and be changed by the Lamb." ~dave clayton, ethos church, 8-9-15
once again, i've been resisting this seat. this screen. this authenticity. i don't get why. i love writing. always have. and now that i am actually living a life that i can share with the world and not hide in the shadows i don't know why it's still scary to write. the only thing i can really come up with is writing means stopping. it means slowing down. it means thinking. it means unplugging from TV, work, my phone and plug into me. i haven't been very good at that in the last several years. i got really good at existing and not living. and learning to live again hasn't been easy. it hasn't felt safe. for 3 years i wasn't allowed to be me. i didn't allow it and he didn't either. i molded into what didn't cause fights and allowed myself to be trampled. fast forward to now. i am married. to an amazing man who wants me to be me all the time. and yet, i'm still hesitant. granted i know he's stuck with me now :), but i still don't want to disappoint him. and being the whole me all the time isn't the prettiest thing in the world. gah. my pride sucks.
i've realized lately that i am so, so prideful. i never ever thought of myself as a prideful person. i figured to be prideful, you actually had to like yourself and since i didn't then how could i be prideful. but, oh my, i so am. what i've learned is my pride is in my independence. in my "i do it myself" as my mother says i came into this world saying. i view asking for help as weakness. that's crap. asking for help is the strongest thing a person can do. the strongest thing. when i finally admitted i couldn't rid myself of my bulimia on my own, i was strong. i was strong enough to say "help." strong enough to say "save me." and He did to the extent that i let Him. it'll be three years on Monday, the 28th since i purged. i'm not sure i ever really believed i'd be writing those words. years. not hours or days or weeks. years. wow. that is something to celebrate and be "proud" of, but i'm not done. food still isn't just food. it's still my rebellion. it's still my dirty little secrets. now, of the dirty little secrets i've had over the years, food is relatively benign, but still. it's there. it's something i can turn to other than the hubs, this screen, Jesus. it's easy. it doesn't talk bad. i can't disappoint it. i know how it goes. i am comfortable with the process (although i hate it at the same time). it's a weird paradox. and one i don't want anymore. but i haven't been able to let go of my pride long enough to truly ask for help. to allow someone to stand in the gap for me when i want to numb out and want the easy fix. i have to though. i can't do this alone. clearly. my health and heart know that.
i guess by writing this, i'm putting it out there. i'm asking, though somewhat begrudgingly, for accountability. for permission to set my stupid pride aside and ask for help. and to ask Him to save me.
Friday, September 25, 2015
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
she's making me write
sarah, my therapist that is, she's not wrong to do so. when i resist her recommendations, it's because i know it's always exactly what i need to do, but am terrified to. i am resisting this like crazy. she wants me to write about my eating disorder, "ed," and where the hubs fits into all of that. (i know i owe this blog a gigantic update on my life since october - main one - we moved up the wedding to april 24, 2015 and have been newlyweds for 96 days!). i don't want to be afraid of this screen. i know that every time i finally do sit down and just start typing, the words flow and my heart pours out. to accommodate my OCD-ness, sarah gave me a list of questions to think/write through before she, the hubs, and me get together to discuss. i've had the list since the end of may. talk about avoidance and my familiar shut down reaction. well, here it goes, finally.
things i want him to know about my history: it has been a part of me as long as i can remember. it's like a piece of me. it is a piece of me. it's a safety net. it's where i go when things spiral. it's what i know. i remember being told i was too fat to play with a skinny friend when i was 5 years old. i remember always wondering why i couldn't be skinny like the other girls. i remember feeling like i was less than them because i wasn't as thin. i remember my mom dieting and constantly being concerned about her weight. i remember my brother becoming anorexic when i was 10 -11 years old. i remember thinking why i couldn't be like him and why did i always have to have a snack after school. i remember the summer before 6th grade being told that i had to sit next to him in the back seat of a van on vacation to "even it out" because the other girl that was my age was thin and the other boy my brother's age average. so to "even it out," we had to have one skinny and one fat in each seat. at least that's what i heard. i always heard fat = not good enough. and i always knew i was fat.
i don't remember specifically the first time i purged. i know it started as a diet. i know it started in 8th grade. i would only purge when i ate what i deemed to be too much or a "bad" food. it was kinda all the rage among us girls. every so ofter one of us would say we were bulimic and get to spend certain classes in the guidance office talking about why and how we should change. to them it was a fad. to me it became a life. i remember my best friend and i making a pact to purge any time we ate something "bad" or off of our list of ok foods. she lasted a few weeks before she told me she didn't want to do that and hoped i wouldn't be mad at her. i think i told her i agreed. we shouldn't. only i lied. i figured out how to do it silently. which bathrooms to use. the amount of time i could wait before there wasn't enough to get back up and what i should or shouldn't eat so that it didn't hurt as much when it came back up. i remember my best friend telling my mom what i was doing. i remember another friend's mom nearly catching me after a breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes. i lied some more. nothing really came of my bff telling my mom. at least not right away. several months later, i had to go to a counselor. i'm not dumb. i knew what to to say and i said it and only went a handful of times. by now i'm in 9th grade. i'm a cheerleader. a straight-a honor student. i'm doing everything right. except i'm not eating and when i do, and can get away with it, i'm purging.
i fake it until my sophomore year of college when what i now can identify as anxiety exploded. i was actually binging and purging now. that started the year before. i remember sitting in my dorm room staring at all the photos on my wall and just wanting to rip them down. my heart was racing. my head was pounding. i called home in hysterics. i left school before my last mid-term. miss 4.0 was risking her perfect GPA but i couldn't function. there'd been talk on my floor (it was my sorority floor) of someone being bulimic and using the last bathroom and everyone was concerned about who it could be. my college best friend was president and i was on exec and terrified they'd all find out it was me. i went to the doctor when i got home. just my GP and he put me on an anti-depressant. no therapy, just a drug. i guess it helped. but a little over a year later i took myself off of them, because i was sick of not feeling anything. i decided i'd rather be sad than be nothing.
college finished, law school came and ed and i peacefully co-existed. he was there when i needed or wanted them and conveniently forgotten at other times. this pattern continued until 2009-2010 and the worst relationship of my life. when it blew up in flames, i blew up. binging and purging were all i wanted. all that calmed me down. all that made me concentrate on something other than where my life was and where it wasn't. things were still in waves, sometimes it'd be ok, because i was indulging in some other damaging behavior, but i always, always came back to ed. he was the safety net. i finally shattered one june night in 2011 and called my best friend. she talked to me and cried with me and gave me names of therapists. in august, i finally went to see one. we didn't click, but i kept at it until october and then stopped going. but my behaviors didn't stop. june of 2012, i'd had enough. my life wasn't mine anymore. it belonged to ed. he controlled everything i did. every decision made. everything. two days after my 30th birthday i met sarah at the eating disorder treatment center she worked at. i started treatment. september 28, 2012 was the last time i purged. it was not the last time i binged. as of today, the last time i binged was july 2nd. in my car. and i stopped at a random dumpster to get rid of the evidence. that's humiliating to write.
ways the hubs can support me/things i need to hear: these were listed as two separate things, but they seem related to me. i don't really know how to answer. i'm still not comfortable letting someone support me in this. i'm not ok with appearing weak. in an ideal world, i guess the best things he could do would be to support eating a nourishing diet, engage in activity with me, tell me i'm beautiful while ignoring my eye-roll, and wanting to be healthy himself. as much i don't want it, maybe a check in here and there to see how things are in that department wouldn't be the worst thing. i need to hear about healthy lifestyles and positive things. i need to hear him accepting and loving his own body. i need to not feel like my body is an object to him. i want to be called out if i comment negatively about another's weight or appearance, even when i do it to myself.
i'm going to try this writing thing again. and i'm going to be as transparent as i can be.
things i want him to know about my history: it has been a part of me as long as i can remember. it's like a piece of me. it is a piece of me. it's a safety net. it's where i go when things spiral. it's what i know. i remember being told i was too fat to play with a skinny friend when i was 5 years old. i remember always wondering why i couldn't be skinny like the other girls. i remember feeling like i was less than them because i wasn't as thin. i remember my mom dieting and constantly being concerned about her weight. i remember my brother becoming anorexic when i was 10 -11 years old. i remember thinking why i couldn't be like him and why did i always have to have a snack after school. i remember the summer before 6th grade being told that i had to sit next to him in the back seat of a van on vacation to "even it out" because the other girl that was my age was thin and the other boy my brother's age average. so to "even it out," we had to have one skinny and one fat in each seat. at least that's what i heard. i always heard fat = not good enough. and i always knew i was fat.
i don't remember specifically the first time i purged. i know it started as a diet. i know it started in 8th grade. i would only purge when i ate what i deemed to be too much or a "bad" food. it was kinda all the rage among us girls. every so ofter one of us would say we were bulimic and get to spend certain classes in the guidance office talking about why and how we should change. to them it was a fad. to me it became a life. i remember my best friend and i making a pact to purge any time we ate something "bad" or off of our list of ok foods. she lasted a few weeks before she told me she didn't want to do that and hoped i wouldn't be mad at her. i think i told her i agreed. we shouldn't. only i lied. i figured out how to do it silently. which bathrooms to use. the amount of time i could wait before there wasn't enough to get back up and what i should or shouldn't eat so that it didn't hurt as much when it came back up. i remember my best friend telling my mom what i was doing. i remember another friend's mom nearly catching me after a breakfast of chocolate chip pancakes. i lied some more. nothing really came of my bff telling my mom. at least not right away. several months later, i had to go to a counselor. i'm not dumb. i knew what to to say and i said it and only went a handful of times. by now i'm in 9th grade. i'm a cheerleader. a straight-a honor student. i'm doing everything right. except i'm not eating and when i do, and can get away with it, i'm purging.
i fake it until my sophomore year of college when what i now can identify as anxiety exploded. i was actually binging and purging now. that started the year before. i remember sitting in my dorm room staring at all the photos on my wall and just wanting to rip them down. my heart was racing. my head was pounding. i called home in hysterics. i left school before my last mid-term. miss 4.0 was risking her perfect GPA but i couldn't function. there'd been talk on my floor (it was my sorority floor) of someone being bulimic and using the last bathroom and everyone was concerned about who it could be. my college best friend was president and i was on exec and terrified they'd all find out it was me. i went to the doctor when i got home. just my GP and he put me on an anti-depressant. no therapy, just a drug. i guess it helped. but a little over a year later i took myself off of them, because i was sick of not feeling anything. i decided i'd rather be sad than be nothing.
college finished, law school came and ed and i peacefully co-existed. he was there when i needed or wanted them and conveniently forgotten at other times. this pattern continued until 2009-2010 and the worst relationship of my life. when it blew up in flames, i blew up. binging and purging were all i wanted. all that calmed me down. all that made me concentrate on something other than where my life was and where it wasn't. things were still in waves, sometimes it'd be ok, because i was indulging in some other damaging behavior, but i always, always came back to ed. he was the safety net. i finally shattered one june night in 2011 and called my best friend. she talked to me and cried with me and gave me names of therapists. in august, i finally went to see one. we didn't click, but i kept at it until october and then stopped going. but my behaviors didn't stop. june of 2012, i'd had enough. my life wasn't mine anymore. it belonged to ed. he controlled everything i did. every decision made. everything. two days after my 30th birthday i met sarah at the eating disorder treatment center she worked at. i started treatment. september 28, 2012 was the last time i purged. it was not the last time i binged. as of today, the last time i binged was july 2nd. in my car. and i stopped at a random dumpster to get rid of the evidence. that's humiliating to write.
ways the hubs can support me/things i need to hear: these were listed as two separate things, but they seem related to me. i don't really know how to answer. i'm still not comfortable letting someone support me in this. i'm not ok with appearing weak. in an ideal world, i guess the best things he could do would be to support eating a nourishing diet, engage in activity with me, tell me i'm beautiful while ignoring my eye-roll, and wanting to be healthy himself. as much i don't want it, maybe a check in here and there to see how things are in that department wouldn't be the worst thing. i need to hear about healthy lifestyles and positive things. i need to hear him accepting and loving his own body. i need to not feel like my body is an object to him. i want to be called out if i comment negatively about another's weight or appearance, even when i do it to myself.
i'm going to try this writing thing again. and i'm going to be as transparent as i can be.
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