7 almonds a.k.a. screw the new health class

I swear that if I hear one more person tell me that you can only eat 7 almonds for your liver to function properly, that I will scream!  If I hear one more conversation in the lunch room about sugar grams, fat grams, appropriate forms of protien, I may pull out all of my hair! But hey, at least I could make bald a new fashion statement, right? 

I think that for the next 6 weeks of this stupid health class I will be enjoying lunch anywhere but the lunchroom!  Sitting at my desk with my oatmeal and facebook suddenly seems like the best option EVER.  I want to scream at the top of my lungs.  I want to tell people that sometimes there is such a thing as "too healthy".  I want them to know that sometimes people like me take knowledge of health and distort it and use it as a weapon against my body instead of a tool to help my body.

I still read labels.  I still refuse certain ingrediants.  And I also am trying really hard to balance that with moderation.  You know, the kind of moderation that says it is ok if someone brings in cookies to work to have one in spite of the fact that there is no label for me to read.  The kind of moderation that that knows that homemade veggie lasagna is still a healthy option, even though it has noodles in it.  The kind of moderation that has lacked in my life for a while now.

For the record, work is very orange enabling right now.  I could count my almonds like they recommend, or I could trust that my nutritionist knows what she is talking about when she tells me that 1/4 cup is a serving and to not measure or count but instead trust my intuition.  My health depends on trusting my nutritionist right now and not letting other voices interfere with the plan that she has laid out for me.  That is so much easier to say than to do.

memories on the verge of darkness

It's there.  It's on the verge of my consciousness.  It wants to be dealt with.  I have no idea what aspect of it still lingers to be dealt with so I keep stuffing it.  I don't want to deal with it.  I don't want to feel it.  I don't want to think that those little things that have been randomly triggering it could be the Lord's gentle leading to let Him heal that part of my life.

It is so much easier to just keep it compartmentalized.  Well, not really in the long run, but for the part of me that knows the huge sopping puddle I become when these things surface, it is easier.  It is easier to set it to the side than engage in the feelings that have been threatening to surface.

So there you have it friends.  I know that when small things start triggering, and when my dreams contain multiple re-tellings of things I want to forget, that at some point I will either choose to face the feelings or I will run and hide until the feelings overcome me.  It will happen.  I've never actually chosen to face the feelings.  I usually let them hunt me out and destroy me for whatever their time frame for healing is.

So maybe this time will be different.  Maybe because I see it on the horizon, I will not need to hurt to the extent that I have in the past to heal.  I say that with a laugh.  The pain isn't in if I allow my feelings now, it is in allowing feelings I haven't ever allowed myself to fully feel.  I don't look forward to healing.  I don't look forward to rebreaking a bone to allow it to heal properly.  I don't look forward to the pain on the horizon.

Right now, I'm still running from it, hoping that this time I can outrun it.  Right now I will continue to stuff it all down and go about my day to day.  I still have to go to work.  I am still a wife and mother.  Those things don't get to be put on hold when I feel, though God knows I wish they could.  And when the day that I know is coming does indeed come, could you still love me and hold me up and encourage me that the pain won't last forever?  Would you remind me that God will carry me through the darkness, that He won't leave me, and that this will bring about healing? 

sometimes ignorance IS bliss

Thank you my dear friend for helping me fight today by feeding my family.  We are all grateful, me beyond words. 

Words fail me in trying to describe the battle inside of me.  I want to explain but it doesn't make sense.  Maybe it is better to stop trying to explain.  My thoughts are scary, vocalized they become terrifying. 

Emotional

                                               

 I have always been emotional, very emotional. I also grew up in a home where being emotional was bad.  I tried so hard to not be emotional.  I tried to keep all of those emotions inside so that I wouldn't get in trouble for having them.  The harder I tried to not feel my emotions, the more depressed and angry I became.  And when I say angry, I mean seriously rage filled.

As an adult finally facing the past, there have been a lot of emotions.  I've blogged about this before but there have been times that I have had to feel some of the pain of my past and I thought the emotions would carry me away.  I thought they would kill me.  I had bottled the tears for so very long that I was convinced that I would never stop crying if I started.

The flow of emotions started at an intensive therapy weekend.  Our assignment was to cry.  Yep, cry.  I thought they were crazy.  I curled up under my blanket and made myself cry.  As I cried I felt things I had never before felt.  The words I found myself saying were, "Why wasn't I worth protecting?"  And I mourned not so much the loss of innocence but the feelings of being too insignificant to protect.

Since that point I have really actually had to feel some of the things I have run from my entire life.  Just this past fall I ran into something I had been running from since I was about six.  I thought feeling this was going to kill me.  It hurt more than I have ever hurt before.  I didn't think the pain would ever end.  I know why I use my eating disorder for comfort.  When I focus on my food, on my body, I have something tangible to concentrate on.  I can avoid feeling when I am restricting.

It took every ounce of my strength to stay in the moment and keep feeling that.  Every instinct said to run hard and fast from that intensity of pain.  I don't actually understand how it happened, but when I stayed present in the pain, I made it through the pain.  It didn't kill me even though for days I thought it would never end.  And now that memory is a memory, not a flashback.

I still struggle with staying present when I have big emotions.  My first instinct is to restrict, to not feel them.  Some of the things I have to face come with a lot of pain but now I know that the pain won't kill me.  I know that if I cry, eventually I will stop.  If I hold back my emotions they only get stronger and then they come out on their own without my permission in the form of horrible, angry, awful ways.

It is ok to feel.  It is good to feel.  It is ok that I am extremely emotional.  It is how God made me (for you Miers/Briggs people, I'm an NF, emotional to the very core of my being).  My emotions won't kill me and eventually, feeling them will bring healing not more hurt.

even though I walk through the valley

I'm up past bedtime but I can't seem to make myself go to bed.  That should be fun tomorrow for work.

I woke up with part of Psalm 23 going through my head.

even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, 

I will fear no evil, for you are with me;

your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

Those words have brought me comfort all day.  I have been really depressed lately.  I want nothing more than to hide under a blanket, curled up in a ball, and never come out.  And it has been a bit scary, to be honest.  I have a new job that I enjoy but I don't want to go to.  I have things that have to be done and all I can think about is when I can be alone and have no responsibility. 

I guess I would say I've been walking through the valley of the shadow of depression.  But I was reminded that He is still with me, even in the valley.  Today was a difficult day.  Mother's Day usually is but today was weird on top of all of the emotions going on inside of me.  I didn't feel like going to church, it meant having to pretend to be social and ok.  I went anyway, my friend was coming to pick me and the kids up for church and I wanted to be there for her. 

At church I was holding her two year old son and was asked by an older lady if I was grandma.  Yes, I did say grandma.  Seriously?????? I do not look that old! This year for Mother's Day the pastor gave the opportunity for people to say a quick word regarding a mom in their lives (their own mom, a mom important to them, their wife, etc).  Person after person stood up and talked about the love and support that their moms gave them.  And finally I started to cry.  My mom has never been the one who I feel will support me no matter what.  She has never been the mom who I can call when I've had a bad day.  She wasn't even someone I could call earlier this year when I was so sick that I could barely move for two full weeks.  Sometimes a girl just needs a mom, but when I need a mom, it isn't MY mom that I need.

Though I love that I get the privilege of celebrating with my own sweet children, Mother's Day is still a difficult day.  It is a day of remembering the years of longing for a child and wondering if my arms would stay empty forever.  It is a day of remembering that I have never had and likely never will have that soft, warm, accepting relationship with my own mother that I have so longed for.  It is often a day of feeling inadequate. 

This afternoon at the grocery store, I ran into an old acquaintance.  I had worked with her husband many years ago and been "friends" with her by default through working with her husband and being friends with him.  She informed me that she was leaving him.  Then she told me that she hasn't told him yet and that he will take it hard.  I didn't want to hear any of it.  Sigh, happy mother's day to me.

I was constantly reminded today that even though I'm walking through a valley, He is with me and He brings me comfort.  Today was a day that I needed comfort.  It was no accident that it was Psalms that was echoing in my brain from the very moment I woke up.  I want nothing more than to isolate and never speak to anyone again.  I want to curl up in a ball and cry for hours on end.  And somehow, someway, God is going to carry me through.  Somehow, someway, He will bring me comfort in the midst of the valley.

***** there was an upside to my day, not to sound like it was a completely horrible, awful, terrible, no good, very bad day.  My oldest son made me a necklace out of beads.  He worked so hard on it and did a great job.  My middle wrote me a book in which he told me that he loves me more than turtles (which if you have ever met this kid you would know that to say he LOVES turtles is a huge understatement) and that he loves me more than McDonald's.  I'm pretty sure that a child cannot possibly love more than that!  And my baby made me a card and a bookmark. I did enjoy my time with my little family, even in the midst of depression.  I'm so blessed that out of all the women God could have given these sweet boys to, He chose me to be their mamma!*****

not ashamed

Lots to say and yet my bed calls my name.  So I will make this one short and to the point.  I have realized over the past week that while I still struggle with this body that I call home, I am starting to realize that I like who I am.  For the first time in my life I am feeling unashamed of who I am.  I have used that voice I've found to simply say, this is who I am and it's ok that I'm different from you.  I think I kinda like this feeling.  It is freeing to not feel obligated to pretend.

I lied again

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

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

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

handling it

Hubby asked me yesterday how I was handling everything with my parents right now.  I smiled and said, "Oh, I'm not.  I'm not even trying to handle that right now!"  He is wise.  He already knew that answer but gave me the chance to tell him anyway. 

It is nearly Thanksgiving.  I have to spend time with them on Thursday two different times and then again on Friday.  I don't need to keep digging into how I feel about them right before having to smile and pretend everything is just peachy.

So I pretend anyway.  I choose to not dig up or handle how I feel.  It is still pretending.  But it is a different type of pretending.  It is pretending that something is not there rather than pretending that something is fine when it isn't. 

I ate 3 times today.  Not huge meals but still, it was food.