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.

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.

forgiven

Obviously on Monday I blew it big time.  Yesterday was only slightly better.  I spent my morning feeling sorry for myself.  I spent my afternoon feeling guilty.  Food was not high on my priority list.  I was too busy beating myself up for giving in to my addiction.

See this is how orange works.  Doing well.  Doing well.  Then the voices.  You really don't deserve that nice meal that you just had.  Food is for sustenance not for fun.  Your husband shouldn't have spent the money to buy something special for in house date night.  It is frivolous.  How dare you enjoy that food?  You don't deserve to be taken care of.  You don't deserve to eat. The lies keep attacking until finally in a sheer panic, I give in and try to purge.  Maybe purging will shut them up. But it doesn't.

Then the next morning when I cannot swallow without feeling raw scratching in my throat, I realize what I've done.  And the voices start again but this time even more accusatory.  Look at yourself!  Look what you've done.  You know better than this.  What is wrong with you?  You're a worthless piece of sh*t.  You spent your night trying to get rid of food that your body needed.  If you aren't going to try to keep it down then why on earth should you eat it?  You have to pay for last night.  No you can't have breakfast.  How can you trust yourself to not go running to the bathroom to get rid of that breakfast?  No, better to not eat, at least until you can trust yourself again.  See, it's true, you are not capable of recovery.  You will always mess it up.  Just give in to it.  You aren't going to beat me so why not just surrender to me? Just let me destroy your body.  You are stuck.  You are mine.  You will never be free from my grip.  Even when you think you want something else, I will always be here waiting to hold your hand and take you back.

The lies of orange attacked me so viciously that I couldn't hear anything else.  I shivered my way through a miserably cold night at work.  I joked with my customers that it was ok that it was only 54* because shivering burns calories.  Who needs exercise when you work in an icebox?  They laughed.  I ached that I had seriously just said that.  I had hoped for time with a good friend after work but in God's grace and wisdom, she didn't get my message asking if I could come over for a bit. 

I decided as I neared home to turn on the radio.  Once again God used music. The only song I heard before arriving at home was Forgiven by Sanctus Real.

I love the end that says, "When I don't measure up to much in this life, Oh I'm a treasure in the arms of Christ."  See that is the amazing part of grace.  I blew it.  But God gently calls me back.  He reminds me that I don't have to carry the weight of what I've done because He has already carried it. As I thought of this, I remembered a verse that was very dear to my heart during my first go round with recovery.

Micah 7:8 (NIV)

  ⁸ Do not gloat over me, my enemy!
   Though I have fallen, I will rise.
Though I sit in darkness,
   the LORD will be my light.

Though I have fallen, I will rise.  Though I gave into darkness, the Lord will be my light. I blew it but He redeemed it.  I can't say I'm feeling perfectly fine right now.  But I can say that I am allowing God to minister to my pain and my guilt and my self condemnation.  I don't know how to do this but I do know that God knows how to carry me through this.  I know that His grace is sufficient to cover me.  I know that sometimes the lies will win in my heart but I know that His truth is bigger and can break through those lies.  If I know nothing else, I know this
HE IS FAITHFUL.

afraid

I haven't had enough to eat today.  That is a statement, not a question.  The old habits are hard to war against, they pull against my soul with a fierceness I cannot explain.  I need to go have dinner but I'm afraid to.  I don't even know what I am afraid of.  Afraid I might get better?  Afraid I might live my life? 

OR

Afraid I might like the taste of food?  Afraid I might never stop if I start eating?  Afraid that I will lose the thing I can control?  Afraid that I might have to feel my feelings?  Afraid that I might have to acknowledge my inadequacy?  Afraid that I might not be worth the effort I put in to recover?

** K, I needed to hear you say I was weary while I was writing this post.  I was looking for scripture reference about being weary and this is the one that jumped out at me.

Isaiah 40
²⁶ Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens:
   Who created all these?
He who brings out the starry host one by one
   and calls forth each of them by name.
Because of his great power and mighty strength,
   not one of them is missing. 
 ²⁷ Why do you complain, Jacob?
   Why do you say, Israel,
“My way is hidden from the LORD;
   my cause is disregarded by my God”?
²⁸ Do you not know?
   Have you not heard?
The LORD is the everlasting God,
   the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
   and his understanding no one can fathom.
²⁹ He gives strength to the weary
   and increases the power of the weak.

still fighting part 2

Thank you ladies for your kind words and encouragement on yesterday's post.  I know it gets easier.  I read once that it takes 7 years to be considered "recovered" from an eating disorder.  I had my 7 healthy years and now I battle again and it sucks!  My first recovery was gradual, to the point that I cannot honestly say what or when the turning point was.  I think I got so used to making the right choice that one day I realized I hadn't thought about making the right choice in a while.  Those were good years.

I must also give some credit to my kids.  Unlike many with eating disorders, I was thrilled with the prospect of pregnancy.  Nearly 2 years of trying, one of those years being spent regularly in a fertility clinic, when finally the test came back positive.  I was so relieved and thrilled that I was finally going to be a mom, the only thing I had always known that I wanted to be, that it was easy to take care of me for the baby growing inside of me.  And there is a distinct beauty about a pregnant woman.  You don't see fat, you see life (at least I do).  Anorexia stayed at bay for a long time.

When I was pregnant with my 3rd I dealt with severe depression.  My husband had just started working overnights, had been diagnosed with a medical condition and I found out I was pregnant all within 2 months time.  I thought my depression was purely hormonal but in looking back through my journal from that time, I realize that hormones made the emotions worse but surely didn't cause them.  Before my doctor put me on anti-depressants, I had to remind myself that my baby would suffer if I stopped eating.  I was so stressed and lonely and depressed that the struggle came to the front of my mind again, after 7 years of being healthy. 

I got through the pregnancy and infant days.  Two summers ago we had an emergency room trip every month, one of which ended with emergency surgery and hubby off work for 2 weeks to recover.  The stress was insane.  The money was so tight that I felt like I could barely breathe.  I felt guilty eating enough to get good and full.  I felt like I was taking food from my kids if I ate.  Someone heard me say that and grocery gift cards came pouring in.  I ate but it was starting to cross my mind again, a lot. 

Last year I started to struggle again, but this time for real.  I started having nightmares again.  I haven't had them as badly as I used to in a long time.  The nightmares were often and once again my husband was waking me up as I cried and thrashed so that he could hold me and comfort me.  I tried to get back on track.  It was really hard.  I made it back up to 2 meals a day and then WHAM relapse hit me like never before.

Last summer I was drinking a Starbucks when suddenly I remembered someone telling me how many calories were in my drink.  I completely freaked out and restricted like I never have before.  I started examining every calorie.  I told my husband he was trying to kill me when he accidentally brought home 2% milk.  I went insane.  I quit drinking coffee because the cream or milk were still too many calories for my disordered brain.  I love coffee so this kinda scared my hubby. 

Long story short, I was healthy.  I used to know how to take care of myself.  I relapsed HUGE after the time that I should have been considered "cured".  And it is daily a struggle to remember how to take care of myself again.  I wonder if I can hit bottom so hard after 7 years of "sobriety", will the fight ever really be over?  Like for instance this morning my taste buds asked for chocolate.  Orange got mad that I wanted chocolate and said that I shouldn't have anything at all to eat.  She kinda felt like I should be punished just for even thinking about chocolate.  My healthy part of my brain settled the debate with cereal that vaguely has the texture of cardboard.  At least I ate, right?

That is why I ask questions about if the battle gets easier.  My mind and body were warring.  My healthy mind won but my body still didn't get what it wanted which was chocolate.  But orange didn't win either so I guess that is a step in the right direction.  I get tired of having to think about it.  It shouldn't be a struggle just to eat.  I shouldn't beat myself up when I need to take care of me.  It really is ok for me to eat, shower, paint my nails and do something for me.  I just wish I could convince orange of that.  I wish that she would quit telling me that I don't deserve to be taken care of.

Thank you again for your support.  I know one day it will all sink in to my thick skull and reach my brain.  I know it will get easier, I just wish it would happen sooner.  And until that day I will just keep fighting and let the Lord be my strength.

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 :)