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.

balancing the f-bomb

FAT.  Yep, I said it, the f word. It has been a long time since I have really exercised.  I have long felt that my body deserves to be punished and usually when I exercise it is with the intention of punishing myself for something.  I listened to my doctor and to my husband and even to my body and reserved the exercise.  Unfortunately I haven't felt stable enough to trust myself to exercise alone so my exercise has been limited to using the eliptical occasionally while watching football with Hubby. 

I think I'm starting to come into a place where I want to work with my body.  I am starting to see a difference in my motivation to exercise, to be healthy not to punish myself.  This is a good thing and a nice shift.  I'm also a little afraid of the exercise program that Hubby and I are about to begin because though I genuinely desire health this time around, I'm also genuinely very discontent with my body.

Here are the steps I'm putting in place to help guard myself.  I am NOT weighing, measuring or taking before and after photos.  I'm only exercising with Hubby, no sneaking it in after he goes to bed.  That way I can stay accountable to him and he won't have to forbid me from exercise again because I was burning far more than I was consuming. 

I feel fat.  But more importantly, right now I don't feel healthy.  I feel like I have gone the other extreme of hurting myself by not fully taking care of myself.  Instead of hurting my body, I'm just ignoring it.  That's not healthy either.  There has to be a healthy balance, a balance that neither abuses my body nor neglects it.  And someday, I'm going to find that balance. 

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.

HR confessions and more

I've had so many thoughts attacking my brain that I haven't even known where to start or the words to say to debrief.  Sunday was a beautiful day of worship at church.  For a while I was able to bask in the presence of the Almighty.  I was able to worship without reservation.  For a few moments and for a few hours later, I felt at peace.  I felt that my life really mattered.  I knew that my sole purpose in life is to bring glory and honor to the Lord, to reflect Him and the work He is doing in my life.  For a few moments, the size of my body didn't matter and didn't even cross my mind.

Today was a rough day.  Nothing specific, just felt like going through the motions was like waking through mud today.  I am so grateful for those moments in time, like Sunday, when I feel the Lord's presence so profoundly.  Those moments carry me through the rest of the days when I struggle desperately.  Today I didn't feel God, not even once but times like Sunday remind me that He is there even though I don't feel His presence.

Is it completely wrong for the girl who loves God, who believes He is good even when life isn't, who works for a Christian ministry, to say things like I didn't feel God today?  Does that mean, as was so often told to me growing up, that I don't really trust Him because I don't always feel Him?  Does it make my faith less if I share my doubts and fears?  I don't know the answer.  I do know though that on days like today, I have to hold on to what I know to be true not what I feel to be true.

Today brought the opportunity to talk to the HR person at my work.  I really like her and I trust her.  I went into her office and told her about my concerns with the health class that our work is sponsoring being either triggering or enabling to me.  She is the only person at my work who I have told that I struggle to eat, that I have major depressive disorder, and that some days going though the motions is overwhelming.

I told her I don't want to make this public knowledge at the moment.  I don't want my plate analyzed by every person in the office.  I don't want the calorie police hovering over me and worrying even when I'm doing ok.  (I told Hubby that calories are the little bastards that hide in your closet and sew your clothes smaller while you sleep.  He laughed.  And that is completely off subject and random. :)  )

On a food note, I'm both struggling and doing well.  I'm maintaining but at the moment the thoughts are pretty aggressive.  Like for instance, I had my physical recently.  My weight was satisfactory.  My ideal however, I realized in reading through my journal, is 5 lbs lighter than what my ideal was this time last year.  I feel the viciousness of the cycle that insists that no matter how much you lose, it isn't good enough for Orange.

My doctor allowed me to opt out of the metabolism screening which is good, that is always very triggering to me.  So I didn't have the extent of numbers to contend with that I usually have but I still had the scale numbers to contend with.  I still had questions from the new nurse wondering if I'm eating enough calories.  I told her yes.  And then I told her that I'm not counting them so I suppose I'm getting enough.  When I'm counting them I know I'm not getting enough.

For the TMI part but it does show how distorted Orange can be.... Before my physical I had a severe kidney infection.  The medicine I had to take for it backed up my bowels a LOT.  The doctor recommended some different products to help cleanse my colon without being laxatives.  It took several days to get back to being able to go.  Then for a day it turned into diarrhea and I stopped taking the supplements.  Today I contemplated starting them again.  The conversation in my head went something like this:

You should finish the full 14 days

No, I don't want to deal with cramping stomach and emergency trips to the bathroom

Yes, but think of the weight you are losing in cleansing

But the goal of cleansing is to be healthy and get my system jump started a little to get back in the swing of things, it isn't supposed to be about the weight
Keep taking it.  A little diarrhea shouldn't be enough to stop you.  You can still be in control but really, isn't the diarrhea worth it for what it will do to flatten out your stomach?

And just that quickly the battle is raging again.  In my actions I am still pursuing recovery.  I am still striving to beat the voice in my head.  Sadly though, that voice isn't little and it torments me day and night right now.  I covet your prayers right now as the voices are really loud.  Please pray for strength for the battle and peace for my heart. 

There is still so much more  but I've already made this really long and also it is getting very late and I need to attempt to sleep.  I need rest so I can be productive at work tomorrow.

old verse, new perspective

As you know I have Psalm 45:11 tattooed on my shoulder, "The King is enthralled with your beauty".  It is a verse that has meant a lot to me in recovery.  Yesterday I read that same verse in a different version.  It said, "Let the King be enthralled with your beauty."

It went from a statement about how I am seen to a command of how I respond.  Let.  Three simple letters and yet I wonder how often I sabotage my own beauty.  How often do I let anyone, even the Lord, just enjoy my beauty without backhanded remarks about myself?


When others admire my beauty, I turn their words of compliment away.  Maybe I credit a good hair day or a cute outfit.  I never credit myself for being beautiful, but rather an accessory that has illusioned beauty for me. 


When my husband admires my beauty, I bow my head, my cheeks flush, and though I am most often convinced he sees me through Hubby colored glasses not the real me, I try to not knock down his compliments.  Even though I try, I still end up shaking my head, telling him he's wonderfully crazy.  Crazy to see the things he does, but wonderful that he does see them.

And yet here, in one of my favorite verses, I am asked to LET my beloved be enthralled with my beauty.  I don't really know how to do that, at least not yet.  I do though know that He is trying to break through to reach my heart and I need to let Him be enthralled with the beauty that He created.  The second part of the verse says "Honor him for he is your Lord."  I can't help but wonder if letting Jesus be enthralled with my beauty is the first step to honoring Him.  

depression and recent observations

I'm really struggling right now. Depression has creeped into every inch of my soul. I want to be ok, but I'm not.  I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other but right now it is incredibly hard.  I don't want to get out of bed in the morning. I find myself praying on the way to the work that the chit chat is minimal and the phones are quiet just so that I don't have to talk to anyone.

On another note, I've been observing people a lot lately.  I've had questions. My friend and I have been discussing what is beautiful.  Like for instance the photo below.....


Once being curvy was a sign of wealth, it meant you could afford food.  Now being curvy is seen as a disgrace.  Why?  When did being a walking skeleton become better than looking like a woman?


I'm not any different.  I think those skinny gals look amazing.  I envy them.  Until I see Keira next to Marilyn.  And then I wonder where we went wrong as a society.  Marilyn Monroe must be the sexiest woman in history and by today's standards she would be a plus sized model and second class to the likes of Heidi Klum, Kate Hudson, Keira Knightly.  Why?

My friend posted this old advertisement.....


My friend made the comment that the skinny girl in the ad, looks miserable and hungry.  How true. My lament was that now we are trying to lose those same 10-25 pounds that women 50 years ago were trying to gain.  It isn't about being healthy, it's about being skinny.  If it were about being healthy, we wouldn't be afraid of carbs or every single calorie.  We would be balanced and sometimes chocolate cake would be ok.  We would eat real food and we would look like women not sticks.

And another thought.  Why are we as women so obsessed with getting the pre-pregnancy body back?  Nothing about our lives is the same as before pregnancy, why do we expect our bodies to be the same?  Why do we expect the body of a 12 year old instead of the body of a woman?  Why are we so damn afraid of curves?

Better question, why am I so damn afraid?  I see the walking skeletons, I don't think they are gorgeous.  But I still end up envying them.  I struggle to eat because I'm depressed and food seems so trivial right now.  I have found myself not even getting hungry and eating simply because oh yeah, it's 2 o'clock and I haven't eaten anything yet.  I just don't care.

I'm trying to care.  I'm trying to hang in there.  But really I want to crawl under a big rock and not come out.  I want to hide.  And I just want to sleep for a million bajillion years.  I'll be ok, I always am.  I've noticed a pattern, it is always worse in summer and near Christmas.  It will get better.  I'm ready for it to get better now.

Sorry if I rambled.  I'm tired and over it.  That is usually the best time to write to clear my head but also the worst because I verbally vomit all over the place. 

Beginning

                                                                     
It is fascinating to write about beginnings.  I've been pondering quite a bit lately about the beginning of my eating disorder.  I remember clearly the exact moment that it became a conscious choice to allow the eating disorder a sacred place in my heart.  One of the prettiest, friendliest, most loved girls in my high school said she wished she could be as thin as me.  I had been extremely ill.  I had lost a lot of weight in a very short amount of time.  I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't concentrate.  I was SICK.  I never found out what was wrong.  It was after losing 12 pounds on a frame that couldn't afford to lose 1 that she complimented me.  I wanted her to like me more, I wanted her to envy me, I wanted to have the body that the most perfect girl in our high school wanted. It was so easy to continue to not eat, no one expected me to because I had been ill.

That was the moment I consciously thought, "I'm not going to eat."  But in reality it began long before that.  I used to drink my mom's Slim Fast and then say I had had lunch already.  I couldn't have been more than 7 or 8.  The can said to replace two meals with shakes and then eat a reasonable dinner.  It made sense to me to think it was a meal to have a Slim Fast shake and I truly thought my thighs were fat.  Really. Really. Fat.

When I was 9 years old there was a worship concert at our church, a husband and wife team.  I remember admiring the woman so much.  I remember longing for her petite figure and her naturally curly and long hair.  I remember her less than supple chest and thinking that is what I wanted my boobs to look like when I got older as opposed to looking like my mom.  I actually prayed really hard that night that God would let me grow up to be a very tiny, skinny, woman with small boobs, pretty hair and kind eyes.

There are other things, but not necessary to my point.  I was flirting with and engaging in disordered eating years before I actually had an eating disorder. It felt like it had a specific beginning but the reality of it was that it was a coping mechanism, a crutch, a fall back long before the acknowledged beginning.  I really don't remember life before food troubles.

A much more fun beginning though, is now.  I'm beginning to live.  I'm beginning to feel.  I'm beginning to love.  I'm beginning to get my life back.  Maybe saying getting it back is not quite true, I don't feel like I ever had this life before.  Sure the eating disorder stole a lot from me, but I feel like by the time it stole from me I was already mostly a shell anyway.  Abuse stole so much from me.  Depression stole so much from me. Not being allowed to have a voice had cleared out my soul.  I was empty, it was easy for Orange to move in.

When I told her to move out, I had nothing to fill that space with.  I didn't have a "me" that I wanted to return to.  I have gotten to have a true beginning.  I have gotten to decide what I want to fill the spaces inside of me.  I've begun to learn who I am, what I like and create the me that I want to be.  Now this is a beginning!

lunchroom chronicles

I'm trying so hard and I'm so tired.  Office lunch hour I must figure out how to do healthily.  After 2 days of being able to skip the whole horrible affair, today I tested the waters again.  At first it was manageable with the anxiety not being overwhelming.  I made sure to sit with the 2 ladies who were in the lunchroom.  After all, my job is with a Christian ministry and much of my job revolves around cultivating relationships.

Shortly before my lunch time ended, several other ladies came into the lunchroom.  Someone pointed out that everyone had a salad for lunch.  I had already finished, but boy was I glad that I had brought salad, wouldn't want anyone to think poorly of me based on my lunch choices.  And then it started, fat talk.  Diet talk.  I'm not good enough just the way I am talk.

"Are you doing THE diet again?"  "Yeah, but only for ten days."  "I need to do IT again."  "You shouldn't do it, you are supposed to be training and you need the extra protein and calories."  "I'm just going to do it for swimsuit season and then get back to training."  "Yeah, I'm doing it too, I need to lose about 10 more pounds."

The talk was swirling around in my brain and I just wanted to scream "STOP" and run from the room and hide.  I guess I had hoped that working in this office, though filled with women, would be different from other places.  I thought a place of ministry would be my refuge from the storm of orange inside of me.  I so wanted a shelter from the storm, a safe place, a place where orange would be easier to keep at bay.

I guess it turns out that women are women and we all battle this perfect body bullcrap, even in places that should be safe.  My anxiety skyrockets just thinking about lunch tomorrow.  Do I eat at my desk, like I did on Monday, just to avoid the triggering conversation?  Do I keep trying to make friends and build bridges and eat in that lunchroom? 

I've had a hard time wanting to eat anyway but I have been putting one foot in front of the other, making myself stay present and in the moment, and making the choice to eat anyway.  Everything in my head is screaming at me.  I want to say that the voices aren't bothering me, but I'd be lying.  The diet talk in the lunchroom has my head spinning.  I'm wondering what food games will be played here and wondering how I can minimize their damage to a firm and yet very shaky recovery place.

excited and scared

I've been trying to be intentional about my sleep since starting my new job which means I have intentionally been avoiding my time warp blog.  But I need a quick reprieve before packing up lunches and heading to bed. 

I did get the new job that I had interviewed for.  Last week was my first week there as well as my last week at my other job.  It made for a tiring week, let me tell ya!  I absolutely love the new job.  I have never been more welcomed at a job.  I am so thrilled to be serving in this capacity for a non-profit organization that I whole heartedly believe in.  Not to mention that I am earning more and working more hours, which is always a plus!

I'm still a little scared though.  I've been mostly a stay at home mamma for quite some time and now I'm actually going back to "real" (I think I prefer to say "scheduled") work.  I've never worked in an office, in a cubicle.  I've never dealt with the ridiculous stress that an office lunch hour brings.  I mean, I brought lunch and I ate it, but all the while I was wondering what they were thinking about my plate.  Was this an appropriate amount of food?  Is there anything in my behavior that would have given my struggles away?  Is this how normal people spend their lunch breaks, eating together and chatting about life?  And no one dies of anxiety in doing it?

I have a lot of what if's going on.  What if I gain a zillion pounds sitting on my butt all day long? I won't be chasing my kids all day anymore. What if I relapse badly again and it becomes easily evident to those around me again?  What if I grow distant from the dear friends that I have now?  Oh that is a big one. 

Seriously, we have been in a similar stage of life.  Sure, most of them have kids younger than mine, but we are all stay at home moms.  How many impromptu play dates at Chic Fil A will I miss before they all have a common bond that I'm no longer a part of?  I remember when one of my good friends went back to work after years of staying at home.  I remember feeling like she no longer understood the day to day of nursing babies and changing diapers and all of the other things that were still a part of my every. single. day.  I remember feeling lonely when she wanted to tell me about her day in the work force, away from her children,when all I had to offer to the conversation was that my baby hadn't lost weight again or had tried a new food.  Not that we loved each other less, but we had less in common and it was the start of drifting apart. 

I know full well that that could very likely happen again.  My kids are all older than theirs and come fall will all be in school all day long.  I have freedom that I didn't have when they were younger.  Freedom to schedule coffee dates instead of McDonald's Playland dates, freedom to do things in the middle of the day without worrying about naps.  I also have the freedom to hold a professional job.  Will the differences in our lives, in our day to day, cause us to drift apart also?  I know it's the natural ebb and flow of relationships, but I am genuinely afraid of this.

I love my new job, but I am a little scared at how it could change my life.  I'm scared of not being able to see the sun whenever I want because I am in a cubicle.  I'm scared of sitting still for hours a day, because I have to.  I'm scared of not meeting my goals at work.  I'm scared that I'm going to burst into tears with the next person who is ridiculously kind to me.  I'm scared I will lose my friends and have to start over once again. 

And I'm equally excited.  I'm excited to open this new chapter of life and see where it takes me.  Like a novel I can't put down, that is how I feel about beginning a new season of life. 

how did you do it?

I was chatting with a customer tonight at work.  We started talking about the wildfires here in Colorado right now, then about the wind and then about our kids.  It was a pleasant conversation until it came up how many kids I have.  She looked straight at my stomach and said incredulously, "YOU have THREE kids?????"  I smiled, forcing myself to not mention that I had just watched her stare at my stomach and confirmed, yep, three boys.

And then she said it.  "Wow!  How did you lose the weight?  You look fabulous. I'm still 40 lbs more than I used to be. How did you get your body back?"  And then I said it.  You don't want this body.  It hasn't been worth it, the 40lbs would be better. You don't want to live this life.

She suddenly looked at me with empathy and comfort instead of awe.  She assured me of my beauty and told me to not dwell on my perception of my body.  And I'm grateful for that.  But it is still hard that someone looked that closely at my body when I'm afraid to look closely at it myself.

feelings and truth

Totally not feeling the self love today.  Not liking my body.  Not liking my emotions.  Not liking my insufficiency at maintaining my house or cooking healthy meals for my family.  Just not feeling the love today.  But my feelings don't change what is true.  Here's to hoping that what is true will change my feelings.

TRUTHS:

• I am enough just the way I am.  
• I am loved and accepted exactly how I am.
• I am a daughter of God, made in His image to reflect His beauty.
• Beauty isn't in the size of my hips or thighs.
• My value doesn't come from a perfect body, a clean house, well behaved children, a great marriage.  My value lies in the fact that God created me.
• an ice cream bar is not the devil and having one occasionally won't kill me or inflate me 3,000 lbs
• I am not a super model but I am still beautiful in my own right.  (That was unbelievably difficult to type and I'm forcing myself to not backspace this whole sentence.)
• I am worth the time.
• I have something valuable to offer. 
• I have a voice and things to say and that doesn't make me difficult, contrary, or ungodly.  It makes me who God designed me to be.
• I'm worth protecting.

Some of those are significantly harder than others to believe much less feel. 

pepper spray and pretty dresses

I feel a little better.  I told Hubby I wanted pepper spray.  This weekend he made sure I got it, and he got it for me in pink.  I've wanted it for a couple of months but last weeks events made it something I had to have NOW. The suspect fled on foot.  Still haven't caught him.  This was his 23rd armed robbery in recent months.  He always hits small businesses.  My theory on that is that there is less chance for security cameras. 

I work alone at my job.  I walk to my car in the parking garage alone as well.  During summer that didn't bother me much, it wasn't fully dark when I was walking to my car.  I'm always hyper aware of everything around me as I walk.  You will never catch me talking on my phone or texting while I'm heading to my car.  But having pink pepper spray on my key chain will help ease the anxiety I feel while walking to my car.  It will also give my dad-in-law some peace of mind because he is always worried about me, especially now since the latest robbery.

my new pink pepper spray :)

In other unrelated news, I'm noticing a lot of perfect bodies right now.  Colorado is full of healthy and fit bodies, especially the area where Hubby works.  It has helped to remind myself that those women with the perfect bodies that I was envying the other day probably don't feel like they have a perfect body any more than I do.  I've been very self conscious about my own body lately too.  I've been able to keep it from being the center of my focus but it has still been there.

Yesterday I had a little time to myself.  I discovered a darling little shop called Uptown Cheapskate and ventured in.  Think Plato's Closet but not cluttered, clean, no holes in the clothes I was trying on and super friendly staff.  I scored 3 dresses, a skirt, 3 shirts, a sweater and 2 pairs of shoes for $45!  One of the dresses I ended up buying put me in a bit of a tizz.  I loved the fun colors and loved the way the top of the dress fit.  I didn't love the way my hips looked in it though.  Totally felt like a wide load.  I came out of the fitting room to look in the mirror and the previously empty store suddenly had enough people that 3 different people commented on how pretty the dress looked on me. 

I nearly flew back into the dressing room a hundred shades of red.  A few moments later, still wearing that dress, I came out to grab some new items from my try on pile.  The sales girl looked at me and asked if I was going to buy the dress because it looked so amazing on me.  I felt kinda weird.  I told her that I loved the top and the colors and that maybe I just needed to get over myself and the size of my hips and go ahead and buy it.  This teenage girl got the most shocked look on her face and said, "But you're sooooo tiny.  You have nothing to worry about!"  I bought the dress.  It still had the new tags on it.  Originally $109 and I paid $4.19.  It had to have been a case of the mirror lying again because I swear my hips looked double wide in that dress.  But I listened to the voices of everyone around me (and the voice of a killer price tag) rather than the voice in my head.  Now to see if I have the guts to actually wear it.

hoping to get over myself and the size of my body and wear the cute thing!

Last night I was pulling all of the clothes out of the bag and making Hubby appreciate my new treasures.  (He really is a good man.  He oooh-ed and ahhhh-ed at all the right times with no prompting from me.)  Oldest child was still awake and after I had showed all the clothes I had bought, he looked at me and said, "Will that flower one even fit you?"  SERIOUSLY??????  I shook my head and told Hubby to tell his son that he was one comment away from walking himself to bed (joking but still.....). 

God bless that man!  And I mean it!  He accepted the challenge of a teachable moment and talked with our boy.  Poor little guy was beyond confused when Dad said, "It isn't what you said, but what a woman will hear with a comment like that is, 'You're fat'. " 
But I never said that!
I know, but that is still what a girl will hear.
Hubby told him to avoid talking about weight or age with women. He informed our son that if more men had learned that lesson, there would be much fewer fights in the world.  He handled it in a lighthearted way that I loved.  He also gave me a moment to regroup and realize that my boy really wasn't trying to insult me or hurt my feelings and he gave our son a life lesson that will serve him well throughout his life. 

When Hubby informed Son that girls are crazy, I promptly and vigorously nodded my head.  Yes, son, yes we are all crazy!  We hear things you never said and we feel things that don't make sense.  We are all crazy.  Remember that, it may save you many a headache and heartache later in life!

where does my voice end and hers begin?

 I'm fine.

Lately the line between my voice and the voice of orange has gotten a little hazy.  It is hard sometime to know if I'm full or if orange thinks I've had enough to eat.  I know the voice above is orange simply because I feel like screaming it.  It is said in a poisonous way, filled with the venom of its hatred.  It has become a phrase that I have used multiple times with my dear Hubby, though not ever in the way it sounds in my head.  In my head it is snarky.  In my head it is angry.  In my head the voice screams, "I'm fine, quit asking!" every single time he asks about the amount of food I've taken or if I've had lunch that day.

That's not fine.  Fine has no problem telling him what I ate for lunch, because I did indeed eat lunch.  Fine doesn't resent him for asking.  Fine doesn't feel like tearing his head off for trying to take care of the woman he loves.  Fine would let me have a peanut butter cup without remorse, guilt or tears.  Fine wouldn't know how many calories are in each banana and each glass of milk.  *sigh*   I'm not really fine.

I'm not even sure when the line between our voices started to blur.  I only realized it was happening when I constantly felt like yelling "I'm fine, leave me alone!"  I'm not a yeller.  I usually can't stand the idea of yelling so when the voice in my head starts yelling drill sargeant style, I know it isn't my voice.  So the voice telling me I'm fine, can't be mine.  But the problem is that I'm not sure which voice is mine at the moment.  If orange keeps yelling, I'll know it's her.  By the same token, when she keeps yelling, it gets really hard to hear anything else. 

I'm thankful Hubby had to work an overnight shift today.  He didn't notice that I wore a belt with my jeans.  I tend to not be a fan of belts and he knows that.  They aren't that comfortable and they draw attention to the waist.  But today after the billionth time of pulling my jeans up, I went for the belt.  I has been months since I have needed a belt.  I don't feel like I have lost any weight though.  I don't feel like I am any smaller.  I don't feel like I look any smaller when I look in the mirror.  Hubby hasn't commented and neither had my mom-in-law.  Doesn't that mean I'm in the safe zone still?

Grrrrr.......I'm just confused and tired and well apparently not really all that fine after all.

good news bad news

In case you wanted to know, it doesn't matter how far I stick my finger down my throat, I cannot throw up.  It doesn't work with a toothbrush either.  I have a faulty gag reflex.  I have proved that once again.  Sometimes the panic just gets to be too much and I have to try.  I still can't purge.  I guess that is the good news.

The bad news is that it is still an urge, one that tonight I couldn't make shut up no matter what I did until after my fingers had been jammed repeatedly down my throat.  The bad news is that orange just won't get out of my ear tonight.  The bad news is that in my shower tonight I contemplated scrubbing my skin till it bled like I used to.  I wondered if I could find an area to cut that my husband wouldn't notice tomorrow and ask me what happened.   

I wonder why these feel so strong tonight. 

physical sensations

I'm still struggling with my body.  I'm still not quite ready for Hubby to touch me.  My body physically tingles.  It is not the same as when my body tingles with desire for my husband.  It is a different kind of physical sensation.  I don't even know how to explain it.  It is definitely in my physical body but it is different from desire and passion.  It is a sensation that makes me feel vulnerable rather than desirable. It is a sensation that makes me feel like everyone else is as aware of my body as I am.  Is this unique to those of us who have experienced sexual trauma or do others sometimes feel like their body would cringe at the touch of a man?  Not indifference towards sex, just not in the mood, too much else to do that you forget that sex actually would be nice, like every woman at some point feels, but rather complete and total aversion to sex.  I know this feeling is one sexual trauma victims understand, I just wonder if it is normal for all women. 

Has your body ever tingled with disgust rather than desire?

emotional rollercoaster

Wow, if ever there were a day of ups and downs, today was it.  My morning started out on a lovely note, hubby went in early last night so when I woke up, he was already home from work.  That was a nice surprise :) !  I took my kids to the park where I met up with several other mom friends from MOPS.  I had asked a friend if I could leave the kids there for a bit so that I could go with hubby to his "result of findings" appointment at the doctor.  Though she agreed and I know her to be the type of person who doesn't say yes when she thinks no, I still felt guilty as I drove away.  I felt guilty that of the 5 moms who were there, none of them are in the school age kids stage of life yet.  One has 5 kids and is pregnant with her 6th.  One has 3 kids, one of whom is still an infant.  Another one is pregnant, due in a week.  They have their hands very full (I know, I remember those days so very well!) and I added 3 more kids to watch in addition to the 12 kids they already were watching.

As I drove away my guilt quickly transformed into worry.  The doctors office had called and asked hubby to come in because his labs came back abnormal and needed to be discussed.  What was this doctors visit going to bring? 

Worry gave way to relief when the doctor informed us that hubby's cholesterol was high but still (just) below the point where he would need medication to correct it. She had us come in so that we can manage his health now while it is still managing rather than playing medicinal catch up later.

My relief was short lived before anger and jealousy kicked in.  The doctor was informing us that hubby is in generally good health and his numbers all look pretty good, except the boderline cholesterol.  Enter jealousy.  He eats like crap and doesn't exercise and yet his body is tolerating it and is still healthy.  I adore him, as you know if you are a regular to my blog, but I wish he would take better care of himself.  His body fat percentage is just slightly above mine. WTH?  How on earth do I eat healthy or not eat at all and have a body fat percentage that is nearly the same as my hubby's who eats like a good old boy (lots of meat, hardly any fiber or veggies).  The doctor left the room for a minute and during that time hubby looked at me and informed me that there is no way he should be getting a clean bill of health with the way he takes care of himself.  That is were the anger came in. I wanted to yell at him.  Thankfully I didn't.

When I left the appointment, my head was spinning.  I didn't understand how I could be so relieved and so hurt in the same breath.  I'm so glad my hubby is doing well and that as far as his health goes, he won't be leaving us anytime soon.  And I also ached.  I needed to process my own emotions.

I arrived to pick up my kids and realized I also needed to cry.  My friend understood.  I wish she didn't, I wish no one understood what this feels like (though I am grateful to not be alone).  She reminded me not to obsess over the stupid body fat percentage.  I didn't know until today that she too has struggled with eating issues. I look at her and always see what I wish I looked like only to hear her say to me today that she feels the same towards me.  Huh?  How on earth could one of the world's most beautiful people hate her body and wish for a different one, especially mine??????  What am I missing here?

A little time with the family was enough to nearly pull me out of my funk.  Work is such a nice break for me, usually, so I was happy (enough) with having a bit of time with the fam and then an evening at work.  Work was mostly good but there was a disturbing thing early in my night.  I pretty much work in a fishbowl, windows all around.  I was sitting at the register and a couple was making out in the lobby right outside my window.  The problem was that the guy and girl were facing the same direction and he was kissing her neck but making eye contact with me.  EEEEWWWWWW!   I thought maybe it was one of those weird coincidences where you just happen to look up at the same time.  I was weirded out so I moved to a different part of the store.  Again, can we say fishbowl?  I moved to the other side of the store and started doing my candy inventory.  I looked up because I felt weird, only to notice the couple had moved in the lobby to right in between my door and the main lobby door and the guy was still kissing her and still looking at me.  By this point I was feeling icky and starting to feel very vulnerable.  Did I happen to mention that he bore resemblance to my abusive ex-boyfriend?  Yeah.

I am so grateful that, though I don't get any signal in my store, for some reason I can get and send texts to one person.  I don't know why I can't get calls or send texts to anyone else.  I guess my store must just like her because I don't have problems getting a signal when it is her.  Thankfully texting her helped me to stay calm, well calm enough.  I really wanted to lock up the store and go in the back room with an oversized sweatshirt, curl up in a little ball, and cry. I wanted to hide.  I find that I think I've passed an issue, I seem to be doing well and then something silly like tonight makes me realize that I really haven't actually worked through the emotions of the abusive relationship.  I felt scared of this guy who was kissing someone else and watching me.  I felt overwhelmed.  I felt panicky.  I felt extreme anxiety.  And I wanted nothing more than to have them leave.

When they finally did leave, I did lock up the store and went upstairs to the college to grab a cup of coffee and I talked with the gal at the desk.  She told me to call her if I'm ever uncomfortable like that again and she will come down or call building security to come over.  I learned something new tonight.  Our part of the building is for the college only and is not to be used by those not affiliated with the college.  If they come back, I can call security and have them asked to leave.   Great, now I know how to handle the situation.  I'm glad of that, but it doesn't change the fact that I am experiencing some pretty powerful negative emotions that were dug up that I have to figure out how to deal with.

Of course the easy way would be to not deal with them and to cope by restricting. Tempting, not going to lie .  But then I realized that my friend was struggling to eat dinner and how much that made me ache for her.  I so wanted to make it all right in the world again.  I wanted to make her better, even though I know it isn't my job to make her better.  I wanted her to eat for herself, to listen her body and to take care of herself.  I wanted her to eat for the man who loves her.  I wanted her to eat for me, because she is the only her we have and I would hate to lose her.  She ate.  She inspired me to listen to my own advice.  I had dinner, against the voice in my head that begged me to shut down instead.  Maybe this is what recovery is all about, doing what you need to do instead of listening to that voice that tells you what you "should" do.

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.

what you said and what she heard

what you said: You look great!  (with a gesture towards her body)
what she heard:  Oh my gosh!  I have gained a million pounds and they think I look chunky now!

what you said: WOW, have you been working out lately?
what she heard: Nice job on the weight loss, keep starving!  It's paying.

what you said: I wish I could be tiny like you!
what she heard:  You better not gain weight or no one will want to be like you anymore.  No one likes a fat girl.

what you said: I need to drop a few of these pounds!  My hips are huge!
what she heard: You need to drop a few more pounds!  Your hips are huge!

what you said:  I finally dropped my baby weight plus some!
what she heard: You could stand to shed a few pounds yourself.

what you said:  I don't eat _______ kind of food, it makes me bloated/gain weight/against my diet
what she heard:  You shouldn't eat.

what you said:  have you lost weight again?
what she heard:  I don't think that you have really have lost weight?  You still look bigger to me.

what you said:  Aren't you going to eat?
what she heard:  I can't believe I have to deal with your garbage AGAIN. Can't you just get over yourself and quit making me uncomfortable around you?

It doesn't make sense.  It isn't rational.  That is the disorder of it. Your intentions are good, she is just hearing you through orange colored hearing aids.  The disorder takes priority over all else.  If you could rationalize it, she wouldn't have a problem and you wouldn't need to rationalize it. 

Small things trigger her, and you don't even mean to.  Things like new health food kicks, how long you spent at the gym, how much weight you have lost by running, your disgust/unappreciation of your own body, or saying your actual weight or your desired weight.  To you it is random conversation, to her, it is an obsession of body image.  She won't hear what you really say and that is not your fault, it is the disorders fault.

This wasn't a post to scare you away from talking to someone with an eating disorder.  It was a post to help you understand a little bit of what goes on inside her brain while you are talking to her.  Keep talking, she needs to know she is worth knowing.

good things about recovery

I've been talking with a friend lately about the good things about recovery.  I can read again and actually process what I am reading.  I can play with my kids again (though I am tired of having wrestling Royal Rumbles every day.  Couldn't they like Lego's or something??????).  I can shower without feeling guilty about taking time for me.

I still am discovering who I am though.  I just read a really great post letting go of the ed identity.  I so get this.  I am starting to enjoy life again, but sometimes that old panic creeps up.  What if I completely let go.  Who would I be?  I mean, if I eat that bite of chocolate and don't feel guilty, what will I feel?  If I don't use starving to make me numb, what would I actually feel?  Can I handle it?  Do I know how to live without orange in my ear whispering how she can make it all better?  Who would I be if I were completely free?  Would I be worth my own time?

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The other day, mostly out of tired laziness, I realized something kinda cool.  When I was showering, I just never opened my eyes again after rinsing the conditioner out of my hair.  For some unknown reason, I lathered up with my eyes closed.  Here is what I discovered, it wasn't as scary with my eyes closed.  I know, that sounds weird but hear me out.

The way my body felt under my hands was much different than it appeared in the mirror.  Once again a case of the mirror lying.  The problem is that the mirror was lying more than I realized.  Without being able to see every mark, touching my own body was a completely different experience than anything I have ever known in the past. Without looking at myself and picking apart every flaw, I realized that my body is not that of a whale.  With only my hands, no eyes, I "saw" something completely different in myself that I have never seen.

Wondering if it was just a crazy fluke, I intentionally closed my eyes the next day when I showered.  It wasn't a fluke.  For the first time EVER I was able to appreciate things about my body that when I look with my eyes, I just cannot see.  I still don't see in the mirror what I felt.  The mirror is still lying.  But somewhere I deep inside, this time I am able to identify that it is lying.  Something deep inside of me is remembering a feeling instead of a vision. 

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I love my new job.  After only 3 weeks, I am going to go solo next week.  I'm good with it, a little nervous, but good.  My friend will pack up after I arrive and go home to her adorable 10 month old son and just be mommy and I will close up shop on my own.  My friend and the managers are all surprised that I feel comfortable with it so quickly.  No one expected me to be on my own until after the rush for fall semester was over.  I am able.  I can do it.  This is just one more area that recovery kind of feels good.
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Tomorrow I get to meet with my team of ladies that I will be leading for this upcoming MOPS year.  I am excited!  And for the first time in so many ages, I feel like I have something to contribute.  For the first time in far too long, I feel nearly completely confident that I can do a job that I have committed to.  It does feel good to feel like an asset instead of a liability for a change.

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At some point over the last year, I have made actual forward steps in my recovery.  Last fall I was often reminding myself that 2 steps forward 1 step back is still 1 step ahead of where I started.  But as I am reading over this post, I realize that somewhere along the line the forward steps became more clear.  I know I am not "there" (wherever the heck "there" is) but I am further on my journey than I was a year ago and for that I am thankful. 

random observation and a really good link

I have had a random observation.  Last week when we were at Elitch's I realized that having a tattoo does not make you any different from anyone else.  More people have them than don't, I have come to believe.   Having a tattoo doesn't make you different anymore than having a fingerprint makes you different.  Though everyone has a fingerprint, everyone's fingerprint is different.  Having a tattoo doesn't make me special.  Knowing what it means to me does.  I don't really care if anyone else likes it or understands it.  I don't even care if people think I'm stuck on myself because the words say, "The king is enthralled with your beauty".  I look in the mirror at my tattoo on those rough days and I remember that God made me to soar, that He carries me through, and that He finds me beautiful.  My parents despise my tattoo.  I don't really care.  They don't know why I got it and will probably never ask why or what it means to me.  That is ok because it is not for them anyway, it's for me. I love having a permanent reminder every single day that someone sees beauty in me, and not just anyone, but the Creator of the universe!  I may not always see the beauty, but my King does.  And that is truth. And that is the truth that matters.

I know you've already seen it, it still makes me smile though :)

I was reading the blog of a friend of mine and she linked this blog.  I'm not much on fashion blogs usually.  I tend to feel like they are telling me how terrible my wardrobe is and that I'll just never quite make it in life if I don't do the dishes in heels or chase my kids in mini-skirts.  This blog was different though.  This blog was quite the opposite, actually.  This blog tells the fashion industry, mostly politely, to back off and let women be women.  I really liked the post.  If you have a minute, hop on over and read it.