stop calling me fat

Dear Mothers, stop calling your daughters fat

I was originally just going to post a link to the article but then I read it again and realized how closely I could identify with the words.

I've had that moment. The one when you realize that you're different from all of your friends. That you're bigger. That you can't share clothes. That you just aren't as pretty. My memory of that moment isn't nearly as clear as the author of the article but I can remember feeling uncomfortable with myself as early back as second grade...maybe first. I remember not enjoying the parts of summer vacation that involved water and pools, which is pretty much the whole thing. My friends would wear bikinis and I would wear a one piece. I never really understood why I was bigger than my friends. We would eat the same junk food and do the same things. The big difference was that a lot of them were involved in sports and I was simply too embarrassed to try them.

My family was slightly different. My dad was a pretty average weight but most of the rest of my family was the same as me. I have memories of my mom and dad dieting...nutrisystem I think. They would tease me about my weight with nicknames that still make me cringe. I know this was never malicious. Never intended to hurt my feelings but it did. I don't think I've actually admitted that to either of my parents. I was never pursued to lose weight but I spent most of my life wanting to lose weight. Then I finally did! I had finally found something that worked (after trying different things) and I rode that train until it feel off of the rails...and here I am.

I work with young kids all day long and I realize how much words can effect them. I hope that my future babies will know that they are accepted and loved for everything that they are. I don't want my relationship with food to be the example they have. I repeat this every time I have a bad day. I'm getting healthy.

resistance is futile

There is nothing about recovery that I have found to be easy...the increased eating, decreased energy, challenge foods, anxiety, bloating...even down to the constant schedule juggling for appointments. But one of the things that I have found most difficult is how extremely lonely this journey is. How much resistance can be found even in the people that love you the most.

Discovering who I am minus the eating disorder (and all that it represents) is more challenging than I ever thought it would be. I had this idea that I would start therapy, get permission to eat more (and weigh more), start eating and that would be the end of it. I would be anxiety free. I couldn't have been more wrong. I've been learning who I am and how to use the voice I have been given. Enter the resistance.

"No" is not a word that I have used often. People don't like the word no. It upsets them. I don't like to upset people, or disappoint them or anger them. You see the connection. But I can't always say yes and that's ok. I can't please everybody and that's ok. I don't need to feel guilty saying no or disagreeing or just being honest.  I am Mandi. I'm not anybody else. I have bad qualities but I have some extraordinary ones too. I have a right to stand up for myself whether you like it or not. I'm not a child and I'm not going to stay quiet anymore. I say this all with love. Love for my never failing support system. Love for every ear that's listened and arm that's hugged me. Love for myself. I have to learn how to do that and be good to myself before I can give my all to anybody else. That doesn't make me selfish. It will make me healthy.

obsessed

Obsessed. I use that word a lot. I'm obsessed with Starbucks...with my cats...with Law & Order:SVU...with any and all Christmas movies. Those are the fun obsessions. My not so fun obsession? Food...the reality that my body is changing (in my mind for the worse)...m pant size...my hunger.  My therapist tells me that there will be good times and bad. I feel so deep into the bad that I don't think I'll get out. She says that I've made wonderful progress but all I see are my failures. The failure to get over this. The failure to eat my calories every day. The failure to stop the obsession. Don't get me wrong, I come close to my calories. I enjoy eating (the "safe" foods) and I like that I can eat that much but I'm terrified. I'll hit my goal one day and then for the next 4 I'm 100 short. It's just 100 calories right?? What's the big deal?...Those 100 calories represent weight gain, bigger pants and a bigger stomach. An avalanche of gaining that I won't be able to stop. One day my calories goal will be sufficient. The next day I don't be able to stop eating. This is what scares me. I know that if I feel the hunger then I'm cutting calories and that will ward off the weight gain. But If that's true then why are my pants getting tighter?? Maybe I should cut more calories. The constant battle in my harder is longer and louder that I thought it could be. This is my favorite time of year and instead of being excited I'm anxious. My wish this year? For this rocky road of recovery to become a bit smoother. It's my prayer every day.