Monsters Really do Exist

When we're little we are afraid of monsters. The ones in closests, under our beds, and out in the blackness of the night. As we grow older we start to realize that these are not the monsters to fear. There are the lucky ones that simply must realize that there are people out there who really are monsters but will never encounter them. Then there are those of us with the monsters inside of us, the monsters who make us do things that hurt ourselves and in doing so hurt those that we love.

The first monster I ever met was anxiety but that is easily tamed with the right combinations of pills, breathing exercises, and support. Anxiety has it's moments when it fights the affects of all of those and reigns supreme but can be controlled with enough focus.

Then, there was depression the monster I refused to acknowledge until it got so ferocious and scary that I finally had to admit that it had teamed up with anxiety and they were both wreaking havoc on my fragile psyche causing me to need find help in anyway I could, even though admitting it was almost as scary as facing it alone.

But then anorexia entered the picture. The scariest monster of all. Anorexia quickly took over, it might have been the newest in the bunch but it didn't take long for it to become the strongest.

The thing with this monster is that there aren't pills to fight it. Anorexia cannot be cured, it can only be fought. Fought by controlling the other monsters and finding strength within myself to defeat it. But I don't know if people understand that this battle is hard. I know it's not impossible but sometimes it feels like it. 

However this monster does sleep. But it is also easily awoken; by certain words or by simply chewing. I do my best not to let It wake up, though that sometimes means not eating. And when the monster does wake up to hear my stomach rumbling It is nice. It is proud of me for being strong enough to resist temptation. 

Because this monster is inside of me it knows every thought, feeling, and action coursing through my body and can tell when I'm about to slip. It knows how to control this, all I have to do is look at those perfect skinny models. The skeletons in clothes I can only dream of wearing. Or if I am unable to pull up any sort of pictures it simply whispers in my ear "look at your thighs, put down the food" "not worth the calories" "do you want to stay fat forever?" Those thoughts send me into panic mode. I scream and cry because there's a part of me, the part that the monster hasn't quite gotten to yet, that knows these are bad. Those thoughts are simply the monsters way of trying to win and I must do everything in my power not to let that happen.

The thing with these monsters is that I don't get a knight in shining armor to help me defeat them. However, I am not alone I am simply the leader. I must use the support and resources I've been given to defeat the monsters. It is hard knowing that I've had to bring all of these people into my war, a war none of us asked to be a part of, but one that I am glad I am not alone in.

So yes, I believe that monsters exist, out in the world and inside of us. But there those, like me, that have an amazing army behind them to help fight and call on when I am in need of assistance. And with any luck I will defeat Anorexia and hopefully take down the other two with it, and once that's done, perhaps I can help others fight their monsters because nobody should have to be afraid, especially of themselves.

 

An Open Letter to Muscle Milk

"If you enjoy feeling dull, overweight and lethargic put this bottle down, pick up that donut and prepare to cry yourself to sleep on the couch, again..."

To whom this may concern,

Seriously? What marketing genius came up with this? I have been that person that has cried because they ate a donut. Or has just cried because they ate ANYTHING and were "feeling overweight", even eating nothing at all can still trigger me to "cry myself to sleep on the couch, again". Granted, the fact that I suffer from anorexia makes a lot of things surrounding food very hard.

Eating a donut should not cause that much shame, a healthy person knows that indulging in the occasional donut should not make them feel that way. Even though I struggle when it comes to things like donuts I know that as long as I don't eat them everyday it's a perfectly acceptable morning companion to fresh fruit and coffee. Not that I eat donuts anyway, but I digress.

My therapist has instructed me to have something protein packed at every meal, but especially in the morning to help jump start my somewhat messed up metabolism. Thankfully, my therapist understands there are times when I just can't handle solid food. Where the act of chewing can cause me more anxiety than the food itself. Because she understands this, she told me that protein drinks are an acceptable replacement and she's just happy that I'm getting nutrients.

Muscle Milk was the answer, half of one in the morning and half of one at some other point in the day or even as breakfast the following day. Then I found Muscle Milk Light and I was ecstatic because it had fewer calories so my anxiety went down even further. I did experiment with a competitor whose shake was a whole ten calories less but the taste was awful and even I can rationalize ten calories for better taste. That was until I saw the back of your bottle.

We live in a day and age where eating disorders are more rampant than ever. It seems each year the age keeps dropping for those being diagnosed with eating disorders, and your product bemoaning someone for eating a donut is not going to change that. Why not put something useful on the bottle? Why not mention that it's a great choice when you're running late and need that boost because it's better than not eating at all? Because eating ONE donut should not make you feel that way but not eating at all will.

I hope this opens your eyes and prompts you to find a new way to market your truly delicious drinks, however, until then I will be unable to continue to support your product or company.

Sincerely,

Miranda Poletti

Puzzle Pieces

It's funny what you find when you look hard enough. I have discovered that no matter the age you're constantly leaving pieces of yourself wherever you go. I drive by the hospital I was born in on my way to school and next to that is the park where I had my first birthday. I don't remember these times but the pictures show a lot. And I can visit those places and feel a sense of comfort.

A family I babysit for lives just up the road from where I spent the first six years of my life; I've driven by old house numerous times. The house is different, very different. 13 years of different ownerships and tragedies change things. Despite these changes I can still see the puzzle pieces left behind; the pool I swam daily in, the carpet I took my first steps and played on, and my room with my first "big girl bed".

For a place I lived in for such a short time I am amazed at the amount of those puzzle pieces I find: the field where we discovered soccer was not my thing (but I was very good at picking flowers), the dance studio where we discovered that dance was also not my thing, the children's museum (my favorite place), probably the worlds smallest zoo, the beach where I played for hours, my elementary school that I visit daily because of babysitting duties, and I am sure there are more at the places I haven't even visited yet. 

Then there are the pieces that stay with you, hidden until a sudden memory brings them bursting out. For me it can happen when somebody mentions a potato bug and I immediately remember the poem my mom used to tell us or while rocking out with the kids to Pandora and Down by the Bay comes on, or, even better, You are my Sunshine which my grandmother sang to me constantly. I find these the most startling pieces of the puzzle to find because you don't know what is going to trigger those flashbacks and feelings, but I so love it when it happens.

I love finding these puzzle pieces, they bring a sense of calm to my crazy world. I love when I drop the munchkins off at school and see that it really hasn't changed. 

By no means have I found myself. I still feel hopelessly lost but maybe by finding the pieces to the puzzle I am slowly finding myself.

Selfish Can Be Good

I made a new friend, one that I'm worried is heading down the same slippery road I'm already trying to navigate. It terrifies me because this is not something that's easy to escape from. During our many talks I've thought about how I wish I could take her pain away and just make it disappear forever. But then I also think about all of the other people that feel this way about themselves or that have any number of illnesses both mental and physical and it makes me sad.

I try to be as unselfish as possible. I try to give all I can and take very little. I would rather solve everyone else's problems before I even think about my own. But sometimes this makes me selfish because I would sacrifice my own health for others to have theirs. I would gladly take any sickness from everyone if it meant problems could be solved. I would happily live my life in pain if nobody else ever had to feel pain. But as thoughtful and unselfish as these thoughts are they are also somewhat selfish. They are selfish because my friends and family wouldn't want me to suffer. And if I'm suffering chances are that they are suffering as well. And so the cycle would begin again with them suffering because I am and me not wanting anyone to suffer.

I know that part of helping others is to also help yourself. I must recover before I can help others do the same. But that doesn't mean that I can't wish things were different. 

I don't know if these thoughts are bad or good but I do know that as selfish as they may be to my family being selfish, at least in this sense, is good.

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.