War Vets

I often find myself indulging in television. I watch everything from Glee (a favorite amongst us my friends), to Hoarders (which makes me feel sane), to 16 and Pregnant (a glorious depiction of the American teenage slut who cant find a fucking condom and ends up with a baby friend). In September, MTV was smart enough to focus on the stories of the "stars" of 16 and Pregnant and see how life really is with a baby for a girl in her teens.

One of the girls (my favorite by far) is Catelynn. During her episode of 16 and Pregnant, she and her boy friend (slash trailer-park-would-be-step-brother) decided that neither his moms house or his dads (and catelynns moms) place would be a healthy environment to raise a child in. By the end of her nine months, they gave their baby up for adoption to a family who really could not have been happier to receive a gift so beautiful.

 left to right: nobody, Catelynn <3, nobody, Farrah (the Hoe), Maci (the desperate-to-be-with-my-first-fuck-forever girl), and Amber (the boyfriend-beating whack job)

So the reason Catelynn is the tale i have begun with for this particular post is really not my way of telling you I am 24 (but 25 in 52 days) and pregnant... (one would really need to have sex for that.) No. The reason is because last episode, my heart grew three sizes for her.

Having made the seemingly impossible decision to give up her child, she suffered a horrible depression and reached out for help. She called her adoption agent and asked if there was some kind of support group, who promptly reported that there was a retreat in a cabin for "birth moms".

Catelynn went for the weekend and when she came back she told Tyler (her bf) that she connected with those girls. She said that she felt that each of those women was there in spirit with her on the day she had to give Carly (her daughter) away. She said even though she had only known them for such a short time in her life, those women understood her better than anyone else in the world because they understood her pain. Because those women had lived through it too...

Catch Catelynn in the red T-shirt curled up in the front <3

Lately I have been battling an awful lot of confusion and depression around my friends and family and the lack of understanding and support I often feel from them. I go home to Rascal and an other wise empty apartment and often feel like there isnt a single human on the face of this earth that understands me... and then I remember... 7E.

7E is what my soul sisters and I lovingly call the 7th Floor, Eaton Wing of Toronto General Hospital where we go to for treatment for our eating disorders. From my very first day in community meeting where the rules were explained to me (and possibly even from the day I sat in the waiting room with CF), I knew that 7E was a place that someone would get it. Someone in that room was bound to understand how terrifying three square meals and two snacks a day is. Someone in that room was bound to understand that I only get angry because I don't know how to be comfortable expressing my truest deepest darkest thoughts that constantly run through my head.

By the end of three weeks I knew I had found people who understood me. By the end of seven weeks I knew I had found women who got me better than any one ever had before in my life time. And now at sixteen weeks (oh the irony of the start of this post), I know that I can comfortably sit in a room with a group of women who not only know and understand me, they also sometimes feel the exact same way as I sometimes do. Which honestly, makes me feel sane.

7E's Symbol of Hope

If I tried to put into words the way that these girls have changed my life, I don't think I could (I've been writing and re-writing this post since yesterday at 4pm).

Simply put, on a morning where I was internally losing my shit because of an appointment that was coming up that afternoon, I walked into group, said a few words about it and left it as a topic to be discussed. Knowing the way I was feeling about the appointment and knowing the way I had been feeling about the particular staff member leading that group and basically just knowing me; the girls unanimously agreed that we should talk about my issue first. The staff member didn't seem to need a reason why, but each girl in the circle seemed to have one for her any how:
- so we can get to it before we run out of time
- because it can be really scary to start new treatment
- because I know she is really scared
- because it is scary to open up
and so on and so on. My little army gathered behind me in their cutest fatigues and fought a small battle for me. And they won. For me.

Betty Boop Rockin' the gear of my girls <3

I cried while I talked about my fears only moments later. But I forgot to mention later... most of my tears were just because they got it. Got me. Got my sadness. Got my fears. Got my anger. Got my loneliness. Got that I needed to talk. And got that I needed their ears and their responses to help me believe in myself.


And when I came to group the next day with a report on how badly my night had gone (in respect to not feeling supported and feeling like a burden to my loved ones), my army stood behind me again. They sat and listened in check-in. And when they sensed that I felt I hadn't had enough, they stuck around and listened some more after group was done.


I've been trying to compare the relationship to the friend in kindergarten who sees that your mom packed you veggies instead of cookies and offers to share with you - but there is one huge difference (besides all the obvious food references and the fact that I am no longer 5 (though some times I act it)). The difference is that the friend in kindergarten wants you to be happy for the moment so they can have a fun recess instead of listening to you complain about your stinkin' carrots. But my army, My friends, My soul sisters - they want me to be happy for the rest of my life. And I realize that they are helping me fight the battles along the way so that eventually I can win the war.


My temper may flare at them. I might get sad and tough if I see them slip. I might get bitchy if I think they are letting ED win. But I wear the same camouflage they do - and its NOT so I can blend in with the crowd. No. I wear the fatigues of a soldier. And I am proud to say I fight my battles with the strongest, bravest, most beautiful women of 7E.

I <3 you girls.