I’m afraid that going home will make his absence that much stronger, more biting than it’s already been. I’m afraid that seeing this same sadness on hundreds of faces, rather than five, will make it hurt that much more.
On the two year anniversary of this blog I can think only of my amazing dad, Craig Schiffer, who died unexpectedly this past Monday.
The belly wakes up first: it needs the most protecting. After all, this is where a kind of magic happens.
The film fails to bring on any overwhelming emotions, I think because it fails to truly connect viewers with each character if they haven’t also read the book. Despite this, there’s a worthy message at the end.
Self-criticism is common to us all, and if we’re constantly comparing ourselves to dubiously ‘perfect’ humans we’re only fueling that fire.
Re-assessing is something we ALL should do, eating disorder/addiction or not. It seems trite and corny but if we do it honestly, I don’t think it is.
Like a curious child who’s just discovered the versatility of wondering “Why?” the shadows will keep creeping in until, eventually, you can’t avoid them.
My body is not functioning at its full capacity because I stopped my recovery halfway—I didn’t keep going, and in fact even in my strongest moments I was still consumed by thoughts of food and weight.
The White Album pounced on me and was truly unlike anything I’d read before—a seamless weaving of current events with memoir, facts with potential fictions, a soft-edged journalism that thrilled me.