Breakups, Breakdowns, and Breakthroughs

A few weeks ago I broke up with my scale. And today I broke up with MyFitnessPal, because the number doesn't matter. Or so I tell myself when It screams at me that numbers are EVERYTHING. Breaking up is hard to do. I spent a good 20 minutes looking for my scale before asking my dad where he hid it, turns out it's gone. He threw it away which was actually really relieving because now I know that I won't ever find it. Though I could always go buy a new one and believe me I've thought about it. It's been weird not logging my calories after every meal though so hopefully I can last awhile without re-downloading MFP. I mean I know there are 32 calories in the 20 grapes I consume or 52 in 10 goldfish. But I don't know how many are in the almonds I'm currently eating or that were in the rice/bean/veggie burrito (sans burrito) I had for lunch. Break ups are hard it doesn't matter if you're breaking up with a thing or a person, they're hard and they suck.

Despite these positive break ups I'm also teetering on the edge of a breakdown at any given moment. This isn't a 24 hour feeling, though it can take up a good portion of my day. sometimes I can ignore the thoughts that come along: "you're going to eat ALL of that" or "look at you, eating!" But sooner or later they catch up. And the thoughts that are a sign of a break down come creeping in "you could just purge" or "hey why don't you take all of those pretty pills!" Or my most frequent thought "wouldn't it be nice if my jaw was broken so I don't have to eat?" The feelings that come along with these thoughts are hard to deal with and if I'm at home I take a sleeping pill or three so I can go to bed and not deal with them. I want to cry and scream and throw things but I can't. Those are signs of a breakdown and having a breakdown means I'm weak and imperfect. And I won't have that.

But for every breakdown there is a breakthrough. When I think about purging I think about what happened last time that ultimately made me stop trying. When I think about pills I think about all of the people that would be so hurt if I swallowed them. Getting rid of the scale was a breakthrough and not buying a new one every time I head into the store is a breakthrough. I'm changing my negative thoughts into different ones, maybe not positive, but less destructive. Despite these breakthroughs I still have a lot more and one of the biggest ones is to be able to love myself no matter what I look like. I need to be able to look in the mirror and smile instead of just wanting to cry, and that is a breakthrough I am anxiously awaiting.

Feedback

So if feedback is the breakfast of champions and you give me feedback, doesn't that mean I don't have to eat breakfast? (Totally kidding I will still eat breakfast)

So I know there are at least 3 people who read my blog. They are the ones that email or text me about posts or my therapist who discusses them with me (though we do a lot of texting and emailing I hope she has unlimited messages) but for those of you I don't hear from let me know who you are and what you think. I have so many ways you can contact me:

email: miranda_poletti@yahoo.com

text: yeah right, as if I'd put my number on here. If you know me then you have my number!

Facebook: self explanatory

Twitter: @sleepingbeauuty

I want all comments, negative and positive!

Oh, and in case I haven't told you lately I love you. Especially if you've managed to stick around this long and continue to read my ramblings. And the new friends I've made that know and have recently joined the madness. I LOVE YOU

Honesty is the best Policy

“Recovery feels like shit. It didn't feel like I was doing something good; it felt like I was giving up. It feels like having to learn how to walk all over again.” -Portia de Rossi

I have a habit of being completely honest, so even when I don't want to share just ask the right question in the right way and I will let the truth flow out. As has already happened, I had two coworkers blatantly ask me if I have an eating disorder and one mom admit that she already knew after confiding in her. I guess I'm not quite as good at hiding it as I thought. 

At least being so honest with people, as long as they aren't blood related, means that I can be honest with myself. I can admit that "recovery" is the hardest fucking thing EVER. Things that my therapist sees as "milestones" (i.e. periods, pants being a tad bit tighter, hiding scales, or not counting EVERY little calorie) seem like failures to me. It doesn't feel right, it feels completely wrong. Of course, there's the non-sick part of me that understands some of those were choices I made, not something forced upon me (except fuck you Mother Nature that one thing is your fault and that's from most, if not all girls!)

But here's a list of things I'm honestly terrified of:

•that as well as I've been doing (at least in Jamie's eyes, remember good is bad in my mind) that it could come crashing down at any moment.

•that despite blood tests and doctors visits I've done irreparable damage to my body that's going to haunt me for the rest of my life

•I'm scared that everybody is lying and that stupid monster is the only one being honest. Telling me lies I see as the truth, a pretty web of lies that tell me what I want and need to hear

-And-

•getting better. Why? Because getting better means getting healthy and getting healthy means getting fat. Deep down I know that getting better means that I will no longer synonymize "healthy" and "fat". But I know that these are the changes that are the hardest and last things to change.

Honestly though, I have a great support team, especially my therapist Jamie. We go off on the most random tangents, last session we talked about pole dancing and she tells me stories about her husband and if you know me well you know how much I love a sweet story (even if it's not really "sweet") because I am a total sap (and I proudly admit it!) and love it when it's even a super mundane thing that happened. This maybe isn't how other therapists do it, and I don't know if she even does it with her other clients, but she knows that it's what I need. I need something to lighten the mood and to look back on and smile when I'm having a rough time. And the funniest thing was that I had the hardest time calling her to schedule that initial appointment. I think her and a friend of my dads played phone tag for a week before I finally called and talked to her. OK and since this post is all about honesty I will be honest that I didn't call her until after I had the "genius" idea to Facebook stalk her to make sure she looked like someone with a friendly face. (Jamie, I don't know if you knew that but I guess you do now, but I haven't been a repeat stalker just that one time ;p) Thankfully she looked friendly enough for me to call her and then the best part was after that initial phone call we've texted/emailed and I haven't had to talk to her on the phone! (Though she's making me work on phone calls-ugh) 

The bottom line is this, I am terrified about all of this. I'm terrified that I'm going to fall and end up hooked to an IV. I'm afraid that I'm going to ruin more relationships, I think maybe there's one that's not fixable, before I get better. Luckily, I'm not afraid I'm going to die. I'm afraid of dying, but I'm not scared that's going to happen because mom/dad/dads friends/Jamie/my friends aren't going to let it happen. 

But, honestly, that doesn't mean I'm not fucking terrified.

 

The Future

Everybody always tells me to "think of the future." And I do, sometimes. It's hard though when I'm so bogged down in the here and now.

I'm supposed to think of my future and that what I do to my body now will affect how I feel later. So when my mind is "cured" my body could still show signs of the monster that's currently in control. Not obvious ones but ones that crop up with every doctor administered test. "You have heart damage/kidney damage/bone loss..." Or my absolute biggest fear "I'm sorry, but because of what happened 10 years ago you can't have kids."

I know the consequences of this. I know that if I don't fight as hard as possible I won't be able to have everything I want and more. But thinking of those possibilities also makes the future seem terrifying and mean. Because as it stands for the moment I can't have kids. I'm 22 so it's not super scary at the moment but if I don't kill the monster before it kills me I could turn 32 and not have kids.

So while I do look to the future; recovery, graduation, "big girl" jobs, weddings, babies, and grand kids, I also need to focus on the present because if I don't deal with things that are happening NOW there won't be a future, or it just won't be the one I've always imagined.

So Loved

If I said it once I've said it a million times, I AM NOT DOING THIS FOR ATTENTION! I know how to get the affection I crave without resorting to drastic measures. I know how to make people happy without hurting myself. This is about control and my own idea of happiness. 

You know, I got asked a lot growing up if I was anorexic or had an eating disorder. And I denied it because I thought it was ridiculous, why would somebody starve themselves, let alone "tiny" me who people were already concerned about without needing to be? Thinking back it seems so silly because now I know why people starve themselves and it doesn't matter how small they are.

I don't need to feel anymore loved than I already do. I get so many texts/emails/phone calls from people telling me they love me or that I'm amazing. Obviously I'm not feeling neglected. 

I don't completely understand why this happened and I may never know, medical professionals can't even give a clear cut answer as to why people develop eating disorders.

I can tell you though, that I certainly didn't develop mine because I was unloved.

Scales

There was a point where I would quite literally weigh myself 50 times a day, stepping on and off the scale like I was partaking in some sort of step aerobics. It was comforting to see the number stay the same, or even better, go down. But then there was the panic when by chance the number was up. Sending me sometimes into tears of frustration and feelings of failure.

But on Wednesday my therapist gave me a challenge, to weigh myself once a day, I failed Thursday but only weighed in a handful of times and I did OK yesterday though I did step on and off it a few times but didn't weigh myself any other times after my morning step on, step off routine. But yesterday I also made myself a promise, a promise that I would try and go an entire day without weighing myself, after all my upcoming challenge will be to weigh myself only once a week (do you know how terrifying that sounds?!) Well I saw the scale sitting there, in its place next to the shelf that holds the ungodly amount of beauty products and hairbrushes and bows that I own. And it was so tempting to get on it, and I was panicking because I just knew the number was going to be MASSIVE after all I was feeling quite whale-ish. So I did what any "normal" person would do; I picked up the scale and told my dad he needed to hide it. And the best part was that he just took it. He didn't act like I was being dramatic or silly or anything like that. He simply said he would do it. Which made everything that much easier.

Of course I'm now laying here kind of freaking out because I don't know how much I weigh, though it must be close to 200lbs. But I'm also relieved because what if the number is no longer 101, what if my scale says 102? How would that affect me? I was already skating on thin ice with my low(ish) weight and I was so close to being put in the hospital. I got lucky though, my blood tests were normal. I want them to stay like that. And I sincerely hope that by hiding the scale and getting used to not having it around to mock me and tempt me will help. 

After all, scales only tell a small part of the story.

Over It

"I'm fucking over it."

All of it.

I want to crawl out of my skin. Out of the 101lbs of fat that clings to me and laughs when I stare in the mirror.

I want nothing to do with any of this anymore. I don't want the comments about how skinny I am or how much I eat. I want to be left alone. Completely alone.

I feel judged 99.9% of the time, by my parents if my room is too messy, if I work too much or too little, if I don't do this ONE thing they want. I'm judged by most of the adults in my life for being too thin and not setting a good example. This isn't something I chose, being a bad example is doing drugs and being a whore. I'm starving because I need to be more perfect and I'm trying to be a really good example in a very fucked up way. I'm judged because they think I want attention when in reality I just very much want to be left alone.

I can't be left alone. When I'm alone I get sad, very sad and I need hugs and soothing words. When I'm alone It gets louder and louder saying that nobody is here because I'm not perfect enough for anyone to care. So I guess I don't really want to be left alone, at least for very long.

This isn't easy though. Fighting through this. And at least for tonight, I'm over it. I just want to bury myself in bed and be alone. Unless someone wants to snuggle and play with my hair and just let me cry, that's OK, but I can't talk, not tonight.

Lost

I am a master at getting lost. Not only while driving or attempting to get anywhere I've never been, sometimes even in parking lots. But lately it's more than just being physically lost I feel like I've lost myself as well. I feel like It put me on auto-pilot and when it malfunctioned and I asked for help I was left in mid-air with It pulling me down further and my angels trying to pull me up.

That's why I get so mad that people think I'm choosing this, I would love to be able to turn this off. Because not only am I losing myself I am losing a lot of other things. I can't watch one of my favorite munchkins until I'm better. I can't concentrate in school. I can barely stand up without wanting to fall over some days. And not to mention that not eating makes it easier to get physically lost as well. Turning down the wrong street when you're going somewhere you've been a hundred times or going to the wrong gas station where you know they don't have the "right" coffee.

I'm trying so desperately to stop myself from falling any further and getting even more lost. But sometimes I have to stop because getting back on track is tough, especially when I have so many voices telling me a hundred ways to go.