Attraction, Physicality, Spirituality

Physical attraction.  What makes a woman attracted to a man's body?  I'm not going to get into the science of it, of course, as I'm no expert on that matter, but I'd rather express my personal belief/experience from a more intuitive/emotional/spiritual view.  (Yes, I really did include the word spiritual in there.)  I struggle with the subject of men and relationships for many reasons, but I often notice that no matter how annoyed or turned off I can be at every member of the male gender in a given moment, I still have the ability to physically see them as attractive.  And it makes me curious, because I know that I'm a human being, not merely an animal who behaves on procreative instinct.  I know that this attraction is higher, is linked to something beyond the simple fact that a man's body contrasts with my own.  The beauty in this contrast is most definitely a large factor for me, personally, but I want to share a revelation I had in my thoughts recently.

I am a visual artist, and my forte in subject matter is portraiture and figural work.  The human body has always fascinated me.  In high school, my concentration one year for my AP Studio Art portfolio was the male figure.  But even as a child, I was always pretty aware of people's bodies and how they all have different shapes and even exhibit different senses of character.  Everyone has their own unique gestures, postures, gaits, and manner of holding themselves physically.  It really is amazing that we humans are all mechanisms, structures, built to move and accomplish such a wide variety of tasks in life.  When I draw people from life, I relish the way an individual is physically recognizable by his or her natural body expressions.  No two pairs of legs walk quite the same way; similarly, no two pairs of hands rest or flex the same.  Weight is distributed differently.  Some bodies are softer and some are edgier, which affects how they move, how clothing drapes over them, and more.  Everybody simply holds themselves in a different way, and it's quite striking when you are able to notice and appreciate this.

What intrigues me initially about the male body, in addition to what I've noted above, is that it is so different from mine from the very basics.  I'll never know what it's like to be in a man's body, but to be aware of it is very important to me.  As a Catholic woman, I do believe that God designed and created us humans, male and female, with a higher purpose, but one that intentionally includes physical attraction.  So what is it that has always innately made me feel attracted to a man's body?  It can't be just that the male body is different from mine -- it just can't.  That's too simple.  And as previously stated, I know I'm more than an animal with basic instincts.  I'm an animal with a complex psyche, free will, and spirituality.  So I know there's more to it than the fact that a man is just "different".  But what?  Well, here's the thought I had the other day that finally enabled me to articulate what I'm acknowledging when I see a man as physically attractive.

A man's body is impressive.

What does that mean?  Why the word "impressive"?  (I really do appreciate the way some thoughts just appear to me as if they're not my own, and I get to watch them flow from one to the next...)  The more I stayed with this idea of a man's body being impressive in my thought process, the more I was able to follow it and break it down.

First of all, what do I admire in the male body, exactly?  What am I seeing when I think to myself, "Wow, look at his body"?  This is important to lay out first.

I see firmness.  I see strength that far surpasses my own (seriously, it's amazing to me how even a man who doesn't look much bigger than me seems to have about ten or twenty times my strength).  I see sturdines, rigidness, solidness, and grounded physical presence.  I see more lines, edges, texture, and variation in form with the male body than with a female's.  I appreciate the details: heavy brows, thicker necks, greater height, broader hands, fuller deltoids (I do think this is my favorite part).  As an artist, all of these things are exciting to me because I make a mental drawing of everyone and everything, constantly.  It's all a journey, an adventure, and a visual opportunity for me to study human anatomy (without having to take a class or actually know the scientific names of our body parts).

So you see, when reflecting on my reactions to a man's body, I reflect upon what appeals to me.  And this brings up the question of why "impressive" is the word that seems most fitting for my assessment of my attraction to the male body.  Here's what I think:  God.  It must be that the word "impressive" came to my mind in particular because I already believe that human bodies were intelligently and divinely created.  I believe that every function of our bodies is part of a supernatural design -- by our one and only Maker!  Therefore, I feel impressed when I admire a man's body because I am appreciating God's handiwork.

Wow.
Boom.
This hit me.  This really, really hit me.  I haven't read John Paul II's Theology of the Body but I know of it, and this revelation I had about men's bodies being impressive must have some correlation with JPII's writings...  Feel free to comment if you have anything to add about that.

I worry I may not be able to express the profundity loudly enough here...  It sounds too simple, but let me restate:  I feel impressed when I admire a man's body because I am appreciating God's handiwork.

WHOA!  Do you know what this means?  This is great news for you and me, male and female, all humans alike.  This has a direct significance for us on an individual and interpersonal level.  This idea is HUGE because it gives us a purpose and a reason to treat each other with unearned respect.

"Unearned respect"?  Maybe that's not the best phrasing.  But what I mean to say is, we don't have to prove anything to anyone to be respected as human beings.  God already designed our bodies beautifully, to do and be so many things.  He made us different, male and female.  He personally created you and me, with His own Intelligence that exceeds anything we here on Earth could ever attempt on our own.  And our bodies prove it!  The way I feel when admiring a man's body tells me something: it tells me that I acknowledge that man as one of God's creations.  One of God's creations.  God is holy.  Therefore, that man is called to be holy.  That man comes from holiness.  WOW!  And God doesn't arbitrarily create people to just fill up space on this planet.  Oh no, no, no.  If that were the case, we'd have no reason for living at all and it would be perfectly okay to murder someone on the spot for calling us a name or cutting into our lane on the highway or forgetting to give us our change in the convenience store.  Thankfully, that's not the case; we all know, somehow, that there is a meaning to our lives, even if we don't know what that meaning is.  God brings us here with tools, skills, personalities, gifts, dreams, and goals.  He gives us to each other to contribute something and make an impact of some kind.  So we are each pretty damn important.

I also need to restate that, by respectfully appreciating God's handiwork in another person's body, this is great news for the human race.  If we are capable of doing that much - of acknowledging that the people we feel attracted to were uniquely and intentionally created by God, who is Love, then we are capable of so much love and value.  We are capable of holding other people's lives in high esteem because they were specifically engineered by a loving Creator.

This blows my mind.  Being attracted to men's bodies makes me respect them physically but also now spiritually...  We are inherently linked in our attraction to what is different, what we do not know, because the work of Another is impressive.  It is something we humans cannot match, cannot recreate, cannot duplicate or originate.  A man's body is the impressive work of art that innately requires respect and value in this world (and the same goes for women's bodies, of course).

So men, although you will forever confuse, annoy, and frustrate me, you will also continue to impress me (at least physically, for now, ha ha)...  Maybe stop trying and start being, from your own artistic structures that can do so much for this world.  Maybe when you realize this, you will realize that your physical power is a gift and a wonderful responsibility.  You are called to be holy, inspiring, intelligent and awesome, just like the God who made you.

Cameo Ed

March 17-18, 2014

Grief is a funny thing, Ellie.  You can avoid it and it's easy for a while, then all of a sudden it can hit you like a ton of bricks.  I've never experienced this before.  Not really.  It's still so hard to believe that you no longer exist on this Earth.  I looked at your timeline on Facebook at work today, and could have broken into tears.  You were a real, living, fighting, stunningly beautiful girl.  Why, oh why, did you have to die?  I know this sounds a little crazy or whatever...but I hear a small voice say, "It should have been me.  I wish it were me."  And on top of that, your killer makes cameo appearances even now.

He came to me in the dressing room, Ellie.  The same dressing room as before.  (Well, maybe not the exact same room, but the same group of rooms in the same store.)  I'm shocked that he could appear like that, in the aftermath of your death and right when I'm trying to convince the world and myself that I'm all recovered and doing so well.  But yesterday, Ed made me feel awful and embarrassed.  I looked at my body and noticed its shape.  Everything was detestable.  I felt old and wasted.  I felt defeated.  I lost the game long ago, the one I worked so hard before to win.  I looked in the mirror and felt like no one should ever see my body nude -- like I could never even get married because of it.  And this was just yesterday.

I was ashamed, Ellie.  Ashamed because of this strange contrast...  I still remember coming into these dressing rooms with my mother in 2008 when she was visiting me at school and I had to get new clothes because nothing fit anymore.  I remember taking off my shirt and being very aware that my mother was behind me, seeing the bones trying to poke through my skin and feeling who knows what in her heart.  I remember what we bought.  She bought me a dark blue robe, fuschia slippers, and two sets of pajamas -- because I needed them.  There were fleece turquoise pants with blue polka dots and a matching turquoise waffle shirt, as well as a red waffle top with red longjohn pants that had white snowflakes on them.  They were the smallest size, of course.  I was excited to have warm, comfy clothes that fit.  I felt loved, but I felt guilty at the same time.  My mother sacrificed all her emotions -- all her anger, her concern, her helplessness, her sadness, her horror -- to provide for me, her daughter.

I remember crying inside.  Even in my sickness, I still had the Old Me inside that knew how much Ed was not only hurting me, but hurting my mother.  Yet I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that she was still willing to put clothes on my back, even though she was angry with me for my disease and obviously didn't want me to be wearing that size.  I didn't know what to do with this concoction of strange emotions.  I felt lonely, sad, and scared.  But I didn't want to let Ed go, either.  (I'm sure you know how this feels, dear Ellie.)  It's pretty much the most consuming beast imaginable when you're in the midst of it.

Ellie, I don't get it.  I still question every day if I'm overweight and should do something about it.  But I keep striving to be positive, assertive, and forward-moving (away from all things Ed).  The food thing is kind of ambiguous right now...  I'm not exactly healthy, but I'm not in any danger either.  I'm just kind of...getting by, I guess.  But I don't move enough.  Ed still tells me that I'm fat no matter what -- that my body shape is just BIG and unattractive and not fucking good enough.  I should be exercising like mad, every day.  I'm lazy.  I remember the weight that the doctors all said I should be, based on my height, when I was thin.  Obviously, back then they were trying to get me to gain weight, but even at the time I thought the number they told me was too low.  I had never naturally been that weight in all of my adult life.  I do look good at that weight, but I'd have to eat a very precise, rationed amount per day in order to maintain it.  I felt so much pressure and angst when they told me that number -- like it was easier to be underweight than try to be that perfect, ideal number they all mentioned (based off some stupid calculation of pounds per inch!).

Now the scale in my closet is collecting dust.  I'm definitely going to get rid of it because you know what?  It serves me no purpose.  I prefer to assess myself more intuitively -- by how I look and feel, rather than by a number that actually doesn't tell me much of anything about my health.  Ellie, I wish you could have known this for yourself.  And by "known" I mean experienced.  I'm sure your brain knew a lot of truthful information, but unfortunately it all conflicted with Ed's voice.

I don't know how much longer Ed will be making these cameo appearances, but thankfully they are so infrequent that he can't cause much damage these days.  I'm still going to walk on your team in Newton, MA next month and raise money for NEDA!  I'm still going to graduate school this summer.  I'm still hopeful that I will have a successful career in changing the world someday, and that I'll have the privilege of doing it in your honor, beautiful girl!  I'll not let Cameo Ed stop me, even if he tries.

Ellie, you know I could go on forever, but I probably should wrap this entry up.  I miss you, wish I could have been closer to you, and will continue to think of you and pray for your family.  Please be with us all who are grieving...

Surrender

Ellie,

I start graduate school this summer, which is only a few months away, and I'm nervous.  I'm nervous because it's been over two years since I graduated college, and I struggled in college (well part of that was due to You-Know-Who).  I'm also scared because my program requires I only use Spanish the entire time!!  Of course, I love Spanish and that's why I'm going to get a Master's degree in it, but I have a part that is terrified I made the wrong choice.  Or rather, I'm terrified I made this choice to go to school for the wrong reasons.  I don't know.  I have many parts surrounding this whole new chapter of my life.

I wish I could have called you like you suggested in your last message to me, and I could have explained these fears and heard your voice in response.  I just wish I had really taken the time to get to know you better.  But I always felt like I had to walk on eggshells when it came to you, because I could tell from your Facebook posts that you were still so sick.

You're not tied down by Ed anymore, so I guess I'm free to talk to you as I would have if we had been able to become close friends.  The thing is, I have been trying to somewhat prepare myself for school by reviewing my Spanish and practicing as much as possible, but I'm so afraid I don't have what it takes to be a good student.  I can't stay focused or disciplined enough to even read a book in Spanish!  I can't stay focused on a single task and simply see it through from start to finish, it seems.  I am too distracted by other things and I know I can't let these bad habits follow me on campus.  Ellie, I'm afraid of failure.  I'm afraid I'll only last a week or two and then have to leave the program because I'm just not cut out for it.  And then what will I do?

I feel a little silly expressing these fears to you.  You were only 21 and still in college.  Your illness was a huge part of your life and there's no way you'd have been able to give me advice on this stuff.  Or maybe I'm being cruel and underestimating of you.  You were a mature young lady with a lot of faith...

Aside from me and my worries about school approaching, I do have to tell you that I am kind of kicking myself now for not having visited you while you were still alive (oh I shudder inside...what an awful phrase to use regarding you).  That drive to your hometown yesterday was nothing!  I could totally have done that ages ago and we could have hung out and everything...  I met a friend of yours, a woman named Susanne, yesterday, and she told me that she prayed with you to help you find a friend and a church when you went to college.  Oh, Ellie, I could have been that friend!  I would have gone to church with you.  I would have done whatever I could.  But honestly, I was afraid.  I was afraid you would be too triggering.  But I'm not even sure that's true now.  I think I was strong enough to handle it.  It would have been hard, seeing you and being around you while you were still sick, but I think it still would have been worth all that.

So Ellie, can you do me a favor?  Please ask Jesus to help me with school this summer.  Ask Him to give me the strength to stay away from Facebook and all other distractions so that I can really put my all into this program.  Please tell Him that I need all the help I can get because I'm already unsure and feeling doubtful.  I need to surrender and put my trust in God.  (Remember that word, "surrender"?  You asked me in your last message to pray that God would help you surrender.)  Help me, Ellie, to surrender my fears and worries so I can be a diligent student.  Help me to succeed, sweet angel friend!  I'd like to lean on your wings a little, if that's okay.

Thank you, Ellie, for the light you brought into this world.  I want to carry your spirit and your unfinished work so that I can be your vessel.  I want to fight poverty and world hunger.  I want to explore foreign lands and meet new people.  I want to tell everyone about a girl I knew who suffered most of her life but had beautiful eyes and a heart for God.  And when I graduate from my Master's program, I'll squeeze you in my pocket and smile my brightest for you.

Beautiful Day for Ellie

Yesterday was beautiful, Ellie.  It's funny that the day before this huge snow storm was a wonderfully sunny and peaceful-looking day, but also the day of your funeral.  I wish it could have started that way (bright and beautiful).

My drive early in the morning was a bit scary for me, because it was so dark and no matter what I did with my windshield wipers or defroster, I felt like I could not see well enough to stay safe.  The roads were unexpectedly slushy in the southern parts of Vermont, completely different from the roads near my house.  I experienced a few very uncomfortable minutes (that felt like an hour) when I was trying to pass a HUGE tractor/trailer at the wrong time.  The road began to curve, and it kept curving.  I felt too close to the giant vehicle to safely pass.  I was in the left lane, right next to it, but there were cars directly behind me and the tractor/trailer.  It was so dark and I was afraid of going off the road if I didn't steer precisely enough.  Headlights from traffic in the opposite direction flashed in my face and the slush of the highway sprayed in my windshield.  I was going too slow, especially for being in the left lane and on the Interstate, and I was stuck in this clump of traffic that I had now created.  I knew all the other drivers must be furious with me.  I was probably the only one scared, the only one not confident enough to just speed up a little and pass the tractor/trailer already.

I prayed because even though I was not happy about driving in the dark like this, I still knew I had to get to you.  There was no turning back now.  So I asked God to give me the strength to pass the tractor/trailer so I could get back in the right lane and let the other drivers behind me go.  I deliberated but, eventually, I was able to pass!  I felt such a huge relief.  I also felt silly, embarrassed, and ashamed.  What was the big deal?  Why was I so fearful?  Why couldn't I just have the confidence that every other driver has, in the daylight or not?  I was very disappointed in myself, and felt like a child in that moment.

But I think you would understand, Ellie.  You know I wanted to be there for you and I had to make it to Connecticut alive.  I had to participate in the Mass and meet your family and friends, and hear what they had to say about you.  So I reassured my conflicted parts that by waiting to pass the truck, I was making what I thought was the best choice for my safety.  I did not want to cause an accident for myself or for anyone else.  I did not want to jeopardize saying goodbye to you.  And you know what?  After I passed that tractor/trailer, I continued on my journey and, though it took longer than I thought, the sky eventually grew lighter and lighter, and so did my mind and heart.  I knew I was still on the right path, and that perseverence had been key.

I felt victorious as I drove to you with patience and peace.  It was empowering to be in that car alone (well, you were there, but you know what I mean) and drive the long distance with a real purpose.  When I was approaching Coventry, I made a mistake and took the wrong road.  I began feeling anxious as I looked at the clock.  I could not be late to your funeral.  No way, that was not an option.  So I paid attention to the signs on the road.  I paid attention to how long I was driving until I knew for sure that I was going the wrong way.  Then I pulled into a side street and paused to gather myself.  I looked at the map on my phone, and studied where my blue dot was in relation to where I needed to be.  Okay, I thought, I just need to turn around and get back to where I was.  I hoped I had enough time, though.

I finally made it to the correct road and was heading toward the church, but you know what?  (I'll tell you this even though you were probably laughing at me from the passenger seat the whole time.)  I drove right past the church!  It was on the opposite side of the road from what I had been expecting.  I couldn't believe it.  I was so annoyed with myself.  But, as you know, when I pulled into the church driveway, a nice man told me where to park, and I entered St. Mary's with ten or more minutes to spare.  Whew!

I even had anxiety about whether I should stay for the cemetery part and the restaurant gathering.  I knew that no one there knew me personally (except from reading my other blog entry and contacting me on Facebook about it), and I felt like maybe I was intruding.  But I went to the cemetery, where I listened to a friend of yours from treatment read a beautiful piece she had written.  Then I watched your mother release the balloons that spelled out ELLIE into the air; they flew up, up, and away to who knows where.  I wanted to follow them to you.  It broke my heart to not be able to see where they went.  But I knew their brilliant colors would keep them safe.

I turned away from your coffin to leave the cemetery but I heard someone call my name, and...well, you know the rest.

P.S.  I blew you a kiss from my car as I passed your coffin on the way out; did you catch it?

The Bucket List: work in progress

I've had an ongoing bucket list for a while now...  I think originally I called it my "List of things to do before 30," but that was when I started it as a senior in high school or something.  I was inspired by Mandy Moore or someone like that who said in a magazine article that she had a list of 30 things to do before she turned 30.  Well, 30 is looking a lot closer to me now than it ever did before, so I'm not going to be that ambitious.  Many of the items on my list are either time-consuming or costly or both.  Anyway, I still have that first list I made on a piece of receipt paper while at work in a department store, and since then I come back to it every once in a while and realize how important it is to udpate that list.  A few of the items I can check off, but some of them don't seem as relevant or desirable or realistic as they maybe once did.  Now that I'm more mature and have more experience, I have a better understanding of how to construct such a list -- because now I put items on it that I can see myself actually doing someday.

These are in no particular order, by the way:

• Live and work in Havana, Cuba
• Road trip across America
• Attend Mass in the Vatican
• Hike part or all of the Camino de Santiago de Compostela
• Run a half-marathon
• ^ and if that goes well, then a full marathon!
• Own a dog
• Achieve fluency in French and Portuguese....and maybe Italian
• Write a book (and get it published, hopefully)
• Have an awesome map and globe collection
• Get a vintage Tiffany lamp
• ONE OF THOSE GREEN LAMPS!!!
• Do a vintage-style pinup photoshoot
• Visit every Spanish-speaking country in the world
• Speak British on the streets of London (i.e. visit the U.K.!)
• Do a mission/service trip
• Be a lector in church
• Find a new home parish where I can be really involved again
• Have a starring role in a theatrical production
• Eat Belgian waffles in Belgium
• Stand inside the famous Stonehenge (are you even allowed to do that?)
• Learn Latin
• Take a calligraphy class
• Be a potted plant parent : D
• Visit a real cowboy ranch!
• Run freely like a little kid on the wide open plains of Montana or somewhere-Western like that
• Give an inspirational talk (TED talk?)
• Visit the Redwood forest
• Meet a toucan in its natural habitat
• Hold a baby sloth
• Learn to (properly) swim
• SEE THE CORAL REEF!
• Find a freaking starfish - alive - in its natural habitat
• Make a masterpiece oil painting

Dear Ellie

To a beloved sister in Christ, brilliant heart, and beautiful young woman.  You remain in my heart forever.

Ellie,

I never called you "Ellie" but it seems that this is a nickname you went by.  I only knew you as Elizabeth, when I knew you in person.  The truth is, I didn't really know you.  Not the way your family or closest friends did.  But I met you at perhaps the most tumultuous time of my life thus far, in a place where we were both so fragile and vulnerable, and you did make an impact on me.  I don't think I realized it then; I was still too involved in my own sickness.  However, the Lord is revealing to me now just how much your spirit changed me and will continue to change me.  Even though we only kept in touch online during the years following those three and a half weeks in 2009, I always held you close to my heart.  I wanted to see you get better.  And I always expected to see you again, in person, once you were healthy.

Honestly, what comes to mind when I think of when we met is how withdrawn you were and how resentful I almost felt toward you.  I think of you standing with your back to everyone in a corner of the room, your head bent down as you read from a book, and your long brown hair reaching all the way down your back.  (Later I found out that book was the Bible.)  I thought you were a very curious young girl.  You always had the saddest, most pained expression on your face, especially when we had to leave the group room for meal and snack times.  I thought of you as somewhat unapproachable and cold.  Yet everything about you intrigued me.

You were five years younger than I and I think the way my heart pulled inside was like an older sister's would.  I am the youngest of three and have no idea what it's like to be someone's older sibling!  But once we finally spoke to each other, I realized my judgments of you were wrong.  I remember standing in a small group of some of the other girls, and we were all sharing our stories (briefly).  We each said how it had happened to us.  I actually remember you appearing all of a sudden, having left the corner of the room for once, to join our little group.  I was surprised and confused; why did you suddenly decide to be social?  It seemed so out of character for you.  But then I realized I did not know your character.  I did not even know your story.

You told me it started when you were only eight years old.  You drank tea all summer long.  And in that moment, my heart ached and my judgments broke apart.  Eight years old??  You were sixteen.  I was twenty-one and had only been suffering for a matter of months.  I could not fathom someone spending half her life in this level of misery, pain, and disease that ravaged the mind and body.  I think that was the moment I felt like your older sister.  I wanted to protect you and save you from this nightmare.  But I was still caught in the nightmare as well.

And here I am, writing this five years later, and my body is restored and my mind is mostly healthy again.  Here I am, looking toward the future and mourning your death.  Five years after we met, you have passed on at the same age I was back then.  I cannot believe you won't get to see a recovered life.  You won't finish college.  You won't get to pick a career and pick another one if the first one didn't work out.  You won't get to take your time figuring out what to do with your life and trying out different options (because there are far too many).  You won't experience a healthy mind that lets you nourish your body so you can feel young and strong and go on adventures to see your friends (like me!) again.  You won't get to feel the euphoria of accomplishment after overcoming the toughest parts of this disease.  You won't know what it is to look over your struggles in hindsight and smile because you triumphed despite them.

I know you had a will to recover.  But I also know that you suffered for too long.  You never deserved it and I wish I could take the pain of those years for you and give you the gifts of my recovery instead.

For that reason, I will make sure you still have a chance to change the world.

I will live my recovery in the best way possible.  I will do everything I can to be fulfilled and contribute to the world what this disease took from me, you, and all the others: joy, passion, wonder, excitement, energy, youth, courage, motivation, inspiration, productivity, health, and vivacity.  You see, dear Ellie, I am going to take your spirit with me everywhere in life and do all the things you could not.  I will do it all in your honor, and for the greater good and the glory of God.  We'll do it all together.

You had such faith and I always admired you for it.  You believed in the value of life and so do I.  Therefore, I will make sure I take this piece of your heart on our big adventure as well.  I'll do my best to promote the values you and I shared, and live in a way that makes a positive difference for everyone who suffers.  I'll help bring awareness and save lives however I can.

You have inspired me to live fully, and never go back to that dangerous path.  I know you didn't choose it, but you also could not control it.  And I know how scary that is.  But you don't have to be afraid anymore, because you are in paradise and will never be touched by Ed again.  My heart is heavy but happy, knowing the Lord is taking care of you and protecting you for all of eternity.

Elizabeth, as infuriated as I am that your life was interrupted while you were working hard to get better, I know you did not die in vain.  You see, when I went home in 2009, I tried to go back to the way I had been living (existing, really) with Ed before I met you and the others, but I could not.  Something had changed.  I remember the moment.  I was eating lunch on the stoop in my backyard, and I looked down at my food in the sunlight, at the mound of Cool Whip Free over fruit and realized that this was not the same.  Something was different -- vastly so.  It simply would not work anymore.  It couldn't.  At the time I didn't know why and I was frustrated by it.  But I believe that is the moment my true recovery began.

You were one of the many people I encountered in Waltham who changed my life and kickstarted my recovery.  Do you see?  Because of you, of knowing that you had been suffering for half your life, and seeing you there in that place, because of how young you were and how devastating this disease already was to your life, I must have wanted the opposite for myself (and for everyone else, of course).  It didn't make sense for me to meet someone like you, and all our other friends, only to go home and continue on the same treacherous path I had been on.  True, this is not a lifestyle, but somehow I believe God gave me the extra strength to say "no" and begin a new life.  It did take time -- in fact, it took more time to recover than to be sick -- but God gave me everything I needed to get through it.  I still believe He had a plan for me the whole time.  He never meant for me to stay sick for very long.  I feel charged with carrying my knowledge, experience, and memories to help conquer this disease and all the obstacles it brings to the beautiful people it attacks.  I am taking your memory and spirit, Ellie, with me to prove to society, individuals, and the world that recovery is worthwhile and involves a whole lot more than what we get in treatment.

Recovery means taking risks.  It means diving in to being present in your body and your Self so that you can know what it is to truly live.  Getting to know myself better, learning from mistakes, and meeting wonderful people like you, Ellie, have all helped me become my greatest ally.  If I am not on my own side, then I can more easily fall victim to Ed or any other evil force in the world.  I also have to trust in God and recognize that He is greater than anything in this world.  Your death, Ellie, is quite a tragedy, but I also have to take a leap of faith in my heart and trust that you really are in a better place.  We don't need to worry about you anymore.  We only need to thank God for our memories of you and keep your spirit alive in our hearts.  And for me, well, I already know I'm taking you on the grandest adventure ever -- for I'm going to take you in my pocket all the days of my life.  Even when I was driving home last night, alone for over three hours and a little anxious when I got lost in the beginning, I imagined you sitting in the seat next to me.  I imagined you there with me, smiling and enjoying my company.  I imagined you as your own free self, separate from Ed and all the troubles you ever had.  I imagined you as my friend.

Thank you for being there with me, Ellie.  Thank you for the beautiful message you sent me a few weeks ago, before my trip to Mexico.  You told me that I am an inspiration and need reminding.  Your words were so powerful to me and I am so thankful that that was the last exchange we ever had.  I am in tears but it's okay.  I'm glad that God blessed me and you with our acquaintance, however brief.  Take care, and I'll see you on the road.

Love always,
Alissa