Fat is NOT a feeling! - HFC Day 16

Eating disorders are not about weight. But so often people express that they feel ‘fat’. What feelings have you really been experiencing when you have said you feel fat? Or what do you think lie beneath the surface of others who express this. You can write directly in response to this blog prompt or why not alter it and look at your emotional experience of eating disorders – what did you feel? How did you know which emotion you felt? Why is it important to be aware of your emotions?

It is perfect that this was yesterday’s challenge, because yesterday I decided I was willing to weigh myself.  I very rarely weigh myself and sometimes I have to force myself to get on the scale just to ensure I’m not letting ED get away with anything ‘under the hood’ so to speak.  So I checked in with the scale yesterday, did not like what I saw and actually laid on the floor for a few moments before I could collect myself enough to carry on with my day.  It’s incredibly strange, even to a bulimic like me, how just a number can take hold of my emotions and feel so threatening and damning.  Two minutes before I weighed, I talked to my husband about needing to do it.  I gave myself a whole bunch of affirmations, felt great about my fitness level and body overall, and BAM! the number shot it all away.  The cool part is that I did NOT have to have a horrible day yesterday.  In fact, I was able to feel pretty darn confident and even like my reflection in the mirror.  What!!!!????  Nothing short of a miracle. 

For as long as I can remember, ‘that number’ directed my mood and my ability to walk through a day.  If the number wasn’t lower, I felt fat.  If I felt fat, that meant a whole bunch of bad.  It meant I wasn’t pretty, likeable, friend worthy, capable, intelligent, talented, lovable, forgivable, ugh - all goodness gone.  Feeling fat was my blanket holding and covering all my fears, insecurities, brokenness and anger.  I think I was challenged by every single one of my treatment providers with “Fat is not a feeling.  What are you feeling?  What’s inside?”  This was always frustrating to me.  I’m not sure what triggered me to decide that the feelings I had were not okay, but I decided it.  I couldn’t find a neat spot for the mess of emotions I had before ED, and they were too embarrassing to tell those I trusted the most.  I needed a hiding place for my feelings and that place became my eating disorder.  Once I hid my feelings there and found it to be an extremely effective safe zone, I became comfortable with it.  Saying “I feel fat” was completely okay with me.  I didn’t have to go any deeper and find unwanted truths or share hidden secrets from my past.  “I feel fat” was enough to keep the topic right there on the surface.  Of course, the time came when this was crippling to me, and it began to kill me.  I didn’t know how to go deeper.  I was so alone and I couldn’t find any number on the scale that would take away the fat feeling.   I know the reason I couldn’t shake it was because it wasn’t about fat at all.  It was about what was going on in my head, heart and soul. 

So yesterday, I freaked for a minute, regrouped and got my program on.  I told myself a mantra (borrowed from a friend and program) just for times like this ‘Take care of the spiritual and the mind and body will follow.’  I went over this as I got ready for work and as I drove in.  I also gave my sister a ring to commiserate about our God given ‘heavy genes’.  Upon walking from my car to the office, I connected with gratitude.  I thought about how blessed I am in my life today, how much I love my husband and family and friends, how I have a wonderful ability to show up for life today and how my body allows me to do that.  By the time I sat down at my desk, I had a smile on my face and I felt beautiful.  


I know!  Recovery is cool. 

Crimes against Clients - HFC Day 14

Share your experiences about a professional or professionals (doctor, therapist, nurse etc.) that had a negative impact on your recovery. How did they make you feel? Did you speak with them about this? How did they respond? How did they impact you? How did you recover from that experience? How did you learn to seek help and trust professionals again?

This is a shaky one for me.  In my letter to medical professionals (Day 6) I expressed my frustration with my treatment over the years but also my gratitude for all the men and women who have treated me.  I believe that all my experiences, good and bad, have made me the recovery woman I am today.  I know that everyone I come in contact with is a teacher – some of what to do, some of what NOT to do.  Either way, I can learn from everyone.  Back in the throws of bulimia, I didn’t see it that way.  When a professional (aka role model) showed disease behavior, I took away bad habits and negative massages and fit them right onto me.  A lot of times I knew I was self-sabotaging and wanted to bring the pain.  Other times I was competitive or seeking attention.   Occasionally, that “I’ll show you how sick I am” mentality drove me.  In the most dangerous times, I just had no fight left and I was giving up. 

So, you may be wondering what made some folks such bad examples.  My perception may be off and my disease certainly filtered things said and done differently back then, but the number one reason I decided a professional was not worth my effort to recover was inconsistency.  If the message of the professional was inconsistent with their behavior, I was done.  The most obvious example I have is one therapist who owned a day treatment center and was my primary therapist.  This was an eight hour a day, five day a week deal, and I was a patient there for over two years.  I saw so much of this therapist that I could tell you what she would say next, if she was in a good or bad mood, and how she was doing with her food.  She was a recovery anorexic, or maybe just an anorexic.  Here was the inconsistency.  She spent all day, every day, telling us to embrace our bodies, sharing professional opinions, encouraging us to eat balanced and nourish ourselves while she did none of it herself. 

If I could go back now, I would ask her why she only ate 150 calories for lunch every day and how that made any sense to eat during our sessions.  I would show her that my meal of 500 calories, made no sense next to hers.  I would ask her why she got plastic surgery and showed off her cleavage at work while telling us we were perfect just as we were.  I would challenge her to explain her significant weight loss after her husband left against her claim that we did not have to use food to cope with any and all circumstances.  I would call to her attention that we were all competing with HER!  I would share my anger and confusion towards her and her behavior.  I would explain my pain in all its depth and tell her I wanted to be free.  I would walk away from two years of a dead end pursuit and look for help and hope in someone who had recovery.

I spent years being angry at this therapist.  I felt that I had lost so much time being sick because of her.  I don’t feel that way anymore.  I learned a lot from that experience.  Today, I interview my doctors and therapists.  They are working for me after all.  If I don’t find hope in their story, sense in their methods, or most important to me consistency in their words and actions, I find a new professional.  This has served me well and I am my own mental health advocate.  I tell a doctor or therapist when something doesn’t seem right or when I’m just not feeling comfortable with my progress.  I have learned what I don’t want in my treatment, so now I’m finding what I do.  

Hungry For Change May Challenge - Days 10,11, 12

I’m way behind!!!  It’s been quite a week so these will be short but I hope you still enjoy….

Today is bloggers choice! You can write on anything you wish with regards to eating disorders, relate mental health or social problems. Maybe you have read an article or seen a photograph or advertisement recently you wish to respond to. Perhaps you want to reflect on the challenge so far? It’s entirely up to you. If you’re stuck for ideas post on the HFC Facebook page for inspiration.

I’m a bit relieved that the free style day was day 12.  I’m going to take this day as a day off.  Something extremely valuable and a lesson I’m still learning in recovery is recognizing my own need for unstructured hours.  Me time.  I am a busy body all the way, and I really do love staying productive and creating memories with other people, especially with my family.  But quiet and rest and stillness is just as important as all the activity.  So today, I’m going to take my free style day at home by keeping this entry short, not making too many plans, and maybe a getting in a couple of naps.  It’s been a loooong week!! 

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Today direct your writing at someone in particular, some people in particular or society in general. What do people misunderstand about you? What do you need them to know? If you could explain your eating disorders and how you experience them without consequences – what would you say? How could the person/people reading your writing support you or others battling or in recovery from eating disorders?

Dear mom of the teenaged girl,

BE CAREFUL! Your daughter is more than you see.  She’s talented, strong, beautiful, spirited, and sensitive.  You see these things - but remember too that your daughter is simple.  She’s a young girl and she needs permission to make mistakes.  She wants you to admit she’s not responsible for everything.  Not because you are putting too much pressure on her but because she is.  Telling her she’s putting too much pressure on herself is not going to cut it.  Be aware of the way you talk to other people.  She is listening.  Try not to predict her future.  Try to talk about who she is with your family and friends and not always what she’s earning on paper or in medals or up against her peers.  Remember to tell her silly side and her mistakes too with love and laughter.  Maybe she walked into a wall or couldn’t stop giggling or was afraid of a trip or ride.  Share these times.  She will know that ALL of her is to be celebrated and not just the things with the ‘good’ tag. 

  

Another thing, your daughter is going to be okay no matter what happens to her or what mistakes you make.  She may get mad at you or blame you for things but don’t take it on.  Don’t blame yourself for her hardships.  It takes away from her ability to fully experience and own the blame and pain.  Teenagers love drama and getting through trauma and tough times of their own allows them a sense of pride and strength.  Allow it and don’t steal it.

Remember that you are a wonderful mom.  You care and she knows it.  Try not to take yourself too seriously.  She will learn that from you too.  Be joyful and celebrate being a woman!  Embrace yourself and your daughter will too.

Good luck!  Love, Fran

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Choose ten words; five of which relate to your experience of eating disorders and five of which relate to your recovery. What does each of these words mean to you? Why are they important to you? What part have they played in your illness and recovery?

Recovery

1. Grace
2. Action
3. Love
4. Resilient
5. Freedom

ED

1. Shame
2. Guilt
3. Broken
4. Lies
5. Lonely

Hungry for Change - Days 4, 2, 1

My ED…

Recovery…

This has been a powerful exercise for me.  It felt difficult, if not impossible, to depict what my disease and recovery really are to me in just a few words.  I wrote a bunch of random thoughts and feelings and arranged and rearranged words.  As I did, I found that I was really digging into the core messages of my disease and recovery.  My eating disorder started as a thing in which to find refuge, but quickly became nothing short of a living and very lonely hell.  The details are of no importance, that’s the core and ugly truth of the disease for me.  I was hoodwinked and then I was trapped.  I became resigned to my disease.  I knew sickness was all there was for me and I would die alone.  Heavy stuff.  Recovery is light.  My friend likes to say “wear recovery like a loose garment”.  I get it.  There is so much freedom in recovery and in being able to move in whatever direction I please.  I can do this because I’m secure in the beauty of my recovery, and in the amazing examples and support I have all around me. I don’t fear it all falling apart because what sense would that make?  I couldn’t figure out how to add a very well used mantra of mine to my slogan without making it too long, but it really does represent my hope and faith in recovery.  

In the voice of something bigger I hear, “I didn’t bring you this far just to drop you on your ass!”

When I’m in fear, when I think I need fixing, when I want a fix, when I’m too tired, when I can’t see the solution, I remember that I am never alone.

Weighing in briefly on my missed days…

1. I have faith and hope today. 
2. The freedom to dance. 
3. Being Auntie Frannie Fran Fran.
4. I LOVE my family.  I LOVE people.  I get to experience life with others.
5. I have my giggles back.
6. Women are special and priceless and I get to learn from other women today.
7. I trust in change today.  I pray for growth.
8. I ENJOY parties and banquets and holidays!
9. I have a purpose today.
10. I am alive and life is good.

One reason – I want everyone to hear and know

RECOVERY IS POSSIBLE

My Mascot - Hungry for Change - Day 3

Woo!  This brings me back to all those art therapy sessions.  I loved art therapy even though I’m a terrible artist.  It was one time I felt like there was no right answer and I didn’t have to try to be the best at it because it was all from our own experiences that our creative pieces came.  I thought they were all beautiful.  After looking at the other mascots chosen for the third day of the Hungry for Change May challenge https://www.facebook.com/hungryforchange, I have to say I haven’t changed a bit.  I find them all so beautiful!

My eating disorder recovery mascot is now, from today, A DIVER.  

In some sense it has been my mascot for years but I certainly didn’t call it that.  This picture is a perfect representation of my diving mascot for a couple reasons.  One is that she’s diving from a springboard.  I have developed a springboard diving metaphor for life.  It goes a little something like this…

In diving just about 90% of the dive’s success depends on the work that is done on the board.  You take careful steps, maintain strong and balanced posture, drive all your weight and power into the board to push it down and you up just so, and carefully time your arms and second push so that the board will seamlessly fling you up into the air and safely away from the board.  The success of the rest of your dive, however simple or complicated, will absolutely be affected by how well you’ve executed your board work.  The best part is in the freedom that comes after you’ve essentially catapulted yourself into the air.  If you’ve done it right, there’s not a whole lot you can do to mess it up.  If you’ve done it wrong, you might be saying some prayers as you come closer to hitting the water!  Either way you basically get to enjoy the ride and probably get a lot of laughs if it turns out to be more of a painful go.  Life is this way for me today in recovery.  I do the footwork and keep the ‘plug in the plate’ (as a good friend of mine likes to say), and I get to experience a freedom that welcomes all kinds of unexpected pains and pleasures.  What a thrill!

Before recovery, I knew what the day would bring – misery.  Today I have no idea what the future holds, so I continue to put one foot in front of the other and watch the results as they are revealed around me.   

The second reason I like this picture for my mascot is that she is doing my favorite type of dive, a twister.  This is my favorite because it’s both extremely complicated and fairly impossible to ‘think’ about.  You have to just do it and trust that your body knows how to take care of the dynamics in the air.  In diving this is called muscle memory and it takes some time to build up but once you’ve got it you learn to absolutely rely upon it.  In eating disorder recovery, this is compared to intuitive eating, turning away from the magnificent magnifying mind in the mirror, and the human instinct to survive no matter what.  The body know best and I have come to enjoy the freedom I get when I trust that. 

I’m built strong and healthy.  My body is able and capable.  My recovery allows me to take some pleasure, joy and comfort in that.  No more fighting.  I’m doing the work; I think I’ll enjoy the ride. J

  

I just love this picture.  I wish we still wore suits like this!!!

Fixing Fear with Food

For a girl who once lived every single day wondering where, how, when and how much I could binge and purge so that I could relieve the excruciating pain in my heart and quiet the noise in my head, it seems strange to say I’m having any trouble at all with food today.  But for a girl who lived 15 plus years in the throws of bulimia, I can’t afford to decide I’m just the same as every other woman out there worried about body image and dieting.  This isn’t because I’m such an abnormal eater today or that I’m in a constant battle with food and weight because that’s just not true.  I enjoy a great deal of freedom in my meal plan and certainly ‘look’ normal in my approach to food.  People appear almost shocked when I do share my eating disorder story with them.  The reason I cannot afford to say I am a ‘normal’ food person is because that’s just not true either.  If I begin to playing with my food, adjusting portions to fit into a new size jean or feel better around certain people, I’m playing with my life.  If I allow myself one day of restricting, one binge, one purge, I’m opening a whole box of crazy, and there’s no telling if it will close again, ever.  I know how fast and hard I fall when I go there and in a very short time most everyone can see I have changed.  They might not know it is food that’s striking me psycho, but they know something is seriously wrong. 

So I am struggling with food lately and it’s really affecting my body image.   Interesting now that I wrote that, I don’t know which came first.  You see, my husband and I moved across town a few months ago, and I have been uncharacteristically shy around new people since.  I feel such a powerful loneliness even when surrounded by a hundred folks in recovery and I have frozen up and closed myself off.  So I show up and am in my head at meetings and gatherings thinking that everyone is judging me… BY THE WAY I LOOK.  Danger, Danger, Danger!!!   I don’t know about you but if people are just going to judge me by what I look like and decide from that if I’m good enough to talk to, I better look super duper uber HOT!!!!  I have no idea how much better I need to look to get to superduperuber, but I know darn well I’m not even close.  That’s enough for me to start the mental tirade against my own body and overall self worth.  I’m not pretty enough.  I’m not skinny enough.  I’m not fit enough.  I’m not good enough.  I’m not what I used to be.  I’m a failure.  I SHOULD FIX THIS.  If I can be skinny and fit and drop dead gorgeous again, THEN people will talk to me and like me and THEN I can be happy and outgoing again.  THEN I can be me again.  

The temptation to actually act on the barrage of criticisms in my head has been extraordinary.  I have felt the extra bites, the skipped breakfasts, the late night eating that I really, really wish would just fix my discomfort.  I want to believe my screaming head that says I can fix it with food, because that seems the quicker way.  Thankfully, I have been taught to seek the truth in all things before I act out of desperation and before I go on a full scale binge or purge or start weighing myself multiple times a day.  So, I took some time today to find the truth through all the bullshit in my brain and found it fairly quickly.  The truth is that change is really hard, and I am uncomfortable.  That’s it!  I have not recently become ugly or gross or less than or incapable of forming new friendships.  Nothing about the funny, outgoing, grace-filled, caring, friendly, recovering woman I am has changed.  I simply don’t like feeling vulnerable and am afraid of rejection.  Duh, I’m human.  So after two weeks of internal turmoil and self deprecating thoughts, I can see that my perception of myself, my own worth and my security were knocked off balance by the fear of change.  I will ask to be put back to center now and smile into the mirror a few times today in gratitude of the woman I see looking back.

 

Maybe this week I’ll play a different tape when I go to meetings that says, “I’m okay and what you think of me is none of my business anyway so what’s your story?”

Related Posts:  So little talk of food

So little talk of food

I tend to talk a lot more about my experience as a recovering alcoholic than I do about my experience as a recovering bulimic.  It’s certainly not less of a focus in my recovery nor is it something like my secondary illness.  In fact, I would not be able to judge which disease brought more consequences.  My preference when talking about recovery in terms of my alcoholism is really for simplicity’s sake.   I don’t take a drink and treat my mind and spirit… period.  There’s no option to where I just don’t eat, so it requires a bit more detail and most people aren’t interested.  Fortunately for me, I have found a pretty simple recipe to keep free of my active eating disorder.  It’s not perfect and it has changed many times over the past few years, but it does work.  So here’s a little peek at my abstinence (abstinence is what many in food recovery call refraining from disease behavior or compulsive eating):

First, I just had to stop throwing up.  That was the most obvious thing I had to change.  After about two weeks without vomiting, I still felt terrible physically.  I knew a lot of my discomfort was because of my nighttime eating.  So, I added a blackout time of 10pm – 6am during which I could not eat any meals or snacks.  I was amazed at how difficult it was for me to sleep for the next few weeks!  I was so used to munching while watching television in bed well into the night that it was rough to go without.  I got through my first night and then used the strength of having gotten through the night before to get through subsequent nights.  I also used my phone to make SOS calls when I couldn’t do it alone.  These two changes, no purging and no night eating, dramatically changed my relationship with food and gave me a ton of hope and relief.  I have purged only a handful of times in four years and have loosened the blackout time on occasion (usually realizing within a short number of days that I need to tighten it up again).  I have addressed many other ‘problem areas’ over the years as well.  When I’m having trouble with grazing or restricting and need to place clear starts and ends to meal times, I set time windows for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks.  I have used tracker tools, which I currently do and have done for over a year now, where I log my day’s food intake in order to keep aware of both what I’m eating and what my body is asking for.  I have turned on red lights for some foods and yellow lights for others.  Red light foods are foods I don’t allow myself to eat.  Yellows are foods I check in with myself and how I’m relating to food before I eat them.  The easiest way for me to decide whether a yellow light food should be eaten or not is by asking myself, “Can I eat this food like a lady?”  If I think that I may eat 10 portions instead of one, the answer is no and I don’t eat it.  If I think it will pretty much guarantee that I cry and yell at the mirror the next time I’m in front of it, the answer is no and I don’t eat it.  If I feel hungry and I have no desperate messages arriving in my head, I can enjoy that food.  A food is really only red lighted if it causes me increased consequences on a consistent basis.   For the most part, I interchange all these tools, except for the no purging and no night eating which are constant, depending on how they are impacting my recovery and my life.   

There is a risk in having an abstinence that allows for so much flexibility and that exists within my own mind.  Being that I’m the one making adjustments and deciding what defines my abstinence at any given time, I may get caught in my disease thought process and feed my addiction rather than my recovery.  I don’t spend a whole lot of time worrying about this though because I’ve found that consequences present themselves quickly when I’m feeding my disease.  These consequences are usually in the form of tears over how I look, what I don’t have to make me look better, anger that I’m not the weight I was at X time, distorted body image where I’m suddenly obese, or just plain old emotional sensitivity to all things normal and I decide that nobody really cares about me or likes me much at all. 

After all the meal planning tools and an abstinence that works in my daily life, what I’m left with is the treatment of my mind and spirit.  Simple as that.  The same as any other addiction recovery.  I get slightly uncomfortable if another recovering addict approaches me with awe and says I’ve overcome a lot, indicating that I have had more to overcome than they have.  I believe to my core that I’ve had to do exactly the same thing they have.  I had to stop my active disease behavior, and then the real work started.  I had to seek relief for my mind and spirit.  Once we are able to first put down the insert drug of choice here and others here, we can all then take our journeys towards sanity, an enriched life and a full heart. 

The Great Motivator

I’m not the best at dealing with change. I’m not even good at it. Change brings fear of the unknown and for me that’s self-centered fear. I fear that I’m not going to get what I want or I’ll lose something I have. I’m afraid that change will delete the comfortable and easy things from my life, and add stressful and difficult things.

I’ve never understood people when they say, “I have a fear of success”. I used to say it myself and didn’t even understand what I meant. I just wasn't capable of digging down below the surface and seeing the real truth. Looking back, I can see that anytime I said I was afraid to succeed, what would have been a more accurate statement is something like, “I’m afraid that if I do well now, things will change in the future. Then, I might have to take on more responsibility. Harder situations may come. I might lose this way of living where other people take care of me.  Because if I do this thing well, people will see that I can do this thing well, and they won't take care of me anymore. I will have to support myself and find strength within myself instead of stealing it from others.” To someone of a different mind, this may sound extreme. To me it sounds like just enough reason to stay locked up in my addictions. In short, I could have said, “I’m terrified of change.” Neither hope nor faith in anything but me and my sickness existed before I was in enough pain to want out. Being sick was the only way I knew for sure I would get what I needed and be cared for by the people I knew. As far as I was concerned, it was the closest thing to a guarantee that I wouldn’t have to face the terror of change.

They say that if nothing changes, nothing changes. The first time I heard that my heart sank because I knew I was incapable of change, which meant that the pain and despair of my world would continue indefinitely. I also heard that change is easiest when the pain is greatest. By that I knew that I would have to endure more pain, because I certainly was not in enough to want to change… yet. The great thing is that I was blessed to know the day where enough was enough. It wasn’t dramatic at all. Somehow I just knew I was completely beat and I’d had enough. I could not tolerate facing another treatment center or psych ward. It disgusted me to even think of it. I finally could not lie my way out of the truth. I was too tired to find another way out. I had to change and I didn’t give a dam how it was going to turn out. They were right, it really did come easy. I did what I was told for a while and was granted some hope as my life improved quickly. After some time and experience, the most enormous gift arrived – faith. Faith came as I looked back on all my trials, failures, successes, and fears, and realized that it had all worked out on the other side. Today I have faith that I'm not just going to get dropped on my ass. It's always going to work out, no matter my fears.

The freedom and happiness I have today was born of pain. Thankfully, it takes less pain to motivate me and I’m able to welcome change with much more grace than I ever thought possible. All of these thoughts stem from a change that’s happening in my life now. I’m moving this weekend. I’m scared, but I’m still moving. I’m only moving a couple cities over but it’ll change some things. I’m afraid of some of my relationships changing or ending. I’m afraid I won’t be there for the people I love as often and that I’ll miss out on things. I laughed when I wrote that though because it’s a little nutty. I mean, I really am only moving 13 miles from where I’ve been! I also have no clue if this will ACTUALLY affect any of my relationships. It’s like I think I’m living in an age without vehicles or technology. Seriously! I have a car and all kinds of gadgets to get a hold of people on. That’s my ‘magic magnifying mind’ again! I’m moving which means I’m losing something. That’s what I’ve been telling myself anyway. Now I’m kind of amused by my fear of moving. This happens a lot these days when I get to compare the truth to what’s happening in my mind. So I say forget it. Bring it. I’m ready to move and I’m excited about it. Woohoo!

A Holiday Reflection

Christmas brings up a lot of memories and emotions for me as my family and friends commune with food and gifts and celebrate life.  I am so amazed today as I reflect on this past year and feel loved, comfortable and joyful.  I have spent many holidays with bitterness in my heart and in overwhelming fear.  Today my heart is open and my life has become filled with new opportunities.  I would never have guessed this life for me nor could I have made it possible.  I know that what did make it possible was some amazing women showing me how to be a woman of integrity and to walk with grace, my family that is my rock and teaches me to never give up and that no obstacle is too large to overcome, my recovery community that doesn’t kick a man when he’s down and welcomes every person with open arms, and my husband who continues to forgive my shortcomings, shares belly laughs with me and treats me with dignity and love as his partner in life.  In and through all of these is God who is loving, forgiving, gentle, frank, powerful, and ALWAYS present.

This year I’ve found a slower pace to life.  I finally learned that I cannot do everything and even admit that I don’t want to.  I don’t need to solve anyone’s problems nor am I able to.  I took a small step back from the front line and let the rest of the world hash out their troubles on their own.  I was of course ‘nudged’ into this support role with an injury and some pain that prevented me from doing a few things.  Funny though, I don’t think I missed out at all.  My year’s been super full and I have come to enjoy the down times so much that many of my rougher days have been the ones where resting just wasn’t an option. 

Anger arrived this year.  I didn’t count on recovery bringing both positive and negative feelings to the surface, but it did.  I figured I had enough depression and angst, so getting clean and sober would just add happy stuff.  Well, I was wrong.  I found out that I can be quick to anger and once angry a cycle takes over that I’ve yet to stop.  It runs its course as a kind of tantrum and I emerge with an emotional hangover and a few apologies to make.  I usually become upset by all sorts of little tiny things that just aren’t going my way.  Then, I blame someone for all the hardships in my life.  Then, some yelling and tears and finally the emotional melt down.  The truth is I can see that I work myself up to these ‘episodes’.  I generally am over tired and in some physical pain to begin with that I don’t admit or take care of.  This leads to me feeling sorry for myself, which leads me to self-righteous thinking and to believing that I’m not getting what I need from anyone or anything.  Finally, I land right at irrational anger.  Oh boy.  Where did I get the ball rolling? It’s easy to see on paper.  Probably should have just put some ice on my neck and napped for a half an hour.  Ha! 

I continue to see that I love love love people.  As far as I know, the energy I get from enjoying the company of friends and family is like no high in the world.  I can remember the opposite being true just a few years back.  The mere thought of family gatherings made my stomach turn.  I didn’t want to face any of them.  I was filled with shame and guilt and fear.  Today, I am inspired and awakened by the people around me and this year was packed with loved ones gathering and celebrating: Easter, my wedding, birthdays, Thanksgiving, Christmas and any old day in between. 

Most of all, a bit of stability has entered my life in 2011 and it feels so good!  I’m not bored.  I’m less tired.  My life has more options than ever before.  I am showered with love on a daily basis.  I know pain and don’t have to suffer.  I am provided for no matter what, no matter what.  Most things I recognize as neither good nor bad but just as they are.  A wise woman had me write down and carry with me this quote, “It is what it is and that’s just the way it is.”  I don’t have to wonder or ask why tragedies happen or why some people seem to have it so easy.  I just don’t know and never will.  God knows and God is good.  I truly believe that everything in this world happens for a reason and that my purpose is in the acting and the giving, not in the thinking or receiving.  No reason has been reason enough for me to take a drink or drug, to bury myself in food, to cut my own body, or to hide in an institution.  My options today are wide open, but my solutions are God driven.  One day at a time, all year long, all life long, I will continue to seek.  

Never never never quit

Many times in my adult life, my goals and dreams just seemed unattainable.  I would become overwhelmed with the number of steps or obstacles in the way of a goal, and would decide to quit and dream another day.   A lot of years operating this way and I had lost my desire for all things new and had gained enormous shame, guilt and regret.  Along the way I told myself I was a survivor having been dealt a tough hand.  I told myself that the success I had achieved in my childhood was brought through my incredible talent, toughness, drive and perseverance but I could no longer measure up due to tragic circumstance.  I didn’t want to admit or even think that I had become a quitter.  It took a lot of pain and complete desperation before I could see that.   The truth was I had been blessed with natural talent but that was where my success story began and ended.

I won the lottery as far as God-given gifts are concerned.  From the start, I had a personality that craved kinesthetic stimulation; I was good at most things I tried; I was naturally bright; I liked people so they usually like me; my family nurtured all my needs and encouraged every dream I had.  Later, my story was that I was misunderstood and had been pushed too hard to do things I didn’t want to do, I was emotionally repressed and the equivalent of a trophy child.  My story was total crap.  I created my drama and my hardships, but through the years I leaned on my story for comfort in times of failure.  Therapists were excellent at co-signing my bull shit.  I developed the lie and made it so believable that I came to believe it!  I hurt and bled by it!!! 

The progression of all this was sadly simply.  The first time I threw up intentionally it was a conscious decision and I had a plan.  After vomiting, I would call my best friend and tell him in order to get more attention from him.  At the time, the attention I wanted more of was on the friend level.  At sixteen, I had the same angst that most sixteen year olds had.  As everything and everyone around me was changing and developing at the same time, it took focus and attention away from me.  Life showed up with a few deaths of loved ones, two at their own hands, and I felt lost and alone.  All I wanted was a little more attention and some comfort from my peers.  So when I told my friend what I had done and received disappointment and a stern lecture instead of sympathy and understanding, I was really angry.  I didn’t tell anyone else.  Instead I made another decision to throw up more, believing that if I did and it became frequent enough my friend would have to notice and care.  

I knew nothing about addiction and certainly had no idea that I would soon be a bona fide addict.  Within two months I knew I had lost control and could not stop puking.  Within a year I had started drinking.  Within two years, I knew I was an alcoholic, a bulimic, and majorly depressed.  I became isolated and angry, and I could not cope with life.  My solutions didn’t make sense to me let alone other people.  The next few years drained me of any usefulness.  It went a little something like this: I’m uncomfortable in my new school and struggling to make new friends.  Bring me home and let me rest a semester.  You tell me I can’t dive.  Lock me in a psych ward.  I’m failing school.  Send me away.  You sent me away.  I'm never going back to school.  You say I have to go to work when I’m depressed.  I quit!  You don’t love me and you think I’m mean.  I’m an awful human and I hate you too!  I have no friends and my family is always worried.  I want to die!  You want to help me.  You can’t. it’s too late.  I’m hopeless. 

Thirteen years after that first decision to vomit, I considered my choices: end my life or continue to live my miserable one.  My trips to the psych wards and rehabs had become normal.  For me it was easier to be institutionalized than it was to function in the free world.  ‘Hanging on’ for another few years just didn’t seem possible.  By no virtue of my own, I managed to hold on just long enough.  

Almost three years ago, a woman came into my life and taught me how to show up and be present every day for days and days in a row!  I learned how to act better than I felt, to do what I said I would do, and to put one foot in front of the other no matter what.  Somewhere along the way, I developed a sense of perseverance.  I gained my spirit and my self-esteem back through right actions.  I lost the shame, the guilt and have no regrets.  You see, what I didn’t know back when I was lost in it all was that all was not lost.  I didn’t know that I could and would accomplish more in this life than I could even dream up.  I didn’t know that one step would bring me to a new point of view with new strength and new purpose.  When I went back to school and was close to getting my degree, my brother kept telling me to just get a win.  I didn’t realize that this idea would carry me through almost all of life’s challenges.  Take one step and be amazed at what the next one will look like.  By receiving my diploma, I opened my future to a whole new life and all new dreams.  From there I began another journey which spring boarded me into another and another and another.  I got sober and had no idea what I wanted to do or be, but I found that answer too.  The woman that taught me so much three years ago said this, “I have never found my purpose by thinking about what my purpose is.  It’s only in taking some action and doing something that I realize I have a purpose”.  It was through my actions and the little wins that I found all my dreams were possible.

Today I dream big and keep my purpose simple.  I try one day at a time to do the next right thing, to seek and share my truth and to never never never quit.  Every day I find time to love, laugh and pray.  It’s a dream come true.