icarus

the deep, sweet, earthy draw from a clove cig never felt more right. as i searched the van for one of sarah grace's cds, i had stumbled upon an old fav. once the kids were safely delivered to their daddy, i played the familiar fav as loud as i could stand. lenny kravitz. blaring nostalgia drowned out the constant chatter in my brain, transporting me to a time before-children. lenny and cloves: smoky swirls inflated my lungs and my mind remembered exactly where i was, what i had on, how i felt, how the music moved me, how the dizzying clove helped me. welcome back- mommy's little helper.

this mommy has historically had many little helpers. but alas, mommy is now on her own for the most part. all i have left are my cloves, my *team*, and my waxy wings. oh yeah, let's not forget lenny...

i have a distinct memory of listening to lenny, drinking too much wine, smoking too many cloves, and wondering why my attention somehow focused on the log walls. living in a small cabin with only open windows for relief from the heat and a wood burning stove for relief from the cold, i hadn't felt more at home than at this moment. less was definitely more for me. but something wasn't right. the log walls seemed to be wavy... like in a funhouse mirror. i continued to try to refocus my vision, but sure enough- the walls seemed to be moving like the tides. that was more than ten years ago.

allowing lenny to serenade me recently, i sipped a soy latte in a parking lot as i took deep, breathy drags off my clove and attempted to disappear for a moment into the past. not completely gone, my attention was pulled back into my present as i noticed the sky filling with a swarm of gnats. upon more careful investigative focussing, i realized that nothing filled the sky- nor was anything actually swarming. it was the dejavu of the tidal logs- only this time it was scurrying dots that filled the sky. hmmmm, perhaps my wax is beginning to melt.

seeing stars. sounds fun, unless you are actually experiencing it. retrospectively, i understand that the tidal logs were actually my compromised, dizzying perspective. too little food causes too many shooting stars, which can add up to some pretty realistic-looking vision distortions. fuck me and that damned fragile wax.

seriously, stop calling me icarus.

library books

stopped at a traffic light last night in an unusually dark part of covington, i suddenly reminded myself to return my library books and to lock my van doors. the midnight undertones of the color of my van no longer felt like camouflage, as my lit cigarette seemed to spotlight my van's small-statured, female driver. i haven't felt afraid in the city in a while. library books and fear were a welcome relief of distraction from the incessant need to vomit....and from the nagging, muscle-stretching pain in my left calf.

the reluctant journey to deliver my kids to their daddy is always bittersweet. a very successful dinner left us full, warm, and snuggly, and the innocence that only children can posses kept my mind on them rather than the fullness in my tummy. as they drove away with their daddy, the melancholy of a mother without her children washed over me. thus commenced the battles....

i feel like hell.

just vomit.

gawd, no!

you know you want toooooo.

maybe i'll sneak some laxatives, instead.

or maybe just do both.

shit amy! no laxatives!

maybe just one.

fuck, my tummy hurts.

i drove straight home. no stops. no purchases. no vomiting. no laxatives. oops, one stop: to return my library books...

it may not sound like the grandest of vanquishments. i'm sure the average human avoids vomiting and laxatives like the fucking plague. unfortunately i am no average human, and overthrowing the demonic omnipotence that has haunted me for too many decades is a touchstone acquisition each and every single, god damned time.

my defensive proclivity is a formidable force as it commands my instincts, as it imposes fiction over facts resulting in my helplessly believing in its innateness. subhuman habits mistaken as innate, instinctive intuition- the raping of my soul. but there is nothing innate about refusing food. no matter how natural it feels to me, it is not instinctive to starve oneself.

eat.

i can't.

i beg you.

i hate it.

i'll make you eat.

i'll vomit.

i'll make you eat again.

i need laxatives.

food is life-giving.

fullness feels like the swollen bloating of death.

eat.

no.

sisyphus.

every day is a new beginning, a chance to roll the stone for perhaps the FINAL time.... willingness, unwillingness, battles, choices, illness. again, unfortunately i am no average human, and my cerebellum echoes with the vexatious barking of the demon. i am thankful, however, for the timely return of my library books.

today's appt

my status quo is comprised of allowing ideas and suggestions to *compost* somewhere in my cerebellum.  it is rare that i have a strong opinion or solid point of view UNTIL this rumination occurs.  also, i am not a fan of unedited text [read: amy's thoughts and feelings].  i choose carefully the words that i ALLOW to flow through my fingertips.  today, however, feels different.

it is now moments after my dietition appt.  i will normally fidget and twist for days b/f i allow myself to even THINK about the session.  but the compost-vining has already begun....or?  i am simply filled with opposition and explosiveness.

usually, in hindsight, i will recognize that i was restless and full of angst during the appt.  today the awareness of my inability to sit still was colossal.  the more i tried to sit still the more her sandpaper questions rubbed me raw- more questions pertaining to behaviors such as biting into foods, where i prefer the bite in my mouth, texure, and swallowing.  unexpectedly, she began talking directly about weight.... and i started to cry.  YEP!  no no no, it's not that time of the month, ladies...where i usually break down for little reason.  i suddenly felt scrutinized and ugly and [please excuse this next adjective- although offensive, it IS the exact word that screamed at me] dykey.  it was painful to try to explain why i was suddenly so weepy.

i avoid feeling that shit as much a possible.  i will do ANYTHING to avoid, distract or RID myself of feeling that those adjectives apply to me.  she asked me if i thought i was attractive.  JESUS!  WHO ASKS SUCH POINTED QUESTIONS?  i said no,  b/c i DON'T think that i am attractive.  don't misunderstand, i understand that i am not *stereotypical*.   i could have lied and said yes.....but i am trying very diligently to be as honest as possible.  but telling the truth, like in this case, prompts people to counter, you know?  and i don't want to hear it.

with few minutes of the appt remaining, i am teary and defensive and overflowing with discomfort- she assigns homework.  my hands started to shake and i could feel my teeth slightly chattering.  she stated that i am to eat every four hours and not go longer than six hours b/t meals.  she also stated that i need to eat more for breakfast. this next week...but backed off and agreed to only four times this week. 

fuck.  i have a hard ENOUGH time trying to get in the god damned breakfast that i MAKE myself eat NOW!!!!!!!!  [wailing] i don't want to consume m-o-r-e.... [tears]

the moment i stepped out of the fucking building, i could feel the weepiness overtaking me.  but my *logic* kicked in and delivered a fitful message that i couldn't ignore.  i was suddenly ANGRY with myself---- b/c for gawd's sakes, amy, this is just food.  a basic fucking need, remember?  i was all in a twirl about feeling so unstable and shakey while the dietition suggested i eat more breakdfast and more frequently.  had i really become that distressed over those suggestions?  get it together, amy! 

i can't help HATING myself for my resistance and high anxiety.  there are people IN MY COMMUNITY that are literally starving.  there are people IN MY COMMUNITY that are *bigger* than i am.  why do i TORTURE myself over all this?  just eat as frequently as i was told- and get in more breakfast!  fuck, i hate this.

my alter-ego that PUSHES me to release my secrets here in this blog is bubbling.  i have to attend *group* tonight....  blahhhhhhhhh.  my therapist informed me that we will have three new-comers....and that all three have conditions to FOLLOW THEIR MEAL PLANS.  she told me i will not be alone.... fuck.  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!  they are probably young, little, skinny twits who probably still look amazingly thin at the gawd forsaken goal weight.  i want to cancel....................  but i have commited to two things: going to all my appts and to being as honest as i can be.  so????  i will be attending.  so watch out: that alter-ego is bubbling....i'm sure i won't be disappointed by having NOTHING to write about.  group stirs up shit, let me tell you.... 

i guess i'll see you tomorrow then, eh?

thank you for reading.  the frightening unpredictabilty of this fucking monster is quieted from knowing i am not alone.....
namaste, my sisterhood
amy

crackers and raisins

dichotomous frustration.  i hate what i love.  i don't want to take a bite.  i need to fucking eat.  i'm losing weight, but i feel HUGE!  i'm S-T-U-C-K.

this past session with my therapist left me fuming, as usual, but this fuming was all-encompassing.  fuming anger.  fuming frustration.  fuming at her.  fuming at me.  fuming at this fucking FIGHT i have going on constantly!

in a nutshell: my therapist told me i need to see my gp every couple of months for a checkup and bloodwork.  she went on to say that it would be unethical of her to treat me if i *fall below a certain level*.  she claimed that she needs me to see my gp, the dietition, and her so they can all communicate ABOUT ME.  she said she felt that i was NOT commited to recovery.....  and suggested that i saw my time in tmt as temporary and that i premeditated my discontinuing following recommendations.

holy hell.  i allowed this professional to talk me into attending a fascilitated , 12-week group costing $1,000.....and i allowed her to talk me into seeing a fucking dietition....and i allowed her to talk me into scheduling an ADDITIONAL FUCKING APPT during the week.  i have participated, done the fucking worksheets and activities.  i am looking at myself from completely different suggested perspectives.  i am HONESTLY journaling in the ways the dietition has asked.  and i am NOT COMMITED????????

cut to the chase:  i am angry and confused and just sickened about food.  i have completely stopped meal planning.  i was cheating on it... then i was faking the numbers....then i decided it was a waste of my time.  I KNOW WHAT MY THERAPIST IS SAYING.  she wants me to commit to a fucking meal plan.  and if this were any of YOU, i would stress that you meal plan also.  but i tell you, sometimes my nausea is over the top.  sometimes it morphes into poison with no antidote.  sometimes the fucking mess that food is to me is just not worth trying to get it in my mouth.  and when i TRY to get the fucking mess of a bite into my mouth, it's a fucking freak show.  if i'm lucky enough to get the god damned bite into my mouth, chewing can be problematic as can swallowing.  sometimes i have a fucking knot in my throat that the fucking food mess can not pass!  it's torture.  and it's hit or miss if i feel *better* once i eat-- or if i feel WORSE!

presently, i feel WORSE.  i had four crackers with peanut butter and 1/4 c of raisins.  i swear i might vomit!  my tummy is too full and sticking wayyyyy out!  THIS IS TORTURE! 

so WHY, i ask you, would i ask for help with the meal plan when it is clearly PAINFUL AND TORTUROUS for me to eat.  i truly HATE the overwhelmingly jealous feelings that i have toward people who ENJOY food.  IT'S NOT FAIR!

i don't want to eat.  I DON'T WANT TO.  it doesn't feeeeeeel right.  it hurts and haunts me.  but i know i NEED to fucking eat so i can ....oh i don't know.... LIVE!  this low, cryptic, worrisome way of life is not LIVING--- it's fucking shitty existence.

who would want to build a life with someone who refuses to eat food?  who would trust that person with taking care of children?  who would want to be in the presence of someone so fucking consumed and crazy?

I WENT TO FUCKING TMT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  THIS SHOULD NOT BE HAPPENING TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i know i need help.  i KNOW this.......  but i can't bring myself to ask for help so i can try to do this THING that i HATE!!!!!!!!  i hate the process of eating!  i hate the way it feels inside me!  i hate the weight gain that results!

so, yes... dichotomous frustration.  investing so fucking much of my god damned time into appts and trying to do ask i am asked is exhausting..... and i know that none of it does much for me when i won't eat. 

i just don't get it.  i really don't.  just eat, amy.  really?????  come in out of the cold!  there's the door!  don't tell me you don't know HOW!!!!!  omg, i am pathetic.  it's a basic fucking need and i hear myself down deep in a hidden, secret place claiming that i will never eat again.  i know this isn't true.....but it is frightening hearing myself make such a bold claim.

i don't know that i can do this recovery-thing without a lobotomy.  tears.  please, just re-program me.  please replace my repulsions with enjoyment.  please dump my brain of the incessant worry.  please help me- but don't make me eat.....

i hate myself so much right now....................

as always, thank you for reading.  i am lost..... stuck..... just sick.
namaste, my sisterhood
amy

the dietition experience

i would like to begin by thanking all those who have been reading.  loneliness is a curious monster.  thank you for helping me to tame it just a bit.

i haven't mentioned much about my experience with my dietition.  that purposeful omission is due to the infuriation that flares during and after each appt....along with the swirling confusion and pain that accompanies the flaming infuriation.  i don't know about you, but i thought the dietition would monitor cal amts and try to *balance* my diet.  and while monitoring and balancing are on the itinerary each visit, many OTHER aspects are also included, much to my surprise [and DISLIKE]. 

i've always been VERY cynical about keeping a food journal.  i've been asked a couple of times in my life to try it.....and i did: TRY IT....  but i lied.  i couldn't make myself write down what i really ate, or i couldn't write down how few cals i was eating.  so i'd omit or stretch the truth.  during this time of journaling, i was usually asked to write about how i felt.  *how i felt*: pretty vague and all-encompassing.  so i would write about hating food or hating feeling full or wishing i didn't like potato chips.  i might go on to bitch about how it affected my day- putting me in an all-day bad mood.  never really deep or specific.

what i am participating in now????? is SPECIFIC!  and b/c i didn't want to see a dietition in the first place....and b/c i did in fact feel pressured to do so....and b/c i hate to waste my money and time- i told myself that the least i can do is to be honest- FOR ONCE!  even if i refuse EVERYTHING ELSE about the experience....i have begged myself to at least be HONEST.  sooooooooo, i have been writing down everything that goes into my mouth and trying to be as accurate as i can be with the cal cnts.  but??? in addition to that, i am to journal specifically about each bite.  she adds a new facet on each week. but it began like this:  i was to write down how it *tasted*.  that's it.  the next week, i was to add onto that how texture plays a role in what i will eat or *not like* to eat.  then, she asked me to see if i can recognize the times when i want something to eat, but won't let myself have it, and will choose something *less* for myself.  and this week, i am to try to find patterns and to really notice the times when i have no use for chewing, to really zero in on how food TASTES to me and how i feel after i'm finished eating.....blah.

during these appts, she asks a lot of questions about my relationship with food.  she asked why i don't like to chew?  why i don't allow myself to taste things that i know i like?  why do i like to be *empty*?  what does it doooooo for me?  why is dairy so offensive to me?  why i won't bite into anything?  why i wipe my mouth so much?  what happens if i DO bite or DON'T wipe my mouth?  why do i have a certain placement in my mouth for food?  why do i like teeny bites? 

when she asked about *behaviors* [hate that fucking subject], i was honest about the things that i do.  some of the behaviors she asked me b/f i could even offer them up: do you little smaller bites?  when i reluctantly offered up other behaviors, she immediately said that it sounds like i'm trying REALLY hard not to taste my food.  [mouth gaping open]  i would have NEVER come to that conclusion.  TASTE has never entered my mind in terms of how i go about forcing the fucking bite into my mouth.

but i have wondered WHY i do some of the strange things that i do..... and why it hurts me so terribly if i DON'T DO my strange things..........  trying not to taste my food- really???  it makes sense, sadly..........

so when she asks these specific questions about food, i swear a bigness swells in me and gets the best of me b/f i know what's happening.  it's a *panic* of sorts.  it's like having to explain the details of a hurtful sexual encounter.  no one wants to talk specifically about sex, the details, or how it may have hurt them.  talking about taste and texture and behaviors and feelings all directly related to food FEELS JUST AS PERSONAL AS TRYING TO TALK ABOUT SEX.  it's humilating, so painfully personal, and just not what i want to share with others.  i'm shocked by how much this hurts me, shocked by how much i am learning about myself, shocked by how much of it devastates me..........

i avoid journalling.  i will end up trying to do 3-4 days at a time.  trying to look at it all from such a different perspective confuses me and hurts me.  and the result is that i always learn something about myself-  i might not know what to DO with what i've learned- but i am forever continuing to learn.........  the learning aspect intrigues me.  so when i DO venture into the land of food-journalling, it's difficult to come up for air.  i get sucked down INTO the process.  my curiosity pushes me further and further....and when it IS time to come up for air, it's difficult for me to transition back into reality. 

who knew that food had such an emotional, super-fucking personal HOLD on me?  who knew that it was MORE than wanting to feel empty????  and it is....it is so much more....so much more complicated.  and it just hurts me to know that i'm DOING these kinds of things TO MYSELF.  and that i didn't even realize it.

cts: in group, we set weekly goals and SHARE them with the group.  blahhhh.  mine have been flimsy and easy to accomplish.  my goal for this week was to try to STOP comparing myself to others and to give myself what I REALLY NEED, to try to STOP my freakish solidarity with those who have less- thereby only allowing myself to have less.  my concrete way of getting to this goal was to..... [you might want to sit down for this one] to get in more calories.  I SWEAR THAT'S NOT WHAT I WAS GOING TO SAY IN GROUP!  i was going to say that i wanted to give myself something each day....something that i wanted but normally don't allow myself to have.....like maybe suggesting we go out to eat so i don't have to cook and clean up- or having an extra cup of coffee B/C IT TASTES GOOD.  you know, little shit like that.  but this word-vomit spewed from my mouth and i said...*get in more calories.*  WHAT A FUCKING JOKE!  i knew the second it blurted from my throat that i wouldn't do it [but i suppose something in me WANTS me to really do it, eh?]. 

so i have stumbled through this week, having no intention of upping my cals.  so where does that leave me in terms of a goal? well, i could say fuck it.  but i don't really want to BE THAT PERSON in group.  sooooooo, my mind has been wrestling lately with the possibility of adding another thing to my no-option list.......  and as this idea flashed brighter and brighter, i was able to see that if i add this *thing*, then i am considering what I REALLY NEED, and am not comparing myself to others, and i am shedding my freakish solidarity. 

today, i reluctantly BUT OFFICIALLY add the SIXTH thing to my no-option list!  i have not engaged in this particular behavior in a very long time---- so it is easy to add.  but i don't WANT to add it....b/c i like it in my back pocket- just in case.  but????  i added it- so it is truly now off the table.  i am nervous but somehow excited to see where this takes me.  plus???  it is a concrete action that allows me to work TOWARD that weekly goal that i chose.

i am grateful for you attention.  thanks for hanging in there with me.  sometimes i just have this swelling bigness of **FEELING**, and i don't know what it is or what to DO with it.  confusion is lonely.  thanks for reading.....
namaste, my sisterhood---
amy xoxoxoxoxo

loneliness, aftercare, and a ladder

namaste, my sisterhood----
the gaping hole of absence from my last blog until now is a direct result of loneliness.  i have been lying to myself, telling myself that i like my solitude.  and while that is a half-lie, my *solitude* regarding less-than-enough interaction with like-minded sisters is the most bothersome. 

u-p-d-a-t-e:
i have attended three dietition appts [she prefers to be called a dietition].  although i was pretty high and giddy during the first appt- the interview/ assessment [yep, you read it right.  got to talk ALL ABOUT how much i love veganism and why], the high quickly progressed into a nose-dive crash when the dietition told me i was a challenge.  and then she said [and i fucking quote]:  *i won't lie, you scare me.*  once the reality of dinner with CHEESE hit me, the words began to seep like poison into my bloodstream.  eating cheese and being a continual *challenge and scaring people* lowered my motivation to a new despondent level....

and then- oh yay for me- i had to attend *group* right after dinner that day also.  and then, as if the day couldn't progress anymore, therapeutically speaking, my therapist wanted to meet after group to *process* how it all went for me that day.  yep, nothing says *you might be crazy* like three fucking appts in one day.  so, post-group i was kept after class with NO OP FOR A CIG [which i made pretty clear: that's not cool!], i started to cry like a blabbering toddler.... whining over not wanting people to see me as such a scary challenge.  her response???  *i thought you'd be used to that by now.*  such a soul-crushing, unexpected response that left my ears bleeding.  she asked me what i WANT to hear.  i told her that i want someone to say that they've seen the likes of me before and that they've *got my number*.  she agreed that this particular response would be more settling.

group was decent.  it is what it is.  i will do my best to extract what i need from it all.....  opening up is difficult- that whole *starting over and telling my fucking story AGAIN* bullshit, you know?  and?  the entire time i've been participating in this group [three times thus far], i am thrilled to say that i have gotten away with not saying one single word about MY illness and how it affects me.  everyone else has offered up all kinds of shit- whether it's the a-word, the b-word, etc...  and b/c i don't offer up that information unless specifically ASKED to, i have remained stoicly within my voyerism- revealing nothing while still having the priviledge to get a peek at others' painful secrets.  so unfair of me, i know.

remember me saying that nothing says *you're crazy* like three appts in one day?  well, it's been topped.  my therapist has ADDED an additional time for me to see her each week.  two times a week for therapy- once a week with the dietition- and weekly group.  sighhhhhh.
**************
i can only speak for myself when it pertains to this whole business of recovery.  but i am interested in how others are responding to their *aftercare*....  i truly believed that being IN tmt would be the most painful aspect of this entire process.  i believed that if i could actually meet the criteria for graduation from the program that i would be able to easily transition what i'd learned into my daily life.  i thought that i'd learned what i needed to know about myself- i thought i would BUILD upon what i'd learned.  not believing COMPLETELY UNREALISTICALLY, i suspected it would be an uphill climb....but that it would continue in its FORWARD MOBILITY. 

i'm shocked that i am continually learning more and more about myself- things that i didn't even know existed!  i'm shocked by how painful it continues to be.  i'm shocked- that instead of digging deep for the skills that i have learned, i feel myself behaving so impulsively.

for me, pre-tmt, the more i talked and learned about myself, the more crazy the illness became for me.  perhaps i was misguided or just had too high of expectations for myself post-tmt, but i just thought those days were over.  when this orbiting mess cements my true need for action, i find myself shutting down.  my crazy logic: talking and learning makes it all worse for me...so just stop talking and working on it all.  but doing nothing is truly worse than pushing to move forward despite the nose-dives in which i find myself experiencing.  BUT THE NOSE-DIVES HURT!  and doing nothing hurts less.  my ability to make sense of this diguises itself as avoidance.

is anyone else experiencing this sort of messy orbiting?  why is it that some people learn about themselves, develop skills, and put it all to good use to GET ON WITH THEIR LIVES?????....  and i seem to learn about myself and crumble.  dig deep, amy, for the skills.  stop allowing symptoms and behaviors-of-old intoxicate you...........  climb the fucking ladder!  it's RIGHT THERE!  stop running circles AROUND it and start CLIMBING it!

dizzy from the frustration and endless circling of that existential ladder, i am making a grand effort today to dig deep.  thank you for reading.  loneliness and the feeling of hopelessness are truly isolating.  knowing i have sisters that are simply reading this comforts me.  many thanks.
namaste
amy xoxoxo

unsuspected anger, nutritionist, and v-e-g-a-n

well, well, fucking well....  i'm here to write after a week's worth of soul-shattering anger.

i know i mentioned that my ex-hub was trying to *take me to court* over the kids.  we attended mediation monday.....and discussed the parenting-time school sched... AND THAT WAS IT.  please don't misunderstand; i couldn't be happier that he did not go into the detail that the legal paperwork, with which he had presented me, had.  but what hurts me and disappoints me is that we already had the sched figured out.  and every year, we chat about it sans atties and mediators.  so heading to mediation to waste everyone's time and to spend FAR TOO MUCH MONEY to discuss something that was already in place was POINTLESS.

the mediator assured me in private that he believed that the ex-hub was frustrated once he actually HAD to care for the kids for four months [while i was in tmt] that he prob snapped.  his anger was made known through the paperwork.  and that b/c i didn't cave and give in, but rather stood my ground, he knew i was protected ALSO under the parenting agreement....and just let it fizzle out.

well, you'd think that i would have thrown a party or something that i not only did NOT have to defend myself against anything- but that NOTHING was even brought up to suggest that he could contest anything that i do....   but NO.  once i got into my van, i started to cry...and talk outloud...and clench my teeth.  i quickly became hysterical and don't remember driving.  luckily my mama had the kids at the pool and said she would bring them to me later--- so sucking it up for the sake of others was no longer an ordeal.  so i screamed and cried...for three hours.  i didn't know that i was THAT angry and upset over how i was being treated.

cts:  at my therapy appointment wed, my therapist blurts out that *group* begins next tues.  i had asked for a head's up... but i really meant far more in advance that this!  aaaaah.  i REALLY don't want to go to group.  i know i will benefit.  i know that i've been longing for a tmt-type group....  but i'm tentative.  i'm afraid.  i'm not ready yet.  i get a tummy ache thinking about it.

oh, and i was coerced into making an appointment with a nutritionist----- black-mailed actually.  but????  i finally fucking did it.  it is this next tues afternoon- yep! and then that night i have fucking *group*!  talk about a day from hell.  sigh.

cts again:  so, i have strict recommendations to stay away from the vegan mindset.  but here's my dilemma: i am having such a difficult time CHOOSING to consume dairy.  i'm finding it far too disturbing.... so although i am supposed to stay AWAY from vegan alternatives for fear that they will lead to further restriction, i opted for soy yogurt and for almond milk today while grocery shopping.  it is NOT to restrict but rather to GET the bite into my mouth.  i won't go NEAR cereal with cow's milk-  but the chances are exponentially greater if it's with almond milk.  and i LOVE yogurt- but am entirely too disturbed and repulsed by it to go near it.  so rather than letting it go bad in my fridge, i purchased the soy version to UP the chances of it getting into my body.

while all of this makes a shit-load, shload, shit-ton of sense to me, it is truly my best effort at consuming NOT restricting.  i hope that it is viewed as such in the peripheral outside my tunnel-vision.

short and sweet update:
i still hate food.  i hate to talk about food and how i feel about it.  my therapist is magic b/c she ellicits info from me even when i feel unwilling.  i have not done the greatest job the past couple of days when it comes to consumption, but i have felt good.  it's a different kind of good.  sure, i feel that fab emptiness that i fucking love.... but this good-feeling is from- i hate to admit this- from talking.  i'm sort of... h-a-p-p-y.  i feel like i have a better grasp on myself and why i am the way i am sometimes.  i'm just not so cryptic to myself lately.  but i don't know WHAT the lack of consumption is all about.  but?  i am being honest- here and with my therapist.... so there's hope for me yet, eh?

i am grateful for the time you took to read this.
namaste, my sweet sisterhood....
amy xoxoxoxoxxoxoox

bug bites

for as long as i can remember, i haven't had a bug bite since i was a child.  an avid camper and self-proclaimed tree-hugger, i always amazed others by remaining bite-free during every trip.  hiking, canoe-ing, rock-climbing or rappeling, walks on the beach, and late night bonfires never required the use of any bug repellant.

during my stay at the tmt center, i found myself being bothered by the spring-has-sprung mosquitoes.  and now that i am home?  forget hanging out on my front porch as the sun goes down... forget hiking in red river gorge...  forget marshmellows over a camp fire... without bug spray, i am getting eaten alive!

there is nothing that has changed drastically about me.  no new perfume or body lotion.  no new hair product.  no new laundry detergent.  the only things that have changed are my nutrition levels and their consistencies- and the fact that i am not underweight.

well, eating disorder- there's one point for you.  no bug bites.  but i can fix that with some fucking spray.  so..... fuck you.

thanks again for reading.
namaste
amy xoxo

pinky and the brain- okay just the brain

yeah, my anger-post is boringly cryptic. 

my fingertips tingle with the need to write.  sometimes my brain engages and other times it is not so agreeable.  i think my taken-for-granted brain is still healing....  my poor brain has undergone many transformations over the vastness of my illness.  scarred from the deep ruts of dysfunctional thinking, it has survived without nutrients for many times on and off throughout my life.  this past [and final] decent into hades lasted almost four years. 

and when my brain would not perform in the manner that i demanded, i blamed everything EXCEPT malnutrition.  *maybe i'm dehydrated* [and i'm sure that i was].  *maybe i need more caffeine* *maybe i need to take a run* *maybe i need sleep* *maybe i need to read* *maybe i need to to to to to*  i fussed around with different cocktails of possibilities but would REFUSE to consider nutrition.

i would have vision problems- fuzziness, blurred vision, light sensitivity issues.  everything sounded far too LOUD.  i had a constant headache.  i was dizzy more often than not.  i saw stars... usually followed by blackness closing in on me.  i couldn't focus to read.  i couldn't focus to write.  what i DID write was not rational.  the thoughts that seemed sensical to me were really disturbing results of a starving brain.  my short-term memory was almost non-existent.  my ability to become confused was ever-growing.  my personality was all but gone.  the vacancy in my eyes was haunting.

i believe that my brain has yet to heal.  the ruts that scar run deep.  forging new synapse-firing paths is much more difficult than in theory.  old habits and patterns continue to rise to the surface, trumping any newly formed ways of doing.  fuzziness and slowness continue to plague my attrified brain.

dear brain,
please forgive me for not feeding you.  in the attempt to empty the pain in my soul, i have starved my body and organs.  i am fortunate to have only caused temporary damage that can heal.  you are important to me- and my expectations for you are always high.  it is not your fault when you can not meet those expectations when i have not fed you.
i am doing my best to honor and feed you.  i need you.  i need you to work properly for me.  i need you to learn, and perform, and create, and allow me to have the quality of life for which i strive.
respectfully yours,
amy xo

a-n-g-e-r

what do you do with anger?  what am i SUPPOSED to do with anger?  have you ever felt so much anger that you are eerily too calm?  have you ever felt so angry that any small irritation could send your vesuvius into eruption?  have you ever wanted to scream- but just couldn't find the right place to ACTUALLY scream?  i mean WHERE DOES one go to actually SCREAM?  have you ever felt like throwing things?  have you ever ACTUALLY thrown things?  i have.  i have created far more of a mess by throwing and breaking things- humiliating and a bitch of a clean-up.  that was years ago.  now my arm twitches with restraint.

anger.  just writing the word riles me.  hmmm, it's just a feeling, an emotion, a signal of *something*.  anger itself is not bad.  but what i DO about my anger can be.....  most folks don't celebrate anger... or host a party for it... or get excited about it.  handling anger, coping with it, moving through it, surviving it- is such a delicate dance. 

i'm trapped b/t twitching with restraint, fighting my urge to fucking scream- and sitting calmly watching life continue.  i'm sure there are some greys b/t throwing a screaming tantrum and doing nothing.  my compass is broken.  i can not find anything in b/t.

self-care, comfort, soothing, distraction...  so difficult when anger prevails.  it blankets my soul like heavy, wet wool...  uncomfortable, scratchy and irritating, messy.....  finding my way out from under this blanket in order to comfort myself sounds impossible and unreasonable.  suffering, sorrow, blind-rage all feel appropriate and very possible and very reasonable.  sigh.

and for what it's worth, anger does NOT last forever.  it does subside.  but without proper skills to cope appropriately, it can FEEL like it lasts forever, and it can hurt more than necessary.

it is so difficult, my sisters, to be simply human.  being human is far more difficult than i'd like for it to be.  sigh.

my angry soul bows in respect to all of yours....
amy xoxo

life is hard, and recovery works IN our favor

i know it's been a while since my last confession...  life has kept me pretty busy lately.

do you ever feel hard-wired?  i mean, i've learned that the way i move through life is not the most graceful- and that there are better, more efficient ways.  i have not only LEARNED these ways, i actually LIVED them while in treatment.  acclimating myself into my life post-tmt is far more difficult than the theory.  *you did it in tmt.  so do it in real life.*  sounds simple enough.  but something in me magnetically draws my attention to former ways...  and the irony is that my intellect KNOWS better.  having that awareness creates such conflict.  and yet, almost everything in me feels hard-wired to continue to repeat former behaviors...  sigh.

update:

for those of you considering tmt, or for those who have completed tmt and are considering dipping a toe back into their illness- i want to share some recent happenings in my life, hoping that it can impact you in a way that promotes recovery.

yes, the stigma of an eating disorder is heavy and ugly and UNAVOIDABLE.  people KNOWING is scary.  i was afraid that if i accepted the diagnosis of having an eating disorder that who i am as a good person would be questioned, that my abilities would be questioned, that my credibility would be questioned, that my motherhood would be questioned.  and i'm here to tell you????  that yes, it WILL all be questioned.  but, NOT accepting the diagnosis in order to recover will only solidify that all in your life should and will be questioned for very substantial reasons. 

i couldn't see that.  i truly believed that if i could talk myself into believing that i didn't have an eating disorder then others would believe it also.  not true. 

so i'm here to tell you: no matter what you do when you have an eating disorder, facing the FEAR of people knowing is inevitable.  and facing the FEAR of how people will perceive you is ALSO in inevitable.  but it's better to face it all as you ACCEPT your diagnosis, follow through with tmt, and move forward with recovery.  the cat will be out of the bag regardless- better to have the posisitve fire-walking on your side, you know?

i'm blathering on about this, b/c my family was very concerned that my ex-husband would try to manipulate our custody agreement if i did NOT take the appropriate steps toward accepting that i was ill and doing something about it- aka: going into tmt.  shockingly, my ex-husband was very supportive, cheering me on, soothing my worries by telling me that he would never use this to try to take the kids from me.  he volunteered to take the kids full-time and for me to take all the time that i needed in tmt. 

had i not gone into tmt when i did, my ex-husband truly WOULD have had many reasons to be worried.  but i faced the fear, walked through all that fire, and am now home.

and luckily i faced those fears when i did.  luckily, i have had practice dealing with scary shit.  tmt gave me a safe place to face some scary shit and to practice dealing appropriately with facing it.  b/c let's face it.  life goes on whether we like it or not.  scary shit will CONTINUE to present itself to us... b/c that's LIFE.  so no matter WHAT we take a deep breath over and FACE, telling ourselves that it's the ONLY fear or the LAST fear is simply a lie.

my point is that we will all get to a crossroads where we have to face things of which are afraid.  and that crossroads will NEVER disappear. 

wow, lots of rambling to get to my point.  please forgive me.

the day after i returned home from tmt, my ex-husband presented me with legal paperwork stating that he is filing for full custody of our children.  you can imagine my shock and surprise.... and fear and fear and fear and fear.  i thought that accepting all this and going to tmt would ALLEVIATE such action.  but life IS unpredictable.  and mean people pretending to be nice will always exist.

i know this could have happened pre-tmt.  if it had, the way in which i would have handled it all would look VERY DIFFERENT.... and would definitely have been the WRONG way.  but...it didn't happen pre-tmt.  it is happening now.

i had a meeting with my attorney yesterday who stated that my best recourse is to do nothing.  he has no facts to bring to the table, so trying to defend myself against false accusations is a waste of time and money.

we have mediation set up for this coming monday.  thankfully my atty will be present.  my job will be to sit still and look pretty.  i can handle that directive. 

having accepted the diagnosis and having gone into tmt and continuing with therapy are all aspects that work IN my favor.  i'll admit that i was convinced that if i did all those things, then all the threats in my life would dissapate.  folks, life g-o-e-s on... in ways we are not comfortable with.  this was bound to happen at one point or another....and so will other looming, fearful life events.

i am trying to be calm.  i am trying not to worry incessantly.  i am trying not to allow the disdain that i feel toward my ex-husband poison my soul.  pre-tmt, i could have never done this gracefully.

so, no matter WHAT it is that you are avoiding or are afraid of,  it is likely to happen ANYWAY.  being in a position to REALLY BE ABLE TO DEAL WITH IT AND TO BE ABLE TO STAND UP FOR YOURSELF is the best place you can put yourself.  life does not stop just b/c we avoid it or b/c we want to wish it away.

i am confident that my ex-husband will be pleased with himself regardless the outcome.  he wants to be *heard*.  he wants an audience to witness his name-calling tactics.  he wants to punish me monetarily.  i believe that he simply wants to scare me.  he will accomplish ALL these things and more....  but does NOT have any substance with which to justify his claims.  going to tmt works IN my favor- not against me. 

so, the entire time that i have been home, i have been feeling the underlying pressure of this threat.  i have been worried and upset, angry and confused, confident and scared.  but....  that's life.  no, big threats of going to court may not present themselves every day forever, but scary aspects of life WILL continue to present- regardless of where we are in recovery.  isn't it better to have a foundation of real work?  rather than trying to rely on what you'd like to WISH your life to be?  i can state with confidence that i have worked my ass off in tmt.  i have facts to back it.  i am living proof that i have actually done the work.  THAT, my sisters, is what will pull me through difficult times in life- not denial, starvation, backsliding, excuses, or trying to wish it all away.

i hope that this does not scare anyone away from acceptance and tmt.  this is not happening to me BECAUSE i went to tmt.  it is happening b/c it is happening.  nothing more.  nothing less.  if my ex-husband wants to USE the fact that i went to tmt AGAINST ME, bring it on!  if he wants to try to scare me, bring it on!  if he wants to resort to stigma and name-calling, bring it on!  going into tmt works FOR ME not AGAINST ME.

so please, sisters.....  regardless of the hell of recovery,  please try see that the horrific-ness of it WILL pay off.  it's soooooo much better than the hell that was before.  and facing your fears gets easier.  it really does.  and all the hell that you can't STAND is is is is working FOR you.  it really is.

many thanks for your patience reading this jumbled mess that i am presenting.  remembering that life IS hard helps.  remembering that the hell of recovery WILL end and WILL work in your favor helps.  i know it's difficult; i'm by no means claiming a perfect recovery.  but i'm better off right now than i ever have been before when it comes to dealing with the disappointments that life will inevitably bring.

sending out loving vibes into the universe for all my sisterhood!!!!
namaste
amy xoxo

eating forces self-expression

good morning, sweet sisterhood....

i wish i had some better reasons for WHY i do the stupid shit that i do.  i know that continuing to do things MY WAY, the way that DOES NOT WORK, is simply relentless disappointment and dangerous.  and yet, without the structure of a treatment center, i revert back to my *insanity* by constantly doing things the same dumb-ass ways as i bitch about and wish that the quality of my life would rise.  the quality of my life ain't goin' nowhere but down if i rely on wishing my life to be better.

am i expecting too much from myself too soon?  am i supposed to expect slips and falls and bumps and bruises once i'm *finished* with treatment?  or am i supposed to be more on-target?  if the latter is true, i could really hate myself far more than i already do.....  but although i don't *throw in the towel* at the end of every day, i admit that i DO justify future idiosyncrasies by focusing on past and present idiosyncratic mishaps.  the answers to these questions are subjectively different for each of us.  and i don't believe that any of them will be answered for me until i establish an aftercare treatment plan. 

i know i tend to ramble and flower-up what it is that i'm trying to say.... and that's exactly what i have been doing here.  i have something SPECIFIC that is bothering me, and yet i dance around it all with general insinuations. 

yesterday, i had my proverbial power fucking bar in the morning.  i was left alone for lunch and snack....and i kept busy and *conveniently* partook in NEITHER.   by dinner, i could have EASILY floated into evening's slumber without having put a single bite into my mouth.  but here's where it all gets problematic and i become so very upset with myself.  instead of floating into slumber on the gentle wave of emptiness, it was suggested that we get pizza.  again, i must re-iterate how EASILY I COULD HAVE refused and slipped into extreme emptiness.  but instead, b/c of having a caring audience, i agreed to pizza.  and thus the obsessive dilemma began.  my brain starts an argument with my mouth commanding my mouth to settle the fuck down b/c i will NOT allow myself to eat [taste] too much no matter how amazing it TASTES.

but my mouth is so excited to TASTE that i overeat [by MY standards], have no idea if i'm satiated, full, or overly-full..... and by the time my brain gets the signal the signal that my tummy has had enough, I AM MISERABLE!  did i enjoy the taste?  HELL YEAH!  was it WORTH IT?  H-E-L-L NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  so i end up dangling on the edge of torturous fullness, hating myself, dying to vomit, feeling all the more confused by how this particular situation progressed.......

oh the fucking irony.  i want so badly to be able to get the fucking bite into my mouth..... and sometimes when i do i feel like i can't stop when I WANT TO STOP.  wishing to hate all food when i just wish i could eat like everyone else does is exhausting.

and to make matters WORSE [oh yeah, sisterhood, my worries continue], we ran into a friend who has not seen me since b/f i went into treatment.  each time polite eye contact was sent my way, i panicked that i looked *fat* [not a fan of that word and will not use it often.  my apologies for the offensiveness of that fucking word]. 

and i wondered this morning why i didn't sleep well last night.  in retrospect, i can remember my thoughts during the night reaching obsessive levels.  i combed over every single moment of the evening: from my choice NOT to slip into extreme emptiness, to eating too much, to feeling like i was on display as a much larger person.  it all makes sense now, eh?  no sleep for the weary............

today is a new day.  bitching about all this does not CHANGE A DAMN THING.  action is what will bring about change.  i feel like shit.  i hate food.  i want emptiness.  i miss bones and spaces.  feeling all that will NOT bring about any change in my life.  action action action. 

i ate my power fucking bar this morning, and have signed a contract to mp each night b/f... for a month [baby steps].  i HAVE a mp for today... now i just need to push myself to follow it.

i am grateful for your reading-eyes.  I CAN NOT EAT UNLESS I HONESTLY EXPRESS MYSELF.  i am learning that there simply isn't room inside me for both food and powerful emotion.  today, although i truly WANT EMPTINESS, i know that dangerous path will continue to lower and dull the quality of my life....  so i must eat- and consequently i must express myself.  hating BOTH, i know that wishing and hating and bitching CHANGES NOTHING.

many thanks for you attentiveness.  recovery is HELL!  but i'll be DAMNED if i didn't spent four months in treatment to simply fucking give up.  soooooooo, trudging through hell seems to be my only option at this point.  your attention and support mean the world to me.

i love you, sisterhood....
namaste....
amy xoxo

anger replaced with.... anger

this morning i thought i'd put some of that ANGRY energy to work for GOOD RATHER THAN EVIL.  sooooooooooo, i did some research.  the therapist that i am presently seeing [and will likely stay with going toward] also runs a *group*.  OF COURSE, the group costs a substantial amount of money.  and due to my recent stint in a resort---uh, i mean treatment center--- my funds are limited if not non-existent presently.

EVERYTHING COSTS SO MUCH FUCKING MONEY!  i did, however, call my ins co and have my benefits and member costs explained.... and possibly- JUST POSSIBLY- i MIGHT be able to swing indv therapy and the group therapy.... but chances are thin..... esp since financial armageddon is quickly approaching our nation......

this is all such a fucking pain in my ass.  not only do i have to secure MY OWN aftercare- which if any of you have met me, you KNOW it is almost impossible for me to do on my own- i have to figure out HOW TO PAY FOR IT!  it was the most heart-breaking decision to put my saving to use for a TREATMENT CENTER..... and NOW??????  more and more and more and more monies are going toward all this eating disorder shit!!!!!!  i'm fucking sick of all this!

and although i really am not as dumb as i play sometimes, i TRULY DID NOT consider the outrageous costs of AFTERCARE! 

so while i have been bitching about not having the proper step-down treatment and while i have been hating myself for either dragging my feet about it or for moving forward with it, i hadn't considered the fucking COSTS!

i'd love to be able to report that right now i'm in tears.... but i am tooo ANGRY AND TOOOOO FRUSTRATED TO EVEN CRY! 

so as my previous anger was used as motivation to research and help myself, it simply made more room for NEW anger to grow and EXPLODE!

deep breath.

last night after i'd blogged, i visited fb......and two angel-sisters instant-messaged me simultaneously.  it's exactly what i needed.  i furiously pecked and was grateful for the responses.  i sobbed uncontrollably....  i cried myself to sleep...............  i am grateful for my sisters and wish so badly to in their presence- but the reality is that i need to learn to be there for myself.  sigh.  i love you, sweet angel-sissies!

i must sign-off for now....
more later
namaste
amy xo

ALL to NOTHING, furiously writes the woman with drawers...

i must apologize before i even begin this mess of ramblings....  sometimes, my fingertips TINGLE with the need to write.  and during some of those times, my synapses will fire uncontrollably as my personal, bubbling vesuvius ERRUPTS!

there's NOTHING out there- no books, videos, memoires, NOTHING- that indicates that eating disorder recovery IS A WORSE HELL THAN THE DISEASE ITSELF! maybe it's a good thing that there's nothing out there indicating such- perhaps people would be too frightened to begin the journey. but this fucking process is so much more hellish than i could have ever imagined!!!!!!!! if i didn't have others with which to compare, i would think that i'm going MORE crazy, and i would ABANDON THIS HELL!   tears.

i don't know. maybe i'd have been more prepared to feel so HORRIBLE AND MISERABLE if i'd known that this was going to be sooooooooo b-a-d. i just feel blind-sided, smacked in the fucking face! ill-prepared and tentative.... each step is a fucking scaredy-cat tip-toe. i hate this i hate this i hate this!

and yeah, treatment was the ONLY way to interrupt all that was happening to me. I DO UNDERSTAND THAT. but it's such an artificial environment... that just THREW me back into the world where NOTHING ELSE HAS CHANGED!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i need a better step-down treatment. the dynamics of everything i do are off and different and scewed. it feels as though the existential foundation of EVERYTHING in my life is crumbling. SHOULDN'T THE OPPOSITE BE OCCURRING? you know, b/c now i'm free from the fucking psych unit and have gone through COUNTLESS hours of therapy? shouldn't i be able to piece things together BETTER NOW? rather than feel so timid about approaching anything for fear that how different i am now might cause it all to crash???????

for gawd's sakes, it's just fucking food. and i simply fucking HATE IT IN MY BODY! i hate feeling ill all the time. oh but i can contradict myself at a moment's notice and correct myself by saying that i really actually love feeling ill............. but it's the *ill* that I BRING ON- not the *ill* that food brings on. I HATE THIS! nothing feels RIGHT!   AND REALLY???????????? ALL BECAUSE OF SOME CALORIE SCRIPT THAT SOMEHOW H-U-R-T-S ME?????? pathetic.

from ALL to NOTHING. yep fucking NOTHING! every moment of my time, every thought in my head, every breath that i took were all consumed with this fucking illness----------- and treatment insulated me from myself and from the world. and now?????? NOTHING! oh sure, i've a laundry list of recommendations that i want to blow all to HELL! b/c doing it ALONE IS IS IS IS IS HELLLLLLLLLLLL!

and again, could i hate myself any more by reducing it all to me just not wanting to eat food? just fucking eat, amy, and get the fuck over it!!!!!!!! good god damn! i hate myself.

deep breath. i feel angry and frustrated and forgotten and hopeless. i'm exhausting the hell out of myself.... but THAT'S nothing new. shit.

thank you again for reading. my fingertips are flying and my vesuvius is errupting. i hate feeling like this. empty, numb, complacent, dull- now THAT'S how i like things............. pretty low quality of life, though.

time to find my lid and to push it all down............

[i am a woman with drawers....and a burning giraffe ---- salvador dali painting]

tears......

namaste

xo

the morning after........

aaaaah, the morning after.....  after a fam damily dinner at my mama's.....

it's frightening to see the familiar beat of the family drum being followed regardless of the obvious dysfunction.  i'm not claiming that my fam is any different than any other family with it's strange yet familiar dynamic... let's face it: we all have it, you know?  and while some members of our family recognize it and others do not, it is just a unique perspective that one has when removed from their entire life and placed into tmt.

i know i've written it countless times, and i sadly need to peck it out once again: the transition back into every day life post-tmt is an enigmatic difficulty.

i am choosing to peck out this recollection of yesterday's events- not to negatively criticize anyone in my fam- but to emphasize that simply because I HAVE CHANGED that it does not indicate AT ALL that others around me have or will...

yesterday, my mama hosted a fam gathering for her hub's bday.  i LOVE my family!  i LOVE my step-family!  please read NO hint of sarcasm in my capitalization of *love*.  i truly love getting together with everyone in my fam and extended fam and not only appreciate all differences for what they are- but i enjoy them also.

my mama has this way of... how should i word this?  um.... a way of *snapping* into bitch-mode.  it has sadly been the example for me and my two sisters for our entire lives.  when my mama ISN'T losing it, she is kind and generous and actually a lot of fun.  but something subtle will occur that causes the scales to tip- and out of no where, my mama is one scary bitch who can be settled down by NOTHING.  THIS makes not only the anticipation to family events but ALSO the actual fam event very stressful [at least for me, anyway].  i try to let it be HER problem.  but WOW, when she basically THROWS the icecream scoop at her hub because she got upset over the kids eating too much chicken, it's difficult to IGNORE THAT.

plus?  like myself, my mama has had nothing in her life but her *smallness* to validate her as a worthwhile person.  so although i have made it clear COUNTLESS times over the course of my life that yammering on and on about weight makes me uncomfortable, she does little to care for her blurts.  arriving first yesterday, my mama commented to me that she saw some cute dresses that made her think of me and one of my sisters......THEN, she mindlessly rambles on about how the dress wouldn't look good on someone short and heavy which is why she DIDN'T include my other sister.  WOWOWOWOWOW, REALLY?  is she EVER going to get it through her skull that talking like that serves NO PURPOSE WHATSOEVER!!!!!  my other sis is happily married, has a great job as a teacher, is a very attractive woman, has a wonderful personality, is easy-going and very generous, and simply is not a TWIG.....and all my mama EVER has to comment on re: her is her weight.  IT ENRAGES ME! 

thankfully my sis was not around to accidentally overhear ANY of what my mama blurted...

i know that i have the ability to approach my mama and to talk to her.  i've done it in the past, and i'm perfectly [actually at this crossroads in my life i'm MORE] capable of doing it again.  but some things simply AREN'T worth the consequences.  my mama has a bad habit of suddenly being the martyrous victim in ALL situations.... and if i talk to her about this [again], she will abruptly tell me how stupid and worthless she is, what a terrible person i must think she is, and that if your mama can't say the truth about her daughters, then who can?  i've heard it ALLLLLLL before.  and i'm not sure if my talking to her is worth the fallout afterwords...  fuck me.

so this morning, i woke up feeling like i'd been literally thrown under a bus.  my body ached.  my head hurt.  i felt physically beat-up.  but there was no real *bus* that hit me.  it was the dynamic of my mama and the relentless catering to that dysfunctional family drum-beat that just smashed me.  sigh.  being a human is exhausting.

please forgive my super-wordiness today.... and please know that i love my mama so very much.  i'm just frustrated presently by MY shifting perspective....and by the familial static status quo....

thank you for reading....  i need to head out and get my kids to their dad.  it's his weekend.  blahhhhhhh.  again, being human is exhausting.

all my love, my sisters!!!!!!!
namaste...
amy xoxoxoxoxo

dichotomous ME

good afternoon, my sisterhood.  i'm sitting out on my front porch, my *smoke* porch, watching my kiddos scooter in unbearable humidity.  but nothing beats being outside, you know? 

the strangest thing happened this morning....  for as ashamed as i have been for having no accomplishments, an alternate orientation, and an eating disorder- i OPENED up today to an longtime college friend who just friended me on fb.  yep!  she told me all about her successes in her career, her publications, her divorce, her children, her travels, etc.....  sooooooo, i did it.  i was honest without a hint of self-pity.  i owned up to my life, my mistakes, my successes, and....... my orientation and eating disorder. 

i've spent far too long AVOIDING the subject of companionship...  plus, if i ignore my recent tmt-stay, then i am not really talking about anything that is present in my life.  so, i took the leap.  i haven't heard back from her--- and yet, i am not afraid.  whatever it is that she has to say about anything that i wrote, i feel confident that i can handle.  the fact that i was me being ME is enough to insulate me from just about any response.  it feels GOOD to be me, to be honest, to be free from avoidance.

and now, onto my dichotomous issues....  so if i'm feeling so damned good to be me, why do i do things that indicate that i hate myself?  for example:  all throughout tmt [treatment], i insisted that i could NOT know my goal-weight, that i could NOT know how much a i weighed day to day, that i could NOT have those numbers in my life ever again!  so a week before i'm discharged from tmt, i get all in a lather and STEP ON THE SCALE!  talk about hating myself even MORE for doing that....  and wouldn't you know, i've made it a god damned habit again.  yep!  countless times throughout my day, i remind myself how much i HATE myself by stepping on that fucking scale.

i know what you are thinking:  *get rid of that fucking scale, amy!*  i know i know... but i can't.  and i won't.  why why why why why do i allow my self-worth to be measured by a fucking number on a scale?  aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!  so all this pecking out of how good i feel to be honest with a longtime college friend---- and i secretly sabotage that goodness every other moment by making myself SEE my weight!  why why why do i do this to myself?????

and here's the deal-closer:  i justify EVERY FUCKING THING THAT I DO by telling myself that it's not that bad- it's not bad like it was six months ago....  or that i'm GOING to make mistakes, so i'm just going to LET myself for a while.  pathetic.

i remember the last time i stepped on my scale before tmt.  i told myself that i would NEVER see that number again!  i told myself that relentlessly stepping on the fucking scale would NEVER be a part of my life EVER AGAIN!  i told myself that i would work harder than i ever have in my life in order to have something OTHER THAN A LOWER NUMBER to give me a thrill, to make me feel worth something, to make me... happy.

deep breath.  i know better.  I KNOW BETTER!  i cheat my mp.  i know my weight.  i watch it drop.  i'm secretly ECSTATIC.  NO NO NO NO NO NO AMY!!!!!!  i'm humiliated by the amount of money that was spent on tmt!  i would be a fucking fool to mess that up!  i can HEAR myself argue with myself.  this awareness is HELL! 

how hard could this be..... eat.  stay away from the scale.  like yourself the way you are, for WHO you are, and STOP trying to be someone you are NOT! 

this ISN'T vanity.  this ISN'T me trying to get attention.  i PROMISE you that no one else KNOWS ANY OF THIS.  i hide it VERY well and do NOT want that negative attention.  i just want to feeeeeeeeeeeeeeel better.  i HATE that i seek out feeling better through f-o-o-d.  tears............

well, that's all for now.  i must get a late shower and head out to my mama's house for dinner.  yikes- dinner with family....  pray for me, sisters.....
namaste...
amy xoxo

following recommendations?

today, i apparently have a lot on my mind...  journaling might help- but seeing as how i don't *officially* have any aftercare presently, THIS will have to do.

so i DID embark on the journey that is grocery-shopping....  i made a grocery list from a rough draft of meals i've planned for the upcoming week.  it gets more and more difficult to purchase pre-packaged items...  it's becoming more and more difficult to purchase non-vegan items.  it becomes more and more difficult to purchase ANYTHING pre-made and processed.

oh- a little background info that would be handy:  prior to treatment, i was vegan.  i never bought any pre-made frankenfoods.  i never purchased anything in individual packages.  i never purchased meat, dairy, or eggs, or ANYTHING that had any animal products in them.  [sometimes i would buy cheese for my children.]  i was as green as could be, and i was ALWAYS in the kitchen concocting my own version of vegan-cheese, or *meats*, making crackers, sometimes breads, cookies, etc.  [and sadly not much of my non-vegan creations made it into my mouth...]

my post-treatment recommendations are to continue to eat as i did in treatment, on a schedule, fulfilling my cal script.  i am to give up being a vegan [apparently pretty problematic for me in terms of an eating disorder...], to purchase packaged items for exact cal counts, and to continue to challenge myself by choosing foods that i'm not so comfortable eating - let alone having in my HOME!  all this was recommended for me to follow for one year.  one year.  a drop in the bucket of life, right?

FUCK!  i haven't been home a month, and i'm MISERABLE!!!!!  how hard can this be, i ask you?  mp the shit-food.  buy the shit-food.  eat the shit-food..... for a year.  NOT FIVE YEARS!  only one year.  deep breath. 

WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY is this so difficult for me?  it seems so fucking simple!  i SWEAR i never thought i'd be the kind of post-treatment girlie who would try to cheat the system.  i knew i would THINK about it.  and after doing the math regarding my OUT-OF-POCKET expenses for treatment, one would THINK that would be motivation ENOUGH. 

but instead, i tell myself:  i won't let it get that bad THIS time.  i won't have to go to TREATMENT again just because i get too full and don't buy challenging foods and have decided to COOK more often.....  really amy??????  i didn't work really diligently to produce a red-flag list only to contradict it post-treatment!  i mean, come on amy!  are they red-flags or not?  and would i even be questioning ANY of this if i didn't have people POINTING THIS SHIT OUT TO ME?  probably not.  another deep breath.

this sucks.  this is difficult.  this is FAR more difficult that i could have ever imagined it to be!  i mean JUST EAT!  i know it's not that simple for someone with an eating disorder.... but because i am oh-so fond of pretending like i do NOT have an eating disorder, it's easy for me to get so angry with myself.  four months in treatment: i have many skills.  SO JUST USE THEM DAMN IT!

is anyone ELSE having a difficult time eating outside their comfortable-safe-foods?  does anyone ELSE feel tempted to cheat the cal script because they feel too FULL?  is anyone else engaging in red-flag behavior and trying to JUSTIFY IT?


tomorrow is another day...  i have an appointment with a therapist this upcoming wednesday.  i wish i had faith that once a week would be enough for me.  although it seems like i am quickly disregarding this hopeful avenue, i am truly only trying to be realistic. 

thank you for reading my endless rambling regarding fucking food.  i hate it.  i hate my rambling.  i hate food.  i hate food in my body.  i hate attempting to GET the food into my body.  i hate KEEPING food IN my body.  yet another deep breath.

many thanks, all my love, and namaste- sweet sisterhood----
amy xoxo

exchanges

a while ago, a friend of mine who is a nurse, was explaining why *exchanges* aren't the best way to go for eating disordered folks.  i remember her saying something like *an anorexic, when faced with the decision to pick the average apple, will pick the smallest*.  so over time, the smallest things are continually chosen thereby reducing the caloric intake.

i thought to myself:  there's no way!  there's no way that someone with an eating disorder will consistently choose the smallest *exchange*.  i mean what if it's something they really LIKE to eat.... or if they are REALLY hungry???????

well, i'm living proof that she is RIGHT.  i can't believe that when i am faced with choosing something like an apple or a pastry at panera, i always go for the smallest.....  holy hell!  what is that about?  i'm truly shocked.  i mean I LIKE APPLES!  and the caloric value of one that's a smidge bigger wouldn't be that much of a difference- but my brain simply WILL NOT ALLOW me to choose the average-sized one....  i must choose the smaller....

sigh.

i need to run errands and G-R-O-C-E-R-Y shop.  it USED to be one of my fav activities EVER.  but now i dread it....  more later.

thanks for reading!  namaste, my sweet sissies....
xoxoxo

little bitty times one thousand

i swear, post-treatment, i find myself eating some of the strangest things that i would have NEVER eaten... in my life, really.  like power bars.  several of my treatment sissies would have one for breakfast: calorically dense, high fat grams, and lots of protein.  i SWORE that i would never eat one of those fake frankenfood items!  but as time went on, i found them appealing for the same fucking reasons.

i also possess some weird quirks that present some unique issues for me.  i'm NOT a fan of chewing; texture can be problematic; smells and tastes are often time *off*; and i love that
E-M-P-T-Y feeling.  the less i chew, the more difficult it is when i AM faced with trying to chew.  avoiding textures just perpetuates my cycle.  refraining from eating because of smells or tastes would simply allow me to refrain MOST of the time.  and allowing myself to feel the emptiness that i soooooooo LOVE just makes it harder to eat the next time.

so the fucking power bar prevents my love for the lack of chewing and my emptiness.  it forces me to chew something a bit easier.  some days the texture makes me crazy, but i do it anyway.  sometimes the taste is all wrong- but i do it anyway. 

there HAVE been a few days when i have skipped the power bar, opting for more creamer in an additional cup of coffee.  i got my cals in so what's the big-ass deal?  well, it DEFINITELY made lunch much harder.  i felt more empty and WANTED TO HOLD ON TO THAT.... and i hadn't chewed and DIDN'T WANT TO.  so embarking on lunch was difficult- which is a precursor to the rest of the day being difficult also.  so, i thought that because i was getting in my cals that mp the next day's meals as non-chewing meals would be the solution.  solution to what?  to getting in all my cals?  or to the beginning of game-playing?  I THOUGHT i was doing the right thing.  but others around me were aware and had no problems pointing out their concerns.....

and that, my sisterhood, is just ONE of the many problematic issues that follows treatment!  multiply that little bitty aspect of *the power bar* by about one thousand.... and THAT is how overwhelmed i feel each day with all these small factors that i seem to instinctively *know* how to take care of that apparently are *red flags*.  sigh.  this is SO difficult.

does anyone else have any strategies they use to prevent issues from cropping up?  what are your issues?  what is your main daily issue?  how do you prefer to get support for these *little* things? 

it's quickly approaching my scheduled lunch time.  thank god for the schedule.  pre-treatment, i was asked to mp and to get into a routine with a schedule.....  and do you know what?  i didn't even UNDERSTAND what that really meant!  such a simple tool- and i had no idea what it meant and couldn't do it.  what a long strange trip it's been [grateful dead].

how are you doing with mp and scheduling?  is it more difficult than you expected?  are you rigid or more flexible?  do you jack with your mp?  do others eat with you?  eat similarly as you?  how do you handle social situations?

my processed, prepacked frankenfood lunch is calling my name.  although i HATE [and i mean HATE] this type of food, it has helped me re-join society--- in more ways than just being able to eat out at a restaurant.....  more later!

namaste, my sweet sisters!
amy xoxo

today i don't feel like eating ANYthing..... sing it sisters!

today i don't feel like eating anything
i just want to stare at my plate
don't feel like picking up my fork
i hate stouffers; it's such a joke
b/c today i don't feel like eating anything
nothing at all.

bruno mars ain't got nothin'  on me, eh???? 

regardless of how much i DON'T want any bites in my mouth, i have a mp [meal plan] that i must follow.  and in the words of my former therapist *EAT ALL YOUR GOD DAMNED CALORIES.  i know you don't want to but you need to.*  ahhh, such poetry.  but i remind myself of that quote whenever that fucking bruno mars tune infiltrates my being.

i was thinking recently [dangerous, right?] about the book *biting anorexia*.  although it is sort of a diary of her recovery post-treatment, it's just so scattered.  the parts that stand out the most to me now are the ones where she just haphazardly eats her way through her days.  where's a schedule?  what about a cal script?  what did she learn in treatment?   whatever she learned, how is she incorporating it into her every day life?  eating weird shit here and there just for the hell of it just doesn't seem like the best route to recovery.

perhaps my memory serves me wrong....but that's what i remember from the book- although i read it about two years ago.

part of me wants to go back to some of these memoires and find the parts of recovery that i missed when i read them the first ten times.  yep, read them over and over trying to find myself in them.  perhaps, if i read them with a different intent, i'll get something MORE out of them.  but for now, for what it's worth- i'm staying away.  i'm not the biggest fan of the word *triggered*- it simply implies too much helplessness...  but nonetheless, i DO FALL PREY to being triggered and want to avoid that presently as much as possible.  so looking for recovery in memoires will have to wait until a later date.

soooo, how many of you had a difficult time securing aftercare?  my GAWD!  what a nightmare!  all wrapped up in my blanket of treatment, i was smacked in the face with the reality that nothing that intensive nor that specialized exists in my area.  i started making calls and writing emails about a month before i was discharged from treatment.  I GOT NOTHING!  NO RESPONSES!  i chased and chased and chased down the names of places and people that were referred to me.  i begged my therapist at home to continue to see me during this messy interim time...  she reluctantly agreed and provided a whole new set of names.  i landed an appointment with a *specialist* who basically told me that i was out of her league and that even an internationally known specialist that she trained with couldn't help me.  WOWOWOWOWWOWOW. 

so back to the drawing board.  i called three other names.  one woman vigilantly played phone tag with me until an appointment time was determined.  i've met with her once.  she asked all the right [scary] questions...  i have another appointment planned.  she seems compassionate and knowledgeable.  we'll see.... 

three weeks plus into being home from treatment- it's about fucking TIME that i get something lined up!  going from all to nothing is scary and frustrating.

what issues did you encounter trying to secure aftercare?  did you have to do it yourself?  did someone help you?  are you pleased with your aftercare?  how did the transition from treatment to op aftercare work out for you?  did you find that you missed your treatment therapist? 

i hope you enjoyed my song...  i've got another one about fucking :)  for those of you who know me: you are saying * of COURSE you do *!!!!!!!  i have a panera coffee with an extra shot of espresso- so this should be a great beginning to my day!

namaste, my sisterhood...
amy xoxoxo

recovered- but what about recovery?

i've read a lot of memoirs over the years that tell the horrors of being in the midst of the HELL that eating disorders are.  i've read a lot on how people have recovered.  i've read a lot of how-to books and life-beyond books.  but never have i read anything that involves the true HELL of recovery.

one of the olsen sisters went into treatment and miraculously appeared back in the spotlight as *recovered*.  portia wrote an amazing tale involving her *story* but not much about HOW she recovered.  and the how-to books just don't portray in written word just how DIFFICULT recovery can be.

by no means am i suggesting that something needs to be published in order to SCARE people away from recovery.  i'd just like to see something more realistic- so that WHEN i find the process as hellish as the disease, i don't feel alone in my pain and sorrow.

therefore, i am committing to this blog- a blog about recovery.... the good, bad, and the fucking ugly.  because no matter the direction that is taken when an eating disorder develops, there is PAIN AND SUFFERING involved.  so why not take the path that leads to the END of that pain and suffering?  why not?  BECAUSE MOVING AWAY FROM IT FEELS LIKE IT HURTS MORE!  but i've heard that it gets better and that recovery isn't linear.  an eating disorder IS fairly linear: a straight line to HELL.  so i have chosen to walk the more painful, jagged path in the hopes of seeing the end in order to LIVE.  because without recovery, an eating disorder either eventually ends in death- or nosedives into hellish quality of life that isn't worth living.

deep breath.  i have been home from a four month stay at a treatment center for three weeks.  treatment was the BEST thing that could have ever happened for me.  i was reluctant and was basically *pushed* into treatment.  i wanted a different, *better* life- but didn't know HOW to get it.  treatment interrupted what i could not.  treatment provided structure, routine, therapy, and others like me.  i felt less alone and comforted by NOT being the only one.

and now i am h-o-m-e...  omega?  quite the contrary.  treatment stopped my fall in the pit of hell.  treatment provided me with the skills to get myself OUT of the pit.  now it is time for me to use what i have learned and make my way out...

think about it.  if you had learned the skills and had the tools to climb the side of a mountain but had never ACTUALLY done it outside of a controlled practice venue, your first attempt would be a bit problematic.  but as mistakes were made and learned from, the climb would become easier.  as the terrain became too rough or too smooth, you would again use trial and error- and you would again learn from those mistakes.  over time, your slips and falls and bruises would be part of the process- almost expected, until finally a lot of what you have learned and practiced would become second nature.

i know that eating is NOT climbing.  and i know that most folks do not have to LEARN to eat.  but an eating disorder- regardless of the underlying issues- manifests itself through food.  either eating too much or too little as means to cope becomes far less about hunger and satiation but becomes some sort of coping skill that is used so instinctively incorrectly.  so learning to climb and learning to eat CAN actually be compared when specific to an eating disorder.

okay, now to the truth.  i HAVE been meal planning.  i've missed maybe three days.  i have NOT however been FOLLOWING my meal plan.  it is simply too easy not to.  the environment shouldn't matter- but i'm here to tell you that it DOES!  following through in treatment is far different than following through once you are home.  just eat.  i mean seriously!  just eat!  i didn't go through four months of treatment to come home and blow it.

so treatment is NOT the end: it is the BEGINNING of what i must do for myself.  no one can MAKE me eat.  no one can MAKE me practice and use the skills that i have learned.  no one can to that for me but ME.  and i can't reside in treatment FOREVER.  once stable, the goal is to leave and climb on.....  sigh.  my climbing skills are lacking.....

how did you feel when you came home from treatment?  were you prepared for life without so much structure?  what was the most difficult initially?

i would love as much interaction as possible.  and btw: i've chosen to blog rather than to post on a support group b/c i know that my perspective here will be pretty messy, ugly, and full of expletives.  it just may not be the most appropriate discussions for a support group.

so please!  tell me what you think!  and i will keep journaling as i navigate my way OUT of this hellish pit.

all my love, my sisterhood...
namaste,
amy xo