positive thoughts

I have an emergency session with my therapist this afternoon. My husband is coming along. She thinks I'm in a relapse. I'm very nervous...so here is my positive thought for the day:

It's not a straight line to recovery. It's  a messy, scribbly, windy road but I can get there.

Is "fat" really the worst thing a human can be?

Reposted from Hungry Running Girl  

I love the blog! Can you tell?!

“Is ‘fat’ really the worst thing a human being can be? Is ‘fat’ worse than ‘vindictive’, ‘jealous’, ‘shallow’, ‘vain’, ‘boring’ or ‘cruel’? Not to me.”
-          J.K. Rowling

From time to time this quote pops into my head. I think about it when something happens to direct me straight to my body. After I realize that I’m criticizing myself for getting fat healthy, I stop and think – “is this really the worst thing in the world?” Truthfully, saying this is just a band-aid at the moment, but it does help to get through the times when I’m overwhelmed by the thoughts of my body and how it has changed through recovery.

This quote makes perfect sense. Now, it won’t make perfect sense to the media and the social lifestyles of gossip and celebrities… but really, it makes perfect sense to the rest of the world – which is about 99.9% of it.

As I was thinking about this quote, and how it relates to recovery, I realized that it is right on. I hate to admit it, but we are some crazy people when we are IN the eating disorder and not looking at recovery. We are isolated, rude, insincere, distracted, unemotional, cold, vindictive, jealous, shallow, vain and can be cruel as well – (add in any other descriptive words you can think of in your situation). You know it’s true; don’t deny it.

Having fat health on my body isn’t the worse thing in the world. It is worse when I’m throwing tantrums in treatment telling my dietitian that I hate her…. Or throwing food at my therapist because I can’t stand the feelings (or it)…. Or screaming at my husband for unplugging the treadmill. “Fat” – “Health” is not as bad as those things. In fact, those things are worse. They take away from who you are as a person. They make you a person you’re not.

“I’ve got two daughters who will have to make their way in this skinny-obsessed world, and it worries me, because I don’t want them to be empty-headed, self-obsessed, emaciated clones; I’d rather they were independent, interesting, idealistic, kind, opinionated, original, funny – a thousand things, before ‘thin’.
-          J.K. Rowling

With media at the tip of our fingers, it’s hard to look past all the messages. Really, it has to become a choice that you make. It has to be something you choose to ignore.

“Fat-bashing in all its varied forms–criticism, exclusion, shaming, fat talk, self-deprecation, jokes, gossip, bullying–is one of the last acceptable forms of prejudice. From a very young age, before they can walk away or defend themselves, women are taught that they are how they look, not what they do or what they know. ”
― Robyn Silverman

We have to choose not to dive into the body talk that so many people engage in. It’s a commonality that women can find – a part of your body that you don’t like… or the fact that you ate that cupcake and shouldn’t have.

No really, you should have eaten the cupcake because it was damn good.

So moments (during lunches and breaks) when women talk about “having to go to the gym”, “needing to start that diet”, or the discussion of the guilt from “eating that ice cream” need to change…. and that can only be done if you choose to change it.

As women, we aren’t wired to know to change those discussion or thoughts. How do you choose to change it? You stop the conversation. You can state, “You know, hating my body is an exhausting job to keep up with, I’d rather not take that on.” …..
Or, you can ask:
“Why do you feel guilty for eating the ice cream?”
“Why do you have to diet?”
“Why do you have to go to the gym?”
“Will losing 5 lbs really solve your problems?”

Once faced with how stupid and shallow we sound when saying this, we are often left speechless…. we are left with few words to say because all we know is that it is the message received with no backing. We blindly follow what we’ve been told through pictures, media and commercials.

We learn so early that part of our worth is tied up in how we look. Truthfully, it’s not.
We hate a bitchy person – fat or not.
We avoid the chronic liars – fat or not.
We run away from the “negative Nancy” – fat or not.
We do not associate with criminals – fat or not.
The people you choose to spend your time with are typically chosen based on personality…. Let’s be real…. Your looks are not going to keep us friends, especially when I’m bored with conversation.



So, really….. is “fat” really the worst thing a human you can be?

what just happened?

I drank calories!!!

Yep, I did.

And I had a panic attack...
at work.

I finished my bottle of Drangonfruit Vitamin Water Zero, or so I thought. It tasted better than the one I had yesterday so I'm looking at the bottle and realized that it wasn't ZERO but regular vitamin water. Immediately I entered the panic zone. I was stressed out and had a stomach ache, which I still have. I had to step outside and call my husband at home to calm me down. He talked to me and tried to distract me. It worked while we were on the phone but we can't talk forever.

I've eaten most of my lunch but I still have an apple, peanut butter and string cheese to eat for a snack. I don't want to eat. I want to run...run until I'm not stressed, run until I've burned off the drink and run a little more just for insurance calories. Purging has never been a part of my eating disorder. The thought actually scares me. I've never performed the action but there were times that I actually wished I could...this is one of those times. As scary as that is to admit to, especially on the internet, it's the truth. My stomach is growing but I won't eat. I don't know what's shifted recently but I feel stuck...no, not stuck. Moving backwards. I was making such awesome progress. I was doing well and feeling good but I don't feel like that anymore.

I'm tired.

My husband told me that he wants to see the apple core to prove that I ate the rest of my food at work. I hate to waste food but I wouldn't give a second thought to just cutting the apple off, throwing it away and just keeping the core. I will if I have to.

A part of me (the rational one) realizes how crazy this sounds. I can figure the calories into my day and work from there but I feel like I've wasted them. Now I have to conserve (not eat) in case I get hungry later. After all, it's only 4:00 p.m.

The stress (and my growling stomach) is giving me a headache. I don't know how to do this.

How did I get here and how do I find my way out?

**I wrote this on scrap paper at work. It's been six hours and it still holds true**

do I belong here?

It's a quiet, lazy afternoon. I sit down to watch tv but there's nothing that I find interesting. I hit the "On Demand" button to see if I can find a movie that might entertain me for the next two hours. I decide to browse through the documentary section. I'm starting to become very interested in them. I find one entitled "THIN." I read the synopsis and it tells me that it's about a women's eating disorder recovery clinic. Being in my current situation I decided to watch it. About 15 minutes into the movie I decide that I want to watch it with my husband. Maybe it will give him another perspective...explain things in a way that I can't.

Fast forward to this afternoon. A rare afternoon that my husband and I have some time to spend together. We go mini golfing (I win :)) and then we head home for lunch. I ask if he wants to watch this while we eat and he says "sure." That's when it all goes downhill...

We get through the first 15 minutes that I've already seen and we keep watching. I was able to watch 35 minutes before I had to stop the movie. There were so many thoughts and feelings running through my head that I needed to stop and breathe...

These girls weight 86 pounds. They have real eating disorders. Who am I to think that my stupid problem is a true eating disorder.

I don't throw up like they do. Maybe I don't have an eating disorder.

Oh, that girl is having trouble eating a cupcake...I do that too.

Her body image is distorted...so is mine.

They look so sick. How do they not see that?

15 years?!? They've been fighting for 15 years?!? I can't do that. Will I ever have a "normal" relationship with food?

and the scariest one...

A woman says that she has always wanted to be thin. If this is what it took then so be it. If she had to die to be thin and least she would have made it. My thought: I've felt the very same way

There was even a point in the movie where they show the residents eating in the dining hall and I think "if they gave me that plate of food it would make me anxious and stressed out." An eating disorder recovery clinic dinner would stress me out?!

And that's only 35 minutes in. My husband suggested we stop watching. He said I'm not ready. My biggest fear is that I'll never be ready to watch something like that. That I'll always be stuck...wondering if I have a "real" eating disorder. Feeling guilty that I'm getting treated for something when there are so many girls and women who's bodies are shutting down worse than mine.

How do I get out of this?

Dad

I've had a rough couple of days. I've been feeling down, lonely and have been very focused on what I've been eating. At my last appointment with my nutritionist she raised my daily calorie amount by 100. This was on June 7th. I've hit my target three times. That's 3 out of 12, or as she likes to look at it 25%.  If I saw her today and shared that with her she would tell me that 25% is unacceptable. My response: "but I don't miss it by much." Her response: "why?" I don't have an excuse answer. I was at a loss as to why I was all of a sudden feeling so bad. I had been doing so well and feeling great. My energy was up as well as my mood. I even went to Maryland on Friday night to see a boy band concert with my best friend in the whole world...even that didn't cheer me up.

Then Sunday evening I have a revelation: it's Father's Day. After my Dad died we would go to the cemetary on Father's Day and have our own little celebration. That only lasted a few years. Eventually it became just another day. As time has marched on the sadness that came along with every June has lost some of it's power...until this year. Like I said, I had been feeling down for days and was at a loss as to the cause of it. Sunday evening I logged onto facebook and I saw a million pictures and messages that people had posted saying how great their Dad was. I started to cry. Facebook actually made me cry. I was so upset that I logged off and couldn't go on the rest of the night. Luckily the next day I had a therapy appointment...in swoops Barb (my therapist) to save me...again.

I  can not stress how much I LOVE her. I can talk about myself for a whole hour without feeling judged or guilty or selfish. That doesn't occur anywhere else in my life. I told her what was going on and we started to explore my feelings :) Feelings...complicated, wonderful, terrifying things that they are. As we talked I realized just how much I had been effected by Father's Day and how deep the hurt really goes. She even related it to my current married life...it kind of blew my mind. I sat there after having made a realization that I haven't gotten close to my (wonderful) father-in-law because I was felt like I was replacing my Dad and just looked at her. I couldn't believe that after all of these years (15) that I was still worried about something like that.

After having turned it over in my brain for days I also realized something else...the stem of some of the original weight loss. I had lost my Dad at 15 - heartbreaking pain. I had dated somebody for almost 4 years thinking we would get married and out of nowhere he broke up with me - heartbreaking pain. Result: it's time to change. If I can change (i.e. lost weight, get control of my life) then maybe, just maybe, this kind of pain won't happen again. It was my way to cope and now that I'm working to give up that control I have to learn how to cope with the pain again (my therapist's words but I like them).

It's been a few days and I'm feeling much better, at least about that anyway. I've started to convince myself that my jeans are tight and I've gained the weight I need to and I should be about done with that...but that's another post.

I found this from Hungry Running Girl who found it from Villainy Loveless

I had to share:

My body is amazing.

Posted on June 10, 2013

 

Today at work I was told by a stranger that I was big and broad like a football player. The man then proceeded to puff up his chest and spread his arms wide laughing. Just in case I didn’t understand what he meant I guess, how very kind of him to offer visual clarification. Perhaps it was the shocked look on my face and inability to find words that gave him the impression I may have needed further exposition. That silence didn’t last long mind you, and as the clouds of disbelief in what this stranger had just said quickly dissipated, they gave way to a retort along the lines of, “you’d better shut your mouth now and leave before I toss you out like an actual football player.” However quick my response was though, that was still how my day started, mildly horrified that this man had felt the need to openly judge and insult me for no other reason than the fact that I happened to be standing behind the counter in front of him. Standing there in the body I was blessed with, the one directly inherited from my strong Viking ancestors. Was I suppose to apologize for not being a delicate flower or something?  If so I hadn’t received the memo.

His words hung heavy (pun intended) on my mind all afternoon. That small moment, that one thing had deflated me. I stood there afterwards serving customer after customer with my shoulders hunched feeling like an immense expansive being. A bulky hulking figure, blocking paths and views of the skyline.

I had to choose how it was going to affect me, or at least how I was going to show how it affected me. I decided to make light of it, so when a coworker asked what I was having for lunch, I replied, “Oh you know, the usual, small buildings, cars and wayward townsfolk.” Laughter makes things better after all, right? Riiiiiiiight?! Who was that man anyhow, and what did he know? But as I left to forage for lunch and the smell of pizza from the shop beside me called like a siren song to my slightly hungover body, the guilt and shame of my size and frame still hung heavy on my mind. I had a salad.

Now in my mind, my rational, educated mind, I know that what he said wasn’t true. Or wait, was it? Was I actually this huge monster and I’ve just never realized it before now? Was he the first one brave enough to let me in on the big secret? Maybe he saw something I couldn’t see. Maybe all my friends were just being nice. Maybe every photo of me EVER taken happened to be at just the right angle that I didn’t notice my imposing frame. Here I thought it was my personality that was larger than life, but perhaps it was just me all around. Dear Lord, have I been living in sweet oblivion?

What a difference a day makes, or in my case a few seconds. Still coming down from a euphoric high after the Burlesque Hall of Fame, I never expected to suddenly come crashing down so low. I have been walking with my head a little higher and my smile more frequent and genuine since returning from such an inspiring weekend. Having had the opportunity to perform and share a very personal duet about struggling with inner demons to find self-love and self-acceptance was a truly honouring experience. The roar of thunderous applause as the lights dimmed and we stepped off stage filled me with a new passion, more fire, and a reassurance that what I am doing, what I am pouring my heart into, actually matters. The tremendous support, encouraging words and overwhelmingly positive feedback about our number has been staggering. Beautiful, poignant and inspiring are words I keep hearing and will never tire of their power. But then there I was, feeling like a fraud, eating my side salad, no dressing. How ironic. How disappointing that the words of one man, one stranger, could fill my mind with such self doubt, when there were so many more kind words from friends, family, colleagues and idols that I could have been reflecting upon. How fragile everyday can be. I should probably take this moment to let you know that I have a sordid history with eating disorders, body image issues and self harm. One of the reasons our number was so important to me, and one of the reasons this little man’s words could deflate me in seconds I suppose.

I will never be willowy, dainty or petite. I could lose a hundred pounds and I would still have wide shoulders and a high set ribcage. However, I have worked hard to be proud of the body I have been given. My body is strong and built to last. My body bends and twists and allows me to pet all the cute dogs that cross my path. My body can hold open doors for frail old ladies and carry my bags of groceries home. My body allows me to laugh and drink and scream and spoon. My body transports me over hard rain soaked cement and soft sun kissed sand. My body allows me to tremble with pleasure and cry out in pain. My body allows me to dance and share my art, connect with people and move them to tears with the beauty it can express.

I feel bad for that poor man who can only see my body’s shape rather than its potential, because my body is amazing.

p.s.

I can't seem to listen to advice from my recovery team either:

Nurse: Don't run until you get an EKG and it's reviewed (my chest gets tight when I run): fail
Therapist: Don't run more than 2 miles per day and 4 days a week: fail

Running is supposed to help relieve stress. Liar.

helmet required

I'm stressed out.

My work schedule changes in the summer and it seems that it's just not enough...at least not right now. Money has always stressed me out. I can remember being a teenager and our family being on a "budget crunch." My brother and I just laughed it off. It's what my mom said when she didn't want to buy us what we wanted. I think that might be where my money stress stems from. I'm terrified, TERRIFIED, of running out of money. Aside from food it's what I spend the most time stressing about. Up until a few years ago it surpassed food.

So now that I'm stressed out what do I focus on...my eating.

If I can think about that then I won't have to worry about bills or figuring out what money is going where. It gives me something else to worry about, obsess about. 

I've been saving money to buy myself a Kindle Fire. I haven't bought myself anything big in a very, very long time. I track the miles that I walk everybody and put $1 into my savings account for every mile walked. My goal is to save enough money to get a Kindle Fire, a plug and a case. I'm about 25 miles away, or $25. I've been doing this since April 1st and my goal is to have enough by July 1st. I've tried so hard not to dip into my savings but when I'm so stressed out about paying bills why would I not use that money? Is it that terrible if my Kindle gets pushed back a little? Yes. Then I ask myself why. Is it because I'm selfish and just want a new toy? A tiny bit. Is it because if I don't meet my goal I'll feel like I've failed at something else? (controlling hunger, my eating, my recovery)...yes. I know this entire process (recovery) is about figuring out how to live without restriction, blame and guilt. I know that it will not be a smooth, easy road yet whenever I hit a bump I just punish myself...."I've failed again". If my words were being said to me by a friend of mine I would tell them that they're crazy. They should be proud for even starting this journey and for how far they've come. I can't seem to say that to myself. All I see is that I still restrict, still feel guilty, still freak out about gaining weight, still try to avoid gaining and calories (I haven't hit my new calorie goal in almost 2 weeks).

If I stop and really try to understand the stress surrounding the money and using some of my Kindle savings for bills I realize that it's just money...it's just a Kindle...and it's effecting my recovery. Is a Kindle worth damaging my body? Worth a slow heartbeat and weak bones? Worth damage that could make it difficult to have a baby? Not at all.

This is just another bump in the road. It's a good thing I'm wearing  a helmet.

The Greatest Map

lost - adj. 1. no longer possessed or retained 2. no longer to be found   3. having gone astray or missed the way; bewildered as to place, direction, etc

I am lost. Lost in my own life. Lost in my own mind and body. Lost in God. 

I can't seem to find my way out of any of it and without God I don't think I will.

I've grown up going to a few different churches. I went to a religious college. I've always had faith in God. That's never been a question, even through tragedy and anger. For the first time, in a long time, I feel like I'm struggling to find that relationship with God. I haven't lost my faith. I've lost my commitment. 
  
After college I searched for a long time to find a church that I loved. When my husband and I were planning our wedding he told me a church that he wanted to get married. It was where his parents were married and his grandmother still attended. I called the Pastor and we set up a meeting with her. We started to attend and I fell in love with the church and Pastor Sandi. She is one of the most generous, kind, thoughtful souls I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Every time she leaves me a voicemail message or sends me an e-mail she ends with "love you both" (meaning my husband and me). The congregation embraced us with open arms and it didn't take long to feel like a real part of their church family. 

With a place like that how could I possibly feel like my relationship with God is struggling? Easy. I haven't been putting into it nearly as much and I've been expecting.

God provides for me every single day. Without His blessing I wouldn't be in treatment. He saved my life, again. So why can't I seem to get it together and give Him a small fraction of what He's given to me?

I have many reasons excuses for not going to church every Sunday: I have to work, I worked late the night before, I've been there (this many) weeks in a row, I'm tired (it's sad but true). What if Jesus had decided that He didn't want to sacfice himself for me. That he was busy (trying to save the world) or tired.

I like to quote scripture that tells me what God can do for me:

"Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest" Matthew 11:28

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

I like knowing that God will give me rest when I am weary ( most of the time) and has a plan for me when I have no idea where I'm supposed to be going (all of the time). But I've come to see that I ignore the scripture that tells me what is required to be a follower of Christ:

"He has shown you, O mortal, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God." Micah 6:8

But what does that mean?

I read an article that spoke about surrender and self-sacrifice. They are related like a root and a fruit. The root is surrender (surrendering all to God) and the fruit is self-sacrifice (sacrificing our plans and possessions for God's plan). How do I even begin to find a way in Christ if I'm not willing to do this? Maybe this is a good place to start.

"But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us" Romans 5:8