Minds

Breastfeeding brought me back. It kept me in my body, forced me to hold my son’s body, and helped me stay connected to the physical reality of everything. What I remember are flashes of joy in the darkness, his tiny hands clenched in determined fists. His feet curled against my soft stomach. The release of the milk starting to flow. My arms wrapped up around him.

I never used to think my eating or weight fixation was that weird...I just thought I was a health nut.

Validate my pain. Acknowledge my suffering. And know that, for me, it’s very real.

I never used to think my eating or weight fixation was that weird...I just thought I was a health nut.

"The worst part is that I internalized those messages."

When we make medications seem like a failure rather than a simple necessity, we make the people who take them feel like failures, too.

I firmly believe that every person on the planet could benefit from therapy. I myself have been going to therapy every week for about four years and don't plan on stopping.

When I left the hospital the night that he was admitted, I sat in the parking lot gasping with big ugly sobs and looking for someone to blame — beginning with myself. I'm his mother, and I'm the only consistent parent he's ever had. As I finally made my way home, with tears streaming down my face and my mouth open in a silent scream of pain, all I could ask myself was "what have I done?" How could I have allowed my son to be hurt so deeply, and in so many ways?