Author: admin

I am amazed that I can’t remember things from two days ago but have vivid flashbacks of my life from twenty years ago.

Colors, people’s faces, time, little indiscrepancies like the color of my barbie doll’s clothes. The fabric in which they were made………I could feel.

I remember visualizing the softness of my mother’s skin as she put her beauty powder on. “She is beautiful, and I’m going to use that same exact powder.”

Clarity and clearness….crispness of the ice cold pool water as it touched my skin I could feel. My senses were on fire when I was younger……and then

I felt the coldness of the metal two bars wrapped around my head and down my long torso. I felt the one big metal bar that went straight down between my breasts, giving me chills. Hard plastic enveloped my pelvic area. The bruises were still there on my pressure points in hues of green, purple, and blue. Choking, I wrapped this contraption around my thin neck. My hair was my safety net, so I thought. No one would be able to see from the back that I was a monster.

Somewhere I cut myself off. I didn’t want to feel anymore physically or emotionally. Insecurity reigned in my brain. Around and around those thoughts went. I stopped growing then. I was literally unable to progress emotionally as an individual. Not only my physical senses halted, but my psychological senses stopped. I grew into myself. Instead of being that butterfly that needed to expand her wings, they became stifled, jaded, by my insecurities. I was injuring myself and by cutting off my senses I began to rot……..

My body started to develop and I couldn’t stop it.
The mirror was my enemy. Every time I looked in it it seemed that my breasts were getting larger, protruding out……and all I wanted to do was cover them up.
I was getting noticed, also. It bothered me. It was almost as though I wasn’t allowed to develop. I wasn’t supposed to develop… like it was wrong or something

“Okay if I can just stay thin enough, I won’t develop anymore?” And so there’s that apple. I take it from the fridge like it’s some kind of golden piece of jewelry, coveting it’s every move. So red, and shiny it was. I knew when I broke into it the juices would immediately penetrate into my blood stream feeding it with the natural sugar it so desperately was needing. “No, I’ll save it. “” I’ll have it after dance class tonight.” That would be my little prize at the end of the day

I couldn’t see how destructive I was being not only physically to my body but psychologically to my brain. Food became my purpose. How I dealt with it every day, how I cooked with it, how I ate it, how it affected my body were the only things that mattered.

I had no control over anything else except what I put into my mouth. That little red apple meant everything to me…….

As I was writing my blog, I could’t help note how difficult it was going to be today to wear that damn cervical collar just out and about today doing normal things I was feeling like a freak!

Flashback: I was the focal point. ( Dressed in black tights, black body suit) …..Their suits were starkly laid white, stiff enough to put a blow up doll inside. Neatly sat, most arms crossed. I could barely tell the black detail of their newly embroidered names. They were a mix of newly graduated doctors. It felt like the room again was tightly wrapping its walls around me to the point of asphyxiation. “Breath Cindy,” I told myself. This event was Awareness Week for Scoliosis. I was the subject to be analyzed.

The week before, I had gotten my period for the first time. I was 16! I did not know HOW to wear a tampon, so I was stuffed with the heavy duty pads because my flow turned into the Red Sea!

There I was, Brace on, stark Black with my overstuffed pads sticking out everywhere. Mortification didn’t come close to what
I was feeling. I felt like I was on display.

I was bent over,,,, they were distracted, I bet by, this stuffy pillow bombardment coming from this 16 year old between her legs. It was all so silly! All of a sudden I felt like Alice in Wonderland drowning in empty voices as she forebodingly fell down that hole. I couldn’t even hear my own Inner voice This was just one of the many many ways I would disconnect from time /space. I did not want to exist. Soon other negative behaviors would come to manifest and take the place of Alice in Wonderland..

Writing this blog thus so far, has truly opened my eyes not only to you the readers, but the effect on my family as well. Not all my family members are on board. I promised myself I would not hurt anyone in this difficult process, but that names would remain anonymous. I’m not sure about the push back but I’m assuming it is founded and driven by fear.

I usually start with a current event that is happening in my life and tie it in to an experience related to my Scoliosis that has happened in the past in the next paragraph.

I need you as the readers to tell me what you would like me to blog about most importantly. That’s where I get my inspiration There are so many insidious facets entwined here just like the curve of my spine.

How deep can I go? How graphic can I get? I do not want haters . But, I guess it’s inevitable.

My goal is brutal honesty, and to touch the lives of the so many that are out there feeling alone and desperate.

As Mother’s Day is here, I can’t help but think about the choices I made or didn’t make during the time I could have borne children. Looking at my niece and nephews and other friends, I am saddened that I was so selfish, and unable to bring a new life into the world that would have been just Kris and mine. The choices I made… I was running from the pain, this desperate void of loneliness that I believed at the time was unable to be filled . I was drinking heavily, Any substance I could get my hands on I was using. To bring a life into this world would have been purely selfish, because I did not have the capacity to look beyond myself. …….Responsibility would have fallen on my husband and other family members. Using antidepressants that could have caused severer birth defects lingered in the back of my mind.

This day always weighs heavily on my heart. I do not have children and this has always been an issue I’ve kept hidden with all the other pain and Depression deep in the depths of my very being. I did not want to have be coherent, or cognizant in any way shape or form.

The pain, ………that’s all I wanted to hide from. I had just gotten married to the most wonderful man, was in the best place I could have been physically {being a dance teacher at that point.) How was I holding it together? I really don’t know?

As the years have progressed, I’ve come to terms with this decision, and Motherhood would surely have changed me. To say that it would have been unfair to that child and the people around me would be an understatement. Taking care of myself or existing in a stable reality was foreign to me.

I question if being a fur baby mother is enough? Enough for who? I have to ask myself. I am grateful for the relationship I have with my own mother, the deep bond we carry, even though she is in dementia. Motherhood is not for everyone. Right now I value more than anything this unique place I share with my mother. Although different, but very very special……….

So my hands are hurting today more bilaterally I think from the surgery. They were both numb prior to my decompression, but now they are rebounding from the decompression. When
I spoke to the nurse she seemed to agree that this what was happening along with my spiked blood pressure. “Cindy, things will get worse before they are going to get better.” This statement is the whole foundation of how I’m healing.

So please forgive me for the short blog today. There are so many things I need to write about, learn about, heal from and grow from in this blog. I can’t wait for each and every one of you to share with me, so I can heal, also. It’s like a symbiotic relationship.

Wherever you are, wherever you go….please know that there are people just like you and I who are struggling, but continuing and pushing forward to grow.

Today I choose Courageous…….

It’s hard to explain Social Phobia unless you’ve experienced it. I never thought of myself as antisocial, but then things get crossed, lines get blurred, and you find yourself in a situation that’s extremely uncomfortable. And then you find yourself having to wear this contraption for 23 hours a day, and your whole self worth goes crumbling away. You are unable to grasp reality. “People don’t really care, Cindy.” I keep telling myself. “It’s not all about you.”

This weekend is a big weekend for my family. Always has been. Family is key, right ? But what about when you feel so impressionable, so at the mercy of everything that encompasses you, and your body, that you begin to feel less than human, even around the ones you are most comfortable with or that you think that know you the most ?

Every time I have a social gathering now I get heart palpitations, my mind races, I get panic attacks. It doesn’t matter how old I get., how fat or skinny I really am. You always feel a little less than whole…a little less than normal. No matter where I go I’m still lugging my brace around even though it’s not there. As I walk into the room , again, the room closes in on me. The stares, the glares, make my face tighten. the whispers manifest right in my ears echoing their mocking undertones. As I reach up to search for that metal cold bar that transcends down the front of my lopsided chest, I feel nothing. The tiny irritating screws have disappeared. My hair feels thin but has not morphed into something alien.

How do I move forward? It’s not about looks or appearance… It’s about love and spending time with the people I care so much about.

God today I choose acceptance.

Please let me be clear, in order for this blog to truly work, I need input and questions on ANYthing I’m writing about. We need to learn and grow from each other. This blog is helping my healing as well as it is yours!

I don’t know if there are rules for blogging, I’m simply speaking from my heart. I take a current event and then apply it to something that affected my Scoliosis, addiction, eating disorder, and/or my Depression and Anxiety in the past. So I’m asking all of you to help me too!

I want this to be my blog today Help me to help you all!

I choose courage, empowerment, and fragility today

We are all different people to each other. Let ‘s face it. A mom, a friend, a coworker isn’t going to see you or treat you in all the same ways, as say a doctor, a sister, or as a niece.

And yet here I am just being me, “Cindy”…with all my beautiful flaws, talents, traits, beliefs.

“Dammit 103 lbs. I need to be under a hundred pounds before this next ballet class. She’s going to weigh us, I know it”. To me I had to fit in a certain box, a view, a vision. You see, if I could attain perfection with my body, then I would be in control. I started getting compliments in dance.class. My technique started to skyrocket, doing things I did know I was able. I was the dancer of the Year that year! People viewed me differently (so I thought) They could tell even with my brace on that I was becoming thinner, I was receiving more what I perceived was love from my family and friends. I could get my brace really tight, to a point I could make it overlap and make myself “look” thinner. This one boy I knew as a Freshman actually asked me to the Freshman Formal. Control is what I thought I was gaining, At dinner, I would barely eat anything. Everyone noticed and the compliments kept coming.

It didn’t matter what my relationship was with you, I was becoming the thin, in control Cindy.

But those butterfly wings weren’t growing. They were shriveling. I became hypoglycemic in all my classes. All I could think about was food. I began looking at myself as different than everyone else. Growing inward was where I was going. I wasn’t going to have enough strength cracking open that cocoon shell. It all was starting to take over my life with food being the number one priority. “Just a couple more minutes on the bike.
Yeah that should do it”.

So do we stay true to ourselves or do we take on a few of the characteristics that are “expected” of us in these following roles, categories, or titles? I think it’s a little of both.

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So before putting me to sleep a couple days ago, I almost jumped off the operating room table. “Please don’t paralyze me before you put me to sleep”. I think the anesthesiologist must have thought I was crazy. “Lay down, we’re just going to put some oxygen on you”.

A little earlier in my life, The Depression had gotten so bad that we decided on ECT as an option. As I’m laying on the metal table, with nothing but a gown on, I could feel the ice cold drip in my IV. The room started to turn stark white. I could hear everything the doctors were saying but I was paralyzed. “Is she ready?” exclaimed my psychiatrist. “No” I’m screaming inside myself. My eyes were open. The anesthesiologist stated, “Give her a few more seconds”. “Seconds”? I’m screaming inside of this body that can’t move, can’t breathe.”. “I’m actually going to feel this electricity fly through my brain and satiate the very depths of my neurons with me totally being awake”. I woke up crying.

They didn’t have ketamine then. I was in a very dark place for Depression. I had started taking more and more antidepressants to make the pain in my heart go away. It was all a culmination of everything that had happened in my life up to that point with Scoliosis, dealing with my brace, an eating disorder (feeling like I needed to look perfect), and addiction to make all the emotions and heart ache cease. Never again did I have ECT. I was going to have to do something else with the pain.