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....

balancing the f-bomb

FAT.  Yep, I said it, the f word. It has been a long time since I have really exercised.  I have long felt that my body deserves to be punished and usually when I exercise it is with the intention of punishing myself for something.  I listened to my doctor and to my husband and even to my body and reserved the exercise.  Unfortunately I haven't felt stable enough to trust myself to exercise alone so my exercise has been limited to using the eliptical occasionally while watching football with Hubby. 

I think I'm starting to come into a place where I want to work with my body.  I am starting to see a difference in my motivation to exercise, to be healthy not to punish myself.  This is a good thing and a nice shift.  I'm also a little afraid of the exercise program that Hubby and I are about to begin because though I genuinely desire health this time around, I'm also genuinely very discontent with my body.

Here are the steps I'm putting in place to help guard myself.  I am NOT weighing, measuring or taking before and after photos.  I'm only exercising with Hubby, no sneaking it in after he goes to bed.  That way I can stay accountable to him and he won't have to forbid me from exercise again because I was burning far more than I was consuming. 

I feel fat.  But more importantly, right now I don't feel healthy.  I feel like I have gone the other extreme of hurting myself by not fully taking care of myself.  Instead of hurting my body, I'm just ignoring it.  That's not healthy either.  There has to be a healthy balance, a balance that neither abuses my body nor neglects it.  And someday, I'm going to find that balance. 

truth and humor

There is far too much going on in my brain.  Hubby often tells me that the best way to eat an elephant is one bite at a time.  So I guess tonight the elephant in my brain will be tackled one subject at a time. 

I read an interesting statement on my daily calendar earlier this month that has stuck with me. 

"When we are lost, when we are homeless, 

when we've spent years separated from who we are,

threats of failed hearts or joint pressure don't move us.

Dying does not frighten those who are already half dead."

Ganeen Roth

And there it is, the words I have been trying to verbalize for ages of why knowing that an ed is killing you doesn't make the behaviors stop.  It is because you are already half dead.  We know heart attacks happen, kidneys fail, bodies shut down and yet it isn't enough.  Why?  Because dying isn't enough to scare someone who is half dead.  To be quite honest, living is way scarier than dying when you are already half dead.

And now for a funny picture to deliver a truth that I am trying desperately to internalize.  You can thank one of my Facebook friends for this......

How does she do that??????

I planned on skipping lunch today.  Yes, I am flat out admitting that I had every intention of having a low intake day.  I have been once again fighting the voice in my head (or maybe indulging the voice in my head) that swears that I can both live and restrict.  That voice is trying so hard to tell me that I can still be me, that I can still be a great mom, wife, friend and employee without the assistance of food. 

Let's be honest for a moment, I know the voice is lying and yet I still feel the need to listen when it speaks.  I still feel like I could be the different one, that my disease wouldn't steal from me.  I still feel like if I could be down x pounds before my doctor's appointment that I would be "happy" with myself. 

And then my work friend happens along on the days that I have no intention of eating and she just seems to KNOW.  Once it was a friendly, "Hey, have you taken your lunch yet?"  Last time it was the one I blogged about with a touch on my knee and a "You ok?"  Today it was the offer of splitting the cost of Chipotle.  How did she know?  How did she know that today was the day that I needed to eat, that today was the day I had not one intention of indulging in lunch, that Chipotle was probably the only thing that could have tempted me?

I don't know, but I'm grateful that she brought me out of my head.  I'm grateful that she gave me perspective enough to see the faultiness of the voice in my head.  And I'm grateful that she went and got the food.  God must have known that I needed someone here who could pull me out of my head once in a while.  There is no other reason that I can think of that the only times she has mentioned food to me have been the days that I have really been struggling!

Swearing at Orange

It is amazing how a habit can suddenly become a trigger, a rule, a stumbling block.  I typically have the same thing for breakfast.  There are a lot of reasons, but the biggest ones:
~taste --> yum
~time --> quick
~cost--> cheap

It is also approved by my nutritionist.  It is safe, doesn't produce guilt.  It is easy to fix and easy to eat. Hmmm, did anyone catch how orange that reason of "safe" sounds?  I never had until this morning.

My body wanted something different than my usual and my mind actually recoiled.  I wanted eggs.  I had a full out, swearing battle with the voice in my head.  Suddenly my normal breakfast felt like a "have to".  I was shocked at the intensity of the argument in my head.  I was shocked that eggs didn't feel safe to me.  I was shocked that I felt that it had to be my normal breakfast or nothing at all.

I finally told orange to f*** off and made the eggs.  Then I had to tell her to f*** off again in order to allow myself to eat them.  It was a victory, I made and ate what my body wanted.  It was also a shocking realization of how much power that voice still holds.  It was a sobering awareness that recovery is still a lot of work, even when I am stable.  And it was encouraging to know that I have the strength to stand up to that voice now.  Eight months ago, I didn't.

Logical

                                                      


                                      

There is nothing logical about an eating disorder.  If it were logical, those of us who have had them could easily see the error of our ways and stop killing ourselves.  


Hubby once told me that dealing with someone with an eating disorder is difficult because you have to be rational yourself while acknowledging that the person you love cannot be rational or reasoned with.  Malnutrition messes up every single thing in your mind.

When I was malnourished, I couldn't see how much my actions were effecting my body.  I was constantly in a state of "conspiracy theory", certain that everyone around me hated me.  Even when I finally realized that I was killing myself I couldn't think logically about it.  The logic of my malnourished brain said, "My family is already watching me die slowly.  If I were in a car accident, they wouldn't watch me die they would get a phone call to say I was gone.  It makes more sense than putting them through this."


It made perfect sense to me.  It was logical for me.  But it wasn't rational.  Nothing at all is rational or logical about any addiction, including eating disorders.  Do you know how many times I have heard,  "Why don't you just stop?"


If it were that easy it wouldn't be a disorder.  If I could explain it, I wouldn't have needed help.  If it made sense I would have never been stuck.  If it was logical, I wouldn't still have days that I just don't feel like eating for no reason at all.

I have a friend who is dealing with some pretty serious food demons right now.  And the difficult thing is that her husband is dealing with his own different demons.  He finally acknowledged his demons with this statement, "I guess I should start to stop."  She proceeds to tell me that she doesn't understand that "start to stop" mentality.  When she decides to do something, she just does it.  What does it mean to start to stop?


I smiled and reminded her of the illogical ways that that addictions work.  Do you know you should be eating?  Yes.  Do you know you are destroying your body? Yes.  Then why do you do it?  You know the problem, you can see the problem and yet you haven't stopped the behavior.  Suddenly his issues and willingness to work on them came into perspective.  


Addiction is emotional first and then physical.  Long before our bodies  crave the relief from restricting or purging or alcohol or drugs or whatever the addiction, our minds do.  Our minds crave the relief from the craziness of life, from the pain of our emotions.  We cater to our minds and emotions and then without warning and very quickly the physical body is completely addicted.


It would make sense to just stop.  But in the middle of the addiction, it doesn't make any sense.  To someone on the outside it seems so obvious.  To someone stuck it is terrifying.  To just stop means to have no way to cope with the pain of life.  To just stop takes away the illusion of control that you think you have.  


If making sense of it all were enough, if being logical and reasonable and rational were enough, no one would need treatment centers.  We wouldn't need help.  If being logical were enough, it wouldn't be a disease, it wouldn't be an addiction, it wouldn't be an issue at all.


EATING DISORDERS DON'T MAKE SENSE!  THEY ARE NOT LOGICAL SO PLEASE STOP TRYING TO FIX THE ONE YOU LOVE WITH LOGIC!

Post It note frenzy

Today I sat outside in the sun with my lunch and my thoughts.  The weather was beautiful and the fresh air was needed.  The problem was that  I didn't really want to eat my lunch.  I sat trying to remember why I needed to eat it.  I sent my friend a message telling her that I couldn't remember why I needed lunch.  She sent back the perfect words.  So perfect that I copied them to a Post It note and put it on my computer.

It has been really hard to remember lately why sick was bad.  I keep trying to remember the things I hated about being sick, but much like delivering a child, time has a whiskey effect and it doesn't seem as bad as I know it was.  Orange seems like a comforting friend holding her hand out to me and it hurts to turn my back and keep walking.  I know she can't really comfort me but she keeps promising that she can, that this time she has really changed, that she won't abuse her power anymore.

So tonight I made more sticky notes.  I made more notes of why I need to eat.  I have notes to put in or on that adorable new lunch bag I just got.  I have reasons that eating is important.

How about you?  Anything to add?  What reasons do you eat when you desperately want to avoid food?  Do you write them down?

lunchroom chronicles

I'm trying so hard and I'm so tired.  Office lunch hour I must figure out how to do healthily.  After 2 days of being able to skip the whole horrible affair, today I tested the waters again.  At first it was manageable with the anxiety not being overwhelming.  I made sure to sit with the 2 ladies who were in the lunchroom.  After all, my job is with a Christian ministry and much of my job revolves around cultivating relationships.

Shortly before my lunch time ended, several other ladies came into the lunchroom.  Someone pointed out that everyone had a salad for lunch.  I had already finished, but boy was I glad that I had brought salad, wouldn't want anyone to think poorly of me based on my lunch choices.  And then it started, fat talk.  Diet talk.  I'm not good enough just the way I am talk.

"Are you doing THE diet again?"  "Yeah, but only for ten days."  "I need to do IT again."  "You shouldn't do it, you are supposed to be training and you need the extra protein and calories."  "I'm just going to do it for swimsuit season and then get back to training."  "Yeah, I'm doing it too, I need to lose about 10 more pounds."

The talk was swirling around in my brain and I just wanted to scream "STOP" and run from the room and hide.  I guess I had hoped that working in this office, though filled with women, would be different from other places.  I thought a place of ministry would be my refuge from the storm of orange inside of me.  I so wanted a shelter from the storm, a safe place, a place where orange would be easier to keep at bay.

I guess it turns out that women are women and we all battle this perfect body bullcrap, even in places that should be safe.  My anxiety skyrockets just thinking about lunch tomorrow.  Do I eat at my desk, like I did on Monday, just to avoid the triggering conversation?  Do I keep trying to make friends and build bridges and eat in that lunchroom? 

I've had a hard time wanting to eat anyway but I have been putting one foot in front of the other, making myself stay present and in the moment, and making the choice to eat anyway.  Everything in my head is screaming at me.  I want to say that the voices aren't bothering me, but I'd be lying.  The diet talk in the lunchroom has my head spinning.  I'm wondering what food games will be played here and wondering how I can minimize their damage to a firm and yet very shaky recovery place.

the hard part of recovery

Do you want to know what is hard about recovery?  Believing that an 80 calorie granola bar isn't dinner.  Most people wouldn't even consider that tiny thing a snack, I tried to pull it off as dinner.

Wanna know what's hard about recovery?  When feeling full isn't the same as having enough.  Finding something else to eat while the voices in your head are screaming at you that you've already had something to eat. Needing a glass of wine just to get past the anxiety that dinner brings.  Telling people who love you when you hurt so badly that acting out sounds like the only possible way to make it through.

That is what is hard about recovery.

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!

beyond resolutions

I don't make resolutions.  I used to.  When I stopped making them, it was because I never kept them and then felt the shame and guilt of not keeping my promises to myself.  Honestly now, it just doesn't cross my mind until someone brings it up.  But I do have goals for my recovery/mental health for the year.  See, my goals involve changing the way I think about things. Behaviors don't change unless thoughts change first.  I want to change my thinking.

Things I'm currently working on shifting my perspective about.....

food. Specifically, whole foods.  I have been contemplating for months that our ancestors lived off the land.  They ate potatoes and did not become diabetic.  They ate corn and wheat and other grains without fear of carbs.  Most were farmers and they ate the chicken, cows, pigs and sheep that they raised. They even sometimes had sugar, not agave but real white sugar.  And it didn't make them fat.

fat.  I mean seriously.  I just said that living off of the land didn't make our ancestors fat.  The problem is that with today's standards, they would be overweight.  My Grandfather used to lovingly tell my Grandma that she was "pleasingly plump."  She was never fat or overweight in any way, but she had the curves of a woman.  She had hips, thighs, breasts, healthy curves.  If I could be half the beauty my Grandmother was in her prime...... Oh wait, to be that I'd have to accept that curves are beautiful.

beauty.  Today beauty is defined with a thin and trim body.  Women in general have body fat percentages that have fallen far below what is truly healthy for a woman. We have learned to despise curves.  Either we fear their power, oh so many of us do. ( I know I'm guilty there.  Curves bring attentions.  Attentions sometimes end in violation.)  Or we fear the numbers on the scale.  Or we fear the BMI or the fat percentage.  Or we fear the way we may be perceived by all the other curve haters we are surrounded by.  Beauty used to be femininity, now beauty is strength.  How does one reclaim the beauty of femininity?

love.  I have never earned my husband's love.  I have never earned my children's love.  I have never earned my friends love.  I have never earned God's love.  Simply because that isn't the way love works.  I don't have to earn it.  I don't have to be deserving of it.  I may not feel like I deserve to be loved but whether I believe I'm deserving or not, I am still loved. My perspective needs to be in learning to accept that love rather than to keep trying to earn it.  I cannot earn what has already been given freely.

There you go.  That is a glimpse into my brain.  That is a glimpse of areas that have been deep on my heart recently.  Those are areas that I am changing my perspective about, one truth at a time.  It may take a while but I'm still going to speak the truth.  Maybe someday soon I will believe the truth is for me too not just for everyone else I love.

I play the game

Things are getting under my skin more than normal.  I think it is because being frustrated is about as comfortable as I feel with my anger right now.  Occasionally things will make me angry but not the type of anger that makes me feel scared of my feelings.

One of the things I'm mad about right now is how well I can play the e.d. game.  Yesterday when I was talking with Hubby about some stuff, he was concerned that in taking care of all of the things that need care right now, that I will not take care of me.  But I play the game.  I smile and tell him that won't happen.  All the while knowing that I'm not taking care of myself right now.  I hide my lie well.

Like yesterday when Hubby took me to McDonald's for breakfast, I had the sandwich without even blinking.  Inside I was cringing but couldn't let him know that.  I smiled.  I pretended.  What he doesn't know is that while I faked it , smiling the whole time, that a mocha and a bagel rounded out the rest of my food for the day.  The bagel was a last minute thing simply out of respect for my pregnant friend who I was on the phone with.  Didn't seem fair to her for me to not eat when I know she doesn't feel like it but has to.

And usually my body will give me away but now even my body is playing along.  Rather than losing my sex drive, it has practically doubled.  So he can't tell that way.  When I'm hanging with him, I eat.  So he can't tell that way either.  I'm tired but that isn't really that abnormal.  I am playing my lie well.  I eat, just not enough.  That should make everyone happy right?  I mean they see me eating so they are happy.  And I know that I am not eating as much or as often so I should be happy as well.

But it makes me mad with myself that I hate dishonesty but live a lie.  Somehow, knowing when and what to eat to keep my stomach from betraying my secret by growling has come back as easy as breathing.  Somehow, smiling and pretending has become second nature again. I am doing the minimal amount to maintain.  I'm doing enough to keep questions and worries at bay but I'm not actually wholeheartedly pursuing recovery like I should.

What is the big deal?  Why does food feel like it is the enemy?  Why can't I just get my schtuff together and just do what I need to do???????  My brain can be mad all it wants, it can reprimand me, it can try to tell me it is no big deal.  But my body just can't seem to listen.  That is frustrating.

doctor update

My doctor appointment on Thursday went well and not so well.  I was down another pound, not so great.  My iron is higher than last year, still no where near where I need it to be though.  Ferritin levels below 13 are considered anemia.  Last year I was at 14.  This year I am 16.  I need to be in the mid 60's minimum to have a reserve store of iron that my body can pull from.

At one point she was pondering some of my labs, why some things were low but not others directly linked to those things.  Then she asked it, "So how are you doing with eating?"  Apparently what I had had on Thursday up to that point wasn't enough to be called a meal much less most of a days nutrition.  Aha, it all made sense to her.

When we addressed my weight, metabolism, strength, bmi, and body fat percentage I started to fidget.  She says, "So you are staying within your normal range on all of these things.  That should make you feel happy, right?"  NO!  I told her about accompanying hubby to his appointment and how his body fat percentage is just barely higher than mine which is highly unfair because I am definitely the one who puts healthier foods in my body.  She told me the explanation for that.  My body needs more protein.  When you are not getting enough food to fuel your body, the body retains the fat thinking it will need the fat to stay warm.  My body is attacking itself in search of protein.  My body is devouring my muscles in search of protein and storing the fat to keep itself warm. Having said all of this, she was rather surprised at how well I did on the strength test.

At one point in the conversation she asked me something that I have been thinking about since.  I for the life of me cannot remember what the question was but after I answered one of her questions, she said, "Do you not want to get better?"  Crap!  That was a whole different can of worms.  I honestly don't know.  I do want to get better.  I just don't want to have to let go of this to do it.  How contradictory is that??????  I want to live my life, not just exist through it.  I have amazing dreams of the life I want.  I am also terrified of that life and like knowing that orange is holding my hand and giving me security of the familiar.

The doctor did start me on a new anti-depressant.  It makes me tired but most of them do when you first start them.  My kitchen will tell you in a couple of weeks if the medicine is helping or not ;-) !  We also adjusted my thyroid again because it is still over functioning.  Hopefully in a few weeks, by the time my kids are back in school, I'll be feeling a little more normal.  Thanks for the comments here, the emails and the texts from those of you checking in on me.  I do appreciate the support and accountability.

orange rant

I am sorry for this, but I simply have to give in to a huge orange rant.  Sorry in advance for the bitching and moaning but if I don't get this out of my head and into the open, it will stay in my head and destroy me.

So I went to the doctor today for my physical.  Um, the scale read 1/2 lb less than last time but the new nurse rounds up instead of down so the chart says it is the same.  How in the heck have I had diarrhea for the last week (sorry for tmi) and barely eaten anything the past couple of days and the scale says the same freakin thing it did last time I went in???????  And why in the world would ANYONE round the numbers UP when weighing someone?????  My doctor didn't actually bring up food this time around.  She asked if I wanted to talk about anything else and like a good little liar, I told her no that I'm fine.  She brought up doing a bone density scan but I just had one last August that was ok so we didn't do it today.  I don't think insurance would pay for 2 in one year anyway.  

And then there was the stupid metabolic testing and fitness testing.  The guy typed in my height at an inch below what I actually am.  I mentally completely freaked out!!!!!!!!!  Seriously, that inch means a different way my body metabolizes, a different set of weight guidelines, and who knows what else.  For my body, that inch shorter at the same weight looks so much fatter in my mind.  I know, crazy, right?  That paper inch may not change how I look but it changes how I felt about myself.  I informed him, he remeasured me and corrected it.  Whew!  I did well at the squats, pushups and crunches.  That wasn't a big deal.  But then the waist to hip ratio? Oh yeah, I nearly cried.  Thankfully he wasn't dumb enough to tell me the numbers he measured.  But I had to have a measuring tape around my stomach, and it was a man measuring/touching me.  He wasn't weird or inappropriate, its just that a guy was touching me and measuring me.  I don't want to be measured.  I don't want to know that my body exists in numbers.  And I don't want a member of the opposite sex knowing those numbers.  Oh and my body fat percentage was not at all happy news to me.  Much higher than I like.   

I absolutely hate what I see in the mirror right now.  The closing my eyes in the shower trick hasn't kept working.  I am desperately trying to remember what it was I felt/knew last week when I discovered it.

Orange won, or did she?

At the end of a hot day, nothing sounded better tonight than an ice cold beer with dinner. Orange said no.  Orange won that round for sure, I didn't even argue with her. "You have a physical in 3 days and you are NOT going in there with extra pounds because you wanted a beer!  There will be no beer belly's on Thursday and I don't care what we have to do to make sure of it!" It's not good for me anyway.

I'm not going to lie, there have been quite a few orange thoughts today.  BUT in the area of not giving in to orange, while walking in the store tonight I spotted a display of Pringles near the registers.  I bought a can and who on earth am I because I actually ate some too!

Kinda feels like tug-o-war.  Buy the chips.  Eat the chips, they sound good.  But for the love of all that is holy, don't even think about the beer.  And heaven help me, don't you dare eat a cookie for dessert.  Are you missing the point of having to be weighed in 3 days??????  So orange didn't let me have a beer or a cookie but I told her off and had a couple of chips.  That is progress, right?  I seriously don't remember the last time I ate Pringles.  AND they were good too.  Is that how normal people feel about food?  "Hmmmm, that looks good, I think I'll eat it."  It was such a foreign feeling to me.

I'd be lying if I said that I have no desire to restrict at all.  I hate having to go to the doctor.  The anxiety is ridiculous.  I'm not anxious that something is wrong.  I'm anxious that I have to hear the "how are you doing with your relationship with food?" conversation.  It seems that if I say I am sucking at dealing with food, that I'd be lying but if I say that I am enjoying food and doing well, I'd also be lying.  Being at an ok, kinda-stable-but-not-the-best place makes me want to avoid my doctor.  Ahhhh, the irrationality of orange.  I want to be either sick or better, not somewhere in between when I talk to my doctor.  Sick is easier to obtain, and as a result, sick thoughts have been having their way with my brain.

Now thankfully, I don't always have to give in to the sick thoughts.  I can choose to keep putting one foot in front of the other, and usually I do.  I'm just tired of the thoughts being disordered.  I'm tired of doing the next right thing. I'm still doing what I should, I just am ready for the day when it is more than a should but also a want.  Like that glimpse I had tonight, I feel like chips, I'm going to have them.  I want a bunch more glimpses of that kind of freedom and for food to be a want not just a need/should.  I want the mental struggle to be over.  And I really want my physical to just be over too!  My anxiety levels will go down so much when it is!

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.

still fighting

Just out of curiosity, how long does one have to fight to be the army that battles 5 minutes longer than the enemy?  Someone further along in recovery than I am, please tell me, how long is the battle intense?  Do you ever get to a point that each day is not a purposed choice to pursue recovery?  Is it going to become second nature to take care of myself or will this be a daily decision for the rest of my life.  I'm still fighting.  I'm still choosing recovery.  But I still have to make a conscious effort every day.  Some days the food battles are not as bad, some days they are horrendous but they are still there EVERY day.  
Is it going to get easier or should I just prepare myself for the endless war?  Just wondering.......

orange or not orange, that is the question

Overall, I am in a fairly good place right now.  Come on, today I bought new shirts AND I had a piece of cheesecake tonight with hubby.  To shop and eat in the same day is a good place :)   And somewhere in the back of my mind the orange voice talks again.  Getting healthy me is enjoying that I can enjoy life again.  Sure there are rough times but I can feel again, I can talk to my hubby again, I can play with my kids again, I can concentrate and read again.

And yet I hear that nagging little voice in the back of my head wondering how much weight I can lose before my physical next month.  Orange (aka anorexia) is telling me that she misses me.  Orange is wondering why I've not joined her for our summer rendezvous.  Orange thoughts are torturing my trying to be healthy brain.  Orange is trying to promise that it could be different.  Orange wants me to not have hips.  Orange despises that I have the pooch that all women have where our reproductive organs are.  Orange is fighting hard to be heard. 

I guess that means that I have to fight harder to not listen.

e.d talks in orange (previously titled: ahhhhh, much better)

Ok, now that my everyone in my house is sleeping peacefully and I can think straight instead of just having random emotions dive bomb me sporadically, I'm back.  My house is quiet, my beer is not quite cold but not warm either, and my brain is focused.

This morning was the follow up to the thyroid check I had 2 weeks ago.  I stepped on the scale, facing forward, confident that I was going to be ok.  The number wasn't actually too scarey.  I half smiled.  Then e.d spoke.  "You know, that number isn't too terrible.  It is only a pound higher than your desired weight and 6 pounds higher than your ideal weight.  That would be easy enough to get rid of."  Wait, where the heck did that voice in my head just come from.  Wasn't I just ok with the number a moment ago?  I had just half smiled because I knew my doctor wasn't going to scold me.  I knew this number was still within my acceptable range.  But for a moment, e.d. told me it wasn't actually an acceptable number.

So then there was actually seeing the doctor.  She was going over my thyroid labs, explaining them to me.  She informed me that we have over-corrected my thyroid and now it is functioning too high (and for anyone out there with endocrinology experience, I do know know that running "high" is actually a lower number and running "low" is a higher number!) .  Grrr, come on body, find your balance!  She asked me a series of questions, the first being, "Have you had any unexplained weight loss?"  Well, yes, now that you mention it.  I did ask my hubby just yesterday if he thought I had lost weight again.  My shorts that fit well just last week were pretty loose this week.  He said he thinks I have, but said I don't look unhealthy at this point.  She concurred.  I am down ____ lbs since March.  She isn't worried.  I'm still within healthy range, though on the lower end of it.  She said it is because my thyroid is running so high right now.

So we are decreasing my dose of thyroid meds, which I'm actually glad about.  I was so jacked the past few times that I have had a thyroid test, that my dosage had gotten high enough that it required 2 pills because I had exceeded the highest dose they make.  I do not mind going down to just 1 pill.  Then e.d spoke.  "You do know that when your thyroid balances out and quits being hyperactive that you will gain weight, don't you?  You know, you could keep taking the full dose.  She would never know unless you told her and then your weight wouldn't go back up."  E.d. lies.  My body won't properly use the nutrients that I give it if I let it continue out of control, and yet e.d tried to tell me that wouldn't be a big deal.

*****in case you are wondering, the voice of e.d being in orange is not a coincidence.  orange is probably my least favorite in the rainbow.  E.d's voice is the color I like least so that I can actually see how much I dislike it!  Yes, my logic is interesting, but it works for me :)

I don't think I actually was able to acknowledge how far I have come until I spoke with the doctor.  It was encouraging to be able to look her in the eye when she asked me questions.  It was encouraging to hear her comment on the difference in me in the last year.  I'm actually making progress!  Yay for progress!

The other things of the day weren't as big as they felt earlier.  I am still discouraged in the taking care of the house aspect though.  I need someone who can help me get through this, someone who can teach me and not judge me at the same time.  In a perfect world I would have someone who was both a professional organizer and a therapist all in one who could help me clean up and deal with whatever the issues are that are contributing to my chaos.  Oh, yeah, and their help would be free because we cannot even afford ANY extras right now!

It is hard knowing there is a massive perfectionist in me when I look around.  Earlier, when I was over the top upset, all I could think of was, "I can't even be a perfectionist right!  What is wrong with me?!?"  Only I would think such a silly thought.

So that was my day.  On a side note I may soon be employed by someone who pays me with real money instead of hugs and kisses.  Now, don't get me wrong, I love getting paid in hugs, kisses, colored pictures and "I love you mommy!" 's, but to be able to contribute to our financial situation and still get to spend most of my day with my boys sounds wonderful.  I'll only tell you more if I get the job (I don't care if it is nearly for sure, I'm not talking about it until it is really for sure!).

On another side note, this morning I told my doctor how much you all have played in my recovery.  The support I feel when I'm overwhelmed, having a rough day, hating my body, or crying when I eat is unparalleled.  I'm guessing that a bunch of people who have affected my story, don't even know I exist.  Not only do I get great encouragement from you guys, I also find that those you follow give me great encouragement as well.  You guys are an amazing support system and I love you all!  Thanks for making the journey of recovery as pleasant as it is possible for it to be.

terrified

I have a thyroid check on Tuesday.  I'm not worried about the needle, I'm worried about the scale.  I spent YEARS to find a doctor that I really like and I'm not willing to lose her.  That said, going to the doctor's office where I was diagnosed with anorexia makes the scales really feel like a competition.  I should just stand backwards on the scale so I don't see the numbers but I don't know that I have the strength to do that.  Even if I don't look, the nurse is not even remotely secretive about it and I always see her writing the numbers and the +/- lbs down on my chart for my doctor. 

Though I want to hear that I am still at a healthy weight, there is a part of me terrified to hear that exact thing.  Why do unhealthy numbers appeal to me so?  I don't think they are beautiful but they are so compelling.  I don't like the emaciated look and yet the thrill of the chase makes me want it.  I want to be perfect and I want to be the "perfect anorexic" which I never was.  I consumed way too few calories to be healthy and yet I would read of others consuming less and I would wonder what was wrong with me that I was getting 100 more calories/day than that girl.  Why couldn't I be perfect at depriving myself? 

I may be rambling now.  I am emotionally worn today and this post is evidence of that.  I am conflicted greatly between the desire to be healthy and enjoy my life and the desire to be disciplined and perfect and starving.  The battle is raging in me today.  This exact moment, there are three angelic faces upstairs who need a mamma and an amazing man who needs a wife and that is my sole motivation for even trying to fight this battle right now.  This exact second, they are my only reason to not give in to the illusion of comfort that not eating brings.