Out Of Order

Literally never tasted this good Wow, I have never been in a better place in my life... So I've been out of treatment since early February and since then, things have been really interesting. Long story short, money for insurance was what ended my treatment. It was an abrupt finish and since I was no longer going to be in treatment, I could no longer be housed by the facility. I had no idea where I was going to live or what I was going to do. One thing, well two things, I could be certain of was that the Lord would provide for me and that ed behaviors could not be an option to cope. Don't misunderstand, I was stressed and fighting worry. I hadn't dealt with this type of unknown without using ed behaviors so this upset caused by one of my greatest fears (being evicted/kicked out/sudden relocation) was crushing. It was foreign, as last time I was homeless, I was heavily in the ed. I did not realize just how much anorexia kept me from feeling overwhelmed and unsafe unt...

  I've relapsed   My relapse-- wow, saying that feels so weird-- has been something that I've been trying to keep off of this blog for a while, especially during these past winter holidays. I just didn't want to discuss it anymore. If I'm being honest, I feel nowhere near as positive as that picture I took of my journal. I awakened this morning, after having suffered a very torturous night filled with thoughts of how huge I failed for eating salad, fruit, and pretzel twists, and consequently making myself do workouts in the bed, and felt this desire to give recovery a try. I felt, for the first time since being diagnosed with an ed, that I may be ready for recovery. I just felt so tired of the bs that comes along with it and realized that I actually miss eating certain foods.   I can't do it now, eat I mean. It's so beyond hard and on some days, impossible. It's the most taxing thing I have to do in a day and that's sad. Even though I don...

Navigating through the labyrinth September 25th is a day that really sticks out for me this year. It was the first day of my treatment at the Renfrew residential facility in 2015. I spent a month there and walked away with... What did I walk away with? I feel as though I am supposed to have a plethora of feel good lessons I've learned along the way. After all, it's been a year. Well, I don't. I mean, I know how to exercise self care now and definitely make sure I'm getting it. My mood is a LOT more stable and the depression has gone waaaaaaay down. I've learned that it's okay for good things to happen to me and when they do, I enjoy the moment/s. I understand that I have boundaries and that I have a right (and responsibility) to use them. I know that I am deeply loved by my family and it's not something I doubt. But... I'm gathering my thoughts here because they seem to be scattered all around in my mind. They're hiding around up there and my s...

Inner Dialogue This is another painful one. A post I've been avoiding writing for a few days because I'm kinda embarrassed and don't want to disappoint anyone. But according to my belief of sharing where I am in the moment, here I go... Ugh... this is difficult. Okay, so I'm going to write this how it comes to me. Try to keep up. What does recovery even mean and how do I know if I'm doing it right? What is the measure of recovery? Is it how much I'm eating or the types of foods I'm eating? Is it not going to the gym to work out even though I could easily do so? Is it eating a whole pizza for dinner by oneself and not doing any compensatory behaviors afterwards? Is it being a continual support to those around me fighting the same battle but considering myself-- at times-- "the exception to the rule". Which I know I'm not, by the way. Screw this! Screw recovery! I hate it and I still don't want to do it! I hate it so much... You ...

Honesty This one reads more like a journal entry. I wrote the following on my phone almost a month ago and it's still pretty true. June 23, 2016 I still feel disgusting and disgusted with myself even though I'm eating more willingly now. It's coming from inside me, the disgust, and I can no longer project it onto my weight. Because I want my plumpness back, I have to eat a lot but at the same time I'm worried about getting too big and losing control due to what has always been my insatiable appetite. I hate this. And I feel self hatred. And when I'm trying too hard to be perfect is when I feel the most insecure and worthless and unloved. The more perfection I display, the more likely it is that something is going on that is overwhelming. Or just simply being overlooked. ... Back to the Present So that's how I was feeling and I'm still feeling some of that. But I'm also feeling confused about my eating and this whole process. I have no enc...

This is what it looks like I am currently driving down what we call "recovery road" and it is bumpy, to say the least. This is the hardest thing I've ever endeavored to do and it is way harder than having an eating disorder. My eating disorder, however painful and exhausting, is cozy and comforting-- falsely, I know. Recovery involves change and adapting new ideas and new coping skills. It involves discomfort and second guesses, lapses and possible relapses, frustration and annoyance. It's being excited for the freedom to eat a fear food but then regretting the excitement. It's also enjoying the company of those whom I'm around due to not fretting over every single food on the table. But my gosh, it's a grueling process. Something that really encourages me to keep driving is keeping before me the fact that there are others who are also fighting for their lives and enduring recovery or treatment. To be specific, last week I found out that the brothe...

Inspired by God As I hinted above, God has been inspiring me with new ways of viewing myself. It's still a struggle at times but it's something I'm trying to believe. I invite you to make these personal for yourself. When Jesus looks at me, He doesn't see my legs or thighs, He doesn't see my collar bones or stomach or any other problem area I feel I have. He sees my spirit, His breath in my lungs, His wonderfully made daughter (or son). I will not make my body more than what it is. It is not my personality. It is not who I am. It is not my dreams and aspirations. It is not my worth. It's just a body, my body. I will decorate it , not destroy it. I will love it for what it can do, not hate it for what it can't. I will appreciate it , not abuse it. I will enjoy it , not envy others'. I will nourish it , not neglect it. I will feed it , not fight it. I will feed it , not fight it. I will feed it , not fight it. The standard is me, not a model ...

But not the one you're thinking of In a previous post, I mentioned that I was at a  crossroad and that thoughts of discharging were constantly on my mind. However, in one of my very first posts on this blog, I spoke of starting this journey by taking a long look in the mirror to see the girl that God sees. Weeeell... That mirror thing isn't as easy as I would like for it to be. I guess before I can see who God sees, I have to acknowledge who and what I see and then look past that or allow God to take my sight past that so that what He sees will be what I see. Buuuut... I'm not ready for that. I mean, I'm totally fine with seeing myself through His eyes but before I can get there, I have to stare at all the crap and dirt covering my mirror. And I would much rather just leave it alone. I'm okay with squinting through the smeared spots on the glass and trying to make out a reflection of some sort. Hmm, now that I give words to that thought, it doesn't sound...

I'm Back! So on September 25, I was admitted into a residential treatment facility for eating disorders. I dove head first into my issues. It was a grueling process. Everyday I was faced with brokenness, not just my own but of those around me. I often wondered how so many talented, beautiful, strong, inspiring women could be in a place like that? But that was my reality for thirty days. I got out on a Saturday (October 24), and resumed Day Treatment that following Monday. This journey has been exhausting and it's still ongoing. Being in Day is so much harder this time. In Res, which is faaar from a walk in the park, there was around the clock care and so much support. Despite how awful my emotions felt, it was a safe haven  for me. A safe little bubble where I didn't have to worry about the bad stuff. Well, my bubble popped on that Saturday, I'm back in the real world.  I've been MIA for a while trying to get my head...

Oh my gosh... How do I even describe what this is like? What all of this feels like? ... I had been standing in a blizzard with my arms out at my sides, trying to cover others and protect them from the continual downpour of snow. The temperature was freezing and I could see my breath. I was shivering and cold and tired and weak. But I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop being the shield they needed. My tears froze on my face, so I didn't cry anymore because of the irritation from the frozen water on my cheeks. The snow piled up on my arms and weighed them down. I needed a break. But I couldn't. They'd be exposed to the harshness and I must cover them. But no one was there to cover me. The precipitation landed on me as if I were part of the earth. And soon I grew numb to it. I'm used to being cold. Frozen. But it's killing me and I'm dying. Suddenly, I'm pulled out of the snow and am brought to a place of rescue . And now, I'm being thawed. And...

Treatment. Recovery. Patient. Those words make me cringe. But I am a patient who's in recovery and undergoing treatment. And I ask myself, why am I doing this? No one is making me do this, I choose it. I voluntarily, although reluctantly, choose to get treatment. Sometimes when someone is getting treatment for something, it involves medicine and there can be unpleasant side affects, to say the least. Due to the nature of my illness, my medicine is not what one would normally consider to be medicinal. I don't get hooked up to an IV when I take it nor do I receive it in pill form or injections. It does, however, give me distressing and sometimes painful affects: nausea, dizziness, headaches, stomach pain, fatigue and those are just some of them. My medicine is food. You may be thinking, "Seriously? That's it? " Now while it may not make my hair fall out or give me sores in or on my body, it does still affect me in ways th...