the whole truth

i'm ready to be honest with myself, my blog readers, & the whole world wide web (aka universe). so today, on the life of my ferrets, i swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. so help me god(s). amen.

i've let a lot of stuff slide as of late, one of the main ones has been my blog. not that i don't love my writing, my blog, or my readers (if any are still left as of this date). i've been absent because i've been healing. i'm finally at a good place, a great place, a place of peace. some place that intellectually i knew existed, but some place that i was never quite sure i would see in this life time.

today i find myself firmly in recovery. & yet, i'm not quite sure yet if recovery is a forever road, or if i will one day find myself totally recovered from the evil demon that is my eating disorder. i eat now. i get my three meals & my three snacks. it's not what the peeps at HCMC would prefer since i'm a post gastric bypass patient, they'd prefer the three meals, but my body just doesn't work that way. & for my physical, mental, & emotional health i need to make sure i'm eating every couple of hours.

for the most part i'm not restricting (starving myself) & for the most part i'm not binging. once in a while i will have a day where for whatever reason i think it's a good idea to push my body & i wait much too late to have breakfast. or i'll skip lunch or under eat at dinner. on the flip side of that coin when i'm stressed i some times find myself reaching to munch on something. the old habit of using food as an emotional band-aid. the difference now is that i recognize myself doing these things & i stop myself. i stop myself because i know that i'm worth fighting for. that it's just food. it's fuel. & if i want to accomplish all the AMAZING things i have planned for myself i need to treat my body as a machine. ya know, rotate the tires, get the oil changed, fill the gas tank, get the engine detailed....oh wait, that's the list of maintenance for my saturn.

what has happened thus far in 2011? so many things! the year is almost 25% done and already i'm on cloud nineteen (yes, i'm still a drama queen with a flair for melodrama after all this time). just on friday i had my defense for my MFA thesis. &{drum roll please}: i passed with no revisions required! which means i need to just get the final copies of my thesis to the office and then i graduate. it's been 9 years that i've been in the MFA program & i'm finally graduating. when i think on it i'm so happy that i literally want to cry.

cry? why for you ask. thanks for asking. {hint: here's where the truth, the whole truth & nothing but the truth part comes in} i cry because i realize how terribly close i came to not making it to this day. back in 2009 when my uncle joe died i missed his funeral because of how sick i was with my eating disorder. & while i was honest about this on my blog i wasn't brutally honest. the brutal honesty is something that i've come face to face with in the past month as i finished my thesis & really done some hard core introspection on my time in the MFA program. there was something about facing the end of the student era of my life & preparing to move onto the next, as of yet unnamed, phase that has made me rewind time and re-watch my life.

my plan is to use my poetry to change the world. i want to take my message about living with & recovering from an eating disorder to help keep other girls from going through the same hell. & as i prepare to do that i've realized that even though i'm in recovery i have not been completely honest with the people i care most about. my eating disorder nearly killed me. i'm not being melodramatic. i'm not asking for sympathy, for pity, or for tears. i just need to be transparent about what really happened.

2009 was a total craptastic year in so very many ways. but it was a year that i needed. that year tested me. when i was at the sickest & allowing my eating disorder demon to control me i was so weak that each day i was in pain. this is not a metaphor. yes i was in emotional & mental pain. but i was in physical pain. my back hurt, my tail bone hurt, my chest hurt. every day it hurt to breathe. i'm not even talking deep breaths, i'm talking regular breathing made my chest hurt. but i was scared to say anything because i did not want to be hospitalized.

when my therapist told me that she thought i needed to be hospitalized i balked. i know if i would have told her about the chest pains i probably would have been committed against my will {which was the only way, i told her, i would be hospitalized} at one point she said that i was so malnourished & dehydrated that if i did not start eating i would probably be placed on a feeding tube. i was in such a dark place that secretly i wanted that to happen. because if i had a feeding tube then i wouldn't have to deal with food. as i type this & remember sitting in her office with that reality it does make me sad. she was trying to use it as a threat & the me at that time saw it as a golden ticket.

the thing that i have not confessed to anyone until recently is how close i really came to death. i'm convinced now as i look back at that time that i was much closer to dying than i realized. every week i thought about dying at least three or four times. sometimes it was multiple times a day. it was not that i wanted to kill myself. to me that was selfish to slice my wrists open or over dose on pills. but i was slowly killing myself. every day it hurt to open my eyes, i drank a gallon of coffee a day just to get myself enough energy to drive the 3.3 miles to work & hunch over my desk. i put a smile on my face when people were looking, a grimace when no one was looking.

at least twice a week i would tally the people in my life. my mom, my dad, my sister, my brother, my grandma, each of my friends. & as i thought of each one i would tell myself they would be okay if i didn't wake up the next day. if my heart just stopped beating from the strain, the stress, not enough food, not enough water. & as i thought of each of them i did feel a bit of guilt, what would happen if i did die. but i also told myself they would be okay. i told myself that then my parents wouldn't need to worry anymore. that my dad wouldn't tell my sister that because we work at the same place it's her responsibility to go to my desk each day & make sure i'm eating.

even my ferrets. i thought of them & what would happen to them. i knew my family would make sure they were taken care of until they crossed the rainbow bridge. cassie & sunny d, my first two boys. they'd be sad, but they would get over it. podo & doodle are strong & would carry on. marley, linus & lucy were young & resilient. they'd all be okay. except for my nyddah. my little rescue from the humane society. i knew that if i died nyddah would not be okay. she would not be okay just living with my parents.

she crawled into a deep crevice in my heart when she reached up & licked my chin at the shelter on august 16, 2008. i've heard people say soul mates are not always human. in a way i feel nyddah is my soul mate. i love that little furkid more than i ever thought i could love another soul. just as she crawled into my heart i know i crawled into hers. it was miss nyddah & the thought that my death would kill her that kept me getting up day after day. it kept me fighting. i know that it will probably hurt those that i love when they realize that what kept me going was nyddah instead of one of the humans in my life.

but as i type this i don't hang my head in shame. {statistics are slippery things & i try not to use them, especially in my blog, however....} about 20% of people with eating disorders will die without treatment. even receiving treatment 2-3% of people with an eating disorder will die as a result of their disease. sure, that's a low statistic. however. i tend to defy the odds. there was a minuscule chance, less than 1%, of the type of complications i had post gastric bypass, & yet i had surgery again four months & three days after my bypass because of complications. my tonsils were removed twice because they grew back. i was born with only three wisdom teeth. i tend to be an odd conglomeration of weird medical issues.

& the point of all of this? honesty. i want to change the world with my poetry. i want to stand in front of millions of people & read my poems & change their lives. i will open people's hearts & minds & change the way people with eating disorders are viewed. i will open the dialogue so that there is no more shame. it's a disease just like breast cancer or seizure disorders or alzheimers. no one blames someone for getting cancer or having seizures or alzheimers, why attach shame to an eating disorder. & to be the role model i know i can be, to revolutionize the way people see this disease, i need to make sure i'm honest with myself, with those around me.

to thank nyddah for saving my life i've dedicated my poetry book to her. i realize she's a ferret and {probably} can't read. but, for me, i needed to acknowledge how close i came to dying & who saved my life. so, miss nyddah: i love you, always. thank you for saving me.

holy long absence, batman!

so after poking a facebook friend to read my blog and then i'll read hers i decided to see how long it's been since i blogged and was gobsmacked to find out it's been two plus months! then again, the past two months have been very full. just two days after my last blog, on august 8th, my sweetheart fry was in a very bad car accident and nearly killed. thank the gods he was able to walk away. here's what happened:

he was headed north on round lake boulevard in anoka. it's a two lane highway, the speed limit is 55 mph. a car was stopped to make a left. so the car in front of fry stopped. and fry stopped. and there's where it got ugly. the 20-something girl behind him "looked down for a second" when she looked up everyone was stopped. she jerked the wheel to the right and slammed on her brakes but hit the back right of fry's yaris hard enough to bend the axle and plow his car into the car in front of him and into oncoming traffic where his car was then hit again by a full size dodge ram pickup. his car was completely totaled out. and everyone who talked to us in the weeks after said usually the driver doesn't live in accidents like this:


even now with him sitting next to me eating bbq pringles and watching a very bad "meteor destroys earth movie" knowing he's safe. knowing he's ok. i get panicky and tears threaten to run because i came so very close to losing him. my heart races and my throat closes and i want to drop to my knees and thank the gods for sparing him.

he did actually WALK away from this accident. he got himself out of the car. called me when i was on my way to my part time job and said "i was just rear ended, do you think you can give me a ride?" i asked if he was ok and he said yeah, fine, he just needed a ride. thankfully i didn't see the car until the next day when i went to empty it for him. he didn't even want to go to the hospital, i made him because he had the seat belt mark embedded in his chest and kept saying he wanted to sleep and i was worried about a head injury. thankfully the full extent of his injuries were deep bruises, some slight ligament tears, and partially detached muscle. minuscule in relation to what could have been.

august was filled with helping fry recover. find a new car. both of us learn to be ok riding in cars without fearing the person behind us was out to kill us. i still sometimes feel anxiety when driving. and even more so when i'm passenger. his sister came up to visit from hawaii. we saw weird al at the state fair. life was getting back to normal.

and then bad news from the west. my uncle john, my uncle joe's younger brother, was getting weaker. my aunt sharon emailed us asking for prayers. not prayers for a cure or a miracle. but prayers for comfort and peace and no pain. then in the evening on wednesday september 8th, a month to the day after fry's accident, my cousin rico called to tell us the doctors said my uncle would be lucky to make it 24 hours and they would be simply shocked if he made it through the weekend. my dad packed a bag. tossed and turned all night. and headed west early on the 9th. he made it to the hospital in north dakota just before 2pm on the 9th. he spent a few final hours with his best friend/brother before my uncle john died on september 10th just before 5am.

so with a lot of fear of driving, cars, and dying behind the wheel: i got in my saturn and drove west to say good bye. i returned to the town i was born in. a town i hadn't seen in 30 years and 2 months and 29days. all in all i spent less than 24 hours in that north dakota town before returning east again. to home.

now, not like any of this is ALL about me, but i had just started to gain my balance again and completely had the pins knocked out from under me. my uncle john was my godfather. one of the steadies in my life. i still have both my parents, but i always thought that when the time came that i lost one of them my uncle john would be the one to hold me up and give me strength and he would still be there to take care of me. i wanted to see his face when i received my mfa from hamline. i thought he'd dance with me at my wedding. that he'd hold my babies and they'd call him grandpa john. i've had to learn to live again in a world without him. and, honestly, i hate that. but i'm trying not to resent it too much. trying not to have too much animosity towards the heavens for taking him.

it's exhausting to be thanking the gods for sparing fry while at the same time cursing them for taking my uncle john. oh, and then, the day my uncle died it was announced that i got a promotion at work. seriously. talk about an emotional mixed bag. but. blessing too? because i needed something new at work. a new challenge to better use my talents and skills. i'd been in my previous position for nearly 3 years and it was time for a change.

sum up? so, the past 2 1/2 months = nearly losing my lover, my uncle dying, and a promotion.

did i mention that i also have stopped seeing my therapist & nutritionist and decided i'm well enough to tackle this whole eating disorder thing on my own? but, you know what? maybe i am. because all of this could have sent me into a serious spiral and caused me to starve myself again. and it hasn't. i have my moments of poor choices, but everyone does. it's called being human.

finally: an explaination on the weight loss ticky-ticker

granted, yes, for some people with an eating disorder they need to stay far far away from scales because it's detrimental to them. for me my problems with eating are more closely tied to my emotions rather than a number on the scale. although a number on the scale can upset me, as it can to many people, it's not enough to send me running for the kitchen in search of something to gnaw on.

i know it can seem somewhat contradictory. but i need to be able to keep track of my weight and i do want to keep losing weight. for me i want to get to a healthy weight. right now i'm still technically "obese" according to the medical charts. my first goal is to become overweight. yes. my goal is to become overweight. but when you're starting at obese it's a goal that makes sense. once i get to 174 pounds then i'll merely be overweight. yippee! my last weigh in and i was just shy of that goal. i know, weight loss is a slippery little bugger. and especially for women things can sway dramatically based on water retention and the like. but i'm keeping tabs on what i'm doing.

at work i have started taking the stairs. up to the fifth floor each day. and when i have to go to the bathroom i walk down to the first floor, use the bathroom there, and then back up again. yeah, it's a little thing, but i feel like the more little things i do the more they will add up for me. i really want to get in the routine of getting 10,000 steps a day. some days are better than others. i think the last time i got to that many steps was a few days ago. right now i'm at 4,357. getting the steps in during a normal work day can be a challenge to say the least. but i'm happy with the challenges i'm facing lately. and i feel as though i'm meeting them with dignity and grace.

insomnia: again? really?!

so. sitting on the couch in the living room. eleven ferrets wrecking havoc on the house. three in the kitchen. eight in the living room. and i can't sleep. one attacking my slipper. it's not doodle. it's cass. holy fucking hell. i know, it's obvious why i can't sleep: there's eleven ferrets tearing ass around the house making noise and trashing the place. that's not it. i'm not sure why i'm not sleepy. i thought i would be. work has been a steady pace lately. and sometimes emotionally challenging. it's tough being big brother and telling people they messed up. it's even more difficult having to tell someone that no, you won't change your mind, and try to nicely get them out of your cube so you can leave work on time.

but i'm actually very content, work life aside. fry and i have a nice home with our furkids. now and again when the temps are decent at night and the bugs're scarce we'll have a bonfire out back and make s'mores. we are very much into cuddling on the couch and watching netflix streaming through my wii. lately we've been on an xfiles kick. (i'm an xfiles junkie from way back so i like to skip around and watch my favorite episodes...currently the rain king...fry is an xfiles newbie so when we watch together we have started from the beginning).

there is a lot on my mind lately. i've finally come to terms with the fact that i very much do have trouble with collecting things. i think i've known it for a long time. and it's something that i've been working on with my therapist for the past few months. part of it is i have a very good memory. i can look at a knick knack and i remember who gave it to me and why they gave it to me. and then i feel immense guilt if i think about giving it away/throwing it away/donating it. as if that person may be hurt that i didn't hang onto whatever it was they gave me. it's not that i'm a spoiled princess and ungrateful for the thought. i very much am grateful to be the recipient of the gift. and most times i've gotten quite a bit of use out of the item it's just that it is now something that i have outgrown the use for. or else, i see something and think "well, i should get rid of X because i don't need it." but then i start thinking about how useful X item would be in Y situation. and then i keep it because otherwise if i have to buy whatever X is later down the line to do Y job then i'll be upset that i didn't keep the previous X item that i had. i grew up very very poor and so i can't stand to see something go to waste or waste my money.

in addition to having extreme issues parting with belongings i also have an extremely hard time passing up a deal. if i see something for 90% clearance at target i'll stock up, even if it's something like burnt orange pillar candles which i have no need for in the near, or even foreseeable, future. i keep a box of "gifts" in case i need to randomly give something to someone. all items that i got on massive clearance and i've stock piled. ugh. stock pile. that's a phrase that gives me the heebees, the geebees, shivers, and dry heaves all at the same time.

my dad used to get mad at my mom for "stock piling" food on the shelf we had in the basement. he'd get mad that she would squirrel away extra food. and in a way i did too. but i also remembered that day from my childhood. all the cabinets open. the fridge too. my mom crying because we had no food at all in the house and my siblings and i were hungry. something like that makes an impression on you. for me it instilled a deep fear of being hungry. or, of not having food. so when i see chef boy ardee on sale 10 for $10 i want to fill my cart with mini lasagna, spaghetti and meatballs, and beef raviolis because then maybe i'll feel safe.

when i go grocery shopping i'm so tempted to use my coupons and the sale ad to fill my cart. even though the cupboards at home are literally stuffed and nearly over flowing with food. fry tells me we have enough. that we have more than enough. that i don't need to buy so much. we're only two people. he reminds me we should work through what we have at home before we get new stuff because otherwise we will wind up throwing stuff away. i nearly threw a fit when he suggested i give some of my scooby gummies and fruit by the fruits to his friend's three year old kid (yeah, me throwing a fit over gummies is a WHOLE other issue in the realm of beckah & her dysfunctional relationship with food). in the end i did give 1/3 of my gummies away to fry's friend's kid, and another 1/3 to my friend april's little girl. but that took SO much of my will power and strength in order to do that. i know. it's ridiculous. and at the same time it filled me a bit with a sense of panic.

i decided today to sell some of my stuff on ebay. the stuff that maybe i can make a buck or two off of instead of donating. i was all set to donate it. but fry suggested we try selling it instead. some backpacks that are in excellent shape, it's just that i don't need them. seriously, how many backpacks does one adult REALLY need? in a way it was easier on me to decide to give them away than sell them. isn't that odd? and i know i have some furbies in the garage. those should sell on ebay too. maybe this will be another small forward step in recovery? cleaning and getting rid of stuff is empowering. but it's also SO scary for me. so very very scary. then again. didn't i just say i was ready for scary? that i am welcoming it with open arms and want to face the scary all on my own? well. i'm thinking maybe i shouldn't be completely on my own. maybe i do need some help. just a wee bit of emotional support from friends and family. i'm still resolved to quit therapy. or rather, bring my need for it to an end. but, that doesn't mean i can't lean a little on those who love me. showing weakness. asking for help. those are positive steps for me.

recap on my kayaking trip (july 8-11th)

the trip was challenging. i am NOT in anyway an outdoor kind of girl. even though i went to burning man, and would go again, SO not an outdoorsy girl. i like my running water. i like my pillow top mattress with the feather bed on top of it. my flush toilet. my snoogle. my ferrets. all those things that create my nice cushy life.

with that being said. i did have a blast on the trip in terms of the social aspect. it was really nice being around other people who have their own challenges with food. i was tempted to say "who have an eating disorder" and erased that to then write "who struggle with an eating disorder" however i don't want anyone to see just my illness when they see me. i want them to see ME first, and then later maybe my struggles. or, preferably, how i overcome my struggles.

before the trip i was freaking out. pretty hard core freaking the EFF out on the inside, and doing a fair amount of verbal freaking out. fry and i were discussing it one night after i found out after i was accepted for the trip and he said "you can always say no, hun." and i did think about it briefly, but going on the trip was kind of a weird dream come true for me. it was free for me, i just had to bring my clothes and personal stuff, but tent, food, transportation was all covered, which is HUGE for me in these difficult economic times. but, also, ever since my BFF from childhood went kayaking with her cousin way back in the day i've been curious about it.

so i pushed aside all my fears, packed up my bags, and went on the trip. what was the biggest struggle for me? honestly, and this may sound lame: battling the urge to over pack. i've discovered recently that i am a first rate pack rat. you know that tv show on a&e called hoarders? well, let's just say that i grew up learning from the best of them (my dad and brother SO could be on that show). and in therapy i've been working on getting over my need to hoard and save stuff. so when packing for the trip i wanted to put all kinds of stuff in my bag that wasn't on the list (an extra pair of shoes, a deck of cards, an extra t-shirt, extra socks....) and all that stuff adds up and pretty soon you're showing up in california with two ginormous suitcases and another two boxes of stuff mailed. oh, wait, that was when i went to burning man! my first proud moment was realizing that i stuck exactly to the list.

now that i've been back at home for two and a half weeks it all feels kind of fuzzy. i'm so glad i went. i feel very empowered and much stronger and better able to handle life and all it's surprises. i'm also feeling like i want to be done with therapy. i'm sick of being the sick girl. i hate having to take FMLA every week to leave for my therapy appointments. i actually talked with fry about it last night and he said he will help me with the nutrition part of it. for his bachelor's degree he majored in kinesiology with a minor in biology, his emphasis was corporate fitness. so, needless to say i'm living with a man who spent four years studying to help people with health, wellness, and fitness. well, i think his exact words were "i can give you a kick in the ass if you need it." the funny part about that is he is a first class hippie and the most non violent person on earth.

plan for nutrition and food support? check. as for the therapy visits? i see my therapist tomorrow night and i'm going to talk to her. i know that for therapists it has to be tough. if they do their job right then people get better and move on. which is great for the patient, not so great for the therapist. i'm kind of guessing my therapist is going to encourage me to not stop therapy just yet.

i spent so much of my early life waiting. and being afraid. and hanging back. i could run but instead i crawled, with fear, not daring to run. and now i just want to run. i want to test out my new self and see if i can handle all the challenges and obstacles and the every day bull shit that comes with living. see if i can do it without dousing my emotions with food. or starving myself so the pain of hunger is more cutting than any emotions i may be feeling. what would life be like to actually allow myself to experience emotions? scary. very very scary. but i think i'm ready for that.

the last time you blogged was when?!

checking my blog i feel rather chagrined and fairly ashamed of the fact that it's been nearly six months since i've blogged. that's a whole half a year. sheesh. yes, there's a whole pile of shame and guilt that goes with that. then again. i tend to have massive piles of guilt and shame associated with a lot of things in my life. so, honestly, that is nothing new.

the past six months have been filled with lots of changes for me. most notably i met a WONDERFUL man that i am totally head over heels in love with. i did make him work hard for it too. it would be an understatement to say that i kept him at arm's length. it was more like arms length plus a dozen or so feet. but he persisted, and gave me my space at the same time, and now we're happily cohabiting with our eleven ferrets.

yes, eleven ferrets. see. i had eight. he had two when he met me. then after meeting me he picked up a third one, so 8+2+1=11. eleven ferrets also equals a fair amount of insanity at our house. there's also a fair amount of poop that goes along with eleven ferrets. but also lots of love, cuddles, dooking, and joy.

so what is this young man's name? well, if you befriend me on facebook you'll know cause we're listed as "in a relationship," or if you talk to me, text me, or stalk me (yes YOU, i saw you in the bushes last night! btw, pick up your PBR cans, we don't want that shit in our yard. please & thank you). but, for now, in blog world, i'll call him fry. i do sometimes call him that in person, and he is cool with that. so we'll see.

let's see. what else. um. i'm vitamin d insufficient. go me. supposed to be at 20 or above and mine is a single digit. and that digit is NOT a 9. but working on that. working on beating my eating disorder into submission. working on staying hydrated. just got back from a weekend trip to the apostle islands with a group from the emily program (where i go for my therapy). the trip was awesome. i'll post more about that along with the poem that i wrote as a result of the trip. um, also working on thesis. working on just in general getting my shit together. so. for now. i'm back to blogging. i've missed it terribly and hope that not ALL my blog readers have forgotten me.

lots of love,
beckah

32 years ago

32 years ago at this exact moment my mom was in a hospital in the middle of nowhere north dakota waiting for the doctors to induce her so that i could make my glorious entrance into the world. unfortunately for me, there were two other babies that had the audacity to be born on june 13th 1977. so the docs pushed my mom off til the 14th. then another two babies decided they wanted to show. in the end i was finally born on june 15th. 8 days past my forecasted due date, two days later than the scheduled induced birth, & six days before my father's 29th birthday.

that's where i was/what i was doing 32 years ago. so what about for the past two months? i've been sick. i've been struggling. i've been secluding myself. work has been hell on earth. don't get me wrong, i'm happy to have a job. & i'm happy that i have a job that has SOME flexibility so that i can make it to my therapy appointments & my other appointments. for instance this past week i had a total of 6 appointments (2 acupuncture, 2 different nutritionists, a psychiatrist, & a psychologist). yup, i have a whole fucking team of people trying to keep me healthy. er. healthy enough.

my birthday is just 25 hours & some change away. well, that'll be when june 15th dawns here in minnesota. i was actually born just after 7pm, so it's nearly 44hrs until the actual time of my birth in the year the king died (yeah, an elvis reference). i want to keep secluding, but i know it serves no purpose. & i need to write in order to get better. i've been trying very hard to get better. each day i wake up telling myself today i will be in control instead of my eating disorder.

back in april i hit a new low. on the day of my uncle joe's funeral i was so sick that i was unable to attend the funeral. i was at work & getting ready to leave to go to the funeral & i was so dizzy & off balance i couldn't walk without holding onto the wall. it was like i was drunk i was so dehydrated/malnourished. jenn found me at the elevator & took me back to her cube where i called my mom & cried while trying not to draw attention to myself & told her i was too sick to drive to st. paul for the funeral. jenn & another person from work drove me & my car home. i crawled into bed so weak i couldn't even drink water without spilling on myself. & i cried. too petrified to sleep because i was very afraid that if i closed my eyes & fell asleep it would be the last time my eyes were open. in hindsight i should have called 911 & gone to the hospital. or i should have at the very least had a friend with me at my place. i should not have been alone when i was that sick. i really am hoping that is my rock bottom.

how can i not be smarter than my eating disorder? today i was at 4:30pm mass with my mom & i kept staring up at the crucifix over the alter counting the ribs on the figure of jesus on the cross. & wondering why depictions of jesus are always so thin with ribs & joints sticking out. is that the ideal? & even as i type this i'm remembering just a few hours ago when my mom was saying good bye to me & she touched my left wrist as if she was afraid she'd break bones if she applied too much pressure. when i asked her what was wrong she said my wrists are so tiny. & i know there were tears hiding in her brown eyes. tears that she let drop as i shifted from 1st to 2nd & so on as i guided my saturn west from st. paul to plymouth.

today i told my grandma i'm in therapy & dealing with an eating disorder. she hasn't seen me at my sickest so i think it's hard for her to deal with this. she asked me "which one" that i had: anorexia or bulimia (cause those are the only two eating disorders out there. . . .yeah, i'm a bit bitter about that one. not at my grandma specifically, but because that's the most common question i get asked).

i want to write more now, but i'm so tired i can barely keep my eyes open. i think i'll have to log off for now.

pscyh update?

yeah yeah yeah, i've been avoiding it, but i know i need to update what's going on with the psych eval that i had friday. the dr was really nice. can't recall his name for the life of me, i think his first name was peter, so yeah, we'll go with peter. i'll be seeing him again in a few weeks. when i got there he asked me why i was there & i was point blank honest with him & said that my therapist & regular doctor think i'm depressed & should consider meds & so i made the appointment to appease them. i'm not sure if people are usually that blunt with him, but he definitely seemed taken aback by that. i mean, i guess on some level i was there because i figured it'd be best for me, but that was the main reason i was there, so why lie about it?

i've been seeing anne & amy for so long now that it was weird having to start back at square 0 & tell someone all about me & my problems. & an hour is definitely not enough. did i cry? yeah, i did. but, i had some pretty heavy BS go down the night before with my family, so it's kind of amazing that i even showed up to the appointment & then work afterwards. so he asked me some questions & i did a lot of talking. A LOT.

in the end even though i told him that no i don't feel i'm depressed he said that he thinks i meet the criteria for being clinically depressed. yeah, whatever that means. so i had four options: the first is do nothing & come back if i decide to try a medication, the second would be to try a liquid med in a pediatric dose & increase dosage gradually over several weeks, the third would be to try a half pill dose of medication & then after a week or two bump up to a full dose, & finally the fourth would be to just start out on a medication at full dose. i chose the last one. i don't want to take meds, but i'm willing to do it temporarily if i have to. & if i'm going to do it i may as well just do it & not fuck around with anything like a half dose or a liquid med. so i'm now taking prozac, the smallest dose they can give me without it being a liquid or splitting a pill.

needless to say there are lots of people not happy about this. me for one. my parents are really not happy. some of my friends are upset on my behalf too. i know, if i really don't want to take the pills it is completely within the scope of my control. i don't HAVE to take them. bit i'm going to try. i took the first one saturday morning. i take one pill, once a day, in the morning. now considering the fact that often times i have trouble taking my vitamins this may or may not go well. we will have to see on this. i am trying to be better about taking my vitamins too. i know that i'm only hurting myself by not taking them (there will be another blog about this AND my unhappiness in relation to my clinic & my unnecessary trip to urgent care last friday evening).

in 3 weeks i go back to see peter to check in on the medication thing. my main goal between now & then is to just take the prozac every day. since i'm very pill challenged lately i think that's a pretty decent goal. what i will say, & i say this LOUDLY & publicly: IF THIS FUCKS UP MY CREATIVE PROCESS & IMPEDES MY WRITING I WILL IMMEDIATELY STOP TAKING THE DAMN PILLS. i have absolutely no sense of humor on this one, no wiggle room, & no leeway. i'm meeting with deborah on wednesday & we're going to put together a schedule, a plan, for me to finish my damn mfa already so i can get on with things. try to get a teaching job, try to just move on with my life. i've been swimming in lame little circles without any forward progress & i need to move on. if these pills help that, then great. but if they make my life, my writing, more difficult then i say screw them hard, i'll go it alone.

happy NEDA (national eating disorder awareness) week

february 22-28th is national eating disorder awareness week. what does that mean to me? i honestly don't know. this is something that i live with each day, every day, each moment that i'm awake. it's something that i battle with as i sleep. & in all the in-between places. i asked E if our break up has/had anything to do with my eating disorder. & he told me no. & i believe him. but he did say that it scares him that maybe i will die from it. fuck. i thought i was the only one that considered that. but i'm not. my mom said she's worried about me. that maybe one day my body will buckle under the strain of my eating disorder & it'll kill me. so there's at least two people.

how fucking lame would that be if i allowed myself to let this fucking disease over take me? i keep thinking that over & over. & then i think that i should be stronger. sometimes i try to make light of all of it & think what my dad said to me when i was a kid "be a cloutier. be a man." it's what anyone in my family says when things get tough & we need to be tougher. but just sucking it up isn't going to help me this time. i've been in therapy now for almost six months now & i do wonder if it's working or not. how is talking about my relationship with food going to fix anything? how much longer do i want to do this? how much longer can i do it?

i want to be healed already. i want to be ok. i feel so broken. vulnerable. fragile. i absolutely hate feeling like that. i hate that every interaction with food is a little battle for me. eating breakfast. packing a lunch. going out to dinner with friends. facing treat day at work. potlucks. anything & everything involving food becomes a dance for me. i want to be normal, but what is the normal? i feel like there are so many things that influence my every day interactions with & thoughts about food. but i don't feel that it's appropriate to blame "the media" or "society" or anything else. like any situation my eating disorder is complex. it's made up of so many little nuances, each of which influence each other & compound each other that there isn't an easy fix to any of it.

there's also a part of me that for some reason is resentful of my workplace reaction to all of this. not like i'd decorate my cube or put up a bunch of stuff talking about eating disorders. but there's something about the fact that it's been made clear that my eating disorder should be kept out of my work that is off putting to me. especially as the week starts that is supposed to be national eating disorder awareness week. yeah. something to ponder.

i want to write more, but i'm not quite sure what to say at this moment. & i need to take E's ferrets back to him. the longer i wait to leave the later it'll be when i get home.

when will thin be thin enough?

it's a question i've been asking myself a lot lately. today at work i was passing by someone & she said "you're SO thin!" & i just smiled & nodded because i didn't know what else to say or do. i was 155.8 this morning on my scale. yesterday morning i was 158.8. i don't think i really lost 3 lbs in one day, at least, i'm pretty sure that i haven't. i have been eating. yesterday it was more like 2 meals & a snack because i had this health screening at work at 11am & i had to fast for 9hrs before hand so i didn't have anything to eat until lunch time. on the plus side, my fasting glucose was 66 which is on the low end of normal so i don't think i really have anything to worry about with my blood sugar.

if i'm weighing 155 my bmi is around 26. still over weight. still frickin overweight! it makes me want to scream & tear at the walls. i was laying in bed this morning getting ready to get up & face the day & i can feel my ribs easily beneath my skin. my hips protrude from the skin. so do the edges of my pelvic bone. yeah, really, they do. i can feel my vertebrae all the way down my back. & it's painful. really painful to sit directly on your tailbone. trust me on this one. i know because i've been doing it. but i'm still not thin enough for me (for my eating disorder). but then, i'm happy because i'm just 10 lbs away from being in the "normal" BMI range. yes, sick, twisted, i know this.

& the BMI charts are a crock of shit in general. i mean, really, who do they apply to? i have met some of the thinnest, fittest, healthiest people that the BMI charts say are overweight. really? wtf, mate? at the health screening yesterday i mentioned to the health coach that i was concerned about my BMI & she looked at me like i'd suddenly grown a second head on my shoulders. & she asked about my fitness & i told her how much i used to work out & she said even if i'm still not that active (which i'm totally not) that my body has maintained some of the muscle & that definitely has an impact on BMI & that i really shouldn't be worried too much.

so what about HCMC's estimate of my weight? 132.7 is where they think i should be. so i still have another, um, 20+ lbs to go. i'm not shy about admitting that my thighs, stomach, upper arms all have fat that could be gotten rid of. also my calves are pretty chunky. then again, i was told yesterday that my face is really thin, too thin, & my upper body is really too thin also. if i were made of play-do all i would need is a little reshaping & sculpting to be all better. but i'm not made of play-do. & all i can do is start to exercise & hope that'll help some & then start saving for plastic surgery.

at this point i'm really not looking for perfection. i'd just like to be able to wear a short sleeved shirt without being SO self conscious. & i'd like to be able to wear a swim suit without being so hyper aware of how saggy & flabby my thighs are. yeah, exercise should help some. if i would've started exercising a year ago that would've been best because i would've been working out while i was in such rapid weight loss from the surgery, but i can't go back in time. & if i could, i'd probably want to change so much that i may not even find myself at the same place that i am right now because i would've changed the outcome of my life. (as an aside i finally watched the matrix a few weeks ago. yeah, probably a good thing i didn't see it a while ago. it totally messed with my head & is still tripping me up. i totally would've been much more paranoid for the last several years if i'd seen the matrix in the 90's. & i feel like i already blogged about this. did i really? or am i just experiencing deja vu because something was changed in the program? yup. good thing i didn't watch the matrix before).

i wonder when i really WILL be thin enough. will it be a number on the scale? will it be a clothing size? right now i wear anything between a 13 & 15 in jeans depending on the brand. t-shirts i wear medium or large, depending on the cut. i have lots of clothes that are bigger than that because they're cute & i'm trying to get as much wear out of them as possible. i never thought i'd find myself in this place. for the longest time i would've said that 13 would be just dandy! that to wear a medium or large tshirt would be just ducky! that to walk into victoria secret & fit nicely into their medium panties would be perfect. & yet. & yet. *sighs* & yet here i find myself obsessing as i look at my clothes, run my hands over my body, & criticize the reflection the mirror gives me.

finally: the charts from hcmc in december

my desk is being moved at work today. or rather, i'm being moved, the desk is staying where it is. so i was cleaning my cube & packing stuff up & i found my chart from my december appointment at hcmc. so i figured i'd put it up here. as of december my bmi was 27 (still over weight) & i'm still 26 lbs from hcmc's goal weight for me.

i still don't know how i feel about that. i don't even remember weighing the amount i do right now. yesterday morning i was in a meeting at work & i think i may have been the smallest girl in the meeting. that blew my mind & i was unable to concentrate for the rest of the meeting because i was trying to guess if i did weigh the least. & then at the same time i was thinking about my body & how i looked & just so dissatisfied that i weigh as much as i do. or, that i'm as big as i am. & i do realize that is a really fucked up thing to say because i see how thin, too thin parts of my body are. but then, but, i'll look at my clothes & think that they are huge & i'll touch my arms or legs or tummy & just get so upset that they aren't smaller.

& no, i'm not oblivious to how messed up this all is. evidently it's darkest before the dawn. i kind of hate that phrase. actually, i really hate that phrase. i hate any cliches that are meant to make you feel better, they literally make me sick. i don't like being sick & weak. i hate the fact that everyday is a struggle to get myself out of bed, dressed, & go into work to face another day. everyday i come home so exhausted & wrung out. & i let out my ferrets & i don't even really have the energy to actively play with them. on the one hand i'm lucky i have five because they have each other to play with. but i know they miss me. they'll come up to be & want to play, or give me kisses. & they give me this look. they are SO sad. & that just breaks my heart.

*sighs* i don't want to, i really don't want to, but i think that today i will ask ann for the referral to see a psychiatrist & get on a med temporarily. i feel defeated saying that. & i'm so damn scared that i won't be able to write any more. & i'm confused. & i am having trouble concentrating. it's 7:33am. time to head to work.

blessed

i'm having chest pains right now & i hurt so bad i can barely sit on my couch. my doctor called & said all of my labs were normal except for my blood glucose, which was 145 & not fasting. so she is going to send me a lab slip & wants me to come in & do a fasting blood draw soon. i'm not terribly worried because i know that day was off. i had eaten barely anything, just mainly espresso with milk & splenda. i think maybe i nibbled something, i can't recall. honestly that day was a blur. i think that's a bit high, but it's not terribly high. i have to say though, wouldn't it be totally fucking ironic if i wind up having gastric bypass to get healthier & then i wind up getting fucking type 2 diabetes anyway? right before they drew my blood, as in, oh, one minute before, i had just finished drinking my coffee.

over the past couple days i've talked with some friends about the medication route. i still really don't want to do it, but i'm getting worse. a lot worse by the day. i go to work in the morning & i become a lot like a ferret. i hide my pain & put on a brave face & show people what they want to see. & then, at the end of the day, i limp home completely wrung out & exhausted. tonight i stopped at cub to pick up some fresh fruit & i was so fuzzy headed i could barely think while shopping. i got home & wanted to skip dinner because it just seemed like too much work to microwave something. in the end i wound up eating a couple of strawberries & a piece of pizza.

right now i feel so weak & everything seems overwhelming. & yeah, the bullshit with E weighs heavy on my heart. & my fuzzy cassidy is depressed & misses his sweetheart lily. & that hurts to watch cassidy be hurt & i can't do anything about it. yes, i know some people are thinking "they are just ferrets." but really, they are much smarter & more intuitive & sensitive than people think. & while i am hurting badly about E it's really my eating disorder that is more concerning.

some of my friends & family want to blame E for my decline in health, but this had started before last week. i've been treading water in terms of my eating disorder for a while. my life has been chaos since december & i've been trying to figure this thing out. every week i go to therapy & every week i try to do my best, in every meal, every day, every hour. it just seems like it's not enough.

& i keep hearing that i'm strong & i'll be ok & i'll get through this even stronger on the other side. but why can't i have faith in that? maybe because right now i'm running low on everything. well, almost everything. i am really fortunate in that i am getting a lot of support from my friends & family. last night a friend from the east coast called. he was talking with me online & called to see how i was. today another friend that i haven't talked to in a few weeks just randomly texted me. i asked him how he knew i needed a friend & he said he didn't know, just that i had been on his mind. & then sinead called me tonight. so i am very blessed. while i'm having difficulty having faith in myself i do have a lot of people that are showing they care about me & love me. i have to admit, that helps. just knowing that there are so many people around that care about me & really want me to get better & want to help me in anyway that they can.

while i really don't want to do it, i am thinking that tomorrow when i see ann i'll get a referral to see a psychiatrist at the emily program to talk about meds. like sinead & josey said, it doesn't have to be forever, maybe just for a little bit. & if it'll help me get evened out enough to get my eating under control & start to get healthy, then that's what i'll have to do. obviously being stubborn & living on espresso are not doing anything. oh caffeine, why have you forsaken me? i guess this just goes to show: there really are some problems that cannot be solved by coffee.

but, for right now. it's almost 10:30pm & it's taken me quite a while to finish this blog because i keep losing my train of thought..... & nearly falling asleep. so i'm off to bed & hoping for a good night's sleep.

father knows best....well....sometimes...

i do love my dad, don't get me wrong. but sometimes i just wonder if he's ever met a girl in his life. i showed up all broken hearted & wounded friday night at my parents' house with ferrets & footie jammies in tow. & we're watching a movie & i'm trying to choke down a bit of pizza & he looks at me & says "men are like buses. if you miss one another one will come by."

really? that's what you're going to tell me when i don't know what's happening with the person i thought i was going to spend the rest of my life. damn.

so then today we're watching the history of gangs on the history channel. it was a two hour show that went all the way back to the start of america as a country & then talked about gangs all the way up to today. at one point there was a clip of "west side story" on the show & my parents started talking about what a good movie it was. i admitted that i hadn't seen it so my dad says "hey, it's on demand, let's watch it."

are you fucking kidding me? this time i looked at him & said "really. you are seriously suggesting that right now i watch a love story about a white guy & a puerto rican girl? are you kidding me?!" for anyone who doesn't know, E is from puerto rico. yeah. my dad. mr sensitive he's not.

but, his faux pas in the arena of love aside, my dad has a good heart & tries really hard. he also does the best he can by me & my siblings. & sometimes he does have some good advice. yesterday we were together most of the afternoon at the emergency vet because walker (my parents' dog) was super sick. while we were stuck in the uncomfortable chairs at the emergency vet with nothing to do but stare at the walls or talk to each other my dad & i actually talked to each other.

he's still not very comfortable talking about my eating disorder. he just doesn't get it. he thinks that all i need to do is just put my meals in this little pink bowl he gave me, each everything in that bowl three times a day & i'll be fine. on the one hand my dad is right. if i could just three times a day portion out a balance of protein, veggies/fruit, & carbs & then actually eat that, just that, no snacking, i'd be ok. the cynic in me says this sounds so similar to the way to "fix" a fat person. "just eat less and exercise more & you'll drop that weight in no time!" it's so easy in theory, from the outside the answer is simple & obvious. but when you're in that body, in that life, it's not so easy all the time to do what you should.

on the upside, getting to spend some time alone with my dad we got to talk & neither of us could run or avoid any issues. on friday i went to my doctor to talk about the issues i've been having with pain & all of that. my doctor ran a bunch of lab tests & then asked me a bunch of questions: are you throwing up, are you exercising, how often are you exercising, are you depressed, why aren't you eating, how often are you eating, & etc. she also had the lab do an ekg to see how my heart is holding up (it turned out normal) in addition to all the blood tests. i'll find out about the blood tests next week. she then looks at me & tells me that she thinks that i'm depressed & that i really should go on an antidepressant.

my therapist wants me to see one of their psychiatrists at the emily program & go on antidepressants. that was the one thing that i said up front i did not want at all: no pills. i was on paxil in the past & i couldn't feel anything. sure, i didn't feel sad anymore, but i didn't feel happy, angry, or anything at all. so i took myself off of that. then later i was on wellbutrin which was ok, except i would be fine & then all of a sudden i would be the most angry person on planet earth. there wouldn't be any reason for it at all, just suddenly i'd be filled with rage. once again, i took myself off that medication. now i know that those aren't the only two meds in the world that are meant to help with depression, but so far i've had bad experiences with two antidepressants.

when i told my dad both my doctor & my therapist think i need to be on antidepressants he got pretty upset on my behalf. & for once (unlike the bus reference or west side story incident) he had some good advice for me. my dad thinks, & i agree & this is what i think too, that there has to be SOMETHING else that i can try before i bend to the pressure & go on pills. my dad suggested i try this liquid vitamin that he takes called vibe. & then he suggested that i start exercising, even if it's just five minutes a day. he thinks between those two things that maybe it'll help my moods enough, & also my eating disorder, so that i don't have to go on meds.

& i agree with him. because i really don't want to go on meds. if i have to i will. & i guess maybe it'll make an interesting chapter in my book, but that's also why i don't want to go on meds. the two times that i've been on meds in the past they've seriously fucked with my head to the point of interfering with my ability to write. & i don't want to take that chance. it's just too high a price to pay. if i go on meds & they "fix" me enough to get my eating disorder under control, but then i'm not able to write, what good is it being "fixed" because the part of me that i value the most, that is really the essence of who i am, would be missing. seems a little like a catch 22. i don't know 100% for sure that the meds will fuck with my ability to write. but seriously, anything that chemically changes your brain cannot be great for you. & i don't know that i want to take a chance.

they're numbers, just numbers, scoob

stepped on the scale this am. 161.4. & i smiled. i was happy because earlier this week the scale said 165. my heart is broken. i feel emotionally torn asunder. but the scale rewarded me (my eating disorder) with a loss. & was it me smiling or my eating disorder? right now, my eating disorder is loud & has more control than she should. so it was her smiling. it was me. it was both of us. i shimmied into my size 14 jeans, which hug my hips & thighs & are a tidge tighter than i want them to be. but the scale has me so close to being back in the 150's. & all the while as i pull the jeans up, button & zip them. i'm thinking as i look down at my flabby belly & thighs that if only i could get rid of that fat that is hanging out. i don't want hollywood perfection (do i? no, i don't think so). i just want to be able to look at myself naked without feeling shame for the abuse my body has taken over the years.

i ate breakfast. but that wasn't until 10:30am (i think it was then). i forced myself to eat yesterday. my sister came by after work. she is a godsend. if she would not have been here i may have skipped dinner. & even with her here, watching me, i only ate about 1/3 of a piece of pizza. i tried. i really tried to eat more but my stomach clenched & rolled & i couldn't eat more. i felt like i didn't deserve to eat. didn't deserve food. i had to punish myself because it was my fault (even though i know it's not true & E said it's not true & dev said E is a fucking idiot for giving up the best woman on earth----have i mentioned i love dev for being such a loyal friend?) so even though i know that this is all E's issue(s) & it's nothing i did my eating disorder doesn't care. it's something for her to grab, hang on to, something for her to hold up in my face to tell me "see, if you let ME control your life things will be better."

how starving myself &/or binging will make my life better i don't now. eating disorders are a strange beast. they're a combo of medical & mental health issue. technically i see a therapist & technically my claims are paid from my mh/sa benes on my health insurance (mh/sa benes= mental health/substance abuse benefits). a lot of it is in my head & my response to food. the way that i deal with, or don't deal with, my emotions. but it has a lot of medical repercussions that are not necessarily evident with other mental health issues. i have a doctor appointment tonight because i am very weak & sick. i haven't wanted to admit it to anyone, but physically i'm sort of back to where i was this past fall....& no it isn't all of a sudden since the break with E. it's been going on before that. i've also had dizzy episodes & near passing out. my chest hurts. & i missed my last period (& no, i'm not pregnant). i confessed all this last week in therapy & i've never seen ann or amy so shocked. so yeah, i had to promise them i'd go to the doctor.

i haven't even lost that much weight recently. or starved myself (too much) recently. so i don't know why i missed my period. i'm on the pill so it should be pretty regulated. i thought that kind of thing only happened to girls who weigh like 100 lbs or less. i told my mom all this & i could hear her tears over the phone. & her response was "in nazi concentration camps women stopped menstruating because of extreme malnutrition because they were starved." isn't it amazing that my cabinets & fridge are stuffed to capacity with food & yet i'm starving & malnourished?

it makes me feel insane amounts of guilt. that i live in the richest country in the world, in a comfortable suburban home, with enough income to buy food, i do buy food, & yet i can't deal with it in a natural way. i know there are children starving here in my own country, here in minnesota there are children & people without enough to eat & i look at a piece of pizza & retch & feel nothing but repulsion. & when that guilt settles in sometimes i binge. but often i feel that if i can't be grateful then i don't deserve to eat at all. & then i starve myself (restrict as they say at the emily program). & i swing between binging & restriction. sometimes in the same day.

i'm sitting here at my computer & as i type i can see the bones in my hand move & it's oddly hypnotizing to see that. & i look down & i can see my clavicles protruding from my skin. & the part of me that is ME can't believe what i'm doing to my body. & my eating disorder is oddly pleased by it all. & then the writer in me thinks i need to get out my camera & take some pictures for my memoir because a picture really does need to be put in sometimes to convey a message. & in the end all these different parts are all me & i need to put them together to go on. i know that i can always go back to my parents. i know that they will always pick me up & put the pieces back together & make everything ok, or as ok as they can, but i need to do this myself in order to really recover.

when i was at the emily program on wednesday waiting for my appointment i was looking through the interactive journal in their waiting room. it's there for anyone to write anything they want in it. i was reading it & there was something in there that i swear my sister could have written. it was about how this girl was proud of her sister for admitting her problems & getting help & going through therapy for her eating disorder. & even though her sister thinks she is weak that she is really a very strong person, stronger than she knows & she's an amazing woman that can beat this disease. of course that's a paraphrase. i really wanted to copy the page, or take a picture with my iphone (maybe i will next week). & yesterday night when rachel was here she patted me knee, looked at me & said "you're stronger than you know. you'll get through all of this. i know that you will." my sister is an amazing person. she'll never know how much she means to me & how glad i am to have her.

happy re-birthday. or not so fucking happy

i'm in a bit of a self pitying mood right now. yesterday i met with manager yesterday & heard her side of the eating disorder discussion at work thing & it seems to come down to the fact that there is the perception that people will not respect me, or look down on me, or see me as weak or otherwise not a "leader" if they find out i have an eating disorder. i think that's total bologna. but for the sake of respecting my manager & supervisor's wishes i'm not going to talk about it much at work anymore. i know. it's fucking pathetic that i can't discuss a medical issue when i work at a health insurance company, but whatever.

that was only part of the disaster that was yesterday. i was just in a funk pretty much all day at work. i went to see my therapist yesterday evening as per usual & a ton of stuff came up that i've been mentally sitting on for a while. issues that i was semi aware of, but not really aware of. so it looks like i'll still be in therapy for quite some time. it's an over used phrase & is often quoted in many situations, but it really is a marathon not a sprint. i need to remind myself of that often to keep things in perspective.

& then to top off the day i had a really difficult evening with E. basically my night last night ended about 6:30am this morning when i finally cried myself to sleep for a whole hour & a half of not very restful sleep. i woke up at 8am & tried to go to work only to be sent home because i looked like a train wreck. i had a splitting headache/migraine so i called in at 5:30am & said i'd be in late, by 1pm, to do my presentation. since i couldn't sleep i showed up at 9am thinking maybe i could do some work. & i really had no business going in. my eyes were red & puffy & i was pretty much a disaster. i wasn't able to say more than 6 words to anyone without bursting into tears.

so what happened? yeah, good question, one that i'd like an answer to also. *sighs* E said he needs some time to figure stuff out, that he needs a break from our relationship. & that killed me. especially considering my last post in which i basically shouted out that i'm so gaga head over heels in love with him & think he's THE ONE. yeah. i feel like an idiot. i really do. & i'm really hurt. devastated. & of course my eating disorder is using this as a wonderful excuse to jump up & have a say in my life.

but i do have some things going for me. i have a wonderful sister. i showed up at her desk today & pulled her into a room & told her what was going on & she hugged me & held me & told me that this really sucks but that i'm a stronger person than i realize & i'll get through it. she's going to stop by my place after work & spend some time with me so that i'm not alone (i mean, besides the ferrets & rats). she made me promise her that i'd go home & have some water & some food. i haven't done so well on that. it's almost 1pm & i still haven't eaten anything. i've had coffee, but not really much water. which i really need. i know i'm dehydrated from crying for several hours straight.

today on my way home from work my good friend dev called me from cali. i'd sent him a text message saying simply "he broke my heart." & dev is an awesome person. he gave me a lot of good advice & put a lot of things in perspective for me. i'm still hurting, really badly. & i may or may not go into work tomorrow. i haven't decided that yet. but one thing dev pointed out is better E say he need some time to figure things out now than 5 years in the future when there are kids involved (yes, there are E & my ferrets involved, & they will be upset about not seeing each other/see each other as often.... but they'll have to buck up & grow up). but it could be worse. he & i could have had kids to deal with, a mortgage, breaking up a household or a myriad of other things that could have made things that much worse. i simply love dev, he never pulls any punches & never sugar coats a single fucking thing. sometimes what he says hurts, but it's always right.

i'm still upset, pretty upset & i'll need more time to process in order to become more okay with all of this. but the biggest thing for me is i'm going to miss E so fucking bad. he's become my best friend, my closest confident, & a really good companion over the course of our relationship & i hate to lose all that. maybe the friendship can be salvaged. i have been able to remain friends with other people i've been involved with, some of them becoming really good friends of mine. maybe this is only a small bump in our relationship. i don't have a crystal ball & i can't predict the future. i know what my preferred outcome is, if i can have my way. but ultimately i want happiness for both E & i.

so happy fucking re-birthday to me.

one thing i know is my sister is right. for some people allowing depression to settle in & cause meal skipping is a temporary thing & nothing too worrisome. but for me i need to be extra vigilant to not let that happen because for me to do that is really dangerous, possibly life threatening. & like E said, i've got my ferrets & rats that depend on me 100%. & if i get sick they won't have anyone. so i'll post this blog. drink some water. nibble a little something. & go nap.

tales from cubeville

yesterday i got a shock during my 1:1 with my supervisor. periodically my sup meets with all of us to see how things are going, do we have any concerns, etc. so i told her things are just ab-fab & i'm happy with the new hard drive IT dug up for me & it's sweet to be able to do my job on a working computer. so at the end of all this fuzzy feel good-ness she tells me that she has something to talk to me about. yeah. that is NEVER good. so she tells me that someone went to her supervisor & said something about my eating disorder.

um. say what? can you repeat that please?

i stayed calm. i was fairly upset. not because people were talking about me. i've already learned that's going to happen no matter what i say or do. not like i'm an egomaniac, but i'm the kind of person that elicits gossip about themselves. i'm not an abrasive person parse, but i don't take any bullshit off anyone, i am up front, honest, sometimes too honest. i don't believe in being fake. if i don't like you i'm polite, i'm courteous, but i'm not going to ask you to be my friend on facebook & go out for drinks while thinking to myself "sheesh, this person is a tool." un-uh, totally not my style. yes, i know, why the fuck do i work in a corporate office. um, it pays me well & gives me good health insurance, which i really need. i also mostly like my job. i used to love it, now it's just mostly (like 97%).

so i tried asking my supervisor what they'd said to my manager (my sup's sup is the manager of our department so she's my manager....yeah, you do need a flow chart, & we actually have one at work). she couldn't tell me the context. i wanted to know exactly what was said, why it was said, & who said it. i have a meeting with my manager next week (interestingly enough on wednesday which is the year anniversary of my surgery). i know she won't tell me who went to her. & i can understand her not breaking that confidence. but i do want to find out what was said to her, why it was said, & the way it was said.

if someone is concerned about me they should come to my cube & see me. if they are saying i can't do my job because of my eating disorder then i need to get hr involved because it's discrimination. if someone is pissed off that i'm not ashamed of my eating disorder & hiding it then they can just piss off. if i had broken my leg, been in a car accident, had cancer, or just about anything else people would be sympathetic & not judgemental. it's not like i sign every email "thanks, beckah ps: do you know i have an eating disorder?" i don't wear a sign at work, it's not like i introduce myself at meetings by saying "hi, my name is beckah & i have an eating disorder." some people know because i've told them. my sister, jenn, steph, yadi, & crystal are the main people that i talk with about my eating disorder. but quite a few people do know. my goal is to change the world. change the way the world interacts with & treats people with eating disorders. & i can't very well do that by hiding in a corner too scared & ashamed to open my mouth.

triggers

i have come to realize that recovery is going to be so much harder than i realized. not like i thought it'd be a piece of cake (fuck...another food reference!)but i guess i was under the misconception that once i reached out for help it wouldn't be so tough. in a way the deeper i get into therapy the worse i get at times. right now, at this exact moment, the past few days/weeks, it's been rough. right now i don't want to blog, i don't want to work on my book, or do anything else that involves me being too social. i want to curl up inside myself, tell the world to kiss my ass & fuck off, & surround myself with my family, E, & my close friends. i really don't want anyone else to be around me.

when talking with anne last week (anne's my therapist) she said that part of what is going on with me right now is that i'm becoming more aware. i've had 24+ years living with my eating disorder & being completely blind to it & how it impacts my life. now that i've come to grips that i really DO have an eating disorder i'm able to see how it is there all the time. & because i'm so aware of my eating disorder right now it's really easy for me to be triggered.

this whole thing is kind of like an exorcism. my eating disorder is a demon that is living in me, controlling me, changing me into someone i don't want to be, hurting me. & now that i'm trying to take control of my life again it's fighting to stay. i have this battle of wills all the time. sometimes it's a second to second struggle to do what's right for ME not what my eating disorder wants. for all those x-files fans out there it's like the black oil episodes. my eating disorder is this parasite that is swimming in my body, once in a while others could see it flash across my eyes, just for a second, gone so quick they didn't know if it was there or not, but now, it's been caught & it's just a matter of totally pulling it's nasty little self out of me & locking it away in a glass jar.

one thing that i've really noticed is how much the rest of the world is really obsessed with food. it's not just me, it's not just obese people, it's not just people with eating disorders, it's the whole god-damn-fucking world! every single day at work my coworkers (the ones in the cubes right next to mine) make it tough for me to sit at my desk & work. they talk about being bad if they go to chipotle, but good if they go to jimmy john's. they're bad if they don't work out twice a day, but good if they do. it's ok to maybe have a piece of chocolate because of the extra 20 minutes on the treadmill they'll do that night. when i was in the store at work on friday afternoon this random woman started talking to me & saying she was trying to decide if she was going to be bad & have some chocolate or good & have some popcorn. & then she went off & i could hear her muttering about calories.

& then there's tv. unless i watch nothing but dvds i am literally bombarded with images of food & exercise programs & gym memberships & judgment regarding weight & food & how all of that reflects on individual character. & it's so easy to believe all of it. i think that every person (at least, every girl) who grows up fat somehow thinks that all of their problems are based on their weight. it's what the doctors tell us, it's what the movies tell us, tv, & sometimes even what the people around us tell us. right now my weight is at like 160-something. it was 162.2 this morning when i weighed in at home to be exact. i'm still overweight according to the bmi charts, but "normal" or "too thin" if you ask some of my family & friends. & i look at my flabby tummy, arms, thighs & then i see a commercial for the total gym, or nutrisystem, or jenny craig, or weight watchers, or anything like that & then the regular programming comes back on & everyone is thin & they seem so happy.

my eating disorder soaks up all of this & uses it as ammunition to whisper in my ear that i'm a bad person because i had some m&ms. but, it's also my eating disorder that nudges me to go graze & nibble when i'm stressed out. it's my eating disorder that says "it's a bad day at work, shit is rolling down hill with your name on it, let's go get some m&m's. let's see who has some candy at their desk." & sometimes i win the battle, but not all the time. it's pretty even steven right now.

my eating disorder is also the part of me that makes me nauseous when i try to eat at times. like this past wednesday morning. i was driving to work & felt really sad about cleo & i started feeling guilty that maybe i hadn't done everything that i could for her & that i hadn't spent enough time with her & i was a bad person because she was so sick & i didn't notice it. & then amongst the tears my eating disorder started picking at my brain telling me to skip breakfast. i'd feel better if i didn't eat anything. yes, i do realize this is counter-intuitive & that usually people feel like shit when they don't eat.

before my surgery i'd starve myself as punishment. when someone hurt me really bad it was easiest to starve myself & focus on the physical pain of hunger than to allow myself to feel the emotional pain. now starving myself doesn't give me the same satisfaction that it used to. i still don't feel hunger. it's fairly common after gastric bypass to have to "eat by the clock" for a while & not really feel hunger. a couple of times i thought i've felt hunger, but i haven't really. & that makes me happy. one of my biggest fears right now is feeling hungry. i feel like i've written this before in here. but, if i start to feel hunger again then it'll be harder to skip meals. i know that is totally my eating disorder talking. & it's hard to admit this, but i can't lie to myself any longer about anything.

in my journal i've started writing down some of the things that i'm not yet ready to admit on here. "what, beckah, has secrets? & is unwilling to air something? pish-posh that cannot be true." yes it is true. i still feel at times that opening myself up while i'm in therapy is a dangerous game. there's a part of me (is this my eating disorder or not?) that is afraid people are going to judge me. think that i'm weak. & then there's the fear that somehow this may prevent me from getting promoted at work. or that somehow someone at work will use this against me. i know that legally they can't because i'm protected against discrimination because of medical/mental health conditions (& this one straddles both arenas); but that doesn't mean that i'm not scared anyone. especially since i'm pretty much all about the self promotion. i pimp my blog to almost anyone that will stop & listen. & i'm even contemplating getting business cards with my name, my blog addy, & my gmail for my blog as self promotion.

& finally, a picture of me blogging (yes, i bite my fingers when i think. i don't chew my nails/bite my nails off, but i pull at my lips & bite my fingers. eating disorder related? maybe. maybe not. we'll see).