loss of sight

 

 

his eyes

wide and glowing green

inside something snarled

it’s voice a blend of

grinding teeth and the cracking

of knuckles

 

inside

 

its mouth opening

rows of fangs

the blood of man or woman

 

swirling around

gurgling liquid crimson

like mouthwash

 

outside

sore and swollen

he is easy target

hard to miss this weak thing

walking on rusty train tracks

writing the end too soon

 

i know how this ends –

i just forgot how it started.

lost in skin

which scar is mine?

which smile is mine?

the texture of  pain

all rough, and bumpy

 

i have seen the footage and you have too.

evidence of decay scratched into skin

the backward rolling eye – visionless.

ready to be dissected by scalpels and knives.

 

ripples of light burn as

blackness traps my eyes

starting to outgrow my own breath

 

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Alyssa’s Story

 At birth is when things in my life began to shape. I was born 3 months early, weighing 1lb and 10oz. Doctors told my parents that I had a 40% chance of life expectancy and if I survive, I’d basically be a vegetable but God worked in my life right from that moment.

My family and I weren’t Christians, we didn’t even discuss religion, we lived life as people do. At the age of 3 my parents divorced and my mom decided we move to where we live now. Growing up my mom invested a lot into me and my siblings. She did the best she knew to do. My childhood was pretty good without my biological dad.
In 6th grade is when my worst and best decisions were made pre-Mercy. I accepted Christ at 12 years old but I also started cutting. I use cutting as a way to cope. In school I was always made fun of and picked on. I was always compared to my sister and very different from her so I would be made fun of for being different and in special classes. Through the dysfunction in my family and having relationships with them along with peers I came to a mindset of not caring about anything. I loved myself and hung around others who were picked on.

In 7th grade I developed an eating disorder and wasn’t attending church at all. I had no information or knowing about eating disorders, I was never introduced to them so I didn’t think anything was wrong or harmful.

In 9th grade I became a majorette and let my struggles take on what they wanted of me as I became in denial. My coach quickly noticed the eating disorder and had lots of concern. She would tell my mom and I’d be questioned but I would deny it since I didn’t know anything was wrong. I started getting involved on Facebook which resulted in me connecting with others that dealt with suicidal tendencies, eating disorders, cutting, etc. The people I came into contact with were very unsafe and unhealthy but I felt comfortable in being open, I felt understood and not alone. This got me into more harm and I would expose suicidal tendencies on my page to the point of cops showing up at my house and sending me to the hospital. The counselor I started seeing prior to this event admitted me into a mental health ward where I only received poor treatment and upon release, things only escalated to a worse lifestyle. After I was discharged I was offered to attend church with my close cousin at Grace Community Church. I was starting to hangout with people I had met at church and an adult ministry group and things got better until those friendships turned into being rescue-type relationships. I would go to them only for attention. I put them under a lot of worry. Those relationships eventually fell. I wasn’t sure who I was and I lost desire to do anything other than cope in negative ways. In the midst of all of this, I was captivated by rejection which caused the fear of forming socialization and isolation seemed comfortable and beneficial. The stronghold of rejection filled me with lies I believed and set my identity on. I believed people would enter my life just to hurt me. The hate I felt from others brought me to self-hate and torture. At this time in my life I got into alcohol and marijuana. One night I was hanging out with a friend and her older brother. I remember the night very blurrily. I was numb and couldn’t move and kept going in and out of consciousness. The next thing I knew I was in a dark room with only a bit of light enough to see that he was molesting me. After this occurred I thought I could forget about it if I just tried to pretend it didn’t happen. Keeping the secret in gave me shame and I dealt with the pain by inflicting harm on myself more.

Throughout the rest of highschool I continued my self-destruction and let people treat my badly because it’s what I convinced myself I deserved. I graduated highschool and stuck with all of my ways of coping to where it nearly took my life. I would go to parties and would go as far as staying nights in random buildings with friends and strangers just to get high and drunk. The last party I went to I was locked into the bathroom with several sharp objects scattered in a tub next to me while in a bad mental state along with being intoxicated. When I’d escape, the group of people there would grab me and pass me down the line of each person as they told me to kill myself and throw me right back in and lock the door. Thankfully I got through with no self-harm or any other hurt done physically. Soon after this I started going back to church and gained healthy relationships but I was still tangled into cutting and the eating disorder.

I got back onto Facebook and went through tons of bullying and terrible threats on there but I also got in touch with Mercy Ministries graduates that sent me a video from BarlowGirl where I seen the ad to Mercy Ministries. I decided to look at the website and was encouraged by several people from church to apply. I made the decision between Mercy and RHEMA Bible College by telling the Lord that He had to provide for the one He wanted me to choose.

Within the few months of having severe anorexia along with purging and laxative abuse I decided to apply. In the application process, I met my favorite worship leader Kari Jobe and she prayed over me to be accepted into the program.

In January of 2014 as I was going through bloodwork and other appointments to complete the application, I was diagnosed as underweight and with Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified. This took a hold on my that I needed Mercy more than anything. I entered Mercy on February 6th and the beginning was a difficult time. I didn’t realize how sick and malnourished I was physically along with spiritually, mentally, and emotionally.

The days of stomach pain from required shakes, tears each meal and severe anxiety because I couldn’t work out became completely worth it.
My journey at Mercy has brought me more transformation than I ever thought possible. My body and lungs are stronger than ever, I am able to fill myself with truth and replace the old lies and have joy in nourishment. At Mercy I learned that rejection from others isn’t a reflection of my self-worth. My restoration is in the new being God has made me. I discovered the freedom of staying forward and not turning back just because someone around me has. Their behaviors don’t force me to resort to old ones.

Mercy has also brought transformation and restoration within my family. The staff loved me in ways that nobody ever has and they’ve helped me gain a true life that God’s intended for me. This program has been safe and the Lord worked through the staff and poured into me a new creation. I am saved by grace and God but also by Mercy Ministries.

disposal

old china cup eyes

she comes with a history
 book inside her palms
her name is crossed out-
a chicken scratch of rage
of ink blots
symptoms and side effects
now ring true
and the doctors say
depression
bulimia
borderline and she finds the letters
of her names between new refills for medications
all her rough drafts are
 mangled within colourless skin
carried over her shoulder
beyond this
is a numbness betraying darkness
and smiling at sunlight with rotting teeth.

It’s a bad day

Nobody told me that I would be spending most of my time in the hospital rather than going to parties or hanging out with friends. Nobody told me that I would attempt suicide days before my 18th birthday.

I am sitting in the Psych Health Centre. Also known as the place where people who want to die but don’t have the courage to actually follow through with killing themselves end up. I walk to the window where a lady stares at a screen and answers the phone. Click. Click. Hello, Psych Health Centre how may I help you? Click. Click. Click. I slide the window open. I’m here for Dr S. She taps her pen lightly. She smiles and tells me to take a seat. I pick the chair furthest away from everyone else. I dig my nails into skin deeper and deeper until I can see tiny red marks from my sharp nails. I stare, looking into this sad environment. I feel nothing but numbness consuming me.

Hi Katie. Dr S smiles her friendly smile. I struggle to flip my lips into some kind of sad smile.  I pick up my bag and follow her. The hallways are narrow and lead into so many different places. It’s a maze here, like most hospitals. There always has to be some kind of short cut. I take out the piece of folded paper from my pocket and hand it over to her. I don’t make eye contact because I am afraid to.

I clamped my mouth shut, biting the insides of my cheeks so hard that they started to bleed. I closed my eyes and when I opened them long lines of tears started trailing down my cheeks. All of a sudden every emotion becomes my worst enemy and I hide behind the sleeves of my sweater. Shame. Grief. Sadness. Hurt. Pain. Depression. I say nothing because my words are hollow now, almost meaningless. This session happens every week.  

I miss her. The tears are heavy and sting my skin.

Dr S knows exactly what I’m talking about, knows exactly what I’m feeling. I see her everywhere and I want to run up and hug her but I know its not really her. Its just a stranger.

Abandonment

Rage

Pain

Pain

Pain.
My face is red. My eyes are puffy with sadness. I dont say anything else. Then, the session is over and I dont want to leave because this is the most interaction that i have all week. When I leave her office, she walks me out and tries to make me smile with really bad jokes. It works, sometimes but not today. Thats when she knows… Its a bad day.

bullseye

the anxiety finds this

moment sitting and

laying back in the reclining chair

an evening of doing nothing

a shallow breath looking

for another breath of fresh air.

coughing an aquarium of

blood with a promise of neglect

only a smile could tell

only a cry of the night could

tell how sharp his teeth were

biting down on the full

course meal of suffering

only i know it was my body,

salted over with shivers

turning stale,

the darts have been thrown.

How social anxiety affects its victim

The inner dialogue

I heard my name. Or was it my name? They looked over at me… that must mean they are talking about me. They looked over at me and then laughed. They hate me, they must hate me. Oh god, what have I done wrong this time? Why is everyone staring at me… I probably look really gross today. Sit in the very back of the classroom. Hide behind the tall kid so that the teacher doesn’t notice you sitting at the very back. Don’t call on me. Don’t call on me. Don’t call on me. Oh god please don’t call on me. Phew, she didn’t. Can I stop shaking now please? Nope. Okay, what was the teachers name again? Alright, just slowly practice saying her name in your head so that it doesn’t sound weird coming out of your mouth. I hope my voice doesn’t crack. Please don’t ask me a question. Please don’t ask me a question. This class has too many people in it. Too many loud talking, gossip sharing, rumour spreading people. Is my face red? I can feel the heat of fire on my cheeks. They are starring. Why is everyone starring. The bell rings for class change. Another classroom, enter another doorway. I can’t do this. I can’t do this. Not another class presentation. I can’t get up there. Their eyes are glued to mine. I can feel the vomit making its way up to my mouth. Tears of panic. Tears of fear. Tears of everything streaming down my face.

Asleep

girl wakes up in a room

the walls crumble into pieces of deformed rock

as sirens of yells echo throughout.

girl wakes up eating her way out of

fear and shame. out of loss and grief.

girl wakes up in a back alley with a boy

his lips on hers, his calloused hands

trace the outline of her dirty figure.

he walks away, numb tear drops

trickle down her cheeks

girl wakes up with ragged teeth

coated with satin acid.

girl wakes up with hand drawn faces

none of them she started out with.

girl wakes up to a death bed

covered by the roaring unknown

doesn’t know if its hers

but her body sinks into the bloodless covers.

girl wakes up with a handful of pills

girl wakes up in a hospital bed

a familiar scene.  Bare beneath the gown,

covered in vomit. IVs in arms

watching medicine enter her bloodstream.

girl wakes up to nurses discussing her as a number.

girl wakes up into a nightmare

realizes its reality.

girl wakes up in a weekly therapy session.

doesn’t know of anything else.

girl wakes up to rain knocking on her window

but for all she knows it could be

teeth or glass breaking.

Girl wakes up in a puddle of tears

and antidepressants

wishes this would be it.

girl wakes up as a prisoner to her own darkness.