The people I connect with the most are part of the "me too club". I think that is who most people connect with on a deeper level. I read blogs of people who say what they are feeling and are honest about it. I get bored and stop reading when it is simply to instruct me in all the ways I fall short. I connect with so many of you because you say, I had a great day as well as saying wow, today really sucked the life out of me. I connect with you because you read my stuff and you say, "Hey, me too. I know what that is like."
I want to be a me too person. I don't want to be someone who has it all figured out. I want to experience it with others. My pain, their pain, my joy, their joy, to walk side by side and experience life together. And yet at the same time, I'm a little afraid to say what's on my heart because I feel certain that no one will say to me, "yeah, me too".
I can lay it out here on my blog. I can say, hey world this is who I am. I've made some very dear friends through my blog. I just have a hard time taking that into real life. I love to hear others stories. I love to know what makes them tick. I love to see their lives in action, especially in the nitty gritty. But then when it comes to me, I don't want to show them the nitty gritty. I am afraid that in the real world that I won't find the kind of me too people that I have found here on my blog.
I love to hear the stories behind others tattoos. And yet I find myself at work being cautious about asking the significance because then I open myself up to someone asking the significance of my tattoo. I want to know why one woman at work picks her food apart and doesn't eat as much as the anyone else. But then I have to admit that I have noticed it and open myself up for her questions. Most people wouldn't notice that she does it. It is very subtle. But I notice, and if I notice that, why when no one else does?
I heard Lisa Terkheurst speak yesterday and she said something that I know and yet struggle with. God gave us emotions so that we can experience life not so we can run from it. I feel like I experience it here, where it is safe, where few actually know me. But I'm still afraid to experience life and emotions out there in the real world. I really do like the safety of my blog. What happens if I take the safety here and become a me too person out there?
Showing posts with label paranoia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paranoia. Show all posts
Thursday, October 18, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
feeling insecure and unsafe
So this morning's news had the answer to my question last night. The ridiculously large amount of police activity near my work last night was due to an armed robbery. The robbery happened at a restaurant that is seriously just around the corner from my work, a restaurant that I frequent, one that I have walked to from my work building. The man had a gun, the restaurant had 8 people in it, one of them being a teenager. It happened at the exact moment I was punching out. I was leaving work, walking through my parking garage, while the police were unsuccessfully trying to find the suspect.
Now I know I wasn't involved in any way. By the time I pulled out of my parking garage, the police had already blocked off several side streets and the entrances/exits to all of the surrounding parking lots. I was never in any real danger. But for some reason I cannot convince my emotions of that. No matter how many times I try to remind myself that I was not the one traumatized, my body and emotions are telling me differently. I am being bombarded with feelings of insecurity about my safety. I work in a great neighborhood. I (usually) feel very safe there. I have walked around in this same area at night with my son or with a girlfriend. My husband and I have gone on walks or played on playgrounds at night in this area. It's a good part of town. And it's a good part of town that right now I don't feel very safe in.
I don't really feel safe at all, anywhere, right now though. I don't like that someone stole (once again) my feelings of safety and security. I feel vulnerable. I feel scared. And for some reason, I feel weak again. And I have realized that my natural reaction to feeling vulnerable is to double up all of my protections. And food, or I should say the restricting of food, is one of the areas that I want to run to to protect myself. It doesn't make sense. I'm healthy enough to run if I needed to. I'm healthy enough to put up a good fight if I needed to. I'm healthy enough for my brain to remember details like descriptions and directions. And yet my first line of defense that I want to run to is to take away those advantages and go back to the girl who wouldn't stand a chance other than sheer adrenaline if put in a dangerous situation.
I drove out to see Hubby at work this morning for his lunch break. It was how I kept myself from restricting. Eating with him or not eating at all, I chose to eat and to feel safe in his presence for a few extra minutes. I know it was a healthy choice, but it wasn't an easy choice. It seems that when being healthy is a choice, it is rarely the easy one. I want to put my heart and body in lock down to protect it. The problem is that it isn't really protecting me. I hate that.
I want my sense of safety back. I want to not feel like a frightened little girl again. I want to not feel weak and powerless. I want my control. Control, maybe that is why restricting feels like the right answer, because life is not controllable but food is. I'm in a better place in my recovery simply because I can identify that. That doesn't really make it an easier place of recovery, just a stronger one.
I'm strong enough to fight the orange in my head that swears she is the way to be safe and protected. I need to find safety and protection somewhere else, not in her arms.
Now I know I wasn't involved in any way. By the time I pulled out of my parking garage, the police had already blocked off several side streets and the entrances/exits to all of the surrounding parking lots. I was never in any real danger. But for some reason I cannot convince my emotions of that. No matter how many times I try to remind myself that I was not the one traumatized, my body and emotions are telling me differently. I am being bombarded with feelings of insecurity about my safety. I work in a great neighborhood. I (usually) feel very safe there. I have walked around in this same area at night with my son or with a girlfriend. My husband and I have gone on walks or played on playgrounds at night in this area. It's a good part of town. And it's a good part of town that right now I don't feel very safe in.
I don't really feel safe at all, anywhere, right now though. I don't like that someone stole (once again) my feelings of safety and security. I feel vulnerable. I feel scared. And for some reason, I feel weak again. And I have realized that my natural reaction to feeling vulnerable is to double up all of my protections. And food, or I should say the restricting of food, is one of the areas that I want to run to to protect myself. It doesn't make sense. I'm healthy enough to run if I needed to. I'm healthy enough to put up a good fight if I needed to. I'm healthy enough for my brain to remember details like descriptions and directions. And yet my first line of defense that I want to run to is to take away those advantages and go back to the girl who wouldn't stand a chance other than sheer adrenaline if put in a dangerous situation.
I drove out to see Hubby at work this morning for his lunch break. It was how I kept myself from restricting. Eating with him or not eating at all, I chose to eat and to feel safe in his presence for a few extra minutes. I know it was a healthy choice, but it wasn't an easy choice. It seems that when being healthy is a choice, it is rarely the easy one. I want to put my heart and body in lock down to protect it. The problem is that it isn't really protecting me. I hate that.
I want my sense of safety back. I want to not feel like a frightened little girl again. I want to not feel weak and powerless. I want my control. Control, maybe that is why restricting feels like the right answer, because life is not controllable but food is. I'm in a better place in my recovery simply because I can identify that. That doesn't really make it an easier place of recovery, just a stronger one.
I'm strong enough to fight the orange in my head that swears she is the way to be safe and protected. I need to find safety and protection somewhere else, not in her arms.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
some days are harder
like today.
I've had plenty of random things trigger big emotions today. I'm not a fan of big emotions, especially when several different ones hit me in just a few hours span.
On the way to work this afternoon I was overcome by sadness. As I turned the corner to the street I work on, I saw two men on scaffolding and one man down below extremely exerted and struggling to lower the scaffolding. In January, when Cousin died, he fell from scaffolding at work that he was helping his guys to take down. It was the last thing they had to do before they went home for the day. I gasped and tears immediately sprung to my eyes. The sight and the subsequent intense emotion caught me off guard.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
At work, I checked my email. There was one from my former pastor that had a link to something he had just written. The short version of what he had to say was that depression is a symptom of trusting your feelings rather than God. The long version, to be honest, made me a bit angry. When someone who has never dealt with depression tries to tell me why my depression isn't as big as it is or that it is my fault or that I'm just not enough of a Christian, I get really frustrated.
I wonder if these Christians who believe that depression is a sign of sin have ever read the Bible. What about the prophet Elisha (or maybe it was Elijah, I still to this day get those two mixed up!) who sat beneath a tree and told God to just kill him, that his life was over? God had to send an angel to tell him to sleep and eat and to minister to him. Or what about David, the man after God's heart? He was as extreme in his emotions as one could ever be. How many times does he, in his hurt, cry out to God and beg God to kill him? How many times does he ask God to kill his enemies? How many times does he make comments about despair and agony within him? And yet he knew God was faithful. And yet he still worshiped God in spirit and in truth. DESPITE the agony. Why can I not still know God is in control and worship Him even though often times my soul is in despair? Why is my hurt a sin in so many people's eyes? Wouldn't it be nice if people had to live a day in your skin before they were able to criticize your emotions?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Many years ago I heard it said that once you have been stalked, you will always live with one eye over your shoulder. At the time I didn't understand but thanks to abusive boyfriend, now I do understand that comment. Looking over my shoulder has been somewhat of a second nature to me for far too many years now. I'm not terrified like I used to be. I don't think every car or person behind me is out to get me like I used to. I am aware though of any car that has been behind me, including lane changes, for more than a mile. I have detoured on my way home from places just to be sure that I'm not being followed. While most of the time I feel fairly safe, sometimes I don't at all. Tonight was one of those nights.
I work in a really nice part of town. We joke that you are more likely to get pulled over there for something minor because the police need something to do to kill their time since they don't need to be out stopping crime. Tonight, however, the police didn't need to kill time. I don't know what happened, but something did. I saw 18 cops tonight, lights on, sirens off, blocking parking lot exits and several side streets in 1/4 mile radius as I was leaving work. As I got on the highway, I saw 2 more that I hadn't seen who were parked on the sidewalk next to my building where the light rail station is. They were definitely looking for someone. I was suddenly bombarded with icky feelings of insecurity and danger.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
All of that comes to top off the fact that last night I realized that think I have been subconsciously sabotaging my recovery for the past week or so. I wasn't intentionally acting out but suddenly last night I realized that I have been restricting. I haven't been concentrating on it, I think that is what is scary. It comes so naturally that I don't realize I'm doing it sometimes. I realized simply because I had very little wine last night before I was aware that it was affecting me. I made a comment about being a total light weight last night and Hubby asked me what I had eaten. As I started going through my day I realized I hadn't had much at all to eat, and then I went through the previous several days and suddenly understood why the wine got to me so quickly. Had I not done that, I wouldn't have even realized that I was doing it.
I knew I have been unhappy with my body. I knew that I don't feel anywhere near summer body ready. But I also have known that having energy to enjoy my family again is better than fearing my body. I thought that since I have been acknowledging my and validating both my body and my emotions that I was in a good spot. And now I see that recovery still needs to be an active choice even when I think I'm handling things fairly well.
So that's my night. There are a lot of emotions swirling around in there, and a lot of thoughts as well. I'm not pushed over the edge, which is good. I'm a little overwhelmed still by feeling and especially so many things in such a short span of time. I'm reminding myself that feelings are ok, good even, and trying to embrace them rather than run from them. It is a little (ok, a LOT) scary and difficult too.
I've had plenty of random things trigger big emotions today. I'm not a fan of big emotions, especially when several different ones hit me in just a few hours span.
On the way to work this afternoon I was overcome by sadness. As I turned the corner to the street I work on, I saw two men on scaffolding and one man down below extremely exerted and struggling to lower the scaffolding. In January, when Cousin died, he fell from scaffolding at work that he was helping his guys to take down. It was the last thing they had to do before they went home for the day. I gasped and tears immediately sprung to my eyes. The sight and the subsequent intense emotion caught me off guard.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
At work, I checked my email. There was one from my former pastor that had a link to something he had just written. The short version of what he had to say was that depression is a symptom of trusting your feelings rather than God. The long version, to be honest, made me a bit angry. When someone who has never dealt with depression tries to tell me why my depression isn't as big as it is or that it is my fault or that I'm just not enough of a Christian, I get really frustrated.
I wonder if these Christians who believe that depression is a sign of sin have ever read the Bible. What about the prophet Elisha (or maybe it was Elijah, I still to this day get those two mixed up!) who sat beneath a tree and told God to just kill him, that his life was over? God had to send an angel to tell him to sleep and eat and to minister to him. Or what about David, the man after God's heart? He was as extreme in his emotions as one could ever be. How many times does he, in his hurt, cry out to God and beg God to kill him? How many times does he ask God to kill his enemies? How many times does he make comments about despair and agony within him? And yet he knew God was faithful. And yet he still worshiped God in spirit and in truth. DESPITE the agony. Why can I not still know God is in control and worship Him even though often times my soul is in despair? Why is my hurt a sin in so many people's eyes? Wouldn't it be nice if people had to live a day in your skin before they were able to criticize your emotions?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Many years ago I heard it said that once you have been stalked, you will always live with one eye over your shoulder. At the time I didn't understand but thanks to abusive boyfriend, now I do understand that comment. Looking over my shoulder has been somewhat of a second nature to me for far too many years now. I'm not terrified like I used to be. I don't think every car or person behind me is out to get me like I used to. I am aware though of any car that has been behind me, including lane changes, for more than a mile. I have detoured on my way home from places just to be sure that I'm not being followed. While most of the time I feel fairly safe, sometimes I don't at all. Tonight was one of those nights.
I work in a really nice part of town. We joke that you are more likely to get pulled over there for something minor because the police need something to do to kill their time since they don't need to be out stopping crime. Tonight, however, the police didn't need to kill time. I don't know what happened, but something did. I saw 18 cops tonight, lights on, sirens off, blocking parking lot exits and several side streets in 1/4 mile radius as I was leaving work. As I got on the highway, I saw 2 more that I hadn't seen who were parked on the sidewalk next to my building where the light rail station is. They were definitely looking for someone. I was suddenly bombarded with icky feelings of insecurity and danger.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
All of that comes to top off the fact that last night I realized that think I have been subconsciously sabotaging my recovery for the past week or so. I wasn't intentionally acting out but suddenly last night I realized that I have been restricting. I haven't been concentrating on it, I think that is what is scary. It comes so naturally that I don't realize I'm doing it sometimes. I realized simply because I had very little wine last night before I was aware that it was affecting me. I made a comment about being a total light weight last night and Hubby asked me what I had eaten. As I started going through my day I realized I hadn't had much at all to eat, and then I went through the previous several days and suddenly understood why the wine got to me so quickly. Had I not done that, I wouldn't have even realized that I was doing it.
I knew I have been unhappy with my body. I knew that I don't feel anywhere near summer body ready. But I also have known that having energy to enjoy my family again is better than fearing my body. I thought that since I have been acknowledging my and validating both my body and my emotions that I was in a good spot. And now I see that recovery still needs to be an active choice even when I think I'm handling things fairly well.
So that's my night. There are a lot of emotions swirling around in there, and a lot of thoughts as well. I'm not pushed over the edge, which is good. I'm a little overwhelmed still by feeling and especially so many things in such a short span of time. I'm reminding myself that feelings are ok, good even, and trying to embrace them rather than run from them. It is a little (ok, a LOT) scary and difficult too.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
delusional paranoia
I work at a college bookstore. Being the nerdy type that I am, when we are slow I like to read text books. I know, I know, I could stop right there and you would have had your daily laugh. I mean really, who reads textbooks for classes they are not taking? I do. Usually psych books. On any given day you could find me reading Abnormal Psychology or The Complete Textbook of Suicidology. So given my lack of college degree, and my greatest bit of knowledge on the subject from a textbook I'm reading in my free time, I find it funny that I decided today to diagnose my mother with delusional paranoia.
Now I didn't tell her she is delusional. And I didn't tell her that she is paranoid. But I am telling you. She watched 2 of my kids today so that I could take my middle one to the eye doctor. When she was leaving she saw 2 books near the door. The top one was a library copy of Julie Andrews' Home and the second was a borrowed copy of The Help.
Wait, I think this story deserves some background. My mom is a nanny. Now honestly I don't know why this family still employs her. Their son is in college now and their daughters turn 16 this fall and will be driving. I think they just enjoy having my mom around so they find odd things for her to do to keep her. She has been with them for 13 years.
Ok, back to our regularly scheduled story. So when my mom sees The Help she asked "Isn't there a movie out about this one?" I confirmed. Then she told me that her boss had asked if she had seen the movie or read the book. My mom told me she doesn't know what boss is worried about with her, like they have some big secret or something that she might spill.
I must have cocked my head, because my mom continued to explain that she thinks the reason her boss mentioned it is because they are afraid my mom will go and tell people all about them. Now first of all, they are awesome people and very, very good to my mom. They are very kind people and while we all have things we prefer to be private, they do not have any obvious "baggage". What could my mom possibly tell about them? That they have ridiculous amounts of money but don't act like it? That they are unbelievably kind and generous not only to my mom, but to everyone they meet?
I told my mom her boss had probably brought it up because it is a great book and has been on the bestseller list for quite some time. My mom got the strangest look and then said, "Well, yeah, I suppose. Maybe she had to read it for her book club and that is why she brought it up."
So again, I am not a counselor or a doctor. Nor do I play one on tv. I have no training. I just have a mom who is out there more often than not and an Abnormal Psychology textbook waiting for me when I arrive at work tonight. And with the help of all of these things, I have decided to, privately, of course, diagnose my mom with delusional paranoia. :)
Now I didn't tell her she is delusional. And I didn't tell her that she is paranoid. But I am telling you. She watched 2 of my kids today so that I could take my middle one to the eye doctor. When she was leaving she saw 2 books near the door. The top one was a library copy of Julie Andrews' Home and the second was a borrowed copy of The Help.
Wait, I think this story deserves some background. My mom is a nanny. Now honestly I don't know why this family still employs her. Their son is in college now and their daughters turn 16 this fall and will be driving. I think they just enjoy having my mom around so they find odd things for her to do to keep her. She has been with them for 13 years.
Ok, back to our regularly scheduled story. So when my mom sees The Help she asked "Isn't there a movie out about this one?" I confirmed. Then she told me that her boss had asked if she had seen the movie or read the book. My mom told me she doesn't know what boss is worried about with her, like they have some big secret or something that she might spill.
I must have cocked my head, because my mom continued to explain that she thinks the reason her boss mentioned it is because they are afraid my mom will go and tell people all about them. Now first of all, they are awesome people and very, very good to my mom. They are very kind people and while we all have things we prefer to be private, they do not have any obvious "baggage". What could my mom possibly tell about them? That they have ridiculous amounts of money but don't act like it? That they are unbelievably kind and generous not only to my mom, but to everyone they meet?
I told my mom her boss had probably brought it up because it is a great book and has been on the bestseller list for quite some time. My mom got the strangest look and then said, "Well, yeah, I suppose. Maybe she had to read it for her book club and that is why she brought it up."
So again, I am not a counselor or a doctor. Nor do I play one on tv. I have no training. I just have a mom who is out there more often than not and an Abnormal Psychology textbook waiting for me when I arrive at work tonight. And with the help of all of these things, I have decided to, privately, of course, diagnose my mom with delusional paranoia. :)
Monday, May 16, 2011
church, to go or to skip, that is the question
Sometimes my crazy brain is just that, crazy. Here is insight into my brain from 10pm Sat until Noon Sunday.
10 PM ~ I really don't feel like going to church tomorrow. I'm really tired and I really don't want anyone to see me.
10:15 PM ~ The kids have started asking when church will be over before we even arrive at church. Do I really want to deal with that on my own tomorrow (hubby was working this weekend)?
10:30 PM ~ I'm tired, I'll figure this out in the morning but I really don't want anyone to look at me!
Sometime Sunday Morning ~ It isn't all about me, it is all about Christ. I should go to church.
8:20 AM ~ I just want to stay in my comfy workout pants. Do I really have to get dressed and go?
8:25 AM ~ Fine, I'll put on clothes. Hmmmmm, what do you wear when you don't want anyone to look at you?
8:35 AM ~ olive green pants, long sleeve purple t-shirt. no wait, this t-shirt is fitted at the waist and my bloatedness will be obvious! Take off 1st outfit.
8:40 AM ~ I know, the cute blue, black and white shirt with the cute denim skirt. If people are going to have to look at me, I might as well not let them know I'm feeling insecure today!
8:42 AM ~ Wait, that outfit looked hot on me for date night last month. Uh, maybe too hot! Mental note, mini skirt on date with hubby = perfectly acceptable. Mini skirt at church on Sunday morning with all 3 of my kids = not so acceptable
8:50 AM ~ sigh. What can I wear that will not tell people I am insecure and yet no one has to look at me in? Reach for the only pair of non-holey jeans I own only to realize that I wore them when I pulled weeds a couple of days ago and forgot to wash them. They have dirt all over them.
8:55 AM ~ I finally grab the jeans with a hole in the knee and grab a short sleeve summer sweater from the dryer. Oops, forgot the clothes in the dryer for a couple of days so my sweater is wrinkly but I decide I have neither the time, desire or energy to iron.
9:00 AM ~ I look over myself in the mirror, holey jeans and wrinkly shirt. Lovely, just lovely. I grab a fun and chunky necklace that matches my shirt. Hmmmmmm, with this on people will naturally divert their attention from my holey jeans, wrinkled shirt and bloated tummy up to this hanging around my neck. Mission complete.
10:15 AM ~ I enter church a few minutes late and a bit harried. I am late, that means people have to see me. Deep breath, it's not about me, it's about Jesus. Wait, that girl on stage singing is wearing distressed jeans with a hole in them! No one will notice my pants! Woo hoo!
11:45 AM ~ The guest pastor wore blue jeans and suspenders. No one has even mentioned my attire OR the necklace strategically place to draw attention off of my attire or my body. Whew! No one notices, I was just paranoid that they could hear my evening and morning being narrated just as you have right now. I have once again over analyzed and convinced myself that everyone is keeping tabs on the sick girl. They weren't.
All of that agonizing and paranoia just about going to church or more aptly said, going out in public. Really????? Days like this make me think I actually am crazy!
10 PM ~ I really don't feel like going to church tomorrow. I'm really tired and I really don't want anyone to see me.
10:15 PM ~ The kids have started asking when church will be over before we even arrive at church. Do I really want to deal with that on my own tomorrow (hubby was working this weekend)?
10:30 PM ~ I'm tired, I'll figure this out in the morning but I really don't want anyone to look at me!
Sometime Sunday Morning ~ It isn't all about me, it is all about Christ. I should go to church.
8:20 AM ~ I just want to stay in my comfy workout pants. Do I really have to get dressed and go?
8:25 AM ~ Fine, I'll put on clothes. Hmmmmm, what do you wear when you don't want anyone to look at you?
8:35 AM ~ olive green pants, long sleeve purple t-shirt. no wait, this t-shirt is fitted at the waist and my bloatedness will be obvious! Take off 1st outfit.
8:40 AM ~ I know, the cute blue, black and white shirt with the cute denim skirt. If people are going to have to look at me, I might as well not let them know I'm feeling insecure today!
8:42 AM ~ Wait, that outfit looked hot on me for date night last month. Uh, maybe too hot! Mental note, mini skirt on date with hubby = perfectly acceptable. Mini skirt at church on Sunday morning with all 3 of my kids = not so acceptable
8:50 AM ~ sigh. What can I wear that will not tell people I am insecure and yet no one has to look at me in? Reach for the only pair of non-holey jeans I own only to realize that I wore them when I pulled weeds a couple of days ago and forgot to wash them. They have dirt all over them.
8:55 AM ~ I finally grab the jeans with a hole in the knee and grab a short sleeve summer sweater from the dryer. Oops, forgot the clothes in the dryer for a couple of days so my sweater is wrinkly but I decide I have neither the time, desire or energy to iron.
9:00 AM ~ I look over myself in the mirror, holey jeans and wrinkly shirt. Lovely, just lovely. I grab a fun and chunky necklace that matches my shirt. Hmmmmmm, with this on people will naturally divert their attention from my holey jeans, wrinkled shirt and bloated tummy up to this hanging around my neck. Mission complete.
10:15 AM ~ I enter church a few minutes late and a bit harried. I am late, that means people have to see me. Deep breath, it's not about me, it's about Jesus. Wait, that girl on stage singing is wearing distressed jeans with a hole in them! No one will notice my pants! Woo hoo!
11:45 AM ~ The guest pastor wore blue jeans and suspenders. No one has even mentioned my attire OR the necklace strategically place to draw attention off of my attire or my body. Whew! No one notices, I was just paranoid that they could hear my evening and morning being narrated just as you have right now. I have once again over analyzed and convinced myself that everyone is keeping tabs on the sick girl. They weren't.
All of that agonizing and paranoia just about going to church or more aptly said, going out in public. Really????? Days like this make me think I actually am crazy!
Monday, August 16, 2010
honesty and relapse
I started this out thinking that I was writing to share my story. I have come to realize that I am actually writing because I still need healing. Someone asked me last night what helped me to overcome anorexia. I answered honestly. I don't know because I have still not overcome it. I did struggle earlier this year. I was getting better and had worked my way up to two meals a day. I am currently, however, in the middle of a full scale relapse. I wasn't planning on writing about it yet. How can I write about "through" while I am in the midst of? But this is part of my journey through, so I'm going to write about it as well.
I use my journal for the personal details and the numbers. I'll be specifically vague here. Several people have recently been asking how I'm doing. Some of them know because I needed a safe place to vent. Some know because the Lord has laid me on there hearts and they called to find out what was going on. So I'm going to lay it all out.......
Several weeks ago I started counting calories. In a very short amount of time I had lost enough weight for my husband to notice. The same day that he noticed, I woke up with my ribs aching so badly that it almost hurt to move. He asked me to get help. I called my doctor's office and spoke to my nutritionist. She wanted me to get treated quickly and referred me to an Eating Disorder Center. After 2 weeks they finally got me in. I went in today for my assessment. When my therapist asked me what my goals are for this, I told her my goal is for it to not hurt when my kids hug me. For it to not hurt to sleep in my bed. For it to not hurt when my husband holds me. My bones ache. Deep inside, almost like the flu but inside my bones instead of muscles. Some days are worse than others. She was concerned, very concerned. She said I am showing signs of early stages of osteoporosis and so tomorrow I go in for a bone density scan. I'm nervous.
So here's where I am at right now. My calorie intake is dangerously low. My clothes are all growing too big and my boobs have disappeared. I didn't realize that until yesterday when we went to a pool party. I looked in the mirror and realized that I no longer fill out the top of my swim suit. Apparently they have been missing for a while because my hubby looked at me like I was crazy that I was just then noticing it. I don't know what my trigger was this time, which usually I can tell you instantly what the trigger was. I've reached the point that both my hubby and I realize that this is beyond our ability to fix it. I guess that is the biggest step, right? Realizing that you can't do it on your own.
I'm going to make it through. I'm just still on my journey through. My therapist said I have a lot going in my favor to get better because I have had 7 healthy years. Most people don't, she said. My heart is to help others to not end up walking this road, or to get off of it if they have already started down it. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. It's not a decision, it's an addiction. I have another thing going in my favor. I have an unbelievable support network. No one has degraded me or nagged me about not eating. I love how my one friend put it. If someone had the opposite problem, overeating, you wouldn't ask, "So how much have you eaten today? You haven't had more than 3 cookies today, right?" I already know that what I'm doing is killing my body. Feel free to NOT tell me that. I already know that I need help and that is why I am seeking professional help.
I have had several people ask me how they can support me. Well, feel free to ask me questions, just don't freak out with the answers. Please don't ask me how much or what I have eaten. That makes it much worse. You may ask if I am eating, but please not specifics about food! I could use all the prayers I can get. I know that without the grace and faithfulness of God, I will not ever make it through this. Please don't look down on me or act judgmental towards me. We all struggle with sin. We all battle with turning something into an idol. This is my struggle. It is not more or less than anyone else's struggle. We each fight our own battles, the battle set before us. I'm not fragile. Just because I am having a hard time, doesn't mean that I don't have time for you, to listen, to pray, to be there.
I hope that helps a little. If I think of ways that you can help, I'll let you know. Right now, just pray for me and love me anyway. So I guess I'm asking you to join me on my journey through anorexia instead of hearing the highlights after the journey. I am so grateful that His mercies are new every morning and His faithfulness is unfathomable. I don't understand, but I do trust that He will carry me through.
And one last tiny thing, if you are reading this, give me a shout out! It is always easier when you know who knows what is going on in your life rather than trying to figure out who knows what :)
I use my journal for the personal details and the numbers. I'll be specifically vague here. Several people have recently been asking how I'm doing. Some of them know because I needed a safe place to vent. Some know because the Lord has laid me on there hearts and they called to find out what was going on. So I'm going to lay it all out.......
Several weeks ago I started counting calories. In a very short amount of time I had lost enough weight for my husband to notice. The same day that he noticed, I woke up with my ribs aching so badly that it almost hurt to move. He asked me to get help. I called my doctor's office and spoke to my nutritionist. She wanted me to get treated quickly and referred me to an Eating Disorder Center. After 2 weeks they finally got me in. I went in today for my assessment. When my therapist asked me what my goals are for this, I told her my goal is for it to not hurt when my kids hug me. For it to not hurt to sleep in my bed. For it to not hurt when my husband holds me. My bones ache. Deep inside, almost like the flu but inside my bones instead of muscles. Some days are worse than others. She was concerned, very concerned. She said I am showing signs of early stages of osteoporosis and so tomorrow I go in for a bone density scan. I'm nervous.
So here's where I am at right now. My calorie intake is dangerously low. My clothes are all growing too big and my boobs have disappeared. I didn't realize that until yesterday when we went to a pool party. I looked in the mirror and realized that I no longer fill out the top of my swim suit. Apparently they have been missing for a while because my hubby looked at me like I was crazy that I was just then noticing it. I don't know what my trigger was this time, which usually I can tell you instantly what the trigger was. I've reached the point that both my hubby and I realize that this is beyond our ability to fix it. I guess that is the biggest step, right? Realizing that you can't do it on your own.
I'm going to make it through. I'm just still on my journey through. My therapist said I have a lot going in my favor to get better because I have had 7 healthy years. Most people don't, she said. My heart is to help others to not end up walking this road, or to get off of it if they have already started down it. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. It's not a decision, it's an addiction. I have another thing going in my favor. I have an unbelievable support network. No one has degraded me or nagged me about not eating. I love how my one friend put it. If someone had the opposite problem, overeating, you wouldn't ask, "So how much have you eaten today? You haven't had more than 3 cookies today, right?" I already know that what I'm doing is killing my body. Feel free to NOT tell me that. I already know that I need help and that is why I am seeking professional help.
I have had several people ask me how they can support me. Well, feel free to ask me questions, just don't freak out with the answers. Please don't ask me how much or what I have eaten. That makes it much worse. You may ask if I am eating, but please not specifics about food! I could use all the prayers I can get. I know that without the grace and faithfulness of God, I will not ever make it through this. Please don't look down on me or act judgmental towards me. We all struggle with sin. We all battle with turning something into an idol. This is my struggle. It is not more or less than anyone else's struggle. We each fight our own battles, the battle set before us. I'm not fragile. Just because I am having a hard time, doesn't mean that I don't have time for you, to listen, to pray, to be there.
I hope that helps a little. If I think of ways that you can help, I'll let you know. Right now, just pray for me and love me anyway. So I guess I'm asking you to join me on my journey through anorexia instead of hearing the highlights after the journey. I am so grateful that His mercies are new every morning and His faithfulness is unfathomable. I don't understand, but I do trust that He will carry me through.
And one last tiny thing, if you are reading this, give me a shout out! It is always easier when you know who knows what is going on in your life rather than trying to figure out who knows what :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)