Well, I have had my work cut out for me, this is for sure. If there is anything I hope the ones who read me take away from me, it’s that preventing the illness might be easier than reversing it – albeit – not always possible. So, if nothing else, I continue to hope that my writings reach those who need support and encouragement to never give up. Seriously, never, ever. Some days I wonder why I share so much. Have I just become entertainment, like an intense movie that helps people distract from their own lives? Am I so desperate to be loved that I will bare my soul to prove I am a worthy of breathing? Do I simply crave connection? Maybe a little of all of it? I will never be able to say for sure. But even if those were the reasons, aren’t they innocent? Don’t you, reading this, also crave love from time to time? Isn’t connection delicious especially after not having it for a while? Regardless of the reasons I vacillate, there is an unwavering truth that lives inside of me. I believ
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January 17th, 2012, 1:15pm - 11 years ago today my beautiful mother Geraldine Todesco Campbell departed from this life. She was a unique soul who had to navigate her way through a tumultuous and severe mental illness. This was exacerbated by my father's early departure at only 41 years young. Geraldine was funny, smart, intuitive, empathetic, big hearted, generous, hilarious, funny, funny, funny, did I mention funny as HELL? She was caring, wise, and when she was well was deeply remorseful of how her illness affected her three children. Recovering and healing from our childhood has been nearly impossible at times. My mother's schizoaffective disorder put me on a path where saving my own soul and learning how to navigate my own internal wounds had to be my priority. So this is what I have dedicated my life to. My commitment to healing and development gave my son a good childhood and ensured him a competant, reliable, and loving mother. It has given my friends and loved ones som
Excerpt from Chapter Five of my upcoming book "Stuffing Myself Silly: The Story of a Food Junkie"
Chapter Five But My Belly Gets Cold When I Sit in the Tub “ When asked what he wanted from life, he said, I'll start with a written apology.” - B. Tier “Steph, you have a homework assignment this week,” said my therapist. “We want to work on changing your relationship with food by creating some new coping skills. We’re going to do this by changing some of your behaviors. Go and think about things you can use, other than food, to soothe yourself. Jot down some tools you can have on hand to self-soothe in the middle of intense feelings. Think of something that is healthier and more productive than food. A bath perhaps.” Well, I thought. I contemplated and I researched. I went back the next week and told her, “Kate, there’s nothing. I cannot find one thing that works better than food. Food is it. I’m not trying to be difficult, it’s just the way it is for me.” But just to test it out I took a friggin’ bath and guess what? I barely fit! I had three
"Even Though" by Steph Campbell - 5/17/2010
I have a good life. I have an amazing son who is developing and growing more miraculously than I'd ever dreamed he would. I take little credit. He is his own grower. Even though most of the time my mind tells me I am personally responsible for nearly everything that comes out of that beautiful mouth of his. That I am accountable for all the movements he makes and choices he pursues. Even though this mind has staked my life on a one way silent agreement with God that he live a long, healthy and prosperous life - even though - he has his own path, his own way to make, his own thoughts. He is his own grower. I have a good life. I have a roof over my head, money to pay my bills, a plethora of friends and love and family. I have a voice that sings, music in my heart, and food in my belly. I have a good life. I can see and hear and my limbs work fine. I can sit then stand I can breathe then hold my breath. I have survived several wars of the mind and heart. I have eve
Professional singer
"Steph's a professional singer" Boasted a proud friend as she introduced me to a woman she was chatting with. It was opening night of the spring musical at my son's high school. Little did I know that the dagger eyes that were about to scope me up and down with a look of disgust was in fact the mother of the female leading role. I walked up to tell my friend how wonderful her son was as the leading role. She modestly thanked me and quickly turned the attention away to "the woman." It quickly became clear to me that (for lack of a better phrase) the "mother of the bride" was intent on sucking up all the praise of the moment. I understood my friend's dilemma and went with the flow. "Oh your daughter was great! You must be very proud." Not even a smile. She turned her head slightly and looked at me through the corner of her eye with a hate that although familiar I had not felt in many years. Me being who I am moved in clo
I don't love where I live. No offense to the Berkshire natives - but frankly, it's just not for me. It's a beautiful place to visit. And it is especially wondrous if your companion is a "au natural, crunchy granola" nature. However; when the personality you reside with craves city lights and angry cab drivers, a plethora of eccentric people and smog filled air - living in the western part of Massachusetts is a bitch. I stayed to create peace for my son. Well... and myself too, I must be honest. It was not easy to do, but I had to face that raising my boy took precedence over my hunger to fill my desires. I won't bore you with the details - but suffice it to say I avoided a very nasty custody battle by looking on the outside like a conformist - you know the one who "lost". I didn't want to risk losing my son - not even it meant a small percentage of a possibility that it could happen. I just wouldn't do it. He was born here, we st
Nacho Cheese Doritos
"Food is the most overused anti-anxiety drug in America" - Bill Philips I guess Mr. Bill thinks he knows a thing or two about food addiction, huh? What he says is true, and I promise this quote will not inspire anyone to change. At least not the mind of a food junkie. I used to sit in my living room and eat nacho cheese flavored Doritos after bringing my Mother to Butler Memorial Hospital for the umpteenth time. I remember how alone I felt. I would get home after the drive - of course this was after being pulled out of algebra class (or whatever the class du jour was) by our principal telling me that I had a telephone call waiting for me in the office. He would stare at me with sad eyes and say in a sympathetic tone "it's your Mom." I would walk down the MHS corridor taking deep breaths knowing that although there was a plethora of scenario's that could unfold during this call - one thing was for certain - my mother was very sick and I need