anniversaries and healing

Today I want to celebrate a little bit.  It's an anniversary for me but not one most people would celebrate so just bear with me a little while I explain.  On this day 3 years ago relapse hit full force.  Typically one doesn't remember the day things started going south but I do.  I had been allowing disordered thoughts, actions, and habits for more than a year but then something snapped.  July 24, 2010 I drove to the airport to pick up a friend and suddenly every single calorie in my drink attacked my brain.

I panicked and restricted.  I restricted severely.  I exercised until my body collapsed.  It wasn't pretty.  It was among the darkest times of my life.  So why on earth would I want to celebrate the anniversary of the day relapse became official?  Well, because I don't remember the date that I started recovery.  I can celebrate today because I can clearly see how different my life is now than it was on this day 3 years ago.

That is part one of this post.  Where I was then.  And now for where I am today.  

I recently did something brave, something really brave.  Something I thought was a gift for my husband but turned out being a gift for myself as well.  I did a boudoir photo shoot for Hubby's birthday.  This is the 3rd time that I have purchased a package, and the first time that I finally had the courage to actually use it. I just have never been able to convince myself that my body is beautiful enough to take pictures of it.

In a random and quick burst of bravery I called and made the appointment.  Somehow I made myself  show up for the photo shoot.  I'm not particularly modest but I am uncomfortable in my skin.  How on earth that happens I don't know.  My hesitation wasn't about posing in my underware, it was about not liking my body. I'm not really sure if that makes sense but it does in my head.

It was a different experience than I could have even imagined.  It was actually fun.  It was empowering.  I felt pretty even in my own skin!  I didn't tell Hubby I were I was going.  I didn't even tell him after I had done it.  For two weeks I kept the secret.  Finally the day of the consultation I had a friend watch the kids, told Hubby I had a surprise for his birthday and drove him to the photographers.

He was SHOCKED.  He was amazed.  He loved all of it.  And then I was able to finally tell him what had happened to me through the experience.  I was able to tell him how I thought I was giving him a gift but how I had been able to relax and be ok  with my body during the shoot.  I told him how healing this experience had been for me.  I don't know if I can even fully express the healing this brought to my soul.  And at that moment he informed me that I was the best gift I could have ever given him.  The gift wasn't the pictures, the gift was me.  The gift was seeing me smile.  The gift was watching me begin to heal.

worth it

The depression has been dark.  Hubby has been kind.  Yesterday was one in a series of days that he took care of me both physically and emotionally.  In the quiet darkness of our bedroom, I lean into his arms.  I whisper thank you for taking care of me today.  He brushes hair from my face, leans into my ear and whispers back the last words I heard before sleep came, "You're worth taking care of."
Words he repeated again by mornings light, just to make sure that I had heard them.  I shake my head, I don't understand.  But I am grateful that he does.  I'm worth the effort, even though sometimes it is great. 

attack of the voices

not feeling well.  two of three kids are sick, like fevers and wicked cough kind of sick. struggling today.  my voices informed me that Hubby is a better mom than I have ever been.  he cleans and keeps up with the housework that I have never ever been able to.  there is no searching through piles of laundry to find school clothes anymore.  the longest the dishes have been behind was one day and that was due to sickness.  somehow he can do everything that I couldn't when I was the one home all day.  that was the last and most devastating of a string of attacking thoughts.  and now I'm going to go cry to bed and hope tomorrow sounds less painful in my head.

bread, sex and other random thoughts

Random weekend thoughts......

I must bake bread.  My current emotional survival depends on rising dough, punching it down, kneading it and the smell of fresh baked bread filling my house!  I have flour and yeast.  I need the comfort that bread making brings.  Not really sure why, but I do.  Life has been going great and I have also felt the tug of depression.  I can't even begin to figure it out.  I'm on top of the world with tears hiding behind my eyes.  I wonder once it is made if I will eat the bread or gift it away like I usually do.  Maybe both? 

I had a moment of progress.  I was goofing around and made a sucked in face pose (how does one actually describe the face you make?????) and when I did my collar bone stuck out big time.  I instantly longed for that body again and just as quickly as I longed for it I thought how much fun sex is with a healthy body.  I actually ENJOY when my husband touches me now.  I actually desire and look forward to his touch again.  I can reach the peak of fulfillment again which I couldn't when I was sick. 

When I was sick, I dreaded his amorous attentions.  It hurt my bones to have his hands touching my body.  It didn't feel good at all.  It was a chore and made me understand why some refer to it as a wifely duty.  So while I was wanting that body again, I didn't want the pain again.  I really like sex and I really want to keep liking sex and I can't do that with an unhealthy body. 

Does that realization mean that I don't ever struggle?  No, unfortunately it doesn't take away the argument in my brain or the voices that demand that I be punished.  But it does put one more thing in the pro-healthy body category to help fight those voices. 

Happy weekend friends and here is a beautiful thought to end on....

on the road again

I'm enjoying a glass of red wine and chilling out in front of the computer.  I'd like to be listening to only the sounds of my typing and the fan gently blowing but instead I'm listening to the sound of my kids kicking their walls and playing instead of sleeping.  Usually that pisses me off, tonight it just annoys me.  I know that someday I'm going to miss the days when they were supposed to be sleeping in the next room over. 

I gave a teaser in my last post so I thought I'd fill you all in.  Hubby is on the job hunt.  It is a little scary and exciting all at the same time.  The short version of the story is that the company he has worked for for nearly nine years is going in a different direction.  It has become clear to us that it is time to move on.  He is leaving on mutually good terms, he's not angry with the company and three of the managers are writing him letters of reference.

With the new direction the company is taking, Hubby can either change to change with the company and be miserable at his job or he can move on.  He and I and his managers agree that it is time to move on.  He gave his notice yesterday.  His last day will be September 12.  He's not being fired but he is being forced out. 

I almost feel like I should be mad but I'm not.  I'm ready.  For eight years he loved his job.  For this past year he has not enjoyed it at all and it has taken a toll on him physically and emotionally.  And when he has a toll taken, it naturally takes a toll on me as well. 

I'm excited to see him move on.  I'm terrified to see him move on.  I'm excited for a new season.  I'm scared that it may be a difficult transition.  I'm at peace because I know it is the right move for him and for us as a family.  I'm at peace because I believe God has His hand over us and that this is part of His plan.  I'm scared because I don't know what is next.

My fight is going well.  I still have the thoughts, the voices that beg me to go back.  Right now though I want this healthy(er) life more than I want that sick and disordered life.  Right now I can fight.  Right now I can lean into the arms of my Savior and trust He has me in His hands.  Right now though it is still a fight, it is a smaller battle.  For that I am so grateful.  I'm so glad that me eating isn't a worry on Hubby's plate while he looks for work.  I'm praying for continued strength for my journey.

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!

I'm still married

I mentioned in my last post that staying married has been my greatest accomplishment in my life so far.  I also said I'd explain that comment, so here goes.

Ya'll already know my background so it isn't really a surprise when I say that the only way I really knew how to relate with men was either not at all or sexually.  The day I married Hubby was the day everything was going to be all better for me.  I had the unconditional love of an amazing man and I didn't need anything else.  We escaped to our hotel after the wedding and I locked myself in the bathroom with the guise of needing a bubble bath to help relax me because I was a little nervous.  Though I'd had sex and Hubby had had sex before, we hadn't had sex with each other so I really was a little nervous on my wedding night.

I took a really long bath, trying to avoid the inevitable.  I remember thinking "Oh my God.  I have to have sex with the same person for the rest of my life.  I don't know if I can do this."  I couldn't "relax" enough to do anything that night, I actually just cried.  Romantic night, huh, holding your new bride while she sobs in your arms instead of finally caressing the body you have spent years waiting for.  The next morning the same thoughts hit me.  And then this one, "Well, we haven't had sex yet so I could still get this annulled and then not break his heart by not being able to stay true." 

Rational? No. Legitimately what I thought? Yes. I had no idea how I was ever going to make it.  I was sure I didn't have what it took to be married, especially to such a great guy.  I spent years knowing I couldn't love him as much as he loved me.  I knew early on that if anything happened to me his world would stop but if anything happened to him I'd be sad and then move on.  I really wanted to feel like my world would stop if something happened to him but I couldn't.  I spent years wondering if he was going to get tired of loving more than he was loved and leave me.

In our first few months of marriage, my first test came along.  Hubby's boss.  Something about him sparked my interest.  In retrospect, I think I enjoyed his company and his sense of humor and didn't know how to respond to him in another way besides desire.  He had told us of the girl he had made out with who was someone's fiance.  I knew that if he could make out with his friend's fiance, he could make out with me, his friend's wife.  He didn't have that boundary in his head that would make me off limits.  My mind started concentrating on him a lot.  I desired him and knew that he wouldn't mind crossing that line and figured it could be a secret.

Here is where I realized that I did really love my Hubby not just loved that he loved me.  I would play in my mind having to tell him I had slept with his boss and could see how heartbroken he would have been.  I never wanted to be responsible for breaking his heart.  I held on to that fiercely.  It was my proof that I really loved him.  At least I loved him as much as I was capable of loving him.  I was pretty broken.  I worked in the same building as he did at the time.  I quit my job to avoid seeing and feeling for Hubby's boss on a daily basis.  I walked away from my greatest temptation because I didn't want to hurt Hubby.

I spent the first 3 years of our marriage waiting for the day when he would tire of my broken capacity for loving him and leave for a woman who had a whole heart to love him with.  During our infertility years I even told him if he wanted to leave me for a woman who could have his children that I would understand.  He still refers to that conversation as the only time he has ever been absolutely furious with me.  I knew that I loved him as much as I could, but I wondered if I would ever love him as much as he loved me, as much as he deserved to be loved.

I finally confessed all of this to him a couple of months ago.  Of course, he already knew, but it was nice to finally talk about it.  He wondered when we got married if I loved him or if I loved how he made me feel.  Did I love him or did I love being loved?  Did I love him or feeling safe?  Did I love him or that he would do anything to make me smile?  Did I love him or did I love that I didn't have to answer to my parents anymore?
Did I love him or that I was the center of someone's world finally?  He didn't know.  How could he, I didn't know. 

I would repeatedly find myself avoiding situations because I didn't want to have to tell him I'd been with another man.  Not wanting to hurt him was the proof of loving him that I clung too.  For far too long, it was all I had to assure myself that I loved him as much as I could.  As the years have passed, our friendship has deepened.  Our love has grown.  My love for him is genuine and deep now.  My world would stop if something happened to him.  I no longer need to cling to the fear of hurting him to prove to myself and him that I do love him.  It just flows naturally from every fiber of my being. 

We've known each other since I was 18 and I enjoy his company more than I even realized was possible back then.  Though I've been tempted in the past to step outside of our marriage, I no longer need the fear of telling him to be the thing that keeps me faithful.  I don't want to be with anyone else.  I don't think of other men in sexual terms anymore.  Hubby is my only lover and the only one I want to love for the rest of my life.  And I'm really thankful that he could see into my heart and love me even when I didn't know how to love him in return.

better than I thought

Christmas went better than I could have thought.  I had a really bad stomach virus on Friday and spent the morning throwing up and the rest of the day sleeping.  I know that doesn't sound like it quite goes with Christmas going well.  However, having the crud forced me to rest and forced me to let my family take care of me.  It also forced me to baby my stomach the next day.  Ok so I still couldn't eat a lot but Malt O Meal in the morning and saltines with pumpkin butter to snack on throughout the day. I had to eat something small every few hours or else I started feeling really crappy again.  I even managed a small amount of Christmas Eve dinner at my in-laws house without an overload of guilt.  I just felt too crummy to worry about feeling guilty.  And so, in a matter of speaking, having a stomach virus may have just saved my Christmas.

My Christmas Eve attitude started out great but turned sour.  My kids made up for how wonderfully they had behaved on Friday when I was sick by fighting with each other ALL DAY on Christmas Eve.  They were cranky and at times downright nasty with each other.  They were ugly and defiant toward me at several points.  It was just rough.  I actually had quite the fight with my middle child about putting on his shoes right before we left for church.  By the time we were all in the car, we were going to be late and I was so cranky that I figured we might as well skip church.  It didn't seem right to go to worship when I was just pissed off about life. 

But my dear Hubby, being the wonderful man that he is, knows that Christmas Eve service is my favorite church service of the entire year.  Nothing touches my heart quite like gathering with fellow believers, others who are broken but trust Him anyway, worshiping, and singing Christmas carols by candlelight.  There is something about it that grabs my soul in a way that nothing else ever has.  I hunger for this one service all year long.  Hubby knows that.  He didn't let me back out.  And I'm ever so glad he didn't!

I've been having a really hard time feeling the Christmas spirit this year.  I've just wanted to curl into a ball and sleep through Christmas and wake up in 2012.  Christmas Eve at church, I finally felt the first glimmer of joy for the season.  The church service was enough to carry me through the big gathering of family at my in-laws house.  I smiled like I was supposed to.  I made it through in one piece!  Yay for that!

We got home and my grumps returned.  I was annoyed with Hubby for something dumb like being tired after working back to back graveyard shifts and taking care of a sick wife, or some such nonsense like that.  I don't really remember why I was annoyed with him but I was.  After he went to bed, I stormed around the house wrapping the last of the presents, halfway hoping that my temper tantrum would wake him up.  My house was a disaster, like what you would expect after nearly 2 weeks of sick family and the last of it being the parents.  But it made me even crabbier.  I finally gave in and went to bed.  I was so angry and depressed when I finally went to bed. 

I fell asleep with tears in my eyes praying for Jesus to bring me the hope, joy, peace and love that this season of advent is about.  He did.  I woke up to a clean living room, courtesy of Hubby who woke up early to make sure I woke up to a pleasant atmosphere.  What a guy.  I had felt really like a jerk for being disappointed with one of my gifts from last night.  My in-laws ALWAYS give me a Starbucks gift card and this year they didn't.  I didn't tell anyone, not even Hubby that I was disappointed with the substitution because it just felt rude.  They really were trying to get something they thought I'd enjoy.  Hubby told me that Santa had brought me a stocking stuffer but my real gift is coming next week in the form of a spa day.  I looked in my stocking to see a $25 Starbucks gift card.  I seriously cried.  He was so confused that I cried over a gift card.  It wasn't the gift card that brought tears, it was that God was bringing me hope.

I managed through Christmas breakfast with the in-laws and Christmas dinner with my folks.  I still couldn't eat the fudge or drink punch.  BUT  I did indulge in a couple of my mom's cookies.  She made my all time favorite cookies because "it just isn't Christmas without butterhorns".  I told her that several years ago; she remembered and she made them.  I did feel guilt but it wasn't overwhelming like it would have been 4 days ago.  There was even something almost comforting about those cookies.

On the way home I asked Hubby to drive a little to look at the lights and I realized why the cookie was ok and why I had asked to look at lights and why I love Christmas.  Almost every happy memory I have of my childhood is in some way related to Christmas.  My mom slowed down a little, she was less demanding of my perfection,  she criticized less and life at home was just easier.  Then there were cookies galore that I got to "taste test" for her, making trips to the USO to deliver cookies to the soliders on either Christmas Eve or Christmas morning, dressing up for Christmas Eve service and walking into church on my daddy's arm feeling like a princess, opening presents on Christmas day, reading to my hearts content for 2 whole weeks until school started back up, songs and Christmas movies and Monopoly with my brother.  I haven't tons of fond memories of childhood, but I have very few memories of Christmas that aren't fond.

I made it through Christmas and was even able to find some of the traces of joy that I know Christmas usually holds for me.  I'm not super, but I'm way better than last week. 

Merry Christmas!

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.

lies I tell and other nonsense

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

things I miss:

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

things I long for:

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

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

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

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

I need him

***** I just found this post from May that never got published.  I didn't realize it would publish with today's date if I published it.  It's old news, but I like it :) ********

I need him.  I always have.  It looks a little different now than it did. My needs have morphed over the years.  In the early years, I needed him to help me learn how to not be everyone's door mat.  I needed him to to explain football.  I needed him to run a hot bubble bath and watch 90210 and Party of Five with.  I needed him to take a bus to work so I could drive the car.  I needed him to tell me that I was not at fault when my mom had a grapefruit sized tumor removed from her ovary. I needed him to hold me so I could fall asleep.  I needed him to get upset on my behalf when my boss was being a tool.  I needed him to sleep beside on the super uncomfortable 70's style fold out couch in front of a tiny window air conditioner that was the only cooling source in our tiny apartment.

I needed him to light fires in the fireplace.   I needed him to appreciate my awful cooking.  I needed him to help me not take myself so seriously.  I needed him to be silly with.  I needed him to remind me it was ok to be sick.  I needed him to take me to the hospital for iv fluids when I had the flu and got dehydrated.

I needed him to bring me the baby for an early morning feeding.  I needed him to tell me I was still beautiful even with the baby weight that I just couldn't lose.  I needed him to force me to stay down when I was on modified bed rest and wanted to help out with dinner.  I needed him to be by my side in awe as I delivered our third son myself (in a hospital with a doctor present!).  I needed him during pregnancy to make a no phone calls after 9 pm rule.

 I needed him to carry me to bed when I just couldn't keep my eyes open.  I needed him to take me mini golfing.  I needed him to go to the park and swing with me.  I needed him to tell me his corny trademark joke, that I refer to as his best pick up line ever.  I needed him to hold my hand.

Last year the dynamics changed.  I needed him still but I was now needy.  I needed him to make me call my nutritionist when he did the math and realized my weight loss was already 11% of my body weight.  I needed him to talk me down when my nutritionist and doctor both agreed that I needed to go to the Eating Disorder Center.  I needed him to make sure I was at least attempting to eat.  I tried to hide the clumps of hair, the skeletal looking hips, and the fact that I had also started (unsuccessfully) trying to throw up.  I needed him but didn't want him to know it.

I needed him to come and pick me up at my friend's house and drive me to the local hospital.  I needed him to sit for 9 hours in the emergency room, holding my hand and even climbing up on the e.r. cot with me to hold me while we both tried to sleep.  I needed to see him in our car following the ambulance as they drove me to the mental hospital.  I needed him to hold my hand the whole way up to my unit and to tell me it would be ok, even though I know he wasn't sure.  I needed him to call my pastor so that my pastor could visit me in the hospital since he wasn't allowed every day.  I needed him to call into work for a week and be full time dad while I was in the hospital.  I needed him to make me go to my follow up therapy after the hospital.

I needed him to pick up my slack and take on most of the housework.  I needed him to be the prominent parent for a while.  I needed him to work his 2 jobs, take care of me, take care of our kids and handle the house as well.  I was just plain needy.

Last night I was up late looking for our new license plate stickers when I finally sat down in the middle of the floor for a good long sob.  As I was crumpled up on the floor, I was thinking that it seems so unfair that when the kids are having a rough night that someone can carry them to bed but who was going to carry me?  For a few minutes I even thought how nice it would be if he woke up and came out and, just like he used to do, carry me to bed.  Tonight I realized this, I still need him.  I have needed him to be so many deep things lately that I am missing the little things.

I have needed him to help me in my recovery and sometimes by gently tough with me.  Now, I am ready for the corny jokes, being carried to bed by arms much stronger than mine, playing cards while talking, dancing to a good song just because we want to.

intuitive eating

The concept of intuitive eating is a really good one.  I like the idea of eating when I'm hungry, giving my body what it asks for and stopping when I'm full.  Here's my problem, I have ignored my hunger cues long enough that I don't think my body always does know best.  Today for instance, I haven't been hungry at all.  Ok, take that back.  I did feel a little hungry earlier, but it felt AMAZING!  I guess it is hard to trust my own body because I like the euphoria I feel right now, a euphoria induced by having not eaten today.  I need to take care of my body, but I just don't feel like it.  I know this won't keep feeling good, but it does now. 

I feel somewhat guilty that since I'm not being checked on that I haven't been keeping my promise to Hubby.  I rationalize it away but deep down, I know that the promise to eat was not a temporary one.  My meals have been inconsistent and I know that.  I need to want to eat for myself.  Eating out of desire to make my family happy and not worried is only going to take me so far.  At some point I have to be able to eat without being monitored.  I usually do for a time but it is so easy to fall back into old habits and addictions.

weight gain *dislike*

Thanks to Hubby's "and" rule, I just had some peanut butter and milk with my banana.  I didn't exactly feel thrilled about that.  I have scoured the leaflet about my latest medicine.  I was convinced that I would find weight gain as one of the side affects.  But, no, there is not one word about weight gain in any form (even by increased appetite).  If anything the opposite should be true because nausea, vomiting and diarrhea are common side affects.  I have no vomiting or diarrhea.  I have no increased appetite.  I do, however, have more around my middle than I did have.  Not liking that!

I had been eager for my period to start this month because it always cures the "fat blues".  Unfortunately, this month when my period came, the pooch didn't go away.  I'm convinced that I look pregnant, though everyone else is too kind to agree.  It didn't used to be about my body looking a certain way.  It used to be about hurt and control and numbness.  It still centers on those things but somewhere along the way, how my body looks and feels has also become a bigger issue.  It used to be just to cope.  When did that change?  Why did that change?

I'm in the low phase of my "body bi-polar".  Body bi-polar,you know, when one day you can look in the mirror and say, "Ok, if this is as good as it gets, I'm ok with that" vs. "I can't live in this body.  It feels so foreign to me and looks so hideous!"  I'm in the second one.

I just can't get past the line in the song I shared that says, "Those damaged goods you see, in your reflection.  Love sees it differently, love sees perfection."  How?  How can love, that of my Savior and that of my husband see perfection?  Wish I could see what they see.

I did it

So many thoughts so little time.  So what do I share and still get my backside to bed to recover from no sleep last night thanks to staying up with a sick little guy?  While there is a lot on my mind, I guess I should update on the life events that have happened over the last month. 

I decided at a point that I was ok with Hubby touching me.  Not thrilled, mind you, but accepting of it.  He was wonderful, as he always is, and did nothing until I made the first move.  There is something about being the one in control that takes some of the fear out of "the event".  My body was no longer hyper sensitive and he had been patient.  I didn't want to take advantage of his patience just because I didn't feel like it.  Not being in the mood is quite a bit different from being traumatized.  So I kissed him a little longer than I had been and I wrapped his arms around me.  That is my sign when it is ok to touch me again.

And you know what?  That man was so very gentle.  And somehow being intimate with him was healing not damaging.  Somehow being with him made me feel safe again.  I can't even explain it because to me it doesn't make much sense, but it was like giving someone a broken vase and receiving it back fixed and filled with flowers.  It was a mental effort for me, a HUGE mental effort.  I had to recenter myself several times.  I had to force myself to stay in the moment, there with him, instead of retreating to my mental happy place.  It nearly made me cry once or twice to stay present, but I did it.  When my mind tried to shut off, I somehow reminded myself that this wasn't the men who hurt me and managed to bring myself back.

And it does help (sorry if this is tmi!) that while Hubby is wonderful about satisfying me, he doesn't get his feelings hurt if I don't "get there".  For a couple of times, I didn't want to get there.  That meant losing control of my body and that was just too scary for me.  I redirected a little, didn't get there and he wasn't offended by it.  Even in the deed, my body was mine.  He once again, ever so gently, brought my heart out of hiding.

I did it!  I rode the wave of emotion and didn't die from it!  Ok, so I thought I was going to at times.  I spent days crying or sleeping.  I refused to cook or clean.  I barely ate, I wasn't even hungry.  My dreams at night were riddled with suicide attempts.  I'm not sure that I wanted to die, but I didn't really want to live either.  I wanted to not exist.  But the point is, I did it.  I felt the emotion.  I didn't stuff the emotion, even though I really wanted to.  And in the end, I actually do feel somewhat better.  I made it through another emotional hurricane, and yeah maybe lost some windows and downed some trees but it didn't wipe me out.......this time.

difficult conversations

Boss Man J is Hubby's boss.  Over the time of working together they have become really close friends.  Saturday I sent Boss Man J a text.

Hubby said he's worried about me but hasn't said anything beyond that.  How worried is he?  How much of his stress is worry for me and how much is the stressful upcoming work week?

This message sparked an hour long texting conversation.

He's worried about you and your middle child and money and work. 
I wish I could make me better so I wouldn't have to be one of the things he is worried about.
Dawn, that man loves you and his family more than most people realize. And I think he feels such a strong sense that he has to provide and protect his family that when something is out of his control, he doesn't know what to do.
I know.  I feel just as out of control and I am just as scared as he is.
Is everything ok?


Well the conversation went on like that for a while.  Boss Man J asked me to not keep big stuff from Hubby.  Hubby being concerned about me has started to effect his work performance, minimally but nonetheless it is still taking some of his concentration off of his job.  The conversation was basically, DO ME A FAVOR AND JUST TALK TO THE GUY!  HE REALLY WANTS TO HELP YOU AND DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO!

So I did.  Saturday night Hubby and I sat down and I told him what had triggered me and why.  It took 10 minutes just to get the words out of my mouth.  I told Hubby some of the details of the abuse that I haven't ever talked about, even in my journal.  He is AMAZING!  He told me I'm a fighter.  I laughed at him.  "Tell me who you were dating 15 years ago."  I answered the boy I gave my heart to but then I realized it was the abusive boy who I was engaged to.  "Yeah, people who aren't fighters don't have the strength to get out of those relationships.  If you weren't a fighter you would have married him or even the other boy who used you for your body and to look good on his arm.  You wouldn't have waited for a man who would die for you without hesitation if you weren't a fighter."

He was there for me, loved me and comforted me.  And then he kicked my butt.  "How does not eating help?" Well that's easy to answer.  When I'm not eating I have something physical, something tangible to put my energy into so I don't really have to focus on the emotional.  And here is why he is a great husband...... "Well, when you don't eat your emotions go more haywire.  And then you don't sleep because your emotions are haywire.  And then you don't want to eat because your emotions are haywire.  It is a vicious cycle.  I know it is hard and it hurts but I need you to eat.  I don't ever want to bring our kids to the mental hospital to visit their mom again and when you don't eat or sleep, that is how you spiral to the point of being in the hospital."

So as a promise to my husband, I am to be in bed by midnight and eat 3 times a day (minimum).  He said even if I just need to eat "and".  Huh?  You know yogurt AND a string cheese.  Or apples AND peanut butter.  I hate doing it.  But I love him.  I hate that I made that promise.  It is hard to keep.  And it keeps me in the present instead of letting me check out so I am very aware of the pain.  I want to check out.  I do not like feeling this! Right now if feels like the pain will never go away, that I will be forever trapped in the sea of overwhelming emotions.  I have a great man beside me encouraging me to feel,  to do the work it takes to get better.

I hate food!  I know I am not eating enough but I am keeping my promise and eating SOMETHING. I'm grateful for Hubby who wants me to get better not just get over it.  I'm grateful for the friend who knew I needed a break and took me out for girl time yesterday while her husband watched the kids.  I'm grateful for the friend who talked with me on the phone for 2 hours last night.  I grateful for people holding my arms up right now because I really am tired of fighting and don't know that I could make it without them.  I'm tired.  I'm tired of having to fight.  I just want to lay down and give up but I have people who love me enough to not let me.

my favorite day of the year

I feel like I am six because though I have always felt it, this year I admitted it.  Today is my favorite day of the year.  Today is my birthday!  I always hesitated to tell people it was my birthday.  I kinda have always felt embarrassed by how much I enjoy it.  It makes no sense.  I usually want to fade into the background and be just a little visible but on my birthday I want to shout it from the rooftops that it is a day that is important.

So for the first time ever, I have said it out loud.  Today is my birthday and August 6th is my favorite day of the entire year!  It was a good birthday too.  I started the morning with a note from my love, then a lovely picture message on my phone of a birthday card.  (grrrrr, I just tried to download pictures of both and for some reason my computer won't let me retrieve those pictures!)

I had a friend come visit and we went to Starbucks so I could use my birthday postcard for a freebie.  I treated myself to a quad shot vanilla latte, something I have never done but thoroughly enjoyed.  Another friend stopped by with what she thought was an early birthday gift only to be thrilled to realize she was dead on the day.  Her gift made me cry.

I suppose I should explain why it made me cry.  See, this calendar used to hang in her room after she and her husband split.  It was her serenity.  I commented on how beautiful it was when I was helping her move.  I got my wedding gown in Paris.  I went to the top of the Eiffel Tower.  I sat on the patio of a bistro with a glass of wine and watched the night lights of Paris come on.  Paris holds a special place in my heart.  Paris also holds a special place in her heart, but that is her story to tell, not mine.  I tried to protest the gift.

"No, this is your special lovey!"

"And now it is your special lovey!"

It was more than a gift.  It was a piece of her heart.

Sadly, I did have to make dinner tonight.  But on the upside, I was smart enough to buy thin crust chicken alfredo pizzas at Costco and specifically saved them for a night when I really needed a break from cooking dinner.  Pizza and a beer for dinner and then off to see the Smurfs with my family.  Cute movie, I enjoyed it but even more so enjoyed my kids laughter at the movie!

I finished off the night by using my treat receipt from Starbucks, pictures with my love (taken by my 8 year old, such a sweetheart!), and a ridiculous amount of birthday wishes on facebook.  I was aware of feeling down and at times very lonely today.  But it was still a beautiful way to turn 30-something and even though my feelings don't often feel it, today I realized that a lot of people really do care about me.  That counts for future encouragement in some way, I am sure!

I am so ridiculously in love with this man!

when your 8 yr old is the photographer and the cell phone is the camera, sometimes pictures turn out a bit blurry.   turning it black and white and editing only can help so much!  :)

blessing in disguise

Today was another of the long, no accountability, could easily not eat and no one would know, days at work.  I didn't plan on eating even though I had brought something small to eat.  When I got to work the gal I work with asked if I had brought my paperwork because the manager had asked her to FedEx it to him today.  CRAP, I left it setting on the dishwasher in my rush to get out the door on time!  No problem, I'll call hubby and have him bring it out to me.  Plus then I get to see my family for a few minutes and introduce my kids to my friend (she has only met my oldest and he was a baby then).

Well, when I called hubby, he was just getting ready to lay down for a nap.  He said he would bring it later in the afternoon.  I get barely any cell reception in the store but for some reason suddenly I was able to get a text.  It was Amy telling me that she was eating lunch because I had texted her this morning and that turned her day around.  (By the way, great job, Lady!  I am so proud of you!)  I was starting to feel a little guilty that I had told her to take care of herself but didn't really want to return the favor to myself.  She listened to me, and I was worried about listening to me.  I felt like a total hypocrite.

Well time kept passing and wouldn't you know it, hubby and the kids didn't arrive till 4:30.  Middle kiddo asks, "Mommy, do you get breaks when you work here?"  Yep, I sure do.  Would you like me to take my break now while you guys are here?  YES! Well, I happen to work right next door to Tokyo Joe's.  My hubby told me, "I know we can't do this every time, but do you want Tokyo's tonight?  I'm buying."  So I ate after all.  I forgot my signed employee conduct agreement and tax forms at home and in forgetting, I remembered something much more important, to take care of me tonight.

I'm going to get this.  I know I will.  And from here on out my days are 4-8:30 instead of 12-8:30 so that will help.  Going in at 12 is hard.  I can't eat lunch by 11 to leave at 11:30 so I skip lunch.  If I skip a meal at work also then I've essentially missed dinner too.  I loved seeing my boys tonight.  It reminded me of why I want to get better, of why I need to keep fighting, of all of the good things in my life.  Today my forgetfulness was a blessing in disguise and a much needed dose of perspective.

On a slightly different note I received the perfect answer to my orange comment today. 

Starbucks is either going to make me fat or kill me.  I don't know which is worse.

To which the response was, "I'd rather have you fat than dead."
Thanks for that, not only did it help me to identify the stinkin thinkin, it also made me laugh.  It is true that laughter is the best medicine!

loving my enemies

There is a lot of commands in the Bible about love that keep me going.  Two summers ago, I was completely convicted by the command to love my enemies and pray for those who hurt me.  I had had a rough time with some people and was dreading the new school year and having to face them.  So I wrote out the verses in Luke 6 about loving people who I really didn't feel like loving and put it on my kitchen cabinets where I was daily face to face with it.  Every time the situation came to my mind or the names of the disliked people, I would pray for them.  I would pray that God would help me to love them even though I didn't want to, I would pray that He would help me to be merciful as He is merciful, I prayed that He would draw them unto Himself.  It started out difficult and by the end of summer it was second nature to pray for these people instead of gossip about them.  Over the years I have found praying for people who have hurt me to be helpful to me.  I find myself not harboring the resentment that was once festering.  Not that it is always easy peesy but praying for my "enemies" has become part of me, part of what I do. 

And now I struggle to pray for and love someone who has hurt me in the name of love.  The others did not have emotional attachment to me.  They were people who I've had to deal with in comings and going but not people who are part of my life.  I can distance myself and be objective and wonder what might be going on in their lives to cause them to behave like they do with minimal struggle.  Yet, I cannot seem to have any desire to want to love someone who I should indeed feel love for.

I don't want to pray for my mom.  I am angry with her.  I don't feel love for her right now.  I struggle to even want to love her.  Wow, this is quite an unload.  I try so hard to keep my feelings for her under a veil on my blog because I don't want her to look bad, or maybe because I don't want to look like a bad daughter.  Today though I realize, this is my blog, my emotional outlet, my place to be honest about my feelings and besides, no one in my family reads anything I write anyway. 

Yesterday we had to go over to her house.  I was excited for the reason, to see my extended family that I was moaning about the other day, but I was less than excited to go.  When she called me and bumped dinner up by an hour and the new start time was only 15 minutes away, I lost it.  We got in a nice little yelling match on the phone.  I got off the phone and let the expletives fly.  My hubby then let his expletives fly (in regards to them not at me!).  We both sat in our basement, me crying, both of us venting and swearing and dreading going to see my parents.  Hubby has been bottling feelings of anger and disgust towards my parents since September when I went to the hospital.  Finally they spilled out into our conversation last night.

He is angry that they never got me help.  When I was battling depression that left me regularly attempting suicide, they refused to acknowledge my pain.  They told my principle that I did not need professional help, I just needed more time with God.  When I was wasting away before their eyes, they never acknowledged that I had a problem.  See, good Christians didn't have problems so rather than admit that I had a problem, they pretended it didn't exist.  Hubby is angry that they didn't help me get help when I was younger and that it had a chance to get as bad as it has as an adult.  Now, from a very long time of battling anorexia on my own, I know that even if they had gotten me help when I was younger that relapse is always possible.  And yet, hubby has some points also.  Some of the sh*t that I am working through now should have been handled 2 decades ago and wasn't. 

He is angry that when I was in the hospital that we had to keep it from my parents.  They still don't know that I completely disappeared for a week.  He called in at work and was a single dad for a week with support from his parents and help from them so he could come and visit me on visiting days.  And where were my parents?  Oblivious.  Yes we chose to keep them in the dark.  I have seen the hell my mom has put some of her friends through for being on antidepressants and refuse to go through the same hell for my medications or my hospitalization.  She is convinced that godly people should not need psychiatric drugs.  Hubby feels like in their choosing to ignore all the big issues in my life growing up, that my adult life has been a series of working through things that I should have been already starting working through.

And I am angry.  I feel like no matter how good I am that I'll never quite reach her standards for me.  I'll always be just one task short of being good enough.  I don't understand why she can be a mom to people from their church who don't have family here but she can't be a mom to me.  I don't understand why I'm not loveable, why I am always second best.  I'm really hurt.  Really. Really. Hurt.  How do I love her when everything inside of me wants to hate her?  How do I pray for the one who hurt me who was supposed to love me?  I know that God doesn't ask us to love and then not provide the means to love.  I know He can fill me with His love for her if I ask.  The problem is that I don't want to ask.  I don't want to love her right now. 

I have all of the right answers.  I know that not only has God commanded me to love, He has also said that anyone who harbors hatred is not living in the light (1 John 2).  I guess I need to pray that God will give me the desire to be willing to love her and pray for her.  That is the starting place.  I'm not quite to the point of praying that God will help me to love her as He loves her, I'm at the first baby step of praying that God will make me willing to ask His help in loving someone I don't want to love.

For those of you who have an awesome relationship with your mom, you are so blessed and I envy you!  Treasure that gift.  For those of you who are like me and have rocky relationship with your mom, join me in praying that God would make us willing to be willing. 

the kindest words I ever heard

Yesterday I tackled a question that is hurtful and makes me angry.  So today I want to flip perspectives and answer the question I LOVE to be asked!  My hubby and I have been married for over 12 years.  We are still very much in love, are often told we still act like newlyweds, and we have a great sex life as well.  The one I often hear when people hear about my background is, "That is unheard of to have a relationship with the depth and longevity of yours.  And how on earth do you have a good physically intimate relationship with all that you have been through?"

I love this question because it gives me the opportunity to say the things hubby would never say about himself.  I get the opportunity to tell people what makes him so amazing!  When we were newly dating/engaged I heard the kindest words I have ever heard in my life and they came from that man.  He looked me in the eye and said, "I love you and respect you too much to tell you I can't wait for you."  And then he did it, wait that is.  I know I made the wait hell on him because I tried often to entice him.  And yet he waited for me.  I was Mrs. Hubby before we had sex.  Now that is big in any relationship these days but considering we had both experienced sex before and I was still believing that my value was based in my sexual self, this was HUGE!

As newlyweds, hubby did something absolutely unheard of, something that helped me to understand that my value was not based in sex.  When he saw me mentally checking out, going to my happy safe spot in my mind, he would stop no matter what level of physicality we were in.  He would stop, look me in the eyes and tell me, "You're mind isn't here.  If I can't have all of you then I don't want any of you.  I am not going to be another man who takes from you."  He stopped us in the middle of hot and heavy making out and he even a couple of times stopped in the middle of the deed simply to know that when we were together, I was completely with him.  Now, honestly, what kind of man can stop in the middle of sex because he knows you are mentally and emotionally checked out?!?!?

When I had nightmares and woke up screaming, he held me close.  He protected me, and not just physically.  Having been in a previous abusive relationship, I would panic anytime hubby would get frustrated.  I was just waiting for the trigger that would push him far enough that frustrated became angry and angry became abusive.  It never happened.  He showed me that he could be frustrated and I didn't have to cower. 

He allowed me the freedom to tend to my wounds.  We actually jokingly refer to our newlywed years as the sexually anorexic years.  He made it safe for me to be a woman.  He made me not fear being hit.  He made me not fear my own femininity and its power.  He made it safe to be more than sexy but to be beautiful.  My value never came from my bedroom performance.  This was a difficult thing to adjust to.  I tried to find my worth there, but he wouldn't let me keep looking there.

As the years have passed, I have learned that sex actually is enjoyable and not dirty.  He gave me such a gift in allowing me to be in control of my own body that I learned to trust him and to want to enjoy his physical attentions.  We have a strong and healthy sex life, much more than in our newlywed years! He still knows when I need to be safe.  A couple of months ago something happened that rocked me.  I had the ability to tell him that I just needed my body to be mine for a little while.  His response was, "Just let me know when you are ready."  He held me but didn't get sexual in his touch until I gave the go ahead.  Because I know this about my husband, the time of needing my body to be mine alone, was rather short.  It was amazing though to know that he wasn't rushing me or annoyed with me.  I am certain that his allowing me to be safe for the last 12 years is why when I need to feel safe now, it is a short lived break.

The single kindest thing ever done for me was my husband refusing to be one more guy who took from me.  Not only did he not take from me, he gave so much to me!

the little girl

Once upon a time........

There was a beautiful little girl.  She was the joy in her mamma's life and the light in her daddy's eyes.  Someone tried to steal her beauty though.  Someone was curious.  Someone thought she would make a good test subject.  Someone took her innocence.  She started to look at the world through jaded eyes.  Then someone else hurt her.  Someone told her she could never be beautiful unless she did ugly things.  The little girl did those ugly things but never found the beauty and value she searched for.  She began to think beauty was only a fairy tale.  The beauty she was born with was still within her, but she didn't realize it.  Someone told her that her beauty had been stolen and she believed them.  So much else had been stolen that it seemed obvious that beauty had been as well.  She cried herself to sleep often wishing she could be beautiful again.

She grew up, and continued to believe that the beauty born in her had left her as a child.  She continued to search for it but it still remained elusive.  Eventually she came to the conclusion that the beauty was not missing but rather that it had died.  If beauty is dead, she needs not to search for it.  It cannot be resurrected.  She hurt herself in unspeakable ways hoping to dull the pain of beauty's death.  When death refused to take her too, she decided that punishing herself must be what was required of her.  Torturous days of no food or sleep took their toll.  She became weak and pale.  She became the ugliness that she already saw.  She burned her skin and drank her fears.  She proved to herself that beauty was not achievable and was never returning.

Someone told the girl they loved her.  Someone held her tightly.  Someone told her she was pretty.  And just as she began to smile again, that someone hurt her too.  Someone told her she wasn't good enough and never would be.  Someone told her she was fat and ugly.  Someone told her she could never measure up.  Someone else stole what wasn't theirs to have.  Someone used her.  Someone abused her.  Someone made her cry.  Someone convinced her she was still not worth loving.

As the years passed, a new someone told her they loved her.  He told her she was beautiful, though she thought he was lying.  He insisted there was beauty born within.  He insisted that the beauty had not been killed off but had been hiding behind a fort afraid to resurface.  He told her he loved her and then he set out to prove his words.  He gently beckoned her beauty to come back out.  He made beauty safe.  He never stole the beauty away again, he never abused her heart.  He saw the beauty in the midst of her self hatred and self abuse.  He saw the beauty when she was convinced it had long ago died.  He truly did love her and took the time to win her heart.  Then he took the time to prove he would protect that heart and the beauty within.

He was the someone who showed her that not every man had evil intentions.  He was the one who loved her back to beautiful.  He was the one who showed her how much God must love her and how beautiful she was to God.  He was the one who made her heart sing and the one she wanted to love for eternity.  He is still the one who tells her she is beautiful, even when she thinks he is lying.  He is still the one to love her even when she is self abusing.  He is the one who believes in true beauty and somehow sees it in her.  He is the one who helped her to trust again.  He is the one who showed her how to believe that beauty is not just a fairy tale.

Once upon a time, there was a very scared woman.  She almost lost it all, simply because she forgot how to be beautiful.  She got lost in the idea that she could never be that beautiful little girl again and forgot that she is now a beautiful woman.  She so wants to be beautiful and is terrified of being beautiful at the same time.  Some days she hates her body and harms it.  Some days she gives herself grace.  Most days she still thinks beauty is just barely eluding her.  She doesn't understand how that man can love her and tell her she is beautiful.  Doesn't he see what she has done?  And yet he daily assures her that he does indeed see beauty.  She struggles to see it and wonders if there will ever come a day when she can see her own beauty not just that of those around her.  She is ready for her own happily ever after!