Sharing stories

I love stories.  I love to tell stories, love to hear stories and love to remember stories.  My dad used to have us stand on the bricks of the fireplace and tell an account of our day.  He made a rule that if we made any pregnant pauses or said “umm”, we had to start over from the very beginning.  I always started the same way, “I woke up at X:XXam, and umm…”  Buzz!  “I woke up at X:XXam, got out of bed, went to the bathroom, went back to change my clothes, and umm…”  Buzz!  I remember making such an effort to get at least one step further every time before I had to restart. I normally began laughing or was distracted by comments being made from the peanut gallery that I’m really not all that sure I ever finished recounting a day.  I also feel like we did this exercise a lot but maybe it was only a few times.  I just remember it really clearly because it was such a great challenge.  One summer we all had to earn $100 in spending money to take on a trip to Hawaii.  My sister did so and then spent very little of that $100 while we were on vacation.  My dad had her stand on the bricks to tell us why she didn’t spend her money when my brother and I had.  While I don’t remember a word she said, I remember laughing hysterically watching her up there. 

In my active alcoholism and addictions my daily goal was to just get ‘there’, meaning anywhere but where I was.  The strange thing about it though, was that once I was ‘there’, the goal remained the same… get me anywhere but here.  So the cycle went.  This cycle was the beginning of the end of my drinking and using.  My drinking, eating and insert behavior here just stopped working.  No amount of anything could keep me out of me, and I just wanted me to disappear.  Obviously, quite a contrast to the type of escape I get from hearing stories, but I just can’t imagine a better high than laughing so hard my sides split, my eyes water and I lose my breath so badly that I start coughing before I can regain control. 

So, the reason I bring this up is that last week my sister, brother-in-law, mom, dad, husband and I were all in my parents’ kitchen last week, when the retelling of my many ‘wake up fits’ began.  My sister has the imitation of me down so well that it brings the whole event to life all over again.  This time she was focused in on an evening that I woke up at around 7 and frantically ran into the kitchen.  I was getting out cereal and milk and slamming my bowl down on the sink when my mom or dad asked me what I was doing.  Completed exasperated, I screamed back “WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT AM I DOING I’M TRYING TO EAT BREAKFAST AND I’M TOTALLY GOING TO FAIL MY TEST TODAY CAUSE I DIDN’T STUDY CAUSE I FELL ASLEEP I’M GOING TO FAIL!  WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT AM I DOING??!!!”  Family member, “Fran…”.  “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND I’M GOING TO FAIL!!” “Fran, it’s 7 o’clock at night, not in the morning”.  “WHAT WHAT?!”  I was still waking up so it didn’t sink in instantly, but several more moments and it clicked that my dad was home and they were eating dinner.  As my sister reenacted the scene, we all broke into fits of laughter.  What a great feeling.  On the way home, I just kept getting the giggles seeing images of her playing the whole thing through and then experience the laughter all over again as my husband was playing her imitation over with me later. 

Stories give me perspective. They allow me to laugh at myself and at things once heavy and consuming.  They remind me of the value that every moment can hold.  They show me another side of my friends and family.  They reveal my own growth and the strength and love of others.   They take me to another place and my emotions and thoughts shift completely. Tell your story.  Listen to the stories of others.  Take it from me, it’s tough to find a better experience. 

A MIRACLE IN DISGUISE - well not really but seems I was fooled!

Been gone a while… and now I’m pregnant.  My last post was dated December 21^st 2012.  I found out I was pregnant on December 26^th.  Now I’m 22 weeks pregnant, and my oh my has it been a journey thus far!  I don’t like being pregnant.  I don’t understand women that say they enjoy it.  All that seemed to happen in the first five months was that I became even more incredibly sensitive than is normal for me (scary, seriously), felt sick all the time, got major gas I couldn’t control, my joints began to hurt terribly and feel somehow bruised inside, and my body image tanked.  Saying I ‘felt  fat’ was a gross understatement.  There have been some recent upturns.  A couple weeks ago I found out we’re having a girl.  My husband’s reaction to this has been classic.  I’ve thought many times about suggesting he enact a self ban from the internet and all things teenage girl horror story related.  It’s awesome and hilarious to watch his stages of panic to acceptance and back again, and I’m enjoying not being the only one a little sensitive these days.  So that was highlight #1.  Highlight #2 was the baby beginning to kick.  It’s really cool!  For a while I was having daymares and nightmares that she wasn’t alive or that I lost the baby, but since the kicking began my nightmares have turned a different tune.  Yes, I still get very strange nightmares all having to do with my own personal preservation but no more about losing the baby.  I’m grateful for that!   So that ends my highlight section.  Hahaha, like I said I’m not yet a woman who would claim to enjoy pregnancy.  I do ponder at the miracle of it all.  I have surreal moments where I just can’t believe my life shows the picture it does.  More importantly that I am experiencing life the way I am today.  It’s just baffling!   A miracle indeed!  Around my recovery community, I watch people get sober, experience a revival of virtues, become participants in life again and discover and rediscover relationships.  I am a part of this community and what I observe in others has happened to me.  A little over four years ago I had a really small God reserved only for begging to in the most desperate moments or thanking in the best of the best times, a feeling of utter isolation and hopelessness, zero confidence in my talents or ability to be successful, and my gut had such a gaping hole in it that I worried I may just be swallowed up into an abyss of despair.  Presently, I have I great big God walking me through every moment, a husband by my side, a loving and supportive family, a community of support, hobbies to pursue, passions to live out and a baby in my belly.  What???????????!!!!!!!!!!  Okay, okay maybe being a pregnant, sober, loved, blessed mommy isn’t so bad. 

Man, now I read that back to myself and realize I better get off my pity pot in a hurry!  I mean seriously Fran, talk about luxury problems.  Now here’s to all the pregnant mom’s that walk with grace instead of a waddle and a moan, who recognize the miracle they are carrying and share that blessing with the rest of the world.  My hat is off to you!  Here’s also to the pregnant mom’s who bitch and complain and take out their ever charging hormonal swings on their loved ones.  We also carry a miracle and I know deep down in all of us, we know this and will celebrate… one day.  I’m with you.  Just for today though, maybe we can try one thing differently and say thank you to all the folks that have to hear all the negative crap about the most positive gift we’re carrying.  Thank you husband, mom, dad, sister, brother, family, friend, co-worker, doctor.  Thank you.  :)

  In Gratitude.

Learning learning learning

While I've been away...

I have been learning and learning and learning and learning with change.  So much has been brought to my plate and I have gotten overwhelmed, frustrated and slightly depressed at times.  Each time I have hit an emotional wall, I have looked deep within myself and found I am okay.  So, I get back on the horse and continue learning.  That's the overview of the past month and a half or so.  There's really not much more to tell than that, minus the colorful background stories.  So here's the filler...

I got a new job and have been in my new role for over a month now.  It's a lot of the same daily duties as my last job, but a completely different schedule and company culture.  So far I hate it and am totally stressed out.  I have broken down four times at work.  Eeek!  Three of those breakdowns happened in front of people, including both my supervisors.  Being the crier I am, those moments have been super embarrassing.  I'm good at what I am doing and people seem to value what I'm adding, although I haven't settled in enough to do what I was hired to do.   The job provides stability and possibilities for future family making so yay.  Experience tells me it will be all good whether I come to like the job or not, so I am just walking through the new of it right now.  I finally got my second neck surgery scheduled.  It's in a week and a half!  I am really nervous and super excited at the same time.  I am so tired of being in pain all day, every day.  I don't handle it well, but I am told no one really handles chronic pain all that well.  The moments i crumble are times when I really believe that I can't do it anymore and that doing anything that day is just too much.  Getting up and going to work and meetings and family fun are completely unfathomable.  So I panic in the form of a temper tantrum of some sort with tears and snapping and yells.  It takes about thirty minutes or so for prayer to come to mind as an option and a couple more for meditation to come in the mix.  When they do and I use them, I begin to breathe normally again and feel comforted by all the love inside me and in my life.  I realize I am blessed and protected and finally I know I can successfully face the day.  Sounds rough I know, but it works for now.  I celebrated some of my new employee benefits with fun trips with family and friends and some days of self spoiling.  Let's see... we had a big family day that rocked, a couple of niece and nephew movie days, some camping and hiking, dive season is starting up new captains and all, one of my dear friends relapsed into drugs but came back alive and wants sobriety again, I found an awesome women's group that I feel at home in, I knitted my first teddy bear, my husband got me flowers on a whim atop all his cooking and cleaning for us everyday. 

So all this and I just feel like I'm on the learning train.  My life is full and amazing and changing!  I believe change opts me to learn or crumble.  I'm blessed to have the continued desire and stamina to learn through change.  So here's what I think I have learned or am learning through the last months:

1. Humility may just save my career and my relationships
2. I must make time for silliness
3. Exercise is a huge asset to my recovery
4. I need to say thank you without criticism attached on either end
5. Quiet time is essential to enabling me to feel peaceful and spiritually connected
6. Crafts are a good therapeutic outlet for me
7. Singing out loud or dancing inspires joy in me
8. It helps to assume people at work are cool with me until they show me otherwise
9. I'm smart and resilient
10. When it feels like to much, I can remember yesterday felt that way too and I've made it to today, so I'm already doing what I don't think I can.

      BONUS: God's got me no matter what, no matter what.

The meaning of my tears

Oh man some days just show up a bit rougher than others and today has been one of those days.  I guess I’m chugging along just fine now and I have some hope back in my corner as I walk through each next hour, but I’m pretty tired and am just kind of putting one foot in front of the other until I’m done.  I’ve cried it out once already today, and that helped me get through work, but I think I’ll need another session once I’m home. J   I’m a total crier.  It’s how I process a lot of things.  Not only do I cry at the sad, difficult and lonely times, I cry at the happy too and the exciting and the inspirational.  I believe I have proven beyond much reasonable doubt that I come by my tears biologically.  If you took a look at the reactions of women in my family, you would likely agree.  If you found a way to disagree, I’d probably wonder if you were being contrary just to be contrary, but I digress.  My tears are very comprehensive and can be an outlet for a myriad of different emotions.  I thought I would describe 20 or so different cry occasions to give you a little peak into the meaning of my tears.

1. This morning I woke up in pain and lot of it.  I couldn’t see the silver lining to my experience, and I couldn’t see hope in it.  I was unable to grab strength from all the things I CAN do.  I didn’t even want to imagine trying to get through today.  Planning any plans was impossibly overwhelming.  I cried hopeless tears.
2. On my way into work this morning I called my lovely friend in recovery.  I told her it was a very bad neck day.  I shook and raised my voice and cursed as I cried into the phone.  I said it was unfair and I didn’t understand it.  I told her I was mad at my life and at God.  I cried angry tears. 
3. Yesterday I watched the replay of the USA women’s4 x 400 meter relay win their Olympic race in London.  Tears filled my eyes as I watched them embrace each other and their families and the announcers cheered into their microphones.  I cried tears of inspiration.
4. My mom once ran a stop light in that way where we both realized she had done it only after she was all the way through the intersection and at the same time.  The look we gave each other was so priceless that we burst into laughter and were both crying through our giggles.  It was the kind of moment where you can never tell someone else and have it be as funny.  I cried tears of friendship.
5. My dad had heart surgery.  It was pretty minor on today’s scale, but I was scared for him, especially after I’d heard how bad his tests were.  He was getting a couple stints put in, and I cried into my shirt as I told my support group how much I wished I could give him a hug before he went in for surgery.  I cried tears of fear.
6. My grandma died only six months after my aunt had committed suicide.  I prayed and prayed around the time of my grandmother’s funeral and tears came each night as I envisioned both my aunt and grandmother watching over me.  I cried tears of faith.
7. One day I listened as one of my family members listed out a lot of different things I had done to cause her hurt and worry.   I knew I had harmed her, and I knew I couldn’t fix her pain.  I cried tears of guilt.
8. This one’s silly but still true.  I think I wrote about this before even.  I was struggling to find friends in my new city, and I went up to a women I didn’t know to introduce myself.  I was at a meeting with a bunch of other recovering folk and thought she would welcome me with open arms.  She ignored me and turned her back on me.  I cried tears of rejection.
9. My husband and I hosted a game night for some of our friends and we completely disagreed on the rules to one of the games.  We bickered quite a lot and once everyone left we talked it out and agreed to disagree.  I cried tears of frustration.
10. I got into the college of my choice after putting soooooo much pressure on myself and sooooo much importance on it.  I jumped and cheered when I read my letter.  I cried tears of relief.
11. My lovely friend Tina died after a courageous and beautiful life lived to the fullest.  I miss her fierce expressiveness, her faithfulness to life and her fantastic parties.  I cried tears of loss.
12. I experienced my wedding day surrounded by my closest family and friends.  I felt beautiful, confident, loved and secure.  I cried tears of happiness.
13. I danced ALL NIGHT at my wedding.  I cried tears of bliss.
14. I was supposed to be brought on as a new employee at a company I had worked with for a while.  The conversation began with great promise for promotion and ended with a clear understanding that the company and I did not mix.  I walked out of the conversation without a job.  I cried tears of disappointment.
15. Two of my cousins sang with such beauty, generosity and talent at my wedding.  I was so touched and filled with the moment that I felt my heart might explode.  I cried tears of love.
16. I found myself sober after a fast moving and beautiful year of ups and downs.  Then two years.  Then three years.  I cried tears of hope.
17. I have been a lifetime fan of both Disney movies and the Disney Channel.  I get lost in the stories and laugh and cry along with the characters.  I cry tears of innocence.
18. I broke my back when I was eleven and my gymnastics career ended.  I didn’t know what the future would hold, but I knew I had lost a big part of me.  I was confused, distraught and broken.  I cried tears of grief.
19. I have looked loved ones in the eyes and told them I was sorry for the harm I’d done them over the years.  I have been truthful, simple and specific.  I have let them drive conversations and listened to their side.  I have cried tears of humility.
20. So now I have read my list back, and tears welled up in me as I went.  As I read, I felt pride in the realization that all of these moments have shaped me.  None of these moments own me.  I have walked through the good and the bad.  While I am indeed a kind of weepy woman, I have come out with a level of dignity and grace that is surprising even to me.  I cry tears of strength. 

  

Thank you for all my tears. 

No Film

Keeping on the theme of my awesome nephew, my newest little buddy was baptized this past weekend.  What an amazing deal!  I’m telling you, I’m still blown away.  I was the camera girl, and I felt honored as usual in being asked to help.  I wonder when the novelty of being trusted with responsibility is going to wear off?  I hope never!  When everyone left for the church and I was left behind with my husband, I did have a moment of panic as physical pain and exhaustion took over.  I cried a few overwhelmed tears and took some medicine before I could join everyone at the church.  When I did, I was overwhelmed in a very different way.

Family and friends showed up in the usual rowdy fashion.  I got that old nervous feeling that we might get into trouble or insult someone for making so much noise inside the church.  That passed rather quickly though as I saw that the laughter, the hugs, the kisses and the play were nothing short of heavenly.  We, as a community, were lifting all that joy up to God.  It just kept getting better and better: the neighbor kids embracing one another; my nephew playing with dad between, under and over the pews; my young cousins reuniting and lining up excited and thrilled to be together in one long row; the priest processing in with both families of the soon to be baptized children to the tune of “He’s Got the Whole World in His Hands”; the proud Godparents smiling down at my beautiful nephew as the sacrament of baptism was performed; the sign of the cross being made on my nephew’s teensy two year old forehead by his parents, godparents, grandparents, aunts and big sister; my 3 ½ year old niece making the sign of the cross on her brother’s forehead with no knowledge of what that meant, but displaying all its depth with her simple desire to share the moment with him; both my niece and nephew crawling all over the pews, trying to be quiet and watching their brother take the spotlight (they don’t like that one bit!).  All of it was just so beautiful.  Then, to really bring it all home, the priest raised my nephew up in front of the altar, nice and high, over his head in awesome celebration.  We all swooned and awed at the magnificence of our newest family member.  A feeling of limitless love filled me as I shared all of this with my dearest of family and friends.

 

I got such great camera shots of all of this.  I mean, great shots.  I was really on top of it.  People were posing for me, asking for a copy to be sent to them later on, and giving me thumbs up as I clicked away.  And then I realized, there was no memory card in the camera.  I had taken it out that morning to print some pictures for house decorations for the reception after the ceremony.  This is one of those cameras that does NOT save any pictures on the hard drive.  They just don’t exist.  So bummed!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I had pictures of all those moments digitally captured!  I was so sad and apologized profusely to just about everyone.  Of course, they all said it was no big deal and we’d just collect shots of the day from a bunch of other folks and make a collection.  Okay, I agreed, but mine were so good!! Hahahaha.

For lack of words... or pictures!

Now that a few days have passed and I look back on Sunday, I just know I do not need pictures to remember the inspiring love I felt inside that church.  In fact, the power of it seems to have grown.  What a gift to have my spirit so lifted.  There is no picture that could capture that.  It is magnificent, awesome, beautiful and infinite.  My heart and spirit are so full, and they will remember that day forever. 

To love freely...

I am incredibly tired today so I am a bit off but decided I had better blog anyway so as not to let this writer’s muscle of mine wither too much.  I have probably already passed that mark but here we go anyway…

It is a pretty amazing time for my family, and I am still a little overwhelmed to be a part of it.  My sister returned home from China a few weeks ago where she was adopting her third child, my new nephew.  An elaborate babysitting schedule was laid out by my sister and bro-in-law before she left, as my niece and nephew had to stay back in the states with working dad.  I took on a few days of babysitting, and my husband and I got to cook some meals for the gang.  I was filled with such a powerful sense of purpose that I really loved every bit.  My bro-in-law did a great job keeping mom and kids connected via Skype and even wrote a daily blog to loop in the extended family.  My new nephew is home now, and he’s a total rockstar!  There’s absolutely no question that he knows mom and dad and siblings are his.  It just blows me away, like it was meant to be and his heart just knows. 

I cannot even begin to understand what my nephew is thinking and feeling inside that little body of his.  I do like to guess at it though. :)   He seems a bit confused as to who I am and what’s going on sometimes, but that’s to be expected since he’s two years old and EVERYTHING JUST CHANGED.  He maintains a pretty fierce look for the most part with occasions of tears and more of brilliantly joyful smiles.  He has the coolest smile.  His whole face lights up!  Overall, I imagine a crazy amount of determination working inside him.  I project that his efforts are to focus, to understand, to communicate, to get fed (he really loves food!), to connect with mom and dad, and to explore his siblings.  I also wonder what he is feeling, aside from what he’s thinking, and simply have no clue.  I hope to spend more and more time knowing and loving him, but for now the mystery that is him is more than magnificent.

JUST FOR TODAY, 
I will love abundantly.

My reflections today really started, and end now, with my wanting to fix my relationship with a particular someone.  Let’s call this person Amanda.  I want control over what she thinks AND feels about me.  I want her to love me and trust me and confide in me the way she did a decade ago.  The wreckage of my past just slaps me right in the face some days, usually on the days I least expect it!!!  The thing is that I just don’t know what’s going on inside Amanda’s head and heart.  Unlike my new little nephew, I have a history with her and have decided some things based on that history.  She should forgive me.  She should believe I have changed.  She should know I love her and want her in my life.  She should reciprocate all my feelings.  As I write that I realize that what throws me is not that Amanda doesn’t meet all the ‘shoulds’, but that I just don’t know.  I feel lonely and scared- very different from the love and joy and hope I feel when watching my nephew without knowing.  I check myself with other people on this, and I find support in their feedback and find a greater love for Amanda in all her stubbornness and quirkiness.  The hurt remains of course, but hope is gained.  I believe and know I am taken care of and surrounded by the love of friends, family and God.  I would like some answers to emerge, and I would like even more for those answers to include Amanda and I becoming as close as we once were.  For now, I don’t have any answers so what can I do?  Probably nothing...  sitting still stinks.  Haha!  I hope to one day let go of my desire to control how other people think and feel towards me and to just love.  To love freely and without expectations is a practice that often eludes me.  Great thing is that sober experience and hope are on my side today.  And so, just for today, I will love abundantly!

Attitude Makeover - HFC Day 17

Think about what you feel pessimistic about, frustrated about or are struggling with, either now or at some point in the past. What were/are those issues? What stops/stopped you from making changes? What do you need/ did you need to confront those issues? Can you make plans to take steps to change? If you have done this, were you able to make changes? What challenges can you set yourself for the future? (Remember to make them realistic and achievable!)

Okay so this is kind of interesting.  I spend so many of my days and moments trying not to be pessimistic and to put a hopeful spin on every one of my experiences.  Truth is that I can throw the meanest pity party on the block.  My default is self pity and it leads me into depressive episodes and sideways anger.  My self pity used to keep me from even trying to recover from ED.  I was so stuck to my pity pot that I really believed that no one even cared if I got healthy.  I can see the faulty thinking there and the disease twisting my truths, so today I stay on the lookout for that voice in me.  I’m not perfect at it though and my entire recovery has been filled with frustration and pessimism over a severe neck injury I suffered in my third month of sober abstinence. 

I herniated a disc in my neck while I was showing off diving for some young kiddos at a community pool.  My husband was with me and we had been dating for only about a week.  Six months later the doctors decided surgery was necessary and performed a spinal fusion.  A year later, I was closing in on my wedding day and my pain remained so severe that I feared I wouldn’t be able to enjoy our celebration.  Three years since the injury and I am still in pain.  I did get some good news just last week that the fusion is complete but received the bad news that arthritis is developing at the injury site. 

Now, this whole thing has really sucked in so many ways.  I have lost a lot of my strength and muscle since my injury and building it back up now is super slow going.  I don’t have the same body shape at all anymore.  I have always been pretty ‘gymnast shaped’.  I never had hips or big boobs.  That’s changed.  I do have hips and I have bigger boobs.  I have had to accept a whole new body.  Man, it was hard enough accepting it the first time!!!   I’ve been angry at myself and at people that just don’t understand.  I’ve been jealous of people that get to workout as hard as they want to and feel that good ache in their muscles from a job well done.  I have yelled at my husband for being attracted to me when I’m in super exhausted from fighting the constant hurting.  I have cursed God for giving me recovery just to give me a serious injury. 

All this is self pity.  What is more is that it is self pity that to me seems justified.  It seems logical and normal to feel down about something like this.  It feels like I should have permission to feel sorry for myself, and the truth is I don’t have much control over what thoughts and emotions hit me at what time but I do need to look for positive outlets for them.  I know from my history that I can’t afford to get sucked into the morose thinking and a defeatist attitude for too long.  So, I have made a commitment to share my frustrations with other people and to find a positive in everything.  Sometimes this can be challenging but for the most part it isn’t so difficult.  Without my injury I would not have had to look so deep within; I would not have had to ask for so much help; I would not have had to pray so often; I would not have had to sit still and just be.  In these ways my injury has given me the quality of recovery I have today.  I have to remember that I don’t know what the big plan is for me and that even the seemingly terrible can bring beautiful gifts.    

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. 

A Letter to Little Me - HFC Day 15

Write a letter to yourself as a child – you can choose which ever age you feel is most relevant to you. What do you want to tell that child? What wisdom can you share with him/her? What encouragement can you give to that child? Tell that child what good qualities you see in him/her. After writing reflect on what you have written and recognize that those qualities still lie within you, as does that child.

Dear Francie,

Hello beautiful!!! So you are only six and I am thirty two but believe me when I say, I get you.  I know you love making lists so here’s a checklist for you to complete every day.  Feel free to rewrite it as many times as you like, and to cross out your completions with bold marker or circular scribbles, whichever you like. 

• Giggle.
• Tell your sister and brother you love them.
• Raise your hand in class and ask a question.
• Ask your parents to tell you a story about them when they were your age, they have some doosies!!
• Do a dance – freestyle.
• Get good and dirty.
• Mess up your hair.
• Sing a prayer or say it aloud.
• Cuddle with mom or dad or brother or sister.
• Give yourself permission to cry, even if you don’t cry, just remind yourself that it’s okay if you do.
• Find some water and get yourself soaking wet (bath, shower, hose, pool).
• Keep dreaming BIG.
• Remember you’re a kid and your parents will take care of you and your bro and sis no matter what, no matter what.
• See you body in the mirror and love it.  God gave it to you and it can do so much already!  You’re so fabulous exactly as you are.

This should be a good start.  Everything is going to be okay.  You are okay!  Have fun and be bold.  Be grateful for what you have and embrace it all with joy and laughter. You’re six!!!  Woohoo!

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

Viva La Difference - HFC Day 9

Today is about celebrating what makes people different. What makes humanity interesting is that we are all unique. What does it mean to be different? Write about yourself or someone you admire or people generally in terms of celebrating the differences that so often people are mocked for. 

What does it mean to be different?  To me that can mean a whole lot of things both good and bad.  The thing about people’s differences is that everyone carries them with a different level of confidence.  You see folks displaying that quirky confidence, the loud confidence, the silent but strong confidence, the silly shy confidence, the not-so-confident and shaky, the not-so-confident and showy, the not-so-confident and pained.  So I guess what I’m saying is even differences are different, depending on who’s wearing them.  Of course I wish I could shout from the rooftops or, better yet, tell each and every person in this whole world individually that they are God’s kid and that they are just the way they are supposed to be in every way. 

I’ve talked about how much I love being an Aunt, and how my niece and nephew amaze me every day with their love and innocence.  My nephew is what the world would call different.  My nephew was born with no thumbs.  He had four fingers but no thumbs.  Shortly after he came home, doctors made him thumbs by taking his pointer fingers and turning them to the outside of his hands.  They also moved a bone in each hand over towards his new thumbs to give his hands more support and strength.  Now my nephew has three fingers and one thumb on each hand.  He also has a lot of scars and not much strength in his hands in general.  He’s three and a half and has a three year old sister who is much more physically advanced than her brother.  I’ve been so amazed as I watch the two of them grow together.  At first, my niece had a hard time sharing, helping, and waiting.  My nephew lost patience with himself in the blink of an eye and went into frequent tantrums.  My sister and brother-in-law were consistent, supportive and open-minded.  Talk about celebrating differences!  They like to cheer and sing and dance for their children.  It’s beautiful and I believe their celebrations and consistent messages of love and tolerance have allowed for the picture that is today:

My nephew uses his thumbs!  He doesn’t have a lot of strength and is coming up on a muscular surgery to try to help with that, but he makes no arguments when he is reminded to use his thumbs.  His sister cracks me up when she says in her mama-mimic singsong voice, “Use your thumbs”.   He takes part in all kinds of games and can ask for help in a strong voice, no whining.  It’s not perfect but he knows he’s capable, and he is happy.  He loves loves loves his sister, and she loves loves loves her brother.  They spend hours giggling with one another, changing clothes or ‘costumes’, reading books, planning tricks or silly presentations for mom and dad.  My nephew is a total ham and a jokester.  He has this big beautiful personality and engages so well with people.  He gives the greatest hugs and will make faces at you until you laugh with him.  He knows he’s different and he certainly has a lot of frustrations because of his handicap, but I see the growth and the blessing he is.  I think he knows he’s great and special and loved too.  One unexpected gift that my nephew in all his uniqueness has given me is a very different meaning to my cutting scars.  He does not know how I got them, but he likes to compare our scars.  He puts his arms up to mine and points out that we are the same.  The first time he did this it brought tears to my eyes.  I have experienced the transformation from a painful and shameful memory to a loving purpose-filled gift.  This kid is so rad, I could go on for days!

My nephew is different.  Different is awesome!!!!

A picture is worth a thousand words - Day 8

Choose a picture (non-triggering) that speaks to you with regards to the experience of an eating disorder and/or recovery. Write in any way you choose about what it means to you and why and what lessons can be learned from that. You don’t have to write a thousand words, but if you would like to – feel free!

This was taken on my wedding day one year ago…

I don’t know what I weighed that day.  I did my own makeup, light and simple.  My hair turned out pretty cute.  My mom finished the happy yellow ribbon for the dress that morning.  Nothing was exactly in place but everything was absolutely as it was meant to be.  All day I embraced my own beauty inside and out, and I was totally present.  The abundance of laughter, hugs, kisses, dancing, and family that celebrated life with faith and love that day filled me completely. 

RECOVERY MADE THIS POSSIBLE.