A Disorder Free Day

My hobbies include, weighing myself and counting calories.

No.

Not anymore.

Those are the hobbies of someone who is sick. But I'm not sick anymore. I'm better than I've ever been. So I have new hobbies. I have new ways of passing the time that don't revolve around food and what I'm eating (or not).

I read. I read all of the great books I used to read. And not all of those books have to do with eating disorders, for a long time those were the only books that could hold my attention. The books were well written, but surrounding yourself with books about the very thing you're trying to fight is probably not the most productive. 

I cook. OK so I started this hobby while entrenched in my disorder but I don't obsess quite as much about making my recipes "skinny" and focus more on making them HEALTHY. And sometimes I don't even go for that, sometimes I make good ol' fashioned chocolate chip cookies, because those are my favorite, god dammit!

Friends. Friends. Friends. I go out on a semi-regular basis. I'm not a party girl or anything, I doubt I ever will be- I'm  positive I skipped that phase. But I don't obsess for days beforehand about what I can eat in the days before, sometimes I can even be SPONTANEOUS about it and go out no matter what I've eaten that day. And there's no talk of my eating disorder because it's not something that my friends have to worry about anymore.

Family. I can see my family on a regular basis because I'm not scared of what I could possibly be fed. Except for meat, I still won't eat that. But that's more of a health thing than a disordered habit. 

I'm back in school. Finally. My disorder made it hard to focus. And hard to take the steps I needed to take to fix the mistakes I had made with regard to school. But I'm back and it's awesome.

Mostly, my hobbies are just me being free. Free to choose whatever I feel like doing that day. To choose and not have to worry about the monster that used to control me getting angry for not listening. 

Being free. That's my favorite hobby of all.

Obviously I'm not there yet. This post is basically my goal. A goal that I hope to achieve within the year. That's right a year. I want to be recovered before the start of 2015. Obviously I've got some work to do but I just know that I will have disorder free days.

Complications

Me: "ouch! I just got a paper cut"

People: "well, you need to eat more"

Alright, this is dramatized for effect. But lately it seems that every time I complain about anything I'm told that my problems could easily be solved if I would just eat. Yes, I have problems that could be solved if I would just eat more. Like maybe I wouldn't always be cold, tired, and cranky. Though, even pre-ED I was always cold, it just affects me more now.

The problem is that eating also creates problems. Internally, of course, but problems nonetheless. Any bit of food sets off this war of anger, shame, and guilt. And quite frankly, I would rather live with those physical problems than be up all night trying to get my brain to quiet down.

Sadly this isn't an option. Because physically I'll get worse and my nutrient deprived brain will convince me it's a sign of strength. And I'll weep with disordered joy.

I'm not even that sick physically, YET. I know I'm headed there. And the scary thing is, people are starting to notice. My managers are constantly asking me why I never get my free meal. Even the two guys are questioning me, and guys are usually somewhat clueless. 

But, sometimes the comments they make are worded in a way that makes my disorder shriek with delight, like yesterday.

My father and I had brunch at the sister restaurant of the one I work at. My GM is also the GM there. I ordered egg whites, tomato, and avocado. My GM was the one who brought the food to our table. She of course has noticed me not eating and constantly tells me to "put meat on those bones" but when she dropped off the plate her comment this time was "scrambled egg whites, tomatoes, and avocado. Do you just not eat? That must be how you stay so thin and pretty"

Ugh. 

Of course, It was whispering in my ear "see, thin DOES equal pretty" and It cackled along while I tried my hardest to even touch my food after that.

And I want to scream and yell at these people to stop talking. Stop talking about what I don't eat. Because what happens when I finally start to pull myself up and start eating again? Are the comments going to switch to "oh look! She does eat!"? And if I'm still struggling up the ladder will that cause yet another slip?

I've contemplated talking to my GM and the less clueless of the two assistant managers about why they don't and won't see me eat, for a while anyway. But that's where the disorder complicates things. My work and family are tied together this time. And I don't want to make things uncomfortable for my father who has meetings with the head chef weekly and I'm worried my managers would say something to my father out of concern. Though, I'm kind of surprised they haven't already.

The more I think about it, the more complicated it seems to get. And not only do eating disorders complicate the present there is also potential for them to complicate the future. But that is a story for another day.

Hugs

One year ago today I met Jamie and my life changed in ways I never could've imagined. And those ways were for the better.

I am a strong believer in fate and destiny. (And a multitude of mushy romantic stuff that has nothing to do with this post.) and I like to think from the day we are born the stars/Fates/whatever have already chosen those we are supposed to meet. But I also believe in free will. Meaning that our choices affect how/when/why we are going to meet these people. Because everyone that comes into our lives teaches us something whether it's good or bad. We are all students and we are all teachers.

As fate would have it I was lucky enough to meet Jamie. My warm/fun/kind therapist who has made a huge impact on my life. If you know me well, you know just how shy I am. For a little while, anyway. You know it's hard for me to open up until I really know and trust you. With Jamie though, the connection was instant. There are very few people I've been that comfortable with that quickly. I mean, sometimes I do get a little tongue-tied but I'm like that with people I've know for years :) 

But the thing with eating disorders is that they change your relationships and rarely for the better. But with Jamie, even as I was getting worse (the first time) our bond grew stronger. And every time I gave up on myself, and felt like everyone else did to, she was there to remind me that I'm not and never will be, alone. And for that I am truly grateful. Even now, as I'm falling harder and faster down that damn rabbit hole, she's fighting tooth and nail to get me to keep fighting. And her encouragement is what is keeping me from completely giving up.

We often joke about how we have "three differences" when it's really probably more like five ;) it's kind of crazy to think just how similar we really are. Of course, this bond makes us wish we had met under different circumstances. And since I believe I was always supposed to meet Jamie, I often wonder how we would've met had I not developed this problem. While I do wish our relationship was not the therapist-client kind, I am thankful she is the one supporting me. I can't imagine where I would be if it had been somebody else.

So, Jamie, this post is for you. My way of thanking you for all of the support you've given me over the past year. And no matter what happens or where my current path takes me. I will always cherish our time together and all that you have taught me. And one day when I FINALLY defeat this monster we will have the biggest celebration, because no matter where I may be currently, I know with your support I will get to the other side of this.

So, here's to a year of progress and changes. And many more (positive ones) to come.

HAPPY THERIP-AVERSARY!

*Hugs*

I Wish I May

OK, close your eyes and make a wish!

I've blown out so many candles over the years. With the voices echoing in the background to make a wish. That part never changes. The place and the people change. Whatever the candle is on is never the same. But the wishes. The wishes are different every single year.

When I was little I would probably wish for a special toy or to get to play longer with a friend. I'm pretty sure I would also wish for that particular day to never end. My wishes were the simple wishes of anyone under the age of 10. 

As I grew older the wishes changed. And I would close my eyes and imagine fame and fortune. Sometimes love and romance. Vain filled wishes of teenagers.

At some point the wishes changed again. Instead of wishing for love or ponies I started wishing for beauty. All I wanted was to be just a tad bit prettier. Maybe longer hair. 

But last year. Last year, when they told me to think of a wish they didn't know I already had the perfect one in mind. So as soon as the voices stopped singing I would extinguish the flames, my eyes shut tight, wishing to be skinnier. Weightless. The perfect size. 

I know I had wished for those things before my birthday last year. But last year just sticks out in my mind the most. 

But this year was different. I've celebrated with different people and blown out candles on top of mousse, cake, even a can of clam chowder. but now when I close my eyes all I can think about is how much I want to recover. It's all I wish for.

Maybe my wish will come true this year. 

I just know that every time I make a wish that voice in my head, the good one, will be whispering:

I wish I may. I wish I might. Have this wish, I wish tonight. I wish to recover.

Liar, Liar

"How are you?" Don't you dare tell her.

"Fine." 

"Hmmm somehow I'm not buying it." Don't screw this up. All you need to do is smile and laugh.

*smiles* *fake laugh* wow, that was pathetic. 

I've never really been one to lie. Ever. I can if I absolutely need to but I hate it. But It turned me into a liar. Eating disorders turn everyone into liars. 

Not only do eating disorders turn you into a liar they also convince you that everyone else is a liar as well. 

It does a good job of convincing me that everyone who is trying to help is really just setting me up to fail. It has successfully convinced me, multiple times, that everyone who tells me they care, don't actually care. It has convinced me they're the ones who want to ruin my life and make me fat and make me fail. They're just jealous of how much closer you are to perfection than they are. 

I know this isn't true. I know that everybody really does care and it doesn't matter to them how perfect I am. But for some reason I have a really hard time seeing that. All I can believe is what my disorder tells me.

Because my disorder lies to me I have to lie to everyone else. During our last session I lied to Jamie. More by omission than anything, but still a lie. We talked about how I can find opportunities to add extra protein or calories in with my meals without adding to the number of times I'm eating throughout the day. I didn't tell her I was purposely not adding calories. I told her my schedule was to blame for my limited intake. But it wasn't. It was because I couldn't eat. And I couldn't eat because I'm counting calories. Because It lied to me and convinced me that I was overeating and if I counted my calories I could see just how fat I was making myself. 

And I did. Over 500 calories? Unacceptable. Count calories to keep yourself in check. Count calories and restrict your intake accordingly.

But Jamie's not stupid. She knew there was something I wasn't saying. But she can't read my mind, though I really wish she could.

It rewarded me though for lying. For not telling the things I needed to tell. My reward was a break from the negative thoughts surrounding how I looked or how much I had already eaten that day. But it wasn't a real break. Because as soon as It quieted down the guilt set in. The guilt for not telling Jamie what was going on. 

Of course I told her and of course she was sweet, she always is. Even though I don't really think I deserved it. Because It made me lie. It made me lie to the one person I should never lie to. 

I hate that I didn't tell her the truth right away. I hate that It convinces me that everyone is lying. I hate It for existing. I hate It for lying. I hate it for turning me into a liar.

I hate that all I can hear sometimes is liar, liar.

Songs Like This

I have a habit of making playlists for every event in my life. Break ups and make ups. Different seasons. I've even got ones for my wedding and songs to share with my children. I've also got a recovery playlist. It's filled with songs that are either motivational or describe how I happen to be feeling. I will either skip every song or just put one on repeat for days.

My current mood is to shift between Into the Ocean by Blue October and Change by Taylor Swift. I will blast both of those songs repeatedly and sing them loudly (not very well I might add) as I'm driving along. Unless I've got munchkins then it's Chipmunk radio on Pandora. The loud sounds drown out negative thoughts and if I'm busy singing I'm not berating myself for whatever I've done wrong THIS time.

Into the Ocean is the most accurate representation of depression and relapse I've ever heard in a song. In the music video the guys even look depressed and at one point there are three creepy ballerinas dancing around whispering and it's like the voices of It and anxiety and depression. Go watch it and you'll see what I mean.

And what is a playlist without T-Swift? She dominates most of my playlists (not so much the wedding one) because her songs are interchangeable, at least in my mid. So when she's singing about the guy that fucked her over I can easily see that as being my eating disorder. And recovery is literally breaking up with the disorder. However, Change is different. It's not about a boy (shocker, I know) it's really motivational and a fabulous song to blast on your way home from another exhausting day.

Of course the playlist has some not so motivational and depressing songs that I listen to when things seem really hopeless. I know things are bad when I put When She Cries by Brit Nicole, Nobody's Home by Avril Lavigne, and Courage by Superchick on repeat. Those are the songs I played over and over again this summer when things were unbearable. If I ever post a Facebook status with lyrics from those songs that's when you should really worry.

The best thing about music is that, even the rockiest/rappiest/metalish music can relax you depending on what you need to hear. And the right song can help make your day.

Despite the fact that I do have this playlist and those songs to help focus me I still feel like I'm losing it and I don't have a ton of faith that I will snap out of this before I wind up in the hospital. I don't want that at all and I'm trying but I'm just not sure right now.

So, I'm going to go blast my recovery songs and hope for the best.

Losing It

I'm scared. Terrified, anxious, panicky, petrified, and more. I can feel myself slipping with every meal I skip, every calorie I refuse to consume. I hate it and I want to hide from the monster that is trying to regain control. He's closer than he's been in a while. 

But I can't hide. There's no hiding from It and the terror I feel. I'm getting so tired of this, of fighting what It is trying to convince me is a losing battle. It tells me there's no way I will win this war. Mental battles shouldn't make me feel so physically exhausted but they do and that exhaustion is sucking the life out of me. 

It convinced me of a new trick, a new way of comfort (as stated in my last post) but most of all it's a punishment. Because if I would just stop eating I wouldn't need to be punished. But I eat and as punishment I must take the laxatives. And let me tell you, they suck. And yet I continue to eat and continue to use them. Jamie knows. I wouldn't tell her for a few days because I am mad at myself for getting sucked in. But I can't stop using them because I can't stop eating. And it's an awful cycle.

I feel like I'm going crazy and I can't look at myself without crying because I've gained so much weight despite the increase in exercise. I just need to sleep for a few days straight. Or get back to my low weight. Maybe that will help. Or so says It.

I know that neither of those are good choices. I know what happens if I figure out how to do both. And it sucks. And I don't know what to do.

I'm losing it and I don't know if I can stop it this time.