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.

a broken heart that must keep going

There is a difference between corporate grief and personal grief.  Though I am burdened and grieved one thing is different right now.  Though suicidal thoughts are swirling in my brain, and have been for a while now, in the midst of corporate grief and huge tragedy, I don't want my family to hurt the way that the families of these precious slaughtered children hurt.  My baby has been regularly breaking into tears telling me he is sad but doesn't know why.  I don't want to give him a reason to be sad.  My sweet, sweet family.  They need me, though I don't exactly always understand why. 

I'm emotionally exhausted.  News of another shooting didn't help that exhaustion.  My sweet boys.  I went into my youngest son's class at school yesterday, even though he was home sick.  I hugged his little friends and his teacher.  I thanked God that they were all safe.  I cried.  I won't watch the news.  I have taken a break from Facebook.  My heart was already full and about to burst.  Now I want nothing more than to hide under my blankets and never ever come out.

For the record, I've had more wine than usual tonight.  It was completely intentional.  I'm feeling tipsy.  I don't even care that I am.  I'm hoping the wine will kill the dreams of terror that have been haunting me.  I'm hoping the wine will mean I can sleep through the night tonight.  I'm hoping for a few short hours that the wine will erase the hurt I feel.  I'm heading to bed now.  Sorry if I've been spastic, I don't usually write when I'm feeling unsure of my brain.  I just tonight needed a safe place to say my broken heart is really heavy.

mind-maker-upper wanted

My house is quiet.  Hubby isn't feeling well and dozed off a couple of hours ago.  My kids are finally all in bed for the night.  And now I'm torn on what to do with myself.  Two of my very dear girlfriends are hanging out all night watching Twilight movies and just chilling.  They called and asked me to join.  I could.  Hubby even said I could stay the night and hang out if I would so like.

I would like to.  But I also have a quiet house and I kinda want to curl up in my sweatpants and grab a good book.  I've been a pretty lousy friend lately.  I haven't reached out much.  I want to go hang out and it would be good for my friendships for me to hang out.  I also don't want to leave the house.  I don't want to make the 20 minute drive in the dark.  I don't think I really want to stay the night over there which means I need to take the drive home into consideration as well. 

Am I making excuses?  I know I'll have fun if I get off my bum and go.  I'm also freakin exhausted and don't want to work up the energy to get off my bum.  And now is the time that I wish I had a commitment one way or the other.  I suck at making decisions, even more so when both options sound wonderful.  If my family needed me to be here it would be a no brainer.  If I had already planned this and my friends were 100% expecting me, it would be a no brainer.  But neither NEEDS me and I want both.  I need a mind-maker-upper.  Anyone know where they sell such a thing? 

walking throught the muck with my kids

Friday the news broke that the body they found was indeed the body of the missing little girl.  Friday my son spent the night at a friends house.  Friday the friend's mom told my son that the girl had been found.  Friday she told him that the body had been dismembered.  Saturday I had to pick up the pieces of a very broken little boy.

Wouldn't you think that maybe it isn't ok to tell other people's kids big news like that?  Or maybe send me a text if he was asking questions to ask if I minded if she talked to him about it?  Or at minimum, TELL ME that she talked to him so that I know what he knows so I have a starting point when he breaks down in my arms? 

We believe that our kids should hear from us whenever possible the things they need to know.  We tell our kids hard things because we want to be able to help them process their emotions in a safe place.  We would have talked about this with him.   We talked to our kids about the theater shooting.  We talked about the little girl being missing and the reasons we have certain outside rules in place.  We talk about sex and answer uncomfortable questions.  We answer all of their questions when we are asked, even if the answer, like this time, is "I don't know.  I don't understand either." 

Maybe that is why it made me angry that someone else handled it.  I know it will get talked about at school.  My son is in the same age range as the little girl was.  He and his friends have been talking about it.  I just wanted him to hear the big part from me and dad.  I wanted him to be in a safe place that he could completely loose his temper and punch his pillow and scream and cry and do all of the things that he did when he got home to the safety of his room.  I wanted to be there to hold him when he asked through his sobs why someone would do that.

This morning  I asked his little brother what they talk about at school.  He told me at lunch that they talk about the bad guy who broke into the theater.  He told me they talk about the missing girl.  I told him the missing girl was found, that someone had hurt her, that someone had killed her.  He asked me why that person would steal her if they were just going to kill her.  I told him I don't know.  He doesn't have the same details that his big brother has.  He doesn't need the same details that his big brother has.  But he knows that he can ask us questions if he has them.  He knows home is a safe place to feel what you need to feel.  But it isn't affecting him in the same way as it is affecting his brother.

This parenting stuff is hard.  Helping my kids to feel the emotions that they need to feel and to walk alongside of them as they process is important.  It is also hard.  I understand why some parents choose to not talk to their kids about issues.  It is painful.  It hurts to see pieces of your child's innocence taken away.  It is a very helpless kind of feeling to have your son break down into gut wrenching sobs in your arms and know that you can't make it better.  It is very humbling to have no words of comfort and to only be able to pray that the Lord will bring us His comfort.

sleepless nights

I didn't sleep well last night, I was really restless.  Maybe it was because I didn't want to fall asleep because the night before I didn't sleep well either.  The night before, I had a nightmare.

In this nightmare, I was in a house that apparently I was familiar with and I heard someone yelling.  After a minute or so of hearing it, I realized that I didn't know where my youngest son was.  I started looking around the house and realized finally that the yelling was someone yelling AT him.  The yelling escalated to screaming at him.  I was trying to get to him but suddenly there were boxes and piles of papers and clothes blocking the hallway and I couldn't get to him.  The screaming escalated to hitting.  The person was beating my son while he whimpered and cried and I couldn't get to him.  I needed to protect my child and I couldn't get through the hallway to the room because more and more things were blocking my path.  Finally I screamed, "NOOOOO!" and lunged but the stuff still held me back.

There is no worse feeling in the world than feeling like your kids need you and you can't help them.  There is no worse feeling in the world than the one I had in my dream of listening to my son being hurt and not being able to stop it.  Thankfully, Hubby was awake for some unknown reason.  Apparently I whimpered and he woke me up.  My son was safe.  It was a dream.  No one was hurting my family.

Now I will tell you the real reason it bothered me so much.  The person hurting my son was someone who loves him.  It was someone who he loves.  It was someone who should never hurt him (and who in real life would NOT beat him).  It was my mother who was attacking my son.

I know all of the psychological reasons that I had the dream.  I was hurt and angry with my mom over something else that had happened in the day which is why she was the aggressor in my dream.  And I feared for a few minutes for my sons safety at a pool party when he went into the restroom with another little boy who has before made a point of repeatedly showing his "man junk" to my son.  The combination of wanting to protect my son and being hurt with my mother created this dream.  I know that.  It doesn't make it any less disturbing though.

My head hurts this morning.  Probably from lack of sleep this weekend.  I should be getting ready for work, instead I sit drinking coffee and typing.  I wish to insulate my heart from the world, but mostly from my mom.  I've been trying not to cry since yesterday morning.  My heart is very troubled today.  Pray for me today, friends.  Pray for God to wrap His arms around me today and for Him to bring healing balm to my wounded heart.

surreal, until it is real

Yesterday was about keeping it all together.  People I love needed me.  I didn't have time to fall apart.  And honestly I wasn't ready to fall apart.  I was shaken but I think I was in shock still.  The shock was too great to allow the emotion through.  I chatted online with my friend.  I told her I felt guilty for feeling so shaken because there are so many people who have more right to be shaken up than I do.  She responded with, "When it happens in your backyard, you have the right to be shaken."

My backyard.  Almost.  If I walk to the corner I can see the mall.  The theater is in the mall parking lot.  My Girl called last night (she needs a name, I talk about her far too often to keep calling her my friend.  For now she will be S until I decide on something better).  She asked if my boys were asleep.  When I said yes she asked if she could come over.  She wasn't hysterical anymore but I could hear the tears in her voice.

She walked in and I pulled her into my arms and held her while she sobbed.  And then I heard the words I hoped I'd never hear.  "Micayla is no longer with us."  I didn't know Micayla but S did.  Micayla was part of the group of friends that S was supposed to be with to see the movie.  Seven of her friends went, she was supposed to go.  Only one was physically injured, the one who died. 

When she heard of the shooting, S called her good friend.  He described the horror of a 6 year old girl screaming hysterically and the frantic rush to try to get out.  On the way out the 7 friends were separated.  He thought everyone was fine.  Then later he told her that Micayla was missing.  And then later she was confirmed dead.  My sweet S was supposed to be there.  It could have been her.

As I walked her to her car I was thinking how much I love her.  I introduced her to my dear friend and now neighbor. S tried to shake hands but my friend shook her head and said, "No, Honey.  You get a hug!"  As they embraced the emotion finally came.  I pulled S away and held her tightly.

We both sobbed.  I told her how much I love her.  I told her how relieved I am that she is safe.  I told her that I have never in my life been so glad that she was too tired to hang out with friends.  I told her that I can't imagine a world that doesn't have My S in it and that I'm so glad that I don't have to.  I didn't want to ever let her go.  Suddenly the reality and depth of my emotions hit me full force.

I slept poorly.  Guns and blood and bombs and screams filled my dreams.  I woke this morning to the sound of helicopters.  They have been flying over non-stop providing live aerial news coverage.  Helicopters and sirens and ambulances seeped into my sleep.  I was grateful this afternoon for a reprieve from the sound of helicopters.  The sound is disconcerting.

We had to tell our kids last night.  It was hard.  We had to tell them though.   The mall was closed.  Streets that we travel regularly were closed with police tape.  People in our church have lost loved ones.  They will hear about this, we wanted it to be from us.  Parenting is hard.  Telling your kids about bad people who make evil decisions is hard.  Reminding them that there are far more good people than bad people in this world is hard.  I have squeezed them extra hard today.  I've hugged them every chance I've had.  Tomorrow is not a guarantee.  Do the people you love know how much you love them in case tomorrow never comes for you to tell them?

Niece

I'm worried about Niece.  She has been living on the streets and in shelters for months.  She called another family member last week, hysterical because she had been stabbed.  Turns out she wasn't stabbed per say but rather that someone threw a knife at her and it cut her arm.

This other family member went to pick her up and said she looks awful.  Niece has been cutting a LOT and has marks up and down her arms.  She also has needle marks from drugs. 

I saw a picture of her yesterday and wanted to cry.  She was wearing a shirt, not immodestly low-cut but low-cut enough for me to see that she has dark bruises all across her chest and collar bone. I am so heartbroken for her.  I wish I could help her and I know I can't.  She needs divine intervention, it is her only hope.

Love

                                    
As much as I love my family, I couldn't love them when I was stuck in my eating disorder. At least, I couldn't  love them fully. I loved my disease too much to allow much else in my life.  I was stuck, so. very. stuck.

I would look at my children and think how much I wanted to love them RIGHT but instead I was spending all of my time and energy to hate myself.  I was sharp and angry with them, a lot.  I very seriously don't remember a year of all of their lives during the darkest pit and the slow start of the climb out.

I would look at Hubby and think of the days that I wanted him physically and wish they hadn't gone away.  To clarify, it wasn't HIM I didn't want, it was being touched, being seen, being known that I didn't want.  I wanted to love him the way he so deserves to be loved but all of my emotion was going into hating myself.

I wanted to love my friends, but I was too busy loving Orange.  I wasn't there for them anymore.  I was devoted only to my disease.  And as much as I hated that about myself, I couldn't make myself change it either.

Things are different now.  I love again, and to be honest it is amazing.  I feel again and it too is lovely, most of the time.  Love now is genuine and deep, no longer false acts based in my own self hatred.  I enjoy spending time with my family again instead of shutting them out.

Not only can I love truly again, I now can be loved as well.  I can rest in Hubby's arms and know his love.  I can see my Mother's Day cards from my boys and feel their love for me.  I really don't remember how long it was that I couldn't feel the love that was being poured into me.  I really felt like no matter how much love and care was given, all I could feel was hatred and judgement being passed.

I don't think I've actually EVER felt love like I do now.  I not only know love, but I can give it and I can feel it and I can experience it now.  It is an awe-inspiring thing to finally understand love and to have a great capacity for it!

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.

food for thought

Today's food for thought brought to you by Niece.  

"Religion is like a penis.  It's ok to have one and it's ok to be proud of it.  But it isn't ok to whip it out and start flailing it around.  And it's definitely not ok to shove it down someone's throat without permission." 

I'm sorry if this offends, but I loved her analogy.  It makes me think of a much more crass version of St. Francis of Assisi saying, "Preach the gospel at all times, when necessary use words."   I will say it loud and clear, I am a Christian.  I believe that Jesus Christ came to die a horrific death to free me from the bounds of sin and to redeem my life that I can stand before a holy God, unashamed.

 I also believe that Jesus offered grace to sinners.  When the woman was caught in adultery, He could have condemned her.  The law said He should have condemned her.  But He didn't.  He gave her grace and told her to go and sin no more.  He was known to hang out with people scorned by the religious folk of the day.  He didn't force anyone to believe in Him as God. He never demanded it as His right or insisted that everyone had to see things His way.  Instead He loved them and they chose Him willingly.

As a Christian, there is a line between being proud of my relationship with God and crossing that line to be rude and forceful with others.  Jesus wasn't rude or demanding. The Bible says that it is God's loving kindness that draws us to repentance.  It isn't spiritual rape, forcing our beliefs down someones throat without permission, that brings people to Christ.  It is when we act like Jesus did and love those who are hurt, when we minister to those who are broken, when we accept them just as they are not expecting them to be perfect, that makes a difference in the lives of people.

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!

learning early

Sunday my boys got balloons at their cousin's birthday.  Three were released into the air for a balloon race (see mamma knows fun ways to not have helium balloons in the back seat of my car).  One came home in the trunk for middle child to draw a face on.  Monday night while drawing on it, the over inflated balloon popped.  Tears.  Lots of tears.  Hubby asked if I had any magic mommy words.  I leaned down, hugged my son, and said, "That really sucks. I'm sorry your balloon popped, what a bummer."  Yep, those were my magic words.  It stinks that it happened, I feel badly for you, and life will go on.

He cried a little more.  He is my ultra sensitive soul and his feelings were hurt with the balloon.  Then he asked for an apple, skin cut off and core out.  I was just about to say yes when he said, "Sometimes when I'm sad, if I eat something I don't feel sad anymore."  WHOA!  I told him no to the apple.  I pulled him up in my lap and explained that it is ok to feel sad.  Food is for when your body is hungry not for when your emotions are sad.  He was a little confused that I wasn't going to give him something to help him feel better.  I kept explaining.  "Buddy, it is ok to be sad that your balloon popped.  It is ok to cry when you are sad.  If you let yourself be sad now, I promise it won't last forever.  You will get glad again, I promise.  But it isn't ok to try to not feel those feelings by eating something.  Food is only for when your tummy is hungry.  It doesn't really help you feel happy again, it just distracts you from the thing that made you sad."

Do you know how hard it was to not give him the apple?  Do you know how hard it was to tell him that food is for his body not for his emotions?  Do you know how hard it was to do the right thing by my boy instead of making it all better?  Sometimes being a mommy means doing what you need to do not what you want to do.

narrator in my head

I have had so much on my mind lately and even though I narrate it in my head, I haven't had the attention span or energy to write.  **on a side note, does anyone else narrate their day in their head as if it were a novel to be read?  That's how I always know it's time to write, when my head sounds like sentences, paragraphs and chapters.**

There have been some good days and bad days since the funeral last week.  Hubby called me out one day on not eating.  I thought he hadn't noticed but he had.  Apparently no matter how much I think I can hide it, my body still gives off cues that things are not right.  Like I guess my breath gets sour when I haven't eaten.  Now who would know that but the one who kisses you every day?  Deep down, I think I'm glad he notices those things.  Sometimes it just ticks me off though.  Sometimes I wish there were no one to care enough to save me from myself.  It was so much easier to destroy myself before there was love. 

But I have people who love me.  And I have people I love.  I have been so shaken that Cousin left a widow and 3 not even school age kids behind.  They need him but he isn't there.  It will be Grandpa who teaches the boys how to shave and build and camp.  It will be Mamma who teaches the girl what to look for in a husband and how to be treated by a boy.  It makes me realize how much my own little family needs me.  It makes me realize how selfish my desire to just fade away and become nothing really is.  When slapped with the reality of what having a parent gone looks like, I am thankful that I have people to bring me back down to earth to be here for my family.

I still have plenty of thoughts swirling around in my brain but this is as much as I can articulate right now.  It has been a battle to not let the depression enclose me.  It is there, right on the edge of my consciousness, but hasn't completely overtaken me.  I have to keep fighting.  But I am tired.  Tired of fighting to feel normal, whatever that is.

finding strength

Grief is draining.  I feel physically and emotionally exhausted, as though I have nothing left to give.

But I know that isn't true.  Today, I gave my husband comfort, even though I knew I had nothing to give.  Tonight I gave my friend advice when she stopped by my work for a little bit, even though I knew I had nothing left to give.  Right now I am giving my youngest attention because he woke up and can't fall back asleep, even though I'm exhausted and have nothing more to give.

I feel like I have nothing in my reservoir to dip from.  And yet I know that somewhere deep inside, there is strength.  There is strength to wake up in the morning.  There is strength to fix my kids breakfast and get them to school.  There is strength to be there for my Hubby as he grieves.  There is strength that let me eat this week, even though it hasn't been quite enough or at all what I've wanted to do.

My cup still needs to be filled but I'm finding unknown strength in the midst of grief.  I had dreams all night about the casket being lowered into the ground.  Some of the dreams it was cousin's casket, some of them it was Hubby, some of them it was my dad-in-law and some of them I wasn't sure who was being lowered into the ground.  The finality of watching the casket of someone as it drops into the ground is disheartening and devastating.  It feels in that moment that you will drop to your knees in the weakness of grief and never be able to stand.  And yet somehow I found the strength to hold Aunt's shaking hand and walk her back to the limo.  Somehow I found the strength to hug Cousin's widow and apologize for letting the distance of 45 minutes be an excuse for letting our relationship with family slide to a back burner.

My body feels heavy with the weight of exhaustion and grief.  I am amazed at how tiring crying really is.  And emotionally, I'm spent!

allowing sad

I woke up sad today.  I did what I usually do, I tried to tell myself that it was stupid for me to be sad.  I thought about all the blessings in my life and thought about how many I know who would trade places with me in a heartbeat.  I thought about people who have it much worse than me and told myself I don't deserve to be sad. 

But the truth of the matter is that it is ok that I woke up sad.  Tomorrow we lay to rest a man who died long before his time (at least on our timeline).  Tomorrow we lay to rest a man who was part of our family, long before we are ready to.  And I'd be dead inside if that didn't affect me in some way. 

It is hard to give myself permission to be sad.  Hubby told me it is good to feel my feelings.  I know he is right but being allowed to be sad feels very unnatural still.  Accepting my sadness feels like a betrayal of all that I have ever known.  This is such a strange thing to say, especially since I suffer from depression and wake up sad often.  Even on those days though, I still berate myself for feeling down.

I guess I thought if I wrote it, then it would be easier to accept.  I'm sad.  I am sad for our loss.  I am sad for the loss for Hubby's uncle and aunt.  I am sad for the loss for Cousin's wife and 3 little ones.  I am sad and it is ok and natural for me to feel sad.  And all that said, it still makes me feel a little anxious and ill at ease to try to accept my own feelings instead of burying them.

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.

cooking help

Ok, all.  I have to cook for my family.  It is just a fact of life.  A fact I have been running from for far too long.  I prefer homemade food.  There is a better chance of me eating it if I know what is in it.  And yet I tend to shortcut far too often just to escape the kitchen.  Then I'm overwhelmed with what I'm serving and don't eat it.  I end up nearly in tears and usually settling for carrots and hummus (if caught by Hubby).   So I need help. 

I cannot/will not do hydrogenated or hydrolyzed oils or proteins.  I panic about HFCS (high fructose corn syrup) and artificial colorings, specifically Red 40 and Yellows.  Sometimes I can handle bread, preferably homemade so I know none of the above culprits are involved.  Often times potatoes and other starchy foods freak me out.  I refuse to use artificial sweeteners, they are worse for your body than sugar is!  Those are my biggest rules.  Of course any given day a certain food or type of food or foods high on the glycemic index etc will freak me out.  But I'm working on being able to appreciate foods that have previously been taboo, like for instance a fully ripe banana or (on rare occasions) mashed potatoes. 

I can't guarantee the foods I make will not panic me once they are on my plate but I cope with the panic much more constructively when I can analyze that I am eating a meal that I made that is healthy.  That is where ya'll come into my recovery.  I need help planning meals!  I need family friendly dinners.  I have no idea how to cook anymore.  I used to be a pretty good cook.  I can't remember what I used to make, which meals my family raved over or why I used to enjoy cooking.  I have to get that back.  Otherwise I continue to perpetuate this illness.  Oh, I also am needing to slim my grocery budget a little.  It is costing me too much to to not be able to cook for my family.


So go for it.  Send them in.  Send me some family friendly, budget friendly dinner meals you love!  Please help me reclaim a love for cooking, or at minimum a tolerance of it!

exercise, bulima and a girl I love

Thumb better?  Not quite but not throbbing anymore either. I'll take my chances with it hurting tomorrow from typing because I have a lot on my mind tonight.

I have a friend who is a Beach Body coach.  Hubby has been wanting to do P90X so I had asked her if we buy it off of her website if she would get a commission.  (See?  I'm cool like that.  Help out a friend while I buy what we are going to buy anyway.) Long story short, she sent me an email saying she had an opening in her 90 day boot camp that she is doing and asked if I wanted it.  Then later that day she sent an email saying given my history that maybe right now is not the time to engage in this type of exercise.  I am grateful for someone being honest and getting in my face about it.  Orange, however, is PISSED OFF that people around me who love me are keeping me accountable.

On Christmas Eve, my niece (yes, the same one I blogged about recently) confessed what I have suspected for some time now.  She is bulimic.  While in the mental hospital, she was caught purging and her parents were told.  Her dad's response is oh so helpful, "Well just don't throw up."  Ugh!  If only it were that easy!  If it were that easy, it wouldn't be called a disorder. 

I took her out last week for coffee and then a trip to the mall.  She ate, an average amount or slightly above average (I'm not sure now that I say that what an average 17 yr old girl portion would be) in a very quick manner.  When we got to the mall she asked if we could stop by the restroom.  I didn't think much of it, after all, we had been together for over an hour and had just had coffee.  I stood at the sinks with the coffees.  When she reappeared she was pale and shaky (more so than she usually is) and her eyes were watering.  It didn't take an expert to realize she had just purged.  I didn't say anything.  I didn't know what to say.  I just ached for her and wished I could make it better and make this stupid disease go away.

She knows I have dealt with eating disorder but she doesn't know in what way or that I still battle my eating disorder.  As far as my husbands family is concerned, I have dealt with an eating disorder but I'm sure no one has ever really thought it was serious.  Maybe my mom in law because she was too observant when I was relapsing but she does think that it is behind me now that I am weight restored.

Now take all of that information and intro tonight's conversation with Niece:

Will you go running with me?

Running like errands or running like exercising?

Exercising.

No.  I won't.  I don't run.  I'm not a runner, nor do I wish to become one.

Well, will you at least exercise with me?

Maybe, what are you thinking?

I don't care.  I have gained 7 lbs this week and I have to lose it.  Please exercise with me!  Would you go on walks with me?

I don't know.  Maybe.  I'll have to figure out what to do with the kids (my easy out when I don't know what to say to her) but I'll get back to you on that.

I seriously want to cry.  Here I am doing what is right and taking care of me even though it is rather annoying right now and not engaging in the kind of exercise that I am desiring.  I know my motives are not to get fit but to burn calories.  I know my intentions wouldn't be pure.  And then Niece goes and asks me to exercise with her, to fuel her own disease.  I can't.  It would hurt us both.  It would further the disordered voices in both of our heads.  And it makes me want to cry.

I'm not at a place that I want to share the current stage of my journey with her.  I don't mind telling her that I've struggled with an eating disorder.  I don't feel safe enough with her to tell her I'm still struggling.  Besides, she has an emotionally overloaded plate.  She needs to know there is some kind of stability in this world and right now, we are the only stability she has ever known.  She has so little hope, so little joy.  She doesn't need the weight of my journey resting on her right now.  Right now, I think it would be more triggering than helpful.

I don't know what to say though.  My demons are different than hers.  I have tried to purge but as I have mentioned, I can't.  And for me purging is a last resort.  It is what I reach for when nothing else will make the voices shut up.  I would be lying if I said that I understood what she is going through.  I understand the viciousness of ed.  I understand the berating voice that insists you will never be good enough.  I understand the force that pushes her, but I don't understand the method in which she indulges that force.  And I feel lost.  She wants me to give her answers but I don't have them. 

Her parents don't believe she is sick.  Though I cannot imagine why!  The girl shakes like a leaf and the shaking has gotten significantly worse in the past 6 months.  She has circles under her eyes.  She just shaved her head.  At EVERY meal she runs to the bathroom before she is even finished eating and then again when she is done.  She comes back to the table pale and shaking uncontrollably.  But she is not sick, no she is just playing the victim.  I want to shake them.  I want them to wake up and see the little girl who is killing herself to get them to say they are proud of her.  I want them to see the devastation that she is causing to her body through this eating disorder and burning and cutting.  But I want them to do more than see it.  I want them to do something about it and they never will.

I am even more angry about my eating disorder tonight.  I see what Niece's bulimia is robbing her of and I'm tired of being robbed myself.  I'm tired of the abuse that orange puts me through. I'm tired of living my life for a tyrant of a mistress instead of for myself.  And I'm tired of seeing those I love get robbed of being able to fully live as well.

owie!

i managed to fracture my thumb last week. yesterday i finally went to the doctor. i must keep it completely immobile for minimum of a week to give it a chance to heal. apparently my thumb didn't get the memo that life goes on and mom's have things to do like dishes and laundry and blog! ok, so unless i am going to emotionally explode, i'm going to rest from blogging until my thumb feels better. besides it sucks typing with one hand! maybe this is a chance to let my family help me. maybe God knew i needed help and would never ask for it otherwise.

OUCH!

have i said OUCH yet? just checking because it hurts REALLY badly!


be back soon friends, with 2 functional thumbs (i hope)!

round 3

Well, the score is cooties-3, my kids-0.  Yesterday the vomiting hit my oldest and tonight it hit my youngest.  At least it is a short lived bug. 

If you think of me tonight, feel free to offer up a prayer for strength!  Three nights in a row of being up with sick kids could make for a fun/challenging weekend. 

In the lineup for our weekend:

• girls night out with old friends
• Karl Mecklenberg autograph session
• Santa photos
• Broncos vs. Patriots date with the Mister!  (We were excited to get these tix anyway but with the way Tebow is playing now, um yeah, it's gonna at least be worth watching!)

Hoping to survive the weekend without drowning my sorrows in gallons of coffee :)