle Cuthbert in the Starbridge series that my dad and I and my sister L across the pond love so much.

My grandfather may die soon, but my grandmother doesn't have to. For once, I'm going to be there for her.

Sam and I are finally going to see each other after years, and I am going to meet her baby girl.

I never knew we could be so strong.

But it's not one of us, it's all of us together, pooling our strength and amplifying it with love, to form a greater whole than the sum of the parts.

I experienced that in my last two campaigns. I couldn't have done it without Bill, Jon, Rachel, Lisa, Lorraine, Jess, Mark, Larry, and all the old organizers of the past who pitched in, even with just a phone call, to make sure we made it.

And we won.

Morning glow
By your light
We will make the new day bright
And the phantoms of the night
Will fade into the past

Morning glow is here at last.

Posted by april at August 7, 2007 5:43 PM

Comments

Posted by: Stepha at August 7, 2007 8:13 PM

Posted by: Robin at August 7, 2007 8:33 PM

Posted by: istanbulwitchy at August 8, 2007 9:54 AM

Posted by: Judith at August 8, 2007 12:15 PM

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