Category Archives: Eating Disorder

I’m here for you. For as long as you need me.

I was going to go into detail, tell you of my story but right now I can’t. I can’t because you don’t need to hear my story right now, you need to hear that I will understand yours. If I can’t understand you, I will listen and empathize. I will give you my hand, lend you my shoulder and certainly be a sounding board. I chose these pictures for you because in them I saw my past, I saw my friends, I saw my struggles and I saw the messages I needed so long ago. The reason I became who I am today, I wanted to be the person that I never found so long ago. So these are for you and me.

I am here for you. For as long as you need me.

Sparkles,

Shaye

Xoxo

 

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Bohemian Lullabye

Yes this may or may NOT be the prologue to Shaye’s tale

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Prologue

“What are you doing?” my brow furrowed as he first turned his gaze and then his entire body away from me.

I was met with silence, that cold ring of silence that makes you uncomfortable and anxious all at the same time. I stared at the ceiling and tapped my fingers together wondering if I was going to get an answer from him.

We had been in a lull between tours and we had just another few weeks before we went on the road again. There had been talks of separate buses, because who wants to deal with a weepy Oliver when he can’t see the baby. I didn’t even know if the entire family was coming along this time. The last month long tour we did on the west coast we were ramped and it just blew.

There was a crack in my ceiling; I idly made it into various shapes as he still was silent. I knew he wasn’t dead, how morbid of a thought, because he was still breathing. And he wasn’t snoring so he wasn’t asleep. He was just waiting. Just fucking waiting. For what? I didn’t know. I had nothing left to apologize for. I tried to make amends for my past, for being distant, for not wanting to jump his bones every five seconds, hell I apologized for not making the bed the other day. But it wasn’t enough.

I took a deep breath “Baby, why did you turn away from me?”

“Because I needed to, because sometimes I don’t even think you realize that you aren’t a person anymore.”

I winced, sighed and let my head drop. “Alright, if that’s how you feel.”

I slipped out of the bed, feet hitting the cold stone of the floor, and quickly yanked on a pair of yoga pants and a sport tank and headed off to the kitchen. I almost expected him to follow me. I knew he wouldn’t, when he gets like this he never does. I half hoped that the guys were coming over to snag him for a rehearsal today. As the coffeemaker began to drip I scooped my hair into a ponytail on the top of my head. He called me pebbles when I did that, not that he had done that lately. I glanced around at the quaint stone cottage and made a face at the boxes I had yet to unpack.

I just didn’t have the strength or energy lately, honestly all I wanted during this break was to rest and spend time with Eric. But my time with him kept leading to these petty fights and I just, I just didn’t know what to do. He’s so logical and I’m so not. I’m spontaneous and he’s organized. I love clutter and he, well he can’t leave dishes in the sink overnight.

Adding some coffee to my sugar and cream I plopped down in my oversized armchair and flipped the lid open to the box closest to me. Pulling a manila envelope out of the top, I frowned because I didn’t remember when or how that got there. I opened it slowly and placing my coffee on the table next to me, reached in tentatively. It was full of pictures.

I pulled them out one by one, studying each and every detail. Some were from even before we hit it big. Way before. Some were from high school, HIGH SCHOOL. When my hair we all kinds of curious colors, and there was smiles on all of our faces. Each of the pictures as they fell into my lap brought back memories I hadn’t had in so long. Some bad and some good but each had lyrics and poems attached to them. I knew what I had to do to get out of this funk. I grabbed my pone and loaded up a bunch of songs and stood up letting the pictures flutter to the floor.

I hastily wrote a note and left it on the table:

Eric,

Went for a run to clear my head. Technology free day, soon as I come home. Yes I have it on me, and my knife and my pepper spray.

Love you,

Shaye

 

Placing my ear buds in, I stretched my legs out and headed out the door of my small stone fortress, and out into the woods. Taking in a deep breath of that green fresh mountain air I began to slowly jog, losing myself in my memories.

© S.R. Gray 2016

This is NOT a Love Story

The first of many books I stated, let me know what you think

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This is NOT a love story! And what I mean by that is that this is some mushy gushy story about love triangles, about some guy or girl shaped my world or any of that nonsense. Though if I really think about it those aspects are in there. However, this is NOT a love story. I will not let you categorize it as such, much like Disney categorized Frozen as a sisters story when it WAS a love story. This, at least I think is more of a suspense thriller, but most people would disagree…Granted most people can’t see inside my brain. Hell I can’t even see inside my brain. Ok off track here a little bit. Anyway, now that we are clear what this isn’t, let me tell you what this is.
This is MY story; yeah get your chuckles out now. I know what most of you think of me, even some hell probably some of those who I’ve chatted up in the grocery store line. I know what you’re thinking. And no, I am not a conspiracy theorist or any of that nonsense, I just know what mask I where when and how people judge me in relation t such. Hell, I’ve burned some of those masks years ago and people still remember them. They are seared so hotly into people’s brains that I will never be who I am today but always who I used to be. So, this is a story without the mask, or at least I hope I can be brilliant honest and make it through. This is the story I should have typed a thousand times in a thousand different ways and I didn’t…
I have a lot of good excuses why I didn’t, but nothing that really gets me out of it. I have 5 fucking stories on my computer, 5! And they each have at least 2 chapters…One of them even had a PROLIGUE! And they are genuine stories that I hope to finish someday, but I can’t put my heart back in the place it was when I was writing them, does that make sense? Ok so by now you know that in person I have many masks, I make a lot of excuses and totally judge books (and movies) by their cover (and tag lines…see first paragraph). Let’s add to the stack shall we? I often go off on tangents that no one can follow (be prepared), I can be very sexual and potty mouthed, and sometimes I just out and out lie…Granted I think it’s more of a retelling of the story in a more fanciful fashion but when push comes to shove, I lie. If you have to ask why at this point I would tell you because I like to. See I told you a suspense thriller would be more my story.
So here I am baring my soul, to the world. Or at least I hope to. In this story that is not about love, though there is love in it. A story full of stories, full of unheard truths and confessions. Maybe I’m repenting for some bad shit I did in a past life, but all I got from all the oogie boogies down in New Orleans where that something really bad happened in a past life but they couldn’t tell me. I think I am writing my story because it is time, or that I am running out of time. No I am not suicidal, I am literally running out of time, I was supposed to write 50,000 words by the month of December and as of right now my word count is 607. I think if I can pound out 50,000 words in two days I would be incredible proud of myself but incredibly worn out. But I made a promise to someone in New Orleans that I would finish a book by the beginning of this year and I broke that promise. I hate breaking promises. So now it’s time to promise myself I will finally finish what I have started. For once in my life have something to look back on and say hey you…look at that, not only do you make beautiful kids, bake a mean apple pies and have a gay harem that puts the world to shame…but you wrote a fucken book. Go team you.
Now that I have gotten a minor introduction out of the way I guess we should start with my childhood right? I don’t have a lot of memories as a kid, but I have flashes of them, if that makes sense. I look through photo albums and I know faces and names and not a lot of details. Every once in a while a very clear memory will pop up in there and I will blurt it out, but those memories are so sporadic, sometimes I wish they would either stay or go away completely.
©S.R.Gray 2016

The Answer You Didn’t Want

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You sat there in the chair shifting. The cushion was not comfortable but it wasn’t the worst you’d ever deal with. You waited as the papers shuffled on the desk and he turned to face you. Quietly the little boy with the big brown eyes was playing with the blocks. The noises made the silence worse. Shuffle shuffle, click click, unidentified sounds from that beautiful boy. Finally he turned, you dug your fingers into your legs to keep from shaking. You already knew the answer but you needed to hear it from someone who could tell you that you weren’t crazy. He had a PhD, he knew crazy.  Autism, Aspergers to be exact. Along with Sensory Processing Disorder and anxiety. You lips pressed together so you don’t cry. You knew what they were going to say, but hearing it was a slap in the face. But 4 years later you’re still ok.

Tap, tap, tap….fancy pen on a fancy leather shoe. Your under a microscope. He won’t tell you what’s wrong. Claims he doesn’t know. But you already heard the answer, because you’ve been living with it for years. But you needed to hear him say it. Say that you were bipolar and borderline. And he refused. So you broke his mug. And when you were finally ready to hear the answer, it was still a stinging mark across your face, because it wasn’t supposed to be right. 3 years later, you’re still alive.

Over and over this happens. It feels good and bad at the same time. Vindicated but what the fuck are you supposed to do now?

Now…When you need answers. When the bloods come back highly abnormal, you get nervous. And it’s not nervous that they will find something but more nervous that they wont. You are tired, swollen and drained. So they had scheduled another test. And you pray something pops up. Because in all your years …Nothing has. It’s hard to fight an invisible disease when you can’t find it. Sick and tired of being sick and tired. So you hope they find something. So that you won’t  have to suffer without reasons…

But you realize in this moment that this may be the one answer that you don’t want to have already answered.

Food for thought
Shaye xoxo

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How Cool Am I?#

AHHHHH! My college newsletter wrote about my Elephant Journal article!!!! It’s on the FRONT page of the newsletter!!!!!!

Check it out!!!!
Elizabethtown Newsletter

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A Good Morning to You

Good morning everyone!!!

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I can’t tell you that the past 2 weeks have been anything other than full of ER visits, therapy appointments, doctor appointments, helping out at a triathlon and getting my first article published. So first things first…1 I didn’t have a stroke, which is fantastic! It was a complex migraine which felt like a stroke. Either way it sucked. My boys doc changed his meds around and we will see if that changes his attitude. Other than that…the pixie doesn’t listen, at all. She has quite a weird streak going on and I don’t know how to break her of it. Charming did a three stooges routine all by himself while holding a canoe and ending up getting hurt (he didn’t do it on purpose).

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And I got my first piece published on a platform that is larger than this one. I am so blessed that I have all you dedicated followers, you are the reason that I have continued to write, the reason I have been able to open up about my life, my mental health and the things that ail me. So on that note…

If you get the chance, while you are in your morning routine, give this a read. I wrote this from the heart and am trying to share it with the world. I keep receiving messages about this article touching lives and that makes my heart soar. So give it a few moment of your time and then pay it foward.

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Skin Envy – By Yours Truly

All my sparkle thoughts,
Shaye

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I Am Officially A Published Author!!!!!!!

So as most of you know I have been writing for a while and I have hit stumbling blocks. But I have written and submitted several pieces to different well-known blogs…and Dun dun DDDDUUUUUUNNNNN…One of them decided they wanted to work with me to publish one of my pieces.

Today Elephant Journal published a piece that I wrote straight from te heart. It is about a stigma that is surrounding our culture today. A stigma that I don’t want my kids to fall victim to it, even though it swallows me whole and has for a very long time.

This piece is called Skin Envy and it would mean the world to me if you read it. I would love for you to share it, reblog it, tweet it, read it to your dog, cat or the homeless guy that lives under the bench down the street. I cried when it was published. It is so near and dear to my heart.

Much love

Shaye

xoxo

Contemplation of well…Everything

“The world keeps spinning, and the tales keep turning, and people come and people go, but they’re never forgotten. And the one truth we know, it held true one more time… That love, true love, the really, really good kind of love never dies.” – The Book of Life

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I am lucky, lucky that I have kids that let me see movies through their eyes. One child who has the eyes of faerie light, magic and wonderment no matter what the movie is. She keeps my heart light and my mind creative. One child who has a mind that never stops, figuring things out before they happen. He keeps me on my toes with ideas and my mind sharp.

We have more than once watched this movie and every time, we have found something new to love about it, whether is be the details on the guitar to a new quote, it is such a well-done movie. Today I woke up towards the end. My self-sufficient kids let me sleep in as I have not been feeling great these days. I couldn’t find the quote I was looking for to start this entry with but this one seems to work just as well.

I have had a lot of thoughts lately, thoughts I can’t describe because I can’t understand them myself. It goes from high to low so quickly I feel like I am doing every single dance you can think of that my brain has sorted itself out. I know one thing that has crossed my mind, It is a sad and happy thought. It seems that ever since I miscarried all of my friends have gotten pregnant, my friends and my family (the ones that I am close to at least). And I am happy for them, I swear it, but it hurts. It’s the really good love, but no one says that really good love doesn’t hurt some of the time.

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I wish I Knew what was holding me back from doing things that made me happy but I don’t. Charming says its depression, which it probably is. But there is something else, I look at myself and just want to give up. I hink about a year ago and I was self-confident 100 pounds lighter and happy with myself. And now I have a wonderful man, two glorious children, two classes to go to a diploma and I just lost myself somewhere.

I am filled with that really good love, and I know I am surrounded by it, but I lost myself somewhere. Somewhere in between stretching to help everyone else and losing focus on my own goals.

I started writing my books, but I have nothing to say, the characters went quiet. I started taking pictures but I have no urge. I just feel lost. I want to grasp onto  that really good love and let it fill me up…but for some reason I still tell myself I don’t deserve it.

Love how this post went from happy to sad.

with that I will stop talking

Shaye

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Maybe Dumbledore Isn’t Always Right – Rebecca Ethington

One of my favorite authors and closest friends posted this on Facebook a few days ago. I found it so profound, and you don’t usually find stuff like that on FB anymore. It summed up so many things, what ifs and lonliness, bullying, and just not knowing when to reach out and help someone or when to ask for help for yourself.

Never be afraid to reach out and help those in need, never be quick to judge because you never know what that woman behind that mask or the man behind the curtain are really like. Sometimes it isn’t east to click your heels together three times, sometimes their is no faerie godmothers. But there is always you, and that is good enough for me.

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“There is a scene in the final Harry Potter where Harry and Dumbledore meet at a place between life and death, and in that space they see a piece of Voldemort’s soul – this quivering, whimpering, ugly child, shoved underneath a bench.
And Harry, tries to go to it, convinced it needs help. And Dumbledore tells him not too.
I’ve always hated Dumbledore for that. Yes, Voldemort is evil, did he probably deserve what’s coming to him – yes. And I am in no way comparing myself to that quivering whimpering child, hidden away in pain.
But we have all been there.
We have all been so full of loss and heartbreak, and agonizing defeat, and sadness, and rejection. That we have all been there.
We have been that forgotten child in the corner, a deep part of us just shaking and crying and desperately hoping that someone would just come over and pull us out of the dark and hold us while we cry and comfort us until it all goes away.
I know I have.
And chances are, when you are there, you don’t know how to ask, or maybe you don’t have anyone to turn to anymore. You are alone, and you can hear people talking on a bench and your crying out for help, but they don’t come to find you.
So take this with a grain of salt. But you know those “whiny” posts everyone complains about on Facebook? Yes, some of them are just negative people. But what if some of them… just maybe… where people so lost and alone and scared and so desperate for help that they are asking for help the only way they know how. That maybe they just need that hug, or that phone call with a real voice.
I can’t believe I’m going to say this… but maybe sometimes we shouldn’t listen to Dumbledore. Because maybe sometimes they need our help, our compassion, our empathy and our love. Don’t be afraid to reach out – because people are people – but they are also human. And in this crazy world, we can’t do it all on our own.” – Rebecca Ethington

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Don’t give up on me

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That is ALL I wanted to hear from my doctor. Ok that’s a lie. I would have loved for him to say, ok I screwed up you are still in the program. But I knew when he came in that room it was going to be a tough conversation. I know I was defensive and Charming was my rock during the discussion.

What it came down to was the psychologist thought that I relied on doctors too much and that I seemed to think that getting surgery was going to magic away all of my problems. what the WHAT? It killed me to hear that, and I didn’t mean to dissect the Doc but I was hurt and pissed and trying not to cry.

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I’m sorry I have 5 autoimmune diseases one of which needs to be treated by antibiotics every time I get sick. And not once did I every say surgery was magic, EVER. It is a tool to keep fighting for what I need. I have an issue losing weight and the sleeve is a tool to help me.

I know the Doc understood, and he asked the inevitable question. Can you get back to the weight you were when you first came in? He meant pre lap band. I said yes, I have no doubt. He said ok, well I am not giving up on you. I will talk to the team, tell them what we discussed and see what they think. I will talk to you in a month. That all I needed to hear. *Deep breath* from 327 to 283. With Fibro…in 30 days.

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That’s the challenge

Think I can do it?

I can

Sparkle thoughts

Shaye