Self Rescuing Princess

I've donated to others who have walked or run in the name of charity, but if you said to me that some day I would be doing the same, I'd say, "Get the fuck out of here!"  Who knew that I would ever be part of a class of citizens supported by a charitable organization?  The National Eating Disorders Association, or NEDA, helps women and men struggling/recovering from an eating disorder.  I am one of those people.  I have an eating disorder.  I am an anorexic. NEDA has taught me this addiction does not define me....  there is more to me and without the support of my family, friends, NEDA and a very, very, very patient therapist I would have never learned this about myself.

So, about six months ago, I started to fundraise for a cause which is keeping me, and many others alive.  I posted on Facebook, Twitter and even sent out emails to everyone I knew and as a result I raised $2,527.37 (and that doesn't even count the matching gifts from some of the donors!!!).  I've probably raised close to over $3000.  I was one of the top 10 (I was number 8) fundraisers.  Completely amazed and overwhelmed  by the generosity of the people in my life and clearly, being Italian, it will not be forgotten.  To give you a sense of the cost, the money I raised will help ONE person:

I drove to New York for the walk and early Sunday morning, under cloudy skies and a cool breeze, my husband and I joined the crowd.  Dressed in my sneakers (yes, I own a pair), I was ready to walk over the Brooklyn Bridge in the name of charity.  What I wasn't ready for was the overwhelming emotion I felt and the many tears I held back.  Although I should have been prepared for what I saw, I wasn't.  There were so many young girls there and while in my mind, I'm 24 my body is actually 37.  I definitely was older than the majority of the people there.  As my husband and I were walking around, checking out the booths, I stopped and spoke with one woman who said, "Are you here for your daughter?" ugh.......  Talk about a kick in the stomach.  I must have had a look of complete shock on my face because the look of sorrow in her eyes when I said, "No, I'm here for me." was enough to send chills up my spine.

Then there were the booths set up for recovery centers-- cue the knots in my stomach. Although I know I am doing better I know that I'm not doing my best.  I still fear that my husband wants me to go to treatment so I watched him closely as he looked at the different booths.  The thought of going inpatient still scares me but it doesn't scare me enough I guess because the few pounds I have gained wouldn't matter.  You know what did scare me though? This:

Powerful, right? (insert my tears here).  The opening ceremonies began and Emme, plus sized super model, Cancer survivor and all round amazing woman, kicked off the walk with a speech.  She asked us to take a moment, close our eyes and ask ourselves what brought us out here today?  In the rain.... In the cold....  Why were we here?  (insert more of my tears here).  I was here because I am a recovering anorexic.  Suddenly my eating disorder took on a reality for me.  It became something tangible.... My anorexia was no longer ED, she became Barbie (and no, it's not because of the childhood toy).  Barbie, the doll, represents childhood, happiness, and innocence and anorexia took all those things away from me so the name seemed only fitting. When I opened my eyes, I looked around at the women and noticed that even though I was older, I looked like them.  THIS is what an eating disorder truly looks like.  Anorexia isn't about weighing 70 pounds....  It's a mental disorder.

Just when I thought I was the oldest person there, I noticed a man in front of me wearing a t-shirt with the picture of a woman and her date of birth and sadly her date of death.  She was 50 years old.  What the fuck? How did that happen?  50 years old??  (insert sobs here).  My first thought was her two daughters standing there and what they say when asked, "I'm so sorry, how did your mom pass?" and them responding, "From an eating disorder."  Speaking from experience, it's never easy to lose a parent but I can only imagine it's a thousand times worse to lose someone to an addiction.  My father died of Cancer-- it was out of our control.  Anorexia, while overbearing and hard to stand up to, can be fought.  I thought of my daughter.  Could this happen to me?  Could I die at 37? 40? 50? I'm not ready to die.  It was an aha moment for me. Fuck this shit.  Fuck Barbie.  I was ready to walk.

Off we went, and even though it's sort of a running "joke," I was worried I wasn't going to be able to do the full three miles over the Brooklyn Bridge.  Hand in hand with my husband, along with 800 other people, I started walking...  I walked for the people who have died.  I walked for the people, like me, who are struggling with recovery. I walked for my daughter so that someday, she won't ever have the self hate I had for myself. My husband and I walked in silence but I couldn't speak-- which is um, rare.  This was a time of reflection for me.  Where I was, how I got here and being ok with not knowing the path I was on.  Then I looked up and saw this beautiful sight:

I was doing it.  In the rain.  Did I walk the whole three miles? No.  Did the rain stop me?  Just a little but more than the rain, my body was going into shock.  I could hear my legs saying, "Um?  Hello?  You haven't exercised in nearly two years-- are you fucking kidding us right now?" So, with a heavy heart, I turned around but I made it more than half way across the bridge and walked for a good 45 minutes, at a very slow pace. I wanted to finish, I really did but it wasn't about finishing the walk and I realized that when I got there.  It was about helping others.  It was about helping myself.

My bucket list has one less item on it now.  This was a life changing event and I will forever be proud of all my accomplishments.  See you guys in Boston!