longing to be whole

I dreamed that I was sick again. I dreamed that I was restricting like I used to. The problem is that I haven't been restricting so my body doesn't feel sick. In my dream it was the anorexia that every eating disorder longs for, the one that allows the control and euphoria of restricting while still having the feelings of being healthy. It was the lie that orange always promised, "You can be different. You can restrict and not get sick."

A lie is a lie, but for a moment it was a familiar lie that beckoned to me to try again. It was a lie that reassured me that it could be different. The dream came at a time of body loathing. It was a dream that made the idea of anorexia sound good for a moment. Maybe more than a moment. 

I have had to be extremely vigilant this week to maintain recovery. Illness sounds alluring; stress, a packed schedule, and an upset stomach have made it difficult to battle the allure. And yet I have battled. I have fought to remember where I have come from. I have fought to remember the pain when my family hugged me. I have fought to remember that healthy is entirely better. 

To this point, I can say I've fought well. I have had meals that would have been easy to skip because no one but me would have known. Now to continue fighting for my recovery. How I long to be completely whole. How I long for the day when those thoughts don't creep in. Though I don't know if that day will ever actually arrive, I will continue to fight as I hope for it.

containing the damage? I hope so

I wonder if there really is some amount of truth in the thoughts of genetics playing a role in eating disorders.  I mean, it can't all be the crazy messages of false beauty because everyone hears them but not everyone gets trapped in the dark world of eating disorders.  Majority of the women that I talk to are trapped by the messages that their bodies are not good enough, pretty enough or small enough.   But majority of the women I know do not end up starving themselves or purging their ingested nutrients.  Is it possible that like other diseases that there are physical factors that make one more susceptible to an eating disorder?

I have been walking through some big and often scary things with one of my children.  I have only one who I worry about as far as food issues go.  I have one who has for years now been more sensitive about food, body size and weight than is probably normal or healthy for his age.  This is the child who sometimes refuses to eat, claiming he isn't really hungry.  This is the child who talks about losing weight.  This is the child who talks about one day diets.  This is the child who sometimes mentions that he feels a little lighter that day.  This is the child who we are specific in not mentioning pants sizes with because he is an average waist size but his brother is a slim sized pant.  This is the child who the pediatrician specifically has told me to keep an eye on his habits and behaviors to make sure that if he starts sliding down that path that we can help him before it is too late and he is trapped.

Recently he had a school assignment that involved writing about why healthy breakfast is important.  He really struggled with it.  As I dug a little deeper I discovered that he doesn't believe that any breakfast is important at all much less healthy breakfast.  We read articles online about breakfast.  One headline caught his eye about how eating breakfast can help you lose weight.  He looked me dead in the eye and said, "Mom, that doesn't even make sense.  Eating food is what makes you fat."  A part of me died when he said that and I knew I had a lot of work ahead of me.

I helped him look up articles about metabolism, breakfast, fueling the body.  We looked at many that were geared directly toward the nutrition that children need to grow and to feed their brains.  I could see him finally starting to accept some of the information but that didn't happen until we hit WebMD.  That was the only site he was willing to trust somewhat, albeit reluctantly, because actual doctors wrote the articles and did the video interviews.  For three hours we read and talked and hung out together discussing what we had learned.  He finally had enough of an arsenal that he felt like he could do the assignment.

Later in the kitchen he was writing and he informed me that his friend's parent probably don't know the same information that he had just learned.  I asked why and he told me that that these particular parents are on a diet and trying to lose weight.  He said that they usually skip breakfast because the other two meals they have planned for the day are too high in calories and they don't want to go over their amount of calories or they won't lose weight. 

WHAT?????? Are you freakin kidding me?????  Why on earth would you say stuff like that to children?  What part of that sounds like information that growing children need to think about?  My kids are growing.  They NEED the nutrition.  Their bones and muscles need to grow and develop.  Their brains need to be able to grow, to learn, to be healthy.  And all of that includes them EATING.  Why do adults talk about their diets to children?  Ugh, it made me feel a little sick to my stomach. I'm not blaming them for my son's views on food.  I am however annoyed that they fueled a fire that has already been trying to gain ground for a long time now.  I know it was unknowingly done, but I still don't understand talking with kids about diets.  It is information that they simply do not need, they need to concentrate on growing up not on losing weight.

I'm sure that you know this, I went to bed emotionally drained and at a loss for words that night.

live free or die trying

My day started yesterday with scripture going through my head.  Thank God that it did because I needed that to carry me through the rest of the day. (I'm just writing right now, not looking up the reference because I'm on a limited amount of time.)

"It is for freedom that Christ has set you free."

Hmmmmm, freedom.  What does it really mean to live free?  I pondered the question through the morning.  I looked up the definition of free in my lovely Webster's Dictionary on my desk. 

 

free: adj  1.not imprisioned or constrained 2. not under necessity or obligation .....

4a.not affected by a specified circumstance or condition......7a. not being occupied or used

freeing 1.to set at liberty 2. to release or rid 3. to untangle or clear

 

Free.  I'm not feeling very free right now.  How do I live in the freedom that Christ has given me?  How do I live not imprisioned to eating disorders?  What exactly does that look like?

 

Ok, now fast forward to later in the day.  I'm surrounded by people who have decided that mexican is the fare for the day.  Already struggling, this was a bit of a freaky choice for me but I was bound and determined to get over myself and enjoy the time together.  But then they talked about weight, hunger cues, body image, NUMBERS, and everyone had an opinion about eating disorders that they felt the need to share.  It isn't what you think it is.  It isn't about what you think it is about. 

 

Is it about weight and size?  Yes, but not in a vain sort of way, because it isn't actually about weight and size at all.  I don't care what the measurements say, what society says, what friends say, I am convinced that my hips are huge.  What I see when I look in the mirror, though not truth, is still what I see! It isn't really about society saying skinny is good, but it is about the fact that I feel like the less physical space I take up then the less people will see me.  I sometimes really do long to be invisible and let no one see the hurts inside of me.

 

I texted Hubby, I told him that I wanted to run and hide.  I told him that I wanted to curl up under the covers.  I told him that I just wanted to get drunk.  Yes, go ahead and hold that shocked face and wag your finger at me.  Good Christian girls sometimes just want to get drunk to escape their reality too!  I wanted to escape but there was no where to escape to. 

 

Did they know that the voices in my head were already loud?  Did they know that the conversation made the voices turn to screaming and demeaning?  The orange inside of my head hates that I still ate with them.  The orange inside of my head is telling me that I'm not worth taking care of.  The orange inside of my head is angry, really really angry.  And she is letting me know it.

 

And somehow in the midst of it all, I still find a little part of me that really wants freedom.  There is a little part that wants to not live affected by a specified condition.  There is a part of me that wants to live not under necessity or obligation.  That voice needs to start talking louder than the voice of slavery and quickly.  That seed of longing needs to produee something bigger than the seed of hatred that demands that I am not good enough and that I need to be punished.

i can do hard things

 Several of my friends on Facebook have been linking this blog recently.  It really is wonderful.  Tonight I was browsing the blog and in the stores section I saw a sign that said, "we can do hard things."  It's true.  And I have to remember that now. 

Right now I have to do something hard.  I have to learn new coping skills, and quickly!  My old coping skills are knocking at my door, tissue in hand ready to comfort me.  We had a family tragedy this week.  Hubby's cousin fell 18 feet at work and landed on a concrete floor.  The doctors removed two parts of his brain in effort to stop the swelling and hopefully save his life.  The swelling never stopped and yesterday Cousin passed away.

He was young, early thirties.  He had a wife and three very young children.  He had so much life ahead of him and now he has left so much behind.  Hubby grew up with Cousin.  They saw each other all the time growing up.  They played Star Wars together.  They started collecting sports cards together.  They talked about girls together.  Hubby is devastated.  I am in shock.

I really never felt hungry today.  I had a Cliff bar simply because I knew I should.  As the day wore on, reality started sinking in.  I didn't want to eat.  I wasn't trying to numb or shut down.  I know that not eating will lead me to that, but today it was different.  It just feels so dang good, especially at the beginning.  I wasn't trying to feel nothing, I was enjoying my body feeling euphoric when my mind was begging for the new reality to not be true.  When my circumstances are informing me that nothing can feel good, my body said, "But this does."  And it did.  It felt really, really good.

But as my dear Southern Belle reminded me, not eating is only prolonging the hurt.  Numbing myself says that Cousin's memory is not worth feeling over.  Right now, Hubby needs me.  He needs ALL of me.  He needs to know that I will comfort, not give him more to worry about.  And I desperately want to give him that.  He has given me so much, the least I could do is give him all of me, to give him the best of me.  I have to eat to be my best me.  I have to be my best me right now because that is what spouses do for each other, we hold each other up when the other can't stand.

Against the voices in my head and the endorphins in my body, I had cereal when I came home from work.  And I'm going to start by honoring Cousins memory by feeling every feeling of grief that comes up.  This is life.  This is hard.  Life is hard.  But that doesn't mean it's impossible.

I can do hard things.

I lied again

I lied.  Again.  There is partial truth to my story about going to Jimmy Johns last night.  It's pretty pathetic when you start to lie to yourself too.  See when Hubby suggested either Chipotle or Jimmy Johns for lunch, I really did cringe.  I have longed for a really good sandwich and JJ's has the best bread ever.  But I've been terrified of bread lately.  So on my way to work last week I got Chipotle instead of JJ's simply because I was afraid the bread would make me cry and I didn't want to cry at work.

Yesterday when Hubby asked, I pulled away.  I cringed.  And then I did it.  "Can we do Jimmy John's?  I have wanted it but haven't been able to have it lately."  Why haven't you been able to have it?, he asks.  One word from me.  Bread.  Bread, sweet, warm, beautiful bread.  Is there anything about fresh bread that isn't comforting?  The smell, the feel, the warmth, the taste.  And yet I can't be comforted by it.  Somehow I can only feel terror. 

The really sad part is that the reason I told the story the way I did yesterday is because I couldn't admit that I had actually ASKED for bread.  I hoped by lying to myself that I would be able to lie to orange.  Hoping that she wouldn't make me pay.  I lied, in all of the places, here, where it is supposed to be safe.  Here where I spill my feelings instead of journaling because I'm too lazy to grab a pen and write.  And I am annoyed that I didn't even feel safe being honest with myself.  Orange is a bitch.

lies I tell and other nonsense

so much on my mind.  and yet I find myself inspired to write based on something else I read.

things I miss:

• a batch of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies
• comfort foods
• telling the love of my life what is really going on

things I long for:

• days with no alarm clock (thank God that my boys are nearly on winter break!)
• no responsibility at all
• finding joy in things that I know bring me joy but I don't feel right now
• to be able to eat ONE Christmas cookie this year and to not experience guilt with that cookie

And yet I lie.  I saw some friends I hadn't seen in months.  I said I was doing great.  I'm not.  One asked how food was going, I told her fine.  I ordered food, everyone was watching to see if I would.  I even commented on how I couldn't wait for the food to get there.  But that wasn't true, it was for the benefit of those around me.  It worked, they were thrilled to hear me say that.  One of them continued asking me if I was eating.  I finally became a smart ass and smiled and said, "Well, I figure once every 4 days is pretty good progress."  Another lie, but at least that one was funny, or at least the look on her face was.

I even lie to hubby.  Tell him I'm doing fine.  All the while hiding the fact that I'm far from fine.  He caught me today.  He saw the longing look I gave Jimmy John's last night when we drove past.  He suggested it today since he knew I'd been wanting it.  I told him Chipotle would be better.  He's too observant.  He wanted to know how long it had been since I'd had a sandwich.  And then why.  I cringed and told him in one word.  "Bread."  He took me out for sandwiches.  I was still hungry when I stopped but I told him I was full.  More than half of my sandwich went to waste.  That seems like such a shame.  I passed a sign today that talked about how many people in Colorado struggle with hunger.  And I felt like the supreme jack ass for CHOOSING to struggle with hunger.

I want to hide.  I want to not have to lie.  I'm just so very tired.  I'm even ready for December to be over when Hubby will notice even quicker when I'm not taking care of myself.  Mostly, because I'm just ready to be taken care of and I know he will.  I lie and yet wish for my husband to see through my lie.  I guess maybe not all hope is lost after all, if I wish for someone to not buy my lie.

lurking and growing up

The tears are lurking again.  I can feel a weight behind the happiness.  I had the realization a couple of days ago that I was only 3 years older than my son is now when I tried to commit suicide for the first time.  I felt so grown up, like a very old soul, at the time.  But the reality is that I wasn't.  I was 12.  At 9 I was praying that I wouldn't grow up to be fat like my mom.  At 12 I was swallowing pills and truly it seemed like I had endured far more than a measly 12 years of life.  At 14 I had begun to starve myself.  I felt so old and yet I was really so young.

Thoughts like that scare me about my kids getting older.  My son has a crush on a girl at school.  He doesn't really understand his feelings, just that they are big feelings.  He drew a heart on his leg with their initials drawn in it.  He gets all smiley and goofy at the mention of her name.  He is growing up.  And I am glad he is growing up.  I hope his teenage years are much more like his daddy's than like mine.  I hope that thoughts of suicide never plague him.  I hope his little comments about not needing to lose weight yet, and rarely wanting breakfast before school don't turn to haunt him with a life of ED.  I read stories about the Penn State scandal and I pray he never has to understand abuse.

I want the life for him that I didn't have.  I want him to know safety and security that I pretended in my mind but didn't think existed when I was his age.  I hope when he is a teenager that he doesn't drink until he passes out simply because it hurts to live his life.  I hope he tells his wife of fond memories of when he was a child.  I hope he smiles at his kids and laughs as much as his daddy does. 

I know I can't protect him from all hurt.  We all get hurt.  Hurt is part of life.  I wouldn't want to either, it would be living in a delusion for me and cause even more hurt for him and for me.  But that said, I pray his hurts never carry him down a road of self loathing.  That they never carry him so far that he forgets he is loved.  That they never carry him to needing to cope with the after effects of molestation, eating disorders, or suicidal tendencies.  In short, I pray he never has to live my life.  I hope so much more for him!

Um, yeah, can't postpone feeling until after Thanksgiving afterall

Tonight on the way to work, those feelings hit me full force.  Yeah, those yucky ones I haven't known what to do with.  Yep, those are the ones.  My anger actually graduated to rage for all of a few minutes, but then I arrived at work and had to pull myself together.  I don't know if that raging moment felt unbelievably good or if it felt absolutely terrifying!

I did the good girl thing I always do.  I pushed the feelings back and settled for just plain grumpy and annoyed.  My body feels very awkward to me.  I feel like the pounds are packing on around my middle.  My clothes all feel uncomfortable to my body.  My son got in trouble at school today.  A professor was rude to me tonight at work.  I had other customers who were thoughtless tonight.  I came home to 2 of my kids still awake and had to put them to bed.  I ran a hot bubble bath but ran out of hot water before I realized it so my bath was warm not hot.  And throw in what seems like PMS symptoms and you have my night.

I'm so hungry.  The tiger is clawing at my tender insides (read this amazing post from Jenn, you'll understand what I am saying) but the pain won't let me give in.  How long will this hurt?  I feel like every time I get through one hard thing, within days something new comes up in my heart.  I have a day, maybe two where I can breathe, then WHAM something else hits my heart and mind full force.  I'm tired of feeling like I always whine.  I'm tired of feeling like orange is winning, or at least that she is not losing.  I hate the days of feeling hungry and not being able to give in.  I much prefer those handfuls of healthy days or even the days when I'm just sick, no hunger, no arguing with myself, and no guilt.

It is a sad day when my desire is to still be sick so that I wouldn't have to hear the dialog in my head.

afraid

I haven't had enough to eat today.  That is a statement, not a question.  The old habits are hard to war against, they pull against my soul with a fierceness I cannot explain.  I need to go have dinner but I'm afraid to.  I don't even know what I am afraid of.  Afraid I might get better?  Afraid I might live my life? 

OR

Afraid I might like the taste of food?  Afraid I might never stop if I start eating?  Afraid that I will lose the thing I can control?  Afraid that I might have to feel my feelings?  Afraid that I might have to acknowledge my inadequacy?  Afraid that I might not be worth the effort I put in to recover?

** K, I needed to hear you say I was weary while I was writing this post.  I was looking for scripture reference about being weary and this is the one that jumped out at me.

Isaiah 40
²⁶ Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens:
   Who created all these?
He who brings out the starry host one by one
   and calls forth each of them by name.
Because of his great power and mighty strength,
   not one of them is missing. 
 ²⁷ Why do you complain, Jacob?
   Why do you say, Israel,
“My way is hidden from the LORD;
   my cause is disregarded by my God”?
²⁸ Do you not know?
   Have you not heard?
The LORD is the everlasting God,
   the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
   and his understanding no one can fathom.
²⁹ He gives strength to the weary
   and increases the power of the weak.

doctor update

My doctor appointment on Thursday went well and not so well.  I was down another pound, not so great.  My iron is higher than last year, still no where near where I need it to be though.  Ferritin levels below 13 are considered anemia.  Last year I was at 14.  This year I am 16.  I need to be in the mid 60's minimum to have a reserve store of iron that my body can pull from.

At one point she was pondering some of my labs, why some things were low but not others directly linked to those things.  Then she asked it, "So how are you doing with eating?"  Apparently what I had had on Thursday up to that point wasn't enough to be called a meal much less most of a days nutrition.  Aha, it all made sense to her.

When we addressed my weight, metabolism, strength, bmi, and body fat percentage I started to fidget.  She says, "So you are staying within your normal range on all of these things.  That should make you feel happy, right?"  NO!  I told her about accompanying hubby to his appointment and how his body fat percentage is just barely higher than mine which is highly unfair because I am definitely the one who puts healthier foods in my body.  She told me the explanation for that.  My body needs more protein.  When you are not getting enough food to fuel your body, the body retains the fat thinking it will need the fat to stay warm.  My body is attacking itself in search of protein.  My body is devouring my muscles in search of protein and storing the fat to keep itself warm. Having said all of this, she was rather surprised at how well I did on the strength test.

At one point in the conversation she asked me something that I have been thinking about since.  I for the life of me cannot remember what the question was but after I answered one of her questions, she said, "Do you not want to get better?"  Crap!  That was a whole different can of worms.  I honestly don't know.  I do want to get better.  I just don't want to have to let go of this to do it.  How contradictory is that??????  I want to live my life, not just exist through it.  I have amazing dreams of the life I want.  I am also terrified of that life and like knowing that orange is holding my hand and giving me security of the familiar.

The doctor did start me on a new anti-depressant.  It makes me tired but most of them do when you first start them.  My kitchen will tell you in a couple of weeks if the medicine is helping or not ;-) !  We also adjusted my thyroid again because it is still over functioning.  Hopefully in a few weeks, by the time my kids are back in school, I'll be feeling a little more normal.  Thanks for the comments here, the emails and the texts from those of you checking in on me.  I do appreciate the support and accountability.

orange rant

I am sorry for this, but I simply have to give in to a huge orange rant.  Sorry in advance for the bitching and moaning but if I don't get this out of my head and into the open, it will stay in my head and destroy me.

So I went to the doctor today for my physical.  Um, the scale read 1/2 lb less than last time but the new nurse rounds up instead of down so the chart says it is the same.  How in the heck have I had diarrhea for the last week (sorry for tmi) and barely eaten anything the past couple of days and the scale says the same freakin thing it did last time I went in???????  And why in the world would ANYONE round the numbers UP when weighing someone?????  My doctor didn't actually bring up food this time around.  She asked if I wanted to talk about anything else and like a good little liar, I told her no that I'm fine.  She brought up doing a bone density scan but I just had one last August that was ok so we didn't do it today.  I don't think insurance would pay for 2 in one year anyway.  

And then there was the stupid metabolic testing and fitness testing.  The guy typed in my height at an inch below what I actually am.  I mentally completely freaked out!!!!!!!!!  Seriously, that inch means a different way my body metabolizes, a different set of weight guidelines, and who knows what else.  For my body, that inch shorter at the same weight looks so much fatter in my mind.  I know, crazy, right?  That paper inch may not change how I look but it changes how I felt about myself.  I informed him, he remeasured me and corrected it.  Whew!  I did well at the squats, pushups and crunches.  That wasn't a big deal.  But then the waist to hip ratio? Oh yeah, I nearly cried.  Thankfully he wasn't dumb enough to tell me the numbers he measured.  But I had to have a measuring tape around my stomach, and it was a man measuring/touching me.  He wasn't weird or inappropriate, its just that a guy was touching me and measuring me.  I don't want to be measured.  I don't want to know that my body exists in numbers.  And I don't want a member of the opposite sex knowing those numbers.  Oh and my body fat percentage was not at all happy news to me.  Much higher than I like.   

I absolutely hate what I see in the mirror right now.  The closing my eyes in the shower trick hasn't kept working.  I am desperately trying to remember what it was I felt/knew last week when I discovered it.

confession

today the desire to stay sick is stronger than the desire to get healthy

orange or not orange, that is the question

Overall, I am in a fairly good place right now.  Come on, today I bought new shirts AND I had a piece of cheesecake tonight with hubby.  To shop and eat in the same day is a good place :)   And somewhere in the back of my mind the orange voice talks again.  Getting healthy me is enjoying that I can enjoy life again.  Sure there are rough times but I can feel again, I can talk to my hubby again, I can play with my kids again, I can concentrate and read again.

And yet I hear that nagging little voice in the back of my head wondering how much weight I can lose before my physical next month.  Orange (aka anorexia) is telling me that she misses me.  Orange is wondering why I've not joined her for our summer rendezvous.  Orange thoughts are torturing my trying to be healthy brain.  Orange is trying to promise that it could be different.  Orange wants me to not have hips.  Orange despises that I have the pooch that all women have where our reproductive organs are.  Orange is fighting hard to be heard. 

I guess that means that I have to fight harder to not listen.

I cry when I eat

each bite with effort swallowed
thick tears well up
only to be pushed back down
the pain of eating
the anger of my humanity
my stomach growls

i hate myself for wanting food
it feels like a betrayal
that my body still wants more
the bites may bring tears
but they must be bringing more
there must be more purpose
than what i can see
and my enemy is me
not the food i eat

if only's come so easily
what if's run amuck
my mind is trying
so desperately to see
today is a gift
tomorrow is a treasure
one that i want to be around
long enough to enjoy

it is not good

Have you ever read the creation story in Genesis?  God is creating land and sea, night and day, plants, animals and people and finally  "God saw all that he had made, and it was very good." (Gen 1:31)  Did you know that there was one thing that he said "It is not good" about? 

Yep, after God made Adam He looked around and said  “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him.” In all that God had created, in all that He saw to be good, He saw also that it was not good for man to be alone.  I think of this often.  God created us for community, for intimacy, for love. 

I have discovered through the years that there are a lot of lonely places in life.   Anorexia is one of them.  Depression is one of them.  Abuse is one of them.  Trauma is one of them.  Perfection is one of them.  It is so easy to isolate, to assume no one in the world understands.  But that isn't how God made us.  He made us to need each other.  He made us to support each other. 

I have to say thank you to my blogger buddies (especially to these two wonderful ladies).  I thought I was alone.  The only support I had found was supporting my disease, not my recovery.  I was very lonely.  I was sure that I was alone in the emotions of anorexia, even though I had support from others outside of the situation.  I want to thank so many of you for allowing me into your lives, for showing me your hearts, for being honest about your recovery and progress.  In doing so, you have allowed me to see that I am not and was never alone in my battle.  We are all at different stages of recovery but we all have days when we want to throw in the towel, days when we want to beat the disease more than give in to it and days when we just keep going because it is the right thing to do.

The only thing in all of creation that was not good was for man to be alone.  Thanks for showing me that I am not alone!

love/hate abusive relationship

I have spent most of my life in an abusive relationship with anorexia.  I have tried to cover up the marks she leaves when she hurts me.  I lie and make excuses for her.  I get angry when she steals from me but readily forgive her when she makes me feel good again.  Even when I decided I had had enough and broke away, I ended up taking her back when she looked kind and comforting.  I have let her abuse me long enough.

I am angry with what anorexia has stolen from me.  Today is my best friend acquaintance's birthday.  I miss her something fierce.  I wish that anorexia had not come between us.  I wish we could bridge the ever growing gap between us and that things could be back to the way they were.  I wish she could see the progress I've made in trying to break the cycle of abuse from my eating disorder. 

Today was my preschoolers last day of school and tomorrow is my other kids last day of school.  I am sad to see this year come to a close, more so than usual.  As this year ends, I realize how much of it I missed because I had to take care of me.  Battling anorexia forced me to focus on me and gave me little time to enjoy 2nd grade, kindergarten and preschool.  I feel like I have missed a year of my kids lives and time is something we cannot have back.

I'm tired of anorexia abusing me.  I'm tired of trying to defend her.  I'm tired of her stealing from me.  I'm also tired of fighting to leave her.  It is just like any other abusive relationship and I cannot change her.

a disordered eating stranger

There is a girl at my husbands work who is very, very unhealthy.  She is one of the few that I have met that there is absolutely no question that she has an eating disorder.  Her arms are so bony, her skin is pale and unhealthy and her hair is brittle and falling out.  The first time I saw her, I asked hubby about her.  He didn't really know much about her yet.  Every time I would go to his work I would specifically look for her.  Every time I was mildly afraid she wouldn't be there because she collapsed or went into treatment.

I ache for this young girl.  I ache for the struggle she is going through.  I ache because I understand.  I wonder if her family judges her.  I wonder if she even tries to have friends anymore.  I wonder who emotionally supports her.  How long has she been sick?  How long have her bones been sticking out of her skin?  How long has her hair looked like it should be shaved off and start over again?  How long have her eyes been hollow?  How long has she been hurting?  What was her life like before ED ravaged her body?

In the time since she started, my hubby has now finally told me her name.  He has agreed that she is definitely sick.  He also is only barely acquainted with her.  I long to support her, to tell her she is not alone, to remind her that she really is beautiful.  But she doesn't know me.  Here is what I do know about ED.  We feel invisible and when those around us don't know what to say, we are convinced that we are indeed invisible.  We long to be visible and yet are terrified of being noticed.  We can't see the disease in the mirror, because the stupid mirror lies, and so we are certain that those around us can't see the disease either.  No one knows our little lie.  No one can see the problem and therefore it isn't really a problem.  It doesn't become real until you are passing out from malnutrition.  It doesn't become real until every bone in your body aches so badly that you want to die.  It doesn't become real until your husband informs you that things have changed sexually and it isn't as enjoyable when you are afraid you will break your wife in half if you are intimate.  It doesn't become real until you long to run your car off the road so that your family doesn't have to watch you slowly die.

So what do I do?  Do I introduce myself?  And if so then what?  Do I continue to let her think that no one knows she is hurting?  Do I tell her that I understand?  I am struck by the comment Holly made on my "what's her story?" post.  In a college setting where eating disorders are said to be prevalent there is little evidence that others share her battle.  Sure, 1 in 5 struggle with it, but how many hide it well?  So do I continue to let this girl think it is impossible to see her disease and that she is invisible or do I let her know I see her?  I question things like this.  I question because I think I would be furious if a stranger came up to me and accused me of being anorexic (despite how true it may be).

How do you handle seeing an eating disorder that is really not your place to intervene in?

I didn't hit the panic button!

Last week could have been devastating to recovery, but it wasn't.  What I thought would be a week wrought with food panic was a week covered by the grace of God.  I did not one time panic about the food I was eating!  Let me repeat that because as many of you know it is indeed HUGE. I did not one time panic about the food I was eating! 

I have had several people notice the ribbon in the wing of my butterfly tattoo.  One asked if it was a fish, I said no it's an awareness ribbon.  She asked if it was for breast cancer.
After a quick pause I answered, "It's actually for Eating Disorder Awareness."  Her response was interesting to me.  "Do you have an eating disorder?"
"I'm recovering from one."
"Wow, so that explains how you lost all that weight so quickly this past summer. I wanted to be like you and then I decided you were maybe a getting a little too thin."
"Oh. Um, so you noticed that too?"
"Yeah, how could we not notice?"

In thinking about it, I find it to be funny the difference in men and women.  Women around me noticed.  Men did not (or if they did, they pretended not to.)  My pastor was surprised, his wife nodded and said, "Yeah, you are looking a bit thin, Missy." My husband noticed, of course, but that is not a fair call because he sees me naked so of course he would notice!  Many of the women around me were concerned.  I got comments like, "You're not eating with us?" more than once.

I thought I was being discreet.  I mean really, how could it be obvious to others?  It wasn't obvious to me until I went to the hospital.  Isn't it funny what ED does to your brain?  I would easily notice it in someone else and yet I expected no one to notice it in me.  I didn't see it in the mirror (remember Why does the mirror lie?) so it seemed unreal that others would see it.  In looking back though, I don't know why I thought my disease was invisible.

I guess because I felt invisible, I felt that my disease was also invisible.  If they can't see me, then surely they can't see my hurt both physical and emotional.  I know that triggers are always a breath away.  I am so grateful for the online support I have found with others who struggle.

Here is what I have learned about eating disorders (especially anorexia).  Way too many people suffer from ED.  Many more people are committed to recovery than I had ever realized.  Many more people are afraid of recovery than I wish to mention.  We all suffer differently and yet the same.  While one is doing in-patient care for months, another is finding support groups nearby.  One trusts God, another trusts self.  We all hurt.  Some look the part of the emaciated little girl, some look normal and healthy while slowly dying.  Some were smaller than me some were bigger than me and yet we all felt like we were not small enough.  It is not age confined.  I have talked to young girls, teenagers, college students, newlyweds and even other 30 something moms like me.  While the media may give an age range that is more likely to struggle with ED, it is not something that ends when the stress of grad school ends or the days of up all night with the baby end.  It is not confined to the poor or the rich.  It crosses every socioeconomic barrier, every age barrier, every religion barrier, every time zone.

Recovery is harder than the hardest work.  It is harder than giving birth, harder than surgery, harder than any physical condition I have ever had to overcome.  Recovery is harder than giving in to the addiction, it is harder than meeting a deadline, it is harder than the most daunting tasks I have ever undertaken.  It is harder than parenting and harder than loving.  Recovery opens up a part of you that you never want to be seen and then you have to keep it open in order to allow healing.

Recovery to me means I have to keep letting people in, even when all I want to do is shut them out.  It means believing my husband when he says I'm beautiful.  It means knowing that I really do want to be around for my kids and my hubby even when I think I don't want to live.  It means not looking at calories or sugar grams when I indulge.  It means giving to others even when I am afraid that I have nothing worth offering.  It means trusting that God has a plan and a purpose for my life, even when I can't see it.  It means being willing to let go of my hurt rather than let it control me.  It means being happy for every baby step I make.  It means rejoicing when I have a week that I didn't panic once about food.  It means telling people I am a recovering anorexic, not that I am anorexic (big and difficult distinction there!). It means finding ways to cope with fear, pain, anxiety and stress in healthy ways not destructive ways.  It means not allowing myself the euphoria that I experience when I restrict.

I'm not foolish enough to think that one great week means no more bad weeks, but I am happy to know that I have finally reached a point where I can have a great week not just a great day!

attribute or definition

I have a friend who was diagnosed with HIV several years ago.  During the early days after her diagnoses someone in her support group told her something very wise.  "HIV is not who you are, it is a characteristic about you.  It is like saying you have blue eyes, it doesn't define you, it is just something about you."

Remember a few years ago the commercial with the young girl living her life.  She is an artist, a friend, a woman.  At the end she says, "I have cancer, it doesn't have me."?

Today I realized something.  I am not anorexic, I have anorexia.  Anorexia does not define who I am, nor am I willing to let it any longer.  I have blue eyes, I am a wife to a great man, I have 3 amazing kids, I love my friends, I am fiercely loyal, I believe in God, I know that God's ways are not our ways, I know that this world does bring sorrow but the hope of glory keeps us pressing forward to the goal, I love the color purple, I hate to clean, and I struggle with anorexia.  All of those things describe me, none of them define me.

So if you hear me say I am anorexic, please feel free to remind me that anorexia does not define who I am, it is currently just something I struggle with.  I'm not going to be labeled by this disease any more.  I am not going to feel trapped into a destructive pattern by allowing it to define me instead of describe me.

I am not anorexic, I have anorexia.

misplaced guilt

Misplaced as it is, I have a very extreme case of guilt right now.  The last couple of days have been easier to eat.  This morning I took my 3 year old to our family's traditional first day of preschool breakfast.  I then, for lunch, proceeded to cave to my beyond extreme craving for chocolate and ate a couple of peanut butter cups.  Tonight I had dinner with my family.  I feel so sick to my stomach and have for most of the day.  I also feel so very out of control.  It seems crazy to say that.  Here I have been saying that I want to get better but then when I make steps to try to achieve my goal, I feel like I'm spiraling out of control and I'm guilt ridden.

I'm sure part of the guilt lies in the fact that thanks to hormones, I have had such an obscene craving for chocolate.  I have caved a couple of times because this is almost equivalent to pregnancy cravings.  It is the kind of craving that is so strong that it makes you feel almost like you will get sick if you don't indulge it.  I cried when my husband brought home chocolate donuts.  They looked so good.  I only had a part of one, just less than half.  I am feeling so very conflicted about food.  On one hand, I have a desire to eat and to be healthy.  On the other hand I despise food and that we are dependent on it.  If I could live a happy, healthy life that never included another meal, I would do it! 

Yesterday was a 10, I desperately wanted to get better at all costs.  Today is a 4, I kinda want to get better but not really too much.  I have started exercising quite a bit more as well.  I am terrified to go back to the body I had.  Sounds stupid, especially if you know me, but it is indeed how I feel. 

So all of that said, I need to go and immerse myself in the truth of the Word.  If I don't the lie will most definitely win this time!  The lies are pouring through my brain almost faster than I can sort through them right now.  Pray for the truth to saturate me even more than the lies have.

Oh, completely random but don't want to forget, my bone scan came back ok.  There is no visable bone mass loss.  Several people have asked so I wanted to remember to update that.