Positive Life Gains

2-2-12

Positive Life Gains


I have gained much more in these past few years than weight alone. This does not mean that I am happy with the weight, but it does mean that often I can look beyond to woes and sadness associated with me feeling/?being fat. I've spent the past 14 (or 26) years having a distorted image of myself solely based on weight. The past 14 years I have had an almost pathological relationship with my weight. But this has come at a great cost. What have I really lost? Jobs, friends, family closeness, opportunities, years of happiness, a marriage, me...

Probably the most remarkable thing that has come with my recovery is a renewed relationship with my family, especially my mother. I shared my last blog with her and allowed myself to be vulnerable. Her response was, "How can we help"? In the past if I opened up to her her response would be, "When are you seeing Nancy next"? This feels so good. Amazingly good. But my horrible body image and yearning to go back to that skinny body are ever present, whispering in my ear. Often I can tune those voices out, more so lately, but they're still there, like a subliminal tape playing over and over again in my mind, trying to program me to going back to not only that anorexic body, but the anorexic mindset that I fear will kill me. But there's still the denial that I was ever "that sick". Since that's not always tangible to me, I need to focus on the tangible. If I relapse, I will lose the renewed relationship with my family, especially the closeness with my mother that I have longed for for a very long time now.

When I was in the hospital a while back, my mom wrote me a poem. That poem made me cry. It still chokes me up to this very day.

To My Beautiful Daughter

The pain she feels, she thinks she, alone... owns
Her empty eyes make mine fill with silent tears
She knows not my pain
Her pain is mine
Her life is mine
Her heart aches
Her heartache is mine
I gave her life... only she can maintain it
I gave her breath... I pray she will live
It is in her hands
My life I would give to see her trul smile
My life I would give to give her life again
I can not take away her pain, I can only share it
I can only pray that she will see her worth and know herself as I do
I can only pray that she can live in self-love and celebrate the rest of her life in peace
This I want for her
Thgis I want for me
She knows not my ppain

I love you mom. And I am getting closer every day.

They Say It's Your Birthday...

They Say It's Your Birthday...

It's My Birthday Too...


Ok, we all know the song


or


It's My Party and I'll Cry If I Want To...


All silliness aside.


I have been in a pretty foul mood lately. It's just life circumstances, body image shot to hell, my greatest fear evolving. It's all of this weight gain. I'm trying so hard to remain in the recovery zone and the thought of this following me into my 44th year saddens me.


I'm still focused on my ultimate goal: HEALTH!


It's a little hard to stay focused when leaving the house causes me anxiety. It makes me shy away from potential good times. I've had some pretty unique opportunities lately that is so out of my "educational realm". Today, the feeling is no different.


* I had tickets to an advanced screening of the muppets... I was going to take the kids I sit for to the show, but they lost this priveledge for misbehaving. Now, I have to credit my friend Katie for following through on my invitation and going to the movie. The area we went to in Yonkers, NY is a completely new shopping and entertainment area. I definitely want to go back and explore when the area is complete, maybe in the Spring. This I would have missed out on if I had isolated in my house. It reminds me of the movie "Yes Man". I love tha movie... and what a gret life lesson.


* Every year we do a nice birthday dinner. I was hemming and hawing about going for a meal I would really enjoy or ordering in and staying in my safe zone, missing out on something that I know deep down I really do want to do. I even know what I want to eat. We are doing Japanese Hibachi. It'll either be scallops or sworfish. Scallops I think.

The night was great. I didn't want gifts, in fact we don't usually do gifts but it felt like Christmas. And my mom even made me my favorite kind of cake. I feel hopeful because I was able to stay in the moment. In fact, I was told that I was beaming.

Hope for year 44? I think so.

Navigating the Netherworld

It's been a long time since I've written. I feel like I've literally checked out of my life and entered this haziness of a netherworld. I'm feeling so much pressure to do right. I feel like people look up to me for all that I have survived. And I'm not ready for that responsibility. I know it's all about the "self" and I need to do what is best for me. But I can't seem to focus on my"self". So the only way I deal with this perceived pressure is to check out emotionally. I feel lost and uncomfortable yet numb.

On October 26th, it will be 2 years from the discharge date of my last hospitalization. And I have only had mini lapses, but not a relapse or anything requiring more intense treatment. In fact, I have cut my psychiatrist down to every other month and my therapist to every ten days. And my nutritionist is on maternity leave.

Spoiler for talk of calories and body fat....

Before Suzanne left for maternity, on our last visit she did metabolic testing and body fat. My baseline needs for my height, weight based on oxygen taken in and carbon dioxide exhaled over a ten minute period was 1550 kcal, not accounting for any real activity. Then she did my body fat and it ranged 22-24%. This was supposed to reassure me because I have not weighed myself in a while. My scale actually grew feet overnight and ran away. I'm serious. I can't find it. But I have come to the sobering realization that...

I... A.M... F.A.T... !!!

I don't want for people to look up to me because i feel llike a failure. A BIG FAT FAILURE. I'm depressed. Depressed and FAT.

(OK, rant is hopefully over.)

I'm working hard to try to open my eyes to the real world and start being aware that I am living and can no longer just float throught my days. There's a whole range of emotions out there but I seem to have forgotten them.

I do have a laundry list of things I'll be trying to do to make myself feel better while feeling better in my physical self. I tell myself that I'm going to be healthy and not obsessive. But obsessive tends to follow me. I no longer have the scale to validate my efforts so I'm not sure what to do. Maybe I'll have to get down on my hands and knees with a flashlight to see if I can find its new home... maybe not.

Beyond Fatigue and idleness

I've been exhausted. Completely wiped out. But the nice thing, I guess, is that I am letting myself be tired, honoring my body "so to say". At first it was to nurture myself and listen... but now it is playing into depression. I hate saying my depression because i don't want to own it. I don't want it in my life at all. It is an unwanted guest who has been demanding more and more of my time. I'm pulling out of it a little, I think.

I see potential whereeas all I saw before was a person stuck in a never-ending cycle of gray. I've started to do some of the things that I used to love doing. And I've started to dream again. Without dreams, there is no reason to live or function... or live... So i'm starting a bucket list. Now all I need is some motivation to follow thru and not stay holed up in my bedroom.

Financial Freedom- If Only

Finances have been beyond a mess. My illness has me convinced that I can not work a real job, that last time I tried to go back to work, health problems were exacerbated and I wound up in the hospital. My mother is always on my case about my finances. A few weeks ago she didn't lecture, she just reminded me of my "old life" and how I could go shopping whenever I wanted. I could travel. Basically with no limitations and that is what she wants for me.

This felt caring rather than controlling, for once.

CT United 911 Ride

To say I'm humbled would be an understatement. I remember that day 9 years ago and the surreal events surrounding the fall of the towers. I could not believe that acts terrorism were happening on US soil. The billowing smoke from the towers could be seen from many along the Southern Connecticut coastline. It's a day never to be forgotten. The CT United Ride will not let it be forgotten.

My dad has a motorcycle, actually two. He has his show bike, a masterpiece of art. Then he has his Fat Boy Harley. In the past, we couldn't do the ride together because he only had his show bike. We had gone in prior years to listen to the speakers in the Norden's parking lot, were all met before the ride began. The ride is the CT United Ride, to honor those who have fallen and to remember... This was the year that we would do the 60 or so mile ride together on his Fat Boy. This year we would be part of a procession of bikers showing a visible testament to the memory of the Sept. 11 attacks and the ongoing sacrifices of firefighters, police, and military personnel who sacrifice their lives.

The lot where we all met was packed. All participants were given a blue wristband. Very close estimate from wristbands issued is just under 2500 riders. There was over 100 volunteers, plus all the press, fire, police, spectators and speakers - for easily well over 3,000 in the parking lot. As I looked over the lot, all I could see were motorcycles. It was an unbelievable sight. Many State officials spoke, giving heart-wrenching speeches. Tear were shed. Patriotism abundant. A large flag was raised between two fire engine ladder trucks. All bikes would pass under the flag as they left the lot and started on their rides.

The ride cruised through Westport, Wilton, Georgetown, Redding, Bethel, Monroe, Trumbull, and Fairfield before concluding in Seaside Park.

The thing that really struck me as we went along our route were the people, standing along the roadside to show their support, patriotism and hopes for peace. It was like a parade. People were set up with lawn chairs, waving flags, showing the peace signs. We (the riders) waved to the people on the roadsides and they waved back. The people on the roadsides just filled my heart. As we passed through towns, the fire stations had raised flags same as the beginning of our ride. I lost track of the number of massive flags we road beneath. One town had 3 flags raised, one after another. There had to be 8 to 10 flags, at least. I had my ipod on, cranking tunes as I waved at everyone, offering peace signs in return of thier peace signs. I felt like I was somehow making a diffeence by getting into the spirit of the whole rde and waving and smiling. Now imagine 2500 bikers, doing the same thing. I shake my head in amazement.

The need to remember. We must never forget.

"As the time goes by the mist and clouds go over our memories," ... "You will not let that veil fill our eyes and our young people will not forget the sacrifices made by our first responders on Sept. 11 and those who continue to put their lives on the line everyday to keep us safe."

God does give you more than you can handle

I hate it when "they" say, God never gives you more than you can handle. I've been handling and handling and handling and it's getting pretty darn old. This isn't going to be rosy and have a happy ending. I'm not feeling the optimist today.

When I started this blog I was determined to not discuss my emotional issues (much), and most definitely, to not discuss my eating disorder. I felt it was important to keep a disconnect. For some odd reason I feel my eating disorder is in the past and this is who I have become. I have "issues" that I may have for the rest of my life, as though the disconnect between me and it is gone and we have merged into a single limited entity. A unit that has melded into one filled with some crazy, some calm, some anxiety, some depression, some obsession, some potentially better and some potentially worse. It isn't working for me.

When I was more active with restricting (oxymoron?) I functioned so much better. My anxiety was much less, I didn't feel as depressed, I had energy and I had drive. I've gained weight and I am miserable. I know that it acted as a drug but it was a harmless drug. Everything restricting held in check is now disproportionally out of control. I know on a rational level that I still weigh less than "ideal" with ideal being that arbitrary number "they" decide on. My efforts to separate myself from it has backfired on me. I'm a bundle of nerves. The littlest things that people take for granted have a crippling effect on me. I can not function without it. I think we have a symbiotic relationship. It can not live without me. And I obviously can not live without it. The important thing here is the degree upon which we rely on each other.

I feel disproportionate, not only in size, but in emotions. Things have happened in my family this past year that should have opened my eyes to the frailty of life. My mom developed the same cancer that took her older sister's life. My life, my struggles, my craziness, my emotionality... they had to be put on hold... or magically disappear. It was no longer about me, it was all about her. I have physically pushed beyond what I thought I could handle to cut the stress in my family. When my ex-husband developed cancer, we both felt very strongly that attitude and stress contributed to his illness. And in the same way it contributed to his cancer, it took it away. He beat all odds. I have the same beliefs regarding my mom's cancer that I did with his cancer. It's my job to keep her stress as low as possible.

I don't go out often. The littlest things can seem momentous. If my weight is up, people think I am doing well. Gaining weight (and gaining misery) has had nothing to do with me, it is all about others. I hate my life. It's simple. I hate my life. Everything I think up to make my life easier makes everyone else's more difficult. It's a catch 22. I can not continue like this. I feel like a worthless cause. I used to tell my therapist I was a waste of air. My thoughts are heading back in that direction.

I wonder what I must have done in a past life for me to be so miserable in this life. I'm doing what is "expected" of me, but in a minimalist way. The people around me see me functioning. I'm not really functioning, at least not on level with my potential. I also don't see how things can change. I want to get angry at God for giving me more than I can handle because I honestly and truly CAN NOT handle this. But I'm not important enough for God to be repeatedly testing like this. I'm not that important. This isn't a rosy and happy ending. I'm just not feeling it.