Thoughts for the Week

Taking it one day at a time over here.  I'm on day 3 of following my meal plan again the way I am supposed to.  I realized I wasn't trusting my treatment plan, my therapist or dietitian, or even myself.  I wish this could be easier.  I wish there was a magic wand I could just wave and be cured of all this.

Some things I've realized this week:

Although I have known I have a problem for a few years now, enough that I knew I needed to seek help... I still think I have been in denial about just how deep seeded this really was.  It's amazing what talking about it can do.  I realized I've really been struggling inwardly with not feeling like I'm actually "sick enough" (i.e. dangerously underweight, hair falling out, fainting, all the typical things you think of when you hear the term eating disorder) to need this much help.  I was actually starting to think maybe I blew this all out of proportion and I could just figure it out on my own.  Which is messed up, I know, because while you might not look at me and think I am struggling, there is a lot more going on that people can't see on the outside.

I've learned the last couple of weeks that for some reason, this part of me is broken.  My view of my body, food, hunger, etc, is completely distorted.  And I honestly didn't realize just how much until I truly opened up to close friends about it over the last couple of weeks.  Until now, there have been many aspects of it that I just didn't want to talk about with anyone because it was too embarrassing.  But sharing so that someone else can help me bear this burden has given me a new freedom and more strength to keep working toward recovering.

I need healing.  I need to take care of myself.  I want to feel like a whole person again.  I have a renewed hope that someday, I will get there.

A Letter to my Eating Disorder

ED, I hate you.  But I love you at the same time, and struggle to give you up.

You tell me I am not good enough, that I am fat and ugly, that no one will ever love me.  You lie to me, isolate me from my friends and family, and tell me that only you can help me.  You distract me from facing problems, and tell me that you are my solution.  You have cheated me of a life lived unrestrained, unrestricted, and told me that if I can just achieve x,y,z... THEN I will be truly happy.

Yet you have been there in times when it seemed no one else was.  You comforted me when I felt so alone and lost.  You helped me cope through difficult circumstances.  And because of that I struggle to let you go.  You served a purpose, even if the results have been destructive.  Without you, there's no telling where I would be now.  Yes, even in your destructive, soul-crushing wake, I know somehow that I survived in part thanks to you.

The thing is, you no longer have a place.  You no longer serve any purpose in my life except to control, taunt, and destroy me.  And as I start to let you go, you cling to me even tighter.  You tell me how much I need you in order to still have control.  But I am choosing to let you go... one day at a time, one meal at a time, sometimes even one hour at a time.  So, ED, today I am choosing recovery over you.

One Day at a Time

There is no shame in admitting that you need help.

One of the hardest things I have ever done was finally admitting that I had a problem and that I needed help with it.  We attach shame and stigma to this... something that in all actuality takes great strength.

It's been just over a month since I finally reached out for help.

Thirty-three days in recovery.

Thirty-three long, emotionally-draining, overwhelming days.  Thirty-three days of an uphill climb... sometimes one step forward followed by two steps back.

I'm happy to say that today looks brighter than this day a month ago.  That I can now begin to feel my emotions again, feel a desire to be around people, and actually smile and laugh for real and not just because I'm faking it.  That I now have energy each day when I wake up.  Sure, some days looks better than others, and that's not to say there haven't been some low ones as well.  But at one time most of my days looked dark, and now there seem to be more light ones than dark ones.

So I will keep on keeping on.  One day at a time.

Depression.

Yes, depression.  Writing that and acknowledging it feels so strange to me.

I realized today that possibly one reason I haven't acknowledged this fact is that I'm not exactly... sad.  Mostly I feel nothing.  Nothing but tired, fatigued, and zero energy 95% of the time.  My mind feels muddled and struggles to concentrate.... which has made everyday tasks seem insurmountable at times.  My insomnia hangs on, which only exacerbates things.

From the outside looking in, my life looks awesome.  It really does.  I have received comments about all the exciting and amazing things I do.  And it's hard because what people don't see is that most of the time when I'm NOT doing those things (which are actually extremely far and few between... and honestly, are only ever half-enjoyed), I spend most of my time home.  Alone.  Unable to reach out to anyone.  Sometimes I go for a run or to the gym.  Most of the time I am simply laying around not doing much of anything but watching Netflix.  Sadly, the Office and Parks and Rec are my friends these days.

How do you explain to people what you're really going through?  I kept it hidden from even my closest friends and family for so long.  Even the ones that knew bits and pieces weren't getting it all, because who wants to keep listening to the same crap over and over?

That's why I finally reached out and am getting into therapy.  It's been a long time coming.  And I can finally admit that I NEED HELP.

And even though I still feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water, I finally have a small flicker of hope.  Hope to overcome.  Hope to live fully.  Hope for healing relationships and re-building bridges.  I know tomorrow may not feel quite this bright, but for today I am thankful for the small light that just might be at the end of this tunnel.

"And when the peace turns to danger; the nights are longer than days.  And every friend has a stranger's face... Then deep within the dungeon cell you have to make a choice.  Rejoice"

-Andrew Peterson

I don't even know where to begin, honestly.

I've shared bits and pieces very vaguely about what a struggle these recent months have been.

I have felt... well, to be quite honest, I have felt nothing for a long time.

Only in these last few weeks by the grace of God placing people in my life, have I begun to feel a small glimmer of hope.

The brief moments of reprieve came here and there, but it was never long before I had to retreat back into my cave, away from the very things I needed: friendships, community.  I stopped being able to handle even very basic things like cleaning or cooking a simple meal.  Taking care of myself became a struggle.

I can't even place into words what is going on in my heart tonight.  It has been so long since I have really felt anything, and these last few weeks of whatever this is (softening?) have slowly opened me up to friendships and vulnerability and letting people see just how raw and ugly my soul is.  I have wanted people to think I am ok, and from the outside nobody could have known what a struggle was going on.  I have been going through a period of depression and extreme anxiety, and on top of that an eating disorder.

By no means am I "on the other side."  That isn't going to happen overnight.  I know that I need help for where I am.  And I am finally in a place where I can seek that help.

This has been one shit hole of a year.  I am not going to even try to sugarcoat that.  It's looked like a great year from the outside looking in, what with all the trips and races and whatnot.

If you ask me why or what has caused this, I don't know.

All I know is I can't do it alone.  And I'm not alone anymore.

I want to share more of my journey with you here, and I plan on doing just that.