I have been without a dietitian for a while now. It had to do with a mess of insurance stuff, but honestly, I could have gotten a dietitian. I didn't want one. I didn't need one anymore....
My therapist says there are a million red flags flying and that if I don't get an RD within the week, and things don't improve I need to step up in care. I decided to have an assessment for intensive outpatient back at my old treatment center. And then I changed my mind and canceled it. Oh and then I didn't make the RD appointment, so I canceled therapy. Nice work there ED.
I'm tired.
Stressed.
Depressed.
I kinda don't care right now.
I'm a failure at recovery. A failure at my disease. Almost everything I have attempted has been thwarted by a mess of mental illness. College seemed promising, vibrant.... I am wicked smart but certainly not immune to drowning in bipolar disorder. To repeated hospitalization. And I somehow wasn't smart enough to even know I had an eating disorder through all this cycling up and down, making best friends with a bottle of white Zinfandel, dieting to loooooooooow weights. Why? Because for some reason no matter what number I hit, there was fat still covering my body. Normal? Sure. For other people.
Just eat. You need to. Seriously. The fact you don't want to is just the eating disorder.
Ok, I'll eat a salad.
No. Eat something with calories. A salad with one teaspoon of olive oil is not a meal.
YOU DON'T NEED TO. IT WILL BE TOO MUCH.
You realize you don't need to lose weight right? You need to gain it, technically.
Ok. After I lose 5 lbs.
I know you're reading this and thinking, "What the ever-loving fuck?????"
This is life in my head. 24/7. It's almost Christmas. Too bad eating disorders don't take holidays, and too bad my eating disorder voice is relentless at the moment. And part of the reason I just let go sometimes is not because I want to, but rather because I need relief from the anxiety that comes from being unsure.... I need that ever-present noise to dissipate as it does when I eat less and exercise more. And then I feel great about my "accomplishment" until suddenly the world is crashing in on me and all I wish is for someone to hand me a meal plan. I figure out how to get myself back on food, or I don't, and I'm re-fed by someone else. Repeat. Did I mention I'm tired?
The decision I come to is wildly variable. But it never, ever feels "successful" to eat enough. Restricting is always more disciplined. I ate my son's birthday cake. And ice cream. Someone said "good job". I made that cake. I knew how many cups of sugar and sticks of butter went into that cake. I did a nutritional analysis of that cake and knew how many calories were in it. That was no success. I tried telling myself the success was eating the cake in front of my children and not showing them disordered behavior.
Ok. That I could buy. And keep trying for.... And eat at least breakfast and dinner. That's better than before. They say even when you slide back you don't lose what you have learned the times you fought to get forward. This is true I suppose. I used to REALLY BELIEVE a whole arsenal of bullshit that I no longer do... Post workout snacks do not negate the workout. Doing intense exercise undernourished is really fucking dangerous and can give you a heart attack. You really can be too thin.
But there are those things I know to be true, but only for other people. There are no bad foods. True, but I need to eat nothing less than perfect. If that's not available, eat nothing at all. It took nine months to gain the baby weight! Give yourself at least nine months to lose it, I proclaim to other women. Not me though. I was back at the gym two weeks postpartum. Oh except for the two back to back pregnancies where I was totally legitimately overweight for the first time in my life? I disgusted myself. I knew the relapse would happen though. So I waited. I pondered. And finally went on a diet anyway.
It was on.
And three years later it will not stop. There's no getting off this train. At least that's how it seems.
Showing posts with label truth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label truth. Show all posts
Friday, December 19, 2014
Thursday, October 2, 2014
You Are Enough
I have not had anything to say in a while. Or at least not a way to say what it is I need to say...or even a way to access that in my brain....
One thing that anorexia strips away is the ability to connect with people. When I was in PHP, I was essentially gone from my family in both mind and body. On the one or two evenings a week I was home, it was as if I was in another universe.... Completely and totally isolated from my husband and children; the people I loved and were once my world. Anthony says he didn't even know me.
We recently moved closer to work for Anthony, closer to treatment for me, and well, closer to everything. My children are in a much better school system, we are in a great area, and our house is perfect for us. It could not have been a better decision. I have no regrets.
I don't always give my husband the credit he deserves, or express how very much I love him. He is my best friend. He was the one who was there when everything came crashing down; when people scattered like ducks frightened when unfamiliarity approaches. I don't blame them really- who wants to follow someone into the darkness of something they don't understand? And even if they do understand, who wants to remember that piece of themselves?
When I met him, I knew he was a person I wanted to know more. His blue eyes drew me in. Have you ever met someone that you just KNEW was kind? Someone who didn't need to sell themselves with all their accomplishments or even their personality traits or the life they have lived....someone whose heart you could just FEEL? That's what my first conversation with Anthony was like. And in very short succession, we fell in love, we got married, we had three children. We lived happily ever after, right?
Wrong. We had more early struggles and stressors than most marriages could endure. The mortgage industry collapsed and we went broke. Simultaneously I had three back to back pregnancies. My husband frustrated the hell out of me....get a job, was my response. His response was to keep embarking on these business ventures that ended badly. It took me a while to recognize he was depressed- all he had worked for had been stripped away and he was trying to get it all back in an instant. Except it didn't work out that way, and I was frustrated. I should have understood, I really should have, given my history. I should have understood that his worth till that moment had been defined by how much money he made. Growing up with financial struggles, and deciding that he would be successful career-wise and have a nice lifestyle- that was how he measured success. We have slowly gotten out of this hole- by taking the baby steps he didn't want to, and finally making his way back into the mortgage business and building his own branch.
My husband is a wonderful person. Person. As on the inside. As something that cannot be measured by financial success and cannot be bought. He took care of me when I was ill. He loves his children. He stayed home with four kids all by himself for three months while I was hospitalized. He remembers little things- like bringing me home a coffee when he is out, like taking the kids to the park so I can have a break, like doing laundry for a family of seven.... I realize these are actions he takes, but what is obvious is that his reason is that he loves us. Unconditionally. I see where he gets this- it was obvious from the first time I met his mom that she loves him deeply.
Last night he was telling me more about all that he wants for me....all that he needs to prove, all about how living in this house and having happy children who love their school is so motivating. All of this is fine and good. But it is not all there is. He is also a father, a husband, a son. He is so much more than a paycheck. He is a man that cuddles with his son every night while he falls asleep. He is a man who enjoys co-sleeping with his babies and connecting with his kids. And he is a man I can see in the eyes and big goofy grin of my three year old boy.
And so I said something I have heard a million times before, that is essentially the eating disorder treatment mantra.....
"You are enough."
He continued talking about goals and how much more he could be..........
And I repeated, with tears in my eyes, "YOU are enough. Just you. Only you. Imagine our son, Dylan. Would you look into his eyes and tell him he is worthy once he makes some money?"
No, of course not. We would not put those expectations on our son because his sweet, beautiful soul is enough.
And we are all enough. This isn't a measure of a number on a scale or how disciplined we are with food, or how "successful" we are. It is not a measure of worldly achievements.
You are enough. You are so much more than enough.
One thing that anorexia strips away is the ability to connect with people. When I was in PHP, I was essentially gone from my family in both mind and body. On the one or two evenings a week I was home, it was as if I was in another universe.... Completely and totally isolated from my husband and children; the people I loved and were once my world. Anthony says he didn't even know me.
We recently moved closer to work for Anthony, closer to treatment for me, and well, closer to everything. My children are in a much better school system, we are in a great area, and our house is perfect for us. It could not have been a better decision. I have no regrets.
I don't always give my husband the credit he deserves, or express how very much I love him. He is my best friend. He was the one who was there when everything came crashing down; when people scattered like ducks frightened when unfamiliarity approaches. I don't blame them really- who wants to follow someone into the darkness of something they don't understand? And even if they do understand, who wants to remember that piece of themselves?
When I met him, I knew he was a person I wanted to know more. His blue eyes drew me in. Have you ever met someone that you just KNEW was kind? Someone who didn't need to sell themselves with all their accomplishments or even their personality traits or the life they have lived....someone whose heart you could just FEEL? That's what my first conversation with Anthony was like. And in very short succession, we fell in love, we got married, we had three children. We lived happily ever after, right?
Wrong. We had more early struggles and stressors than most marriages could endure. The mortgage industry collapsed and we went broke. Simultaneously I had three back to back pregnancies. My husband frustrated the hell out of me....get a job, was my response. His response was to keep embarking on these business ventures that ended badly. It took me a while to recognize he was depressed- all he had worked for had been stripped away and he was trying to get it all back in an instant. Except it didn't work out that way, and I was frustrated. I should have understood, I really should have, given my history. I should have understood that his worth till that moment had been defined by how much money he made. Growing up with financial struggles, and deciding that he would be successful career-wise and have a nice lifestyle- that was how he measured success. We have slowly gotten out of this hole- by taking the baby steps he didn't want to, and finally making his way back into the mortgage business and building his own branch.
My husband is a wonderful person. Person. As on the inside. As something that cannot be measured by financial success and cannot be bought. He took care of me when I was ill. He loves his children. He stayed home with four kids all by himself for three months while I was hospitalized. He remembers little things- like bringing me home a coffee when he is out, like taking the kids to the park so I can have a break, like doing laundry for a family of seven.... I realize these are actions he takes, but what is obvious is that his reason is that he loves us. Unconditionally. I see where he gets this- it was obvious from the first time I met his mom that she loves him deeply.
Last night he was telling me more about all that he wants for me....all that he needs to prove, all about how living in this house and having happy children who love their school is so motivating. All of this is fine and good. But it is not all there is. He is also a father, a husband, a son. He is so much more than a paycheck. He is a man that cuddles with his son every night while he falls asleep. He is a man who enjoys co-sleeping with his babies and connecting with his kids. And he is a man I can see in the eyes and big goofy grin of my three year old boy.
And so I said something I have heard a million times before, that is essentially the eating disorder treatment mantra.....
"You are enough."
He continued talking about goals and how much more he could be..........
And I repeated, with tears in my eyes, "YOU are enough. Just you. Only you. Imagine our son, Dylan. Would you look into his eyes and tell him he is worthy once he makes some money?"
No, of course not. We would not put those expectations on our son because his sweet, beautiful soul is enough.
And we are all enough. This isn't a measure of a number on a scale or how disciplined we are with food, or how "successful" we are. It is not a measure of worldly achievements.
You are enough. You are so much more than enough.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)