Alyssa Morales

@moralesalyssa27 | contributor
I am on a search to bring my authentic self to life. I want the world to meet me as I am; not who my fears perceive me to be.
Community Voices

He Who Made Me Stronger

<p>He Who Made Me Stronger</p>
Community Voices

In the chaos; run to him, not from him.

<p>In the chaos; run to him, not from him.</p>
6 people are talking about this
Community Voices

The Metamorphosis of Me

The first thing I ever did was transition.

Womb to world.

Embryonic sac to earthly air.

How then, if transitioning was the first thing I ever

accomplished as a human being, has it become a breeding ground for self-destruction?

A few weeks ago, when I commented to my mother that I

hate transitions she calmly placed down the coffee she was drinking and said,

“Honey, life is full of transitions. Transitions happen every day, all the

time.”

And that got me thinking;

This woman could not be more right.

I wake up and go from bed to bathroom.

I go from car to work

Lunch to dinner

Table to chair.

I

practice, moment after moment, shifting from one thing to the next. Each shift,

however small, requires some sort of effort, some degree of clarity and

determination to move from Task A to Task B. In Eating Disorder recovery, it is

taught that you must start small. Take one task and practice it at every moment

of every day until it becomes easier. Once you have created a tool box of

skills to use when small hills arise, you will be better equipped to handle the

mountains. So why then, after twenty-one years of practicing “little

transitions,” do I struggle so greatly with the larger ones? What is it about

them that scares my brain; the very brain that’s job, when put in a sentence,

is to aid the body through transitions? After studying my mind and spirit as it

ebbs and flows through the changing seasons of my days, I have come to find

some sort of closure when it comes to answering this question:

Transitions equate to fear and a lack of self-trust.

When I

think of a transition (as a person who suffers from cognitive distortions- my

favorite being “catastrophizing”) I picture the ground of the earth splitting

across in many layers as an earthquake hits. In this scenario, the earth, the

foundation, is ripped apart and I am not able to hold my own ground. I fall

into the earth, crumble alongside the rocks and let the transition take me

under.

I get scared.

And fear is paralyzing.

When larger transitions are presented, I look to my

eating disorder, my unhealthy coping skills, my #Depression, #Anxiety, everything

that feels “safe” and known to grasp onto as I move through it.  But after repeating this process time and

time again, I am exhausted. I am tired of being afraid keep me from owning my

transitions and the vulnerability it awakens within me.

So, I have decided to prepare for the earthquake.

And when it comes I plan to do as such:

1. I will stand up.

When I foresee a transition coming my way, I will take a

breath. I will stand over the earth below me and make a conscious choice to

stand still. Instead of watching the emotions of fear and anxiety latch onto me

and allowing them to burrow in for winter, I will tell them firmly that this

Inn is closed.

This decision to look at feelings as visitors will create

space for me to decide whether their feedback is necessary in how I decide to

take care of myself as the transition plays out.

2. I will gather support.

After surveying the visitors that wish to sit at my

breakfast table and watch the show, I will open up to my supports and let them

know that I am feeling a little more raw than usual. I will allow others to

hold me, encourage me and stand behind me. Asking for help is often mis-viewed

as a weakness but Rome, America, and even you and I, were not built and shaped

alone. We need meaningful connections to process, grow and move through life.

3. I will be gentle with myself.

With my army behind me, I will look at my heart in the

mirror and cradle it. I will observe gently the thoughts and emotions that come

as I shift positions in life and I will trust that I am capable of braving this

storm. I will bring forth the thousands of other times before this where I did

not hesitate to move. I will practice gratitude towards my mind’s response to

fear. I will remind myself that even though I feel like I cannot proceed

without caution, I am fully capable of taking the reins and deciding who I want

in the arena with me when I need feedback and support (shutout to Brene Brown).

I will forgive the stumbling, the slip-ups and tip overs because I know that anything

worth fighting for rarely follows a linear path.

4. I will get curious.

Now that I have found my footing, I will survey my

environment, my response to it changing and I will ask a plethora of questions.

I will get excited about what this change will grow within me. So often I allow

the fact that I label transitions as “bad,” to create a place for a

black and white response; but I am a colorful person. I want transitions to

elicit curiosity, tenacity, authenticity and a space for me to be

unapologetically human- alive and exposed. I want every transition I undergo

moving forward to be a Baptism; a renewal of my strength and ability to turn to

my anxieties and say, ” I got this,” and gently shut the door on them

as they search for another Inn to wreak havoc on.

5. I will make it to the other side.

I will cross over the bridge, walk across that water, and

sit on the sand just in time for the sunset to settle in. After the transitory

period has passed and the dust has settled, I will marvel at the new pieces

within me that have grown because of this change. I will say, “thank

you,” to the Universe, my supports, and my body for carrying me through

yet another sea-change.

And just like that I will keep moving.

From exposed to vulnerable

Black and white, to grey

Me, to a stronger, more fearless version of myself.

Community Voices

#dailyaffirmation : Today, I will be kinder to myself.

I want to start something new, and I'd love for you to join me.

Living with a #MentalHealth struggle such as #Depression or #Anxiety , it can be so easy to fall into the same routine day after day, listening to the same dark thoughts and believing they are the truth.

I posted yesterday about feeling like I am unloved and unwanted by friends. Today, with this in mind, I want to try to be kinder to myself. I want to challenge the lies my #MentalIllness tells me and generally be kinder, more patient and more understanding with myself and the ways I struggle. I'd love for you to join me on this journey.

Later, be sure to #CheckInWithMe on that hashtag to see how today went. Be sure to post your own #dailyaffirmation in the morning, and a #CheckInWithMe in the evening updating us on your progress. We've got this, Mighty family!

#BipolarDisorder
#BorderlinePersonalityDisorder
#MightyTogether
#mightymen

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Community Voices

Body Boundaries

“ Do you have a search warrant?”

And when I ask this, what I mean is:

Have you,
Yes you,

Spent the past 10 years of your life fighting with this body?

Did you run it during cross country season so hard that your heart almost gave out?

Did you starve it?

Cut the word “fat” into its stomach when you were 14?

Did you take its fingers and shove them down its throat to undo what you had done wrong?

Did you feel the NG tube forcefully slide down its throat and wrestle with the fact that you had no control over the way your body was changing because of it?

Did you binge eat it into a 30 pound weight gain?

Did YOU look in the mirror and decide enough was enough?

Did you stop bingeing and purging and starving yourself?

Did you learn to re-wire your brain, listen to the cries of this body and answer regardless of how you felt?

DO you wake up every morning and make the conscious choice to love it because for so long you hated it?

Do you sit with it’s softness, build its strength like a Jenga tower and love it back to life as if it’s the only thing on your “To-Do,” list?

The answer, young man,
Is NO.

And because this empire I have been busy breaking down, rebuilding and shaping into something new has been done without your touch,

You need to step away.

Ask permission to marvel because this body does not take lightly to new visitors.

If I have not been clear enough, I will hang a sign above it’s doorway:

Be gentle with me. #MightyPoets #EatingDisorders

Community Voices

When your anxiety can’t let you make a decent title #Anxiety

As I try to begin writing this thought/post, I couldn’t even come up with a decent title. Tells you how deep anxiety goes when you can’t even write a title for your thoughts. But still here I am writing a post, my first post/thought.

I’ve been dealing with anxiety all my life but I never knew what it was until I was in graduate school. I thought I always always weird or just someone who talks way too much. But then feel like why did I say all of that stuff, especially to people I don’t know. Or, why do I try so hard to interact with people and/or like me. That’s when I found out, I have social anxiety and just in general. I’ve probably tossed away relationships and friendships without realizing it. But, I try to not let it control me. Don’t get me wrong, some days are worse than others. But, I try to start each day like a new one and try to control my while it doesn’t control me. My goal I guess now in life is to just be there for others who suffer as well and just lend an ear and let them know that “hey! I deal with this too! How can I be there for you?” Just being able to listen and understand what that person is dealing with can help in so many ways. That’s why I think I need to start just advocating that mental illness is not something to belittle or throw away, it’s something we as humans deal with. I also want to be there for others in a big way as well and just open something, a FB Page, a website, or something just to be there for people that I know personally, or someone who’s looking for help. To me, my isn’t who I am, but it’s apart of me and just something I have to overcome. But I know one thing is for sure, it won’t control my life or my destiny #Anxiety #OvercomeAnxity

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How to Deal With Anxiety and Its Childish Ways

Anxieties exist to be quelled. They turn on all of the alarms in your brain until, eventually, you decide to follow the path they blink on and off in front of. These lights are bright and loud and they demand you do something; believe me, I have done everything under the sun in the name of quelling my anxieties. Anxieties are like children that run to you during a thunderstorm. As a parent, you cuddle them into your bed and hold them as the storm rages. With every boom, it is your job to tell them they are safe inside. Anxieties demand to comforted. They demand to be quelled. The difference, however, between children and anxieties is that children have a parent to soothe their fears while anxieties… well, they have you. And let me tell you: I am a very shitty parent. When I feel anxiety sitting in my stomach, twisting it into a knot, and I see the lights blinking next to the so-called solution, I am tempted to follow the light. But much like a parent teaches a child, I am learning to teach my anxieties to trust me — to trust who I am and all I stand for. Recently, I went through a very rough breakup. We were together for two years and he was the love of my life. He knew everything about me; he saw me at my worst and loved me through it all. The flaw in the system wasn’t him, per se; it was in the white noise I presented as myself while the authentic me lay dormant below. So, we broke things off. If you asked me right now how I am feeling, I would tell you I feel lonely. With the boy I loved gone, there is now a hole — a hole my anxieties wish to fill. So, they follow me around and tug me toward the first thing that will provide me with temporary relief from the fear I feel. I fear I will be alone forever now; I fear I am unlovable, that I am not strong and cannot sit with the emotions that arise with losing someone I love; I fear I will not grow from this. With my heart in shambles, my anxieties came to the rescue and tried to be the parent. They turned the lights on and pointed in the direction of their most logical solution: find another boy to fill the void. So, emotional and irrational, I decided to try that out. A few weeks later I found myself waking up beside a guy I had met on Tinder — a guy who would later text me to tell me he wasn’t interested in anything beyond sex. Ouch. The feeling of being on top of the world from having made the anxiety temporarily disappear was gone. And I was alone, again. And so they started telling me to reach out to him, to send him a text — anything to make this awful feeling go away. But, by some act of grace, I woke up one morning determined to fight. I sat my anxieties down in the chair across from me at the breakfast table and I argued with them. For the first time in my life, I mustered up my voice, my authenticity, and I crafted my truth. Anxieties don’t like the truth. Anxieties like the fastest, most convenient way to feel better. But in that moment of clarity, I knew I needed to be the parent. Every time they told me I needed the guy to reach out to me, I told them I had enough of what I needed in that very moment. When they tried to tell me to crawl back to his bed where I wasn’t so alone, I crafted a paragraph-long text telling him how degraded and used I had felt. I told him I deserved better, that I was worth more. And I stood up for myself. And my anxieties raged on. I would get a text from him, feel better for five minutes, and then the anxiety would return. I felt like I was in a boxing ring. Every time I would swing, I would get a few seconds of adrenaline before I was knocked down again. But like a parent, I held my ground. I repeated to my anxieties that I was not alone unless I chose to be alone. I deserved better than to be used by someone who couldn’t take the time to get to know the real me before taking my pants off. And as this back and forth raged, I didn’t feel any better. I felt real. I felt raw and unfiltered, and I finally felt like the parent. Being a parent to anxieties is exhausting. It is an around-the-clock job but, at the end of the day, I am self-soothing. I am learning to sit in a puddle of emotions I do not want and breathe in deeply knowing I can wear rain boots the next time. More thunderstorms will come along, and anxiety will crawl into my twin-sized bed, looking to me to make the rain stop, and this time I will not rush outside and beg God to make the storm end. No… this time, I will sit anxiety next to me at the window and we will watch the storm together as I teach it to trust that I am capable of making the sun come up tomorrow.

How to Deal With Anxiety and Its Childish Ways

Anxieties exist to be quelled. They turn on all of the alarms in your brain until, eventually, you decide to follow the path they blink on and off in front of. These lights are bright and loud and they demand you do something; believe me, I have done everything under the sun in the name of quelling my anxieties. Anxieties are like children that run to you during a thunderstorm. As a parent, you cuddle them into your bed and hold them as the storm rages. With every boom, it is your job to tell them they are safe inside. Anxieties demand to comforted. They demand to be quelled. The difference, however, between children and anxieties is that children have a parent to soothe their fears while anxieties… well, they have you. And let me tell you: I am a very shitty parent. When I feel anxiety sitting in my stomach, twisting it into a knot, and I see the lights blinking next to the so-called solution, I am tempted to follow the light. But much like a parent teaches a child, I am learning to teach my anxieties to trust me — to trust who I am and all I stand for. Recently, I went through a very rough breakup. We were together for two years and he was the love of my life. He knew everything about me; he saw me at my worst and loved me through it all. The flaw in the system wasn’t him, per se; it was in the white noise I presented as myself while the authentic me lay dormant below. So, we broke things off. If you asked me right now how I am feeling, I would tell you I feel lonely. With the boy I loved gone, there is now a hole — a hole my anxieties wish to fill. So, they follow me around and tug me toward the first thing that will provide me with temporary relief from the fear I feel. I fear I will be alone forever now; I fear I am unlovable, that I am not strong and cannot sit with the emotions that arise with losing someone I love; I fear I will not grow from this. With my heart in shambles, my anxieties came to the rescue and tried to be the parent. They turned the lights on and pointed in the direction of their most logical solution: find another boy to fill the void. So, emotional and irrational, I decided to try that out. A few weeks later I found myself waking up beside a guy I had met on Tinder — a guy who would later text me to tell me he wasn’t interested in anything beyond sex. Ouch. The feeling of being on top of the world from having made the anxiety temporarily disappear was gone. And I was alone, again. And so they started telling me to reach out to him, to send him a text — anything to make this awful feeling go away. But, by some act of grace, I woke up one morning determined to fight. I sat my anxieties down in the chair across from me at the breakfast table and I argued with them. For the first time in my life, I mustered up my voice, my authenticity, and I crafted my truth. Anxieties don’t like the truth. Anxieties like the fastest, most convenient way to feel better. But in that moment of clarity, I knew I needed to be the parent. Every time they told me I needed the guy to reach out to me, I told them I had enough of what I needed in that very moment. When they tried to tell me to crawl back to his bed where I wasn’t so alone, I crafted a paragraph-long text telling him how degraded and used I had felt. I told him I deserved better, that I was worth more. And I stood up for myself. And my anxieties raged on. I would get a text from him, feel better for five minutes, and then the anxiety would return. I felt like I was in a boxing ring. Every time I would swing, I would get a few seconds of adrenaline before I was knocked down again. But like a parent, I held my ground. I repeated to my anxieties that I was not alone unless I chose to be alone. I deserved better than to be used by someone who couldn’t take the time to get to know the real me before taking my pants off. And as this back and forth raged, I didn’t feel any better. I felt real. I felt raw and unfiltered, and I finally felt like the parent. Being a parent to anxieties is exhausting. It is an around-the-clock job but, at the end of the day, I am self-soothing. I am learning to sit in a puddle of emotions I do not want and breathe in deeply knowing I can wear rain boots the next time. More thunderstorms will come along, and anxiety will crawl into my twin-sized bed, looking to me to make the rain stop, and this time I will not rush outside and beg God to make the storm end. No… this time, I will sit anxiety next to me at the window and we will watch the storm together as I teach it to trust that I am capable of making the sun come up tomorrow.

Community Voices

How do you handle #transitions ?

Transitions can be scary! Although we have been practicing them since birth, sometimes anxiety and fear can get in the way and paralyze us from moving through changes with clarity and strength. How do you handle transitions that seem overwhelming? #Anxiety

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