MY PATH

I have heard in recovery that the road gets narrower.  Meaning that the longer a person stays clean and sober their scope becomes smaller in terms of things they find acceptable or venture to explore.  The flip side is also said - that life gets bigger.  I used to try to side with one or the other of these ideas, but today I realize both are a fit for me.

I have such a big life today!  I simply cannot physically or mentally experience everything I’d like to, and I imagine that my list of to-do’s will never shrink short enough to do it all.  In fact, I bet it just keeps growing.  People like having me around and they trust me.  With that I have discovered how much time a relationship, a close relationship, really demands.  It’s funny that I didn’t know that before, but I suppose I never really pursued healthy relationships, or probably more accurately, I never had the ability to put any consistent time or care into them.  Today I have been blessed with all these people in my life as the certain result of working off a different moral code than ever in my past.  I don’t tolerate deception or drama or bullshit of any kind for very long today.  I used to live immersed in lies and cheating and manipulation and gladly welcomed the same from people around me.  Now it’s just too uncomfortable for me to operate in that environment.  I simply find the pain of my old way of living unacceptable since having discovered and practiced a different way.  I really don’t try to push the limits all too much anymore.  I still crave excitement and once in a while I consider that crazy life again, and that lasts about 10 seconds.  Haha!  Seriously though, it only lasts a moment because it’s fairly impossible for me to think past a drink in my hand without then seeing complete chaos and destruction.  I find it comical that so many people draw an immediate assumption that I’m a goody-goody and always have been.  Actually, that can be bothersome to me at times because I want everyone to know that I’m not some naïve little princes, and I’ve seen more pain than they have probably only heard about.  You can see my enormous ego has not left me entirely!  Good part is that I don’t have to say a word about my past and the feeling of desperately needing them to know who I really am passes.  Lately two instances have occurred at work in which coworkers have tried to entice me into trying out some booze.  It’s hilarious that they assume I have never drank before.  I have forever assumed that people can detect the alcoholic in me.  I have hated that because I have felt branded.  Now, I feel uncomfortable with their assumption of my clean living.  Man, I spend a lot of time worrying about how others see me.  So silly. 

So yes, in many ways my road has narrowed.  I don’t seek crazy.  I don’t break the law.  I don’t keep secrets.  I quickly and directly admit when I lie.  I do not manipulate people or institutions.  I don’t go to bars and clubs just for a thrill.  I try not to hurt others.

My road has also widened.  I get together with bunches of recovering men and women, and I share and listen.  I babysit for my cousins and niece and nephew.  I have traveled to another country (yay!!! Finally!).  I coach teenagers to become better at my favorite sport and present them with more possibilities for their future.  I go out to eat and enjoy food.  I dance and sing and hike and swim and craft and play.  I have game nights with my husband.  I host alcoholics and addicts in our home when they seek my husband and I out for help.  I have made a home with my husband.  I pray and find peace in quiet.  I ask for help.  I really love who I am.  I am a recovering, faithful, smart, professional woman who loves her family and the silly things life, and most of the time I OWN IT!

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.    

I read the news today

I was prompted to write while perusing news articles today.  Man oh man is it depressing to read the headlines alone!  I have asked why news has to be so violent, traumatic and tragic as a blanket question my entire life.  I’m not exaggerating. I think I’ve wondered this my entire life, or at least as long as I have had a high enough level of cognizance to wonder it.  I used to ask my mom to turn off the news or just not to watch it at all, because I couldn’t handle hearing all the chaos being reported.  I’ve always compartmentalized ideas, events, actions, people, and just about everything else. I couldn’t fit ‘the news’ in any of my acceptable spaces so it went into the unacceptable and intolerable bins. Yes, I lived a charmed and somewhat sheltered childhood.  My rather naive brain could not have possibly made sense of it all in my accustomed way - which was to make sense of it all.  This is probably pretty normal but what is a little odd is that I still do the same thing today as a 32 year old woman! 

I suppose I’ve gotten more comfortable with some of it. The major headlines that include just an overview idea don’t completely revolt me or send horrible visuals and/or real fear through me.  I certainly can decide whether or not to watch longer or read on based on those headlines.  If I decide to read an article and it immediately exploits someone, delves into unnecessarily horrific details, or contains a tone that is unsettling, I stop reading.  The problem comes when someone else, most often my husband, has chosen to watch something that I don’t like.  I can hear the crap through closed door and the shows I recognize, I can’t even stand all the dramatic music and I get pretty moody and bossy about what can and can’t be played in our home when I’m home. 

Again, I feel like I was born with this hyper sensitivity to violent or vulgar media, and as you can imagine it has really caused some frustration and embarrassment in the more recent years.  I used to put myself to sleep in a theatre if a movie was overwhelming to me.  Falling asleep anywhere on my own volition was a skill that served me well for years. I can’t do it as easily anymore but that might have to do with the absence of copious amounts of psychotropic drugs in my system.  From about 18 – 28, I was pretty much sleepy and lethargic all the time so given the opportunity to check out, I chose sleep quite often.  I think I also take after my dad; he fell asleep in the theatre (the real theatre) during The Phantom of the Opera which is like the loudest (in a good way) production ever!  Honestly, it was just so much easier, and I still think nicer, than cutting the movie short for me and whoever I’d gone to the theatre with.  So now that I don’t have such an easy switch to sleep capability, I don’t have another solution – yet.

I’ve tried a few things to no avail.  I’ve tried to close myself in the bedroom and play music while I read.  This usually ends in my temper flaring up because now I’ve cut myself off from socializing and from the kitchen J.  So that’s out.  I’ve tried to actually watch the shows.  Total disaster has ensued every time.  I have zero ability to control my extreme and emotional reaction to these shows – yet.  I’ve prayed and prayed for acceptance of both my limitations and other peoples’ tastes that I can leave if I’m bother WITHOUT acting the victim.  I need to pray more cause this hasn’t worked.  I’ve tried mandating that only the shows I approve of be played when I’m home.  This is actually where we’re at now because it’s kept the peace.  So far my husband has proved much more flexible than I, and yet I still react when suggestions for ‘the other’ shows are made.  Oh well, here’s room for growth.  Maybe some therapy is in order.  Maybe more creative outlets are options for me.  I don’t know what but more will be revealed.

Hormones

I don’t shy away from PMS talk.  Everyone gets it or knows someone who gets it.  If I didn’t know what was driving the week long crazy train I ride once a month, I would have to seriously consider some extreme treatment options for my ‘problems’.  Believe it or not, I used to get locked up in a psychiatric hospital about once a month when I was in my early 20s.  It was close to six months before anyone realized it was hormone related.  Seems like I should have noticed the pattern, but I was PMSing so give me a break!!!!  Thankfully when they discovered what was up and started treating me for the hormonal symptoms, my trips to the psych ward decreased exponentially.  They didn’t stop altogether, but those are stories for another day.  Fast forward 12 years and I still struggle to stay in good emotional fitness the few days before my period. 

This past week was a doosey.  My husband was traveling for work and I was busy with my own work, coaching and family.  Food called to me from inside the refrigerator; the mirror would scream insults directly into my brain whenever I even glanced at it; I was exhausted and drained but didn’t want to get in bed at night; I ranted on the phone at my husband about his leaving me all alone and then cried when he returned; and I cried once at my desk and once in the middle of a meeting at work.  A total wreck.  Thankfully, after the first day, I knew what I was going through which allowed me to roll with the punches a bit better.  I mean, who cries in the middle of a meeting because the whiteboard hasn’t arrived?!??  A hormonal me, that’s who.  Thankfully I’ve mastered the silent cry and I pulled myself together after a couple minutes… but seriously!!

So here’s how I survive week’s like this past one:

1. Alert my female family members.  This is a serious family trait passed down woman to woman to woman.  I mean we ALL go nuts with our swinging hormones.  We all understand it, and I take great comfort in knowing I come by it all honestly.  Remember that I have a BIG family and as far as I’m aware, no woman in it has a mild cycle.  We all lose our stuff when we PMS.  We all feel closer to mean and ugly, lose our tempers more easily, feel a little lonely and act a little nutty. 
2. Alert my husband.  This is crucial to the continued success of our marriage. J  Seriously though, he has standing permission to remind me that my mood swings and oversensitivity could be due to my period being near.  He treads lightly here and thankfully he’s found a way to insert it at the right moments.  It usually makes me laugh.  He also will listen to me fly off the handle, and I mean all the way off the handle, then say sorry and give me a hug. 
3. Tell my internal morning critic to take a break.  Nothing is gonna look any good on me, according to me, for a few days.  It’s just the way it is, so no need to intentionally start my day with fat and ugly’s.
4. Make certain I keep a sense of humor.  This is huge.  I tell my stories of melt downs and temper tantrums to friends, male and female, because they are funny once I’m through them!  Three of my friends got the whole run down of my twisted, crazy thinking while my husband was away earlier this week.  It was only two nights and I had worked it up into a future lifetime of loneliness!!!  I laughed and laughed as I recounted one of our phone conversations and my subsequent thinking about the whole thing.  What a great release.

So that’s the long and short of it.  Now, if you’re a man and you happened to read all the way to the end of this, I’d like to make a suggestion: Do not pop this up in front of your wife, girlfriend, or sister and tell them they should read it because insert reason here, unless you are ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN THEY ARE NOT PMSing AND ARE IN A GOOD MOOD!!!!  Also note that I asked my husband to help me in reminding me about my cycle… tread lightly! J  As for all the ladies out there, I hope you related and find some humor in our shared experiences.  I am so grateful l don’t have to live enslaved by my emotions anymore, and I have learned to take myself far less seriously today than ever before.  A favorite quote of mine growing up was, “Angels can fly, because they take themselves lightly”.  When I let go of my pride and perfectionism, I find such unbelievable freedom, humor, and joy in being a woman..

Keep it simple stupid

Yes, this title sounds harsh.  No, it’s not meant to put anyone down nor is it meant to label anything or anyone stupid.  This is a slogan around recovery communities that isn’t used so much anymore.  It’s usually just said as ‘Keep it simple’, which I admit is a great message by itself.  For me though, the stupid works.  I didn’t always agree that it was a useful saying.  The reason it works for me now and didn’t a few years ago is that my perception, the way I view myself in relation to everything and everyone, has drastically changed.  I used to feel like a little piece of terd.  If someone was trying to help me, but used a slogan with a derogatory term at the end, I took it as a personal offense.  I couldn’t hear the message through the delivery.  I don’t feel smaller or less than anyone today nor do I feel at all unintelligent.  Yet now, more than ever, “keep it simple stupid” really does make good, logical sense.  


The ‘stupid’ reminds me that I must remain teachable.  I heard it said best like this, “You can’t teach someone something they already know.”  I spent years telling people I couldn’t stay sober or stop purging.  I would tell them exactly why that was.  I would tell them what I needed to do if I was ever going to ‘get it’ and then all the reasons and emotions that prevented me from doing any of those things.  Clearly, I was not going to change because I had it all figured out.  I knew all the answers to all my problems and no one could convince me otherwise.  So, neck deep in despair and desperation, I held onto just enough intellectual egoism to stay stuck and miserable.  


Finally, finally, finally, I just didn’t know.  I had no ideas or solutions of my own and couldn’t find any persuasive arguments to excuse myself from trying something different.  It took what it took for me.  I could tell stories upon stories that lead me to the day I ran out of ideas, but I could not begin to guess why it was that day that it happened.  It simply did.  Without answers I began listen to folks who appeared to have them.  Stupid me was the beginning of the me I have become today.  It gave me enough willingness and openmindedness to seek a simple solution.  Thank God I did.  It really is simple! 

Finding my fit

I go around trying to dot my I’s and cross my T’s by doing everything I say I’m going to do and showing up for my friends and family when and where I am needed.  A lot of times it feels like I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to fit myself to everyone else’s schedule.  Sometimes I get overwhelmed.  When I do, I’m at a high risk of quitting everything.  What happens is I get to thinking people are disappointed or angry with me, because I can’t meet all their expectations.  Before long, I get swallowed up by guilt and shame.  Guilt and shame have been the two most paralyzing and dangerous emotions I have experienced in my life.  Enough of either one, and I fall into such self pity, resentment and fear that relief only comes at a great price not only for me but for others as well.  I wallow.  I hide.  I lie.  I lash out.  I self-destruct and take you down with me.  I have endured this enormous, destructive cycle countless times in my life.  Coming out the other side is neither easy nor guaranteed.  I DON'T HAVE TO LIVE THIS WAY ANYMORE.

The truth is that most often I am only guessing that people are disappointed or angry with me.  Even before I get to that, I admit that I am usually the one trying find time to spend with all the people I love in my life because they bring me strength and peace and joy.  So long before I find myself in a world of hurt, I have told myself lies like I am not in control of my own actions or that people have put me on a pedestal of sorts and expect me to be everywhere for everyone.  I have thrown out my own truths and put other people’s opinions of me over my own.  I have forgotten humility and have placed myself at enormous risk.  What people think of me and how much time I give to them decides whether I am a good or bad person.  I've given others all my God given grace that allows me to have my own human experience.  When I embrace my perfectly imperfect humanity, I get to love freely and give generously.  When I don't, I am bitter and alone.  Today when my thoughts get noisy with self-deprecating and berating messages, I can pause and ask for some help and some courage to get off my crazy making cargo train to crappy town and find my right place in this world.  Feet on the ground and eyes wide open, I can go from there and do the best I can, expecting no more than just what that turns out to be.

A long time ago, an elderly man told me this, “We don’t have to fit into shoes that are too big, just our own.”  Now that makes sense and takes the shame and guilt off my heart.  I can only do as much as I can do, and I’m the only one that knows my limits and my intentions.  I answer to the truths I hold within and I can be accountable to others without shame if I fall short of my commitments at any point.  I'm only human after all and I have discovered nobody has mistaken me as anything more... EVER. :) 

What I am

Lately I’ve been asking myself a lot of questions about what I want to be when I grow up.  With that comes a lot of reflection on what I am today.  Thankfully, I’m not asking myself who I want to be or who I am.  That’s probably one of the most convoluted, crazy-making mind games someone can play on themselves.  Who I am will constantly change as I try to grow and as I gain more life experience.  So I guess I know who I am – ever changing.  What I am?  Well, that can be crazy-making too I guess because I am made up of a lot of different pieces and if I’m asking the question, I’m the one deciding which pieces to count!!!  For the purpose of not ranting onto a philosophical tangent, I will keep the ‘what am I’ question confined to my professional world.

As a little girl, I wanted to be the next Olympic superstar, mostly for the fame and notoriety.  As a young teen, I wanted to be a nun, mostly because I had decided that I was a better person than everyone else and should be marked as good and special forever.  In young adulthood, I gave up wanting to be much of anything except cared for and protected and even that felt horrible.  By my mid twenties, I wanted to save all addicts and alcoholics everywhere, because I had gained so much experience with both and believed I could relate to anyone.  This would have seemed a bit more logical if I had been sober myself, but even then it would have been grandiose. J  A couple years later I realized that I had gone kicking and screaming through my whole life to avoid the ordinary.  My efforts had left me jobless, broke and hopeless.  I told myself that what I did would define who I was.  So, I had become completely worthless. 

Thankfully my brother, sister and brother-in-law didn’t just stand aside and let me wallow in my bog of self-pity and depression.  I moved in with my sister and bro-in-law and my brother quickly hooked me up with a friend of his who got me a job as a human resources coordinator.  I hated going to work.  I hated how ‘average’ the work was.  Albeit reluctantly, I showed up day after day (well most days) and before I knew it a year had passed.  My siblings even threw me a one year on the job party because they knew what a big deal it was for me. (Yeah I have the coolest siblings in the world!)  I worked there for over two years and by the end of my time there I had some employable skills.  I did quit my job so I was jobless and close to broke but I was no longer hopeless. 

I don’t think it is a coincidence that I got sober shortly after I left that job and moved back home to California.  Just by holding a job down, I had gained a little hope in myself and some esteem – two things I had not experienced in adulthood.  I had also learned a little humility.  I needed to show up for life no matter how mundane I decided the day would be.  I knew I had to get sober to give myself a chance at showing up consistently again and when I did I learned how to do a whole lot more than that. 

I had a ton of direction my first year of working as a sober woman: “Put your head down and do eight hours work for eight hours pay.”  “Be a worker among workers.”  “Self esteem comes from doing esteemable acts… just do the next right thing.”  “Act better than you feel.”  The daily practice of all these pearls of simplistic wisdom brought me to what I am today.  I’m a good worker.  In the office I am a very able professional.  People like me and easily trust me at work.  I am given more responsibility than my job description dictates, and I welcome it.  I am articulate and capable under pressure.  Flipping to my coaching self, I am an awesome coach.  I think I say awesome because I love doing it so much.  Really, I am responsible.  I am deserving of the trust I am given by both the kids and parents.  I am talented and get to see my kids improve at a rapid pace.

Now, after all that, what do I want to be when I grown up?  Ha!  I still don’t know.  I want to give this public speaking thing a shot and see what journey it will take me on.  I want to be a mother and provide for my family.  I don’t know how those things will mix or work if both are in my future.  What I do know is I will be present.  I will work hard.  I will be one in the mix of so many in this enormous world that try to do good things for it.  I will take comfort in my past experiences and know that no matter what, no matter what, things will change.  In the end, what I am matters very little.  Who I am will be born of the things I do as I continue to put one foot in front of the other, one day at a time.  It’s in the doing.

So good, so simple, so difficult!!

I can guess that everyone I have ever met can relate to not wanting to do something, even when they know that doing it wouldn't take much effort at all and it would quickly improve their life.  All gain and we don’t want to do it!  Seems nutty but then I think this must be a part of the human condition, because I’ve never met anyone that welcomes all healthy, positive, fun or good opportunities right away.  There’s some element of reluctance in all of us on certain things.  Exercise is a perfect example of my point.  Over the years I have heard countless people say countless times, “I know it would be really good for me but it’s just too hard to get started,” and go on to say “I know I’ll have more energy and more motivation to do things but I just don’t have enough time,” and go on to say “I know I’ll be so much more productive so I probably will have more time once I start, but I just can’t seem to get started,” and go on and on and on.  I’ve said all these things myself without any intention of actually exercising!  It's crazy really but everyone does it. 

I have a couple theories on why we have this strange unwillingness to do the ‘win wins’.  One I wrote about last week.  Fear of change.  Self centered fear that facilities us metaphorically shooting ourselves in the foot over and over and over again.  Fears like: I might not be able to follow through; it might be uncomfortable to change my routine; it might keep me from handling all the things I usually do in the same manner I usually handle them; I might not like it; people might look at me differently; etc.  The logical error is easy to identify.  Admit it.  These fears are ridiculous in light of the benefits we receive in overcoming them.  Don’t want to hang out with friends tonight because you’re too depressed and people won’t want to be around you?  Get over yourself.  They don’t care how you come.  They probably don’t even care if you come.  You will care.  Overcome the fear that you won’t enjoy yourself and that you will regret time missed reflecting on all the horrible crap in your life and the one that says you’ll feel stupid and uncomfortable the whole time because you won’t be able to entertain or relate to everyone like usual.  Just get off your butt and go!!!  Seriously, there’s nothing to lose but a few hours of self imposed misery.

And that brings me to my second theory on this issue.  People are lazy and we just don’t wanna.  Pure and simple.  I’m not an exception to this at all.  When I’m in a lazy zone, it doesn’t matter how little the effort; if it takes effort, I’m out.  It’s sad but true.  Imagine if when considering whether to do or not do, I counted to three and went on go.  I would get to reap so many benefits that I’d simply let pass me by otherwise.  Now, I realize the lazy factor is something that is hard to really find one real fix for but try everything and then try everything again.  Maybe not one, two, three, go but something!  What works for me at one time will not at others and vice versa.  Here are some of my efforts:

1.    When mornings are rough, I give myself a few minutes to stay in bed from the time I last looked at the clock.  I pick an exact time that I must be up by and as that time nears, I begin my own countdown.  It’s weird but as competitive as I am, I am almost always up before the clock reads the time I first chose.

2.    When I don’t want to exercise at all, I come up with the smallest amount of time I can possibly allow for a workout while still believing I will benefit.  I did some yoga this morning but really needed to try some cardio even with my aches and pains.  I ran for 2 minutes.  Yes 2.  I walked for 8 minutes afterward.  It’s a start!

3.    When I don’t want to go somewhere, I try to judge what an acceptable attendance time is for the event.  I usually decide that all I have to do is show up and I’ll be able to leave whenever I want to.  If it’s a family deal or an event in honor of something, I usually set an obligatory hour for myself.  That’s a really short time frame and I outstay my allotted hour nearly every time.  I get there and voila I have a social experience!

4.    When I don’t want to go to work, eesh every work day (I’m kidding!  It’s not that bad!), I use a laundry list of tricks.  One is to just to get there by blocking out all the thoughts projecting how the day will go until I actually arrive at work.  Another is trying to place something on the other side of the work day or week that I really want to do.  It makes getting through the work day way more appealing and cathartic.  Tons of things come to mind but these two are keepers!

5.    When I don’t want to try something new, I consider what I have to lose by trying it.  Usually the answer is either nothing or a couple moments of my time.  It seems silly to give up an opportunity that I might really enjoy when all I’m looking at sacrificing is not much of anything.

You feeling motivated yet?  

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.

My first Thanksgiving as an in-law

I’m not sure how many people come from the polar opposite family environment as their spouse, but it sure seems like a lot of us.  My family is at least 65 strong, counting only two generations (aunts/uncles and cousins).  My husband’s family is 3 strong.  People usually ask how in the world my husband survives my side’s events, but honestly he seems to love it.  The noise, activity, competitiveness, lack of attention on one person for too long, and more noise has somehow suited him from day one.  My mom is one of 11 kids who made me 30 first cousins who made their own babies.  My dad is one of four kids who made me 19 first cousins who made a lot of their own babies.  Also, my dad and his siblings grew up in a machine shop and their mother went deaf young so shouting is talking to them.  Again, it’s a lot of noise. 

My husband, mother-in-law and sister-in-law actually speak loudly and passionately most of the time, but the difference is you can actually hear and understand and respond to everything they’re expressing.  It’s exhausting.  Haha!  Who knew three people could be more tiring to mingle with than 50?!  This thanksgiving, after a lifetime of practicing how to stay lightly involved in multiple conversations at once and rallying into as many games as are played in one holiday day lest I might miss something, I experienced down time and the choice to either sit up, eat and watch TV or lie down and sleep.  The strangest part is that I felt slightly uneasy most of the weekend.  Certainly having traveled out of state and sleeping in the living room meant I was out of my comfort space but I didn’t expect to feel claustrophobic.  I really felt watched and I am absolutely positive it was my imagination.  At one of my family’s holiday parties you might have 10+ eyes on you at any given moment and the max there would have been 6!  So clearly, I was feeling overly sensitive and out of touch.

I have been taught (no, I did not know this) that change is hard no matter whether it’s good change or bad change.  The thing is that the trip was overall pretty wonderful.  While I missed my family a lot over the holiday, I made sure I called them to hear their celebration and played a lot of memories through my mind with a smile.  At Thanksgiving dinner, I was able to give thanks with a love-filled heart and experience my new family in a new way.  I got to see more clearly than ever that my husband is the man in his family and both his sister and mother look up to him with complete love, pride and confidence.  It’s an unbelievable thing to watch and a blessing to be a part of.  I realized too how seldom I recognize the strength of his family in our lives.  They are as vital a part of our marriage and its success as my family.  So the score is tied: 3 to 50.

J

Things Awful/Things Awesome

Having just begun this blogging adventure, I’m mentally filing events that might be blog-worthy.  Not having written in a week, I had quite a few blog-worthy bits in the queue.   Upon review, many of my week’s thoughts and experiences caught me with unusual amusement.  Apparently, I really don’t like a lot of things and I have a strong opinion about most everything.  Even the stuff that doesn’t harbor a strong reaction from me has a designation of acceptable/unacceptable, tasteful/insulting, and the like.  I’ll call the items with a positive designation green (green for go/good) and those with a negative designation red (red for stop/bad).  Having a good day used to be dependent on how few reds I encountered.  If too many then forget it- horrible day.  That’s not generally true anymore and while I still have pretty intense reactions to things, my resulting emotion and behavior tends to look more like mood swings than melt downs.  I think I’ll just share some of the highlights from the past week, both red and green.  Here we go…

Reds (in no particular order)

1.  Drivers that stare you down after you make a mistake.  You didn’t think my horror struck face and squealing tires were awareness enough?  Plus now I’m just pissed off at you and your lack of attention to the road!

2.  Cashiers that assume everyone in line is there to make them a social visit.  We’re not.  We want to get to where we want to get ASAP and we want you to do your job well so as not to delay us.

3.  TV shows that cast every character as a complete idiot.  Especially adult cartoons where every character sounds like Bevis, Butthead or Napolean Dynamite.   The voice alone is enough for me to decide they have low self-esteem, social disorders and unresolved childhood issues.  Oh and using the one guy to do all the voiceovers is a total distraction.

4.  Tappers.  My husband is a tapper.  Why!??!!! Why??!!!!!  I can hear that!!!!!!!!!

5.  The mirror that always looks back at you fat.  Who made those mirrors and why did they not just melt it and start over when they looked into it and knew that it was the worst representation of themselves they’d ever seen?!  I vote we all destroy such mirrors and in their spots leave pleading notes that ask the future replacement mirrors be either honest or can improve the truth (just a little).  For the sake of sanity, man!

Greens (also in no particular order)

1.  When you watch someone for just a minute that is completely unaware of being observed, even if they turn out doing something dumb or weird.  I love that outside, anonymous view.  Seems so pure.

2.  Getting the giggles.  No matter where I am or who’s seeing it happen, the giggles are always a good time.  I’ve been so embarrassed by the complete loss of control on many occasions but I’m always better for it.  Plus, it’s a total adrenaline rush and a giggle buddy boosts the fun! 

3.  When kids imitate their parents with that grown up tone and those grown up words but totally work it as their own.  Too funny.  My 2 ¾ year old niece wiggled herself into a seat before a snack this Sunday and asked me, “Should we pray?”  In that moment she was my sister.  Classic.

4.  Being cuddled.  No matter my mood, hugs are the best.  My mom’s are comforting, long and snug.  My husband’s are moving, swinging side to side and strong.  My sister’s are joyous, she hangs off to the side and laughs.  My brother’s are double winners, strong and soft all in one.  My dad’s are classic, always firm with a pat.  Love hugs.

5.  When you wake up thinking it’s Monday and then realize it’s Sunday and you have a whole 24 hours until you have to go to work again.  It feels like a huge time refund and it’s all for fun and relaxation.  At least for a few minutes.   That’s such a great feeling. 

I’m happy to report that while all the reds were a part of my last week, so were the greens.  It’s been a great week and this has been a fun exert.  I hope you enjoyed it too!  

I still get crazy sometimes

After over two and half years in recovery and over a decade of therapy, the smallest things can throw me back into my old thinking.  What a terrible feeling! 

Yesterday I had a total meltdown.  I was by myself during lunch from jury duty and began to panic about all the money I wasn’t making by serving.  I went to call my husband and found that my phone would not turn on.  That’s when I lost it.  Within seconds I was in tears and yelling that I hated my life.  All while driving recklessly to find a place to get my phone checked out.   I drove around the neighborhood for about fifteen minutes with no direction and then went through a drive thru hoping food would help me calm down.  I got ‘the look’ from the kid working the window when he saw the tears streaming down my face but he didn’t say anything.  I was too upset to eat once he handed me the food.  I threw it into the passenger’s seat and sped away with a new plan.  I drove to a friend’s house knowing that he was at work.  When he wasn’t home, I used that to continue ranting about the terrible luck I had and how awful my life was.  I ended up stopping to use a pay phone a few minutes later and getting a hold of my husband.   After about five minutes of talking to him, the panic and rage had passed and everything seemed completely manageable again.   He suggested I remove the battery from my phone for a couple minutes and then restarting it.  I had thought of that but quit on it when I couldn’t get the back open right away.  Of course, this time it was simple and it worked.  I was back on track and ready to continue my duty. 

That might sound like a painful process to get back to calm and clear-minded, but I did return to the courthouse and sit the rest of the day doing what I was supposed to be doing.  A considerable success for someone like me.  I wish I didn’t react like that to anything, but I know my journey in recovery is just beginning.   I’m really grateful that I don’t take it to the dark places I used to.  From the thought “I hate my life”, I find myself looking for support rather than a fix.  Pretty cool.   

Who am I?

I'm 32, recently married, no kids, work a simple 9-5 job plus a fun gig on the side and am generally viewed as fairly innocent and naive.  Before that I was twenty something, a relationship nightmare, terrified of kids, unemployed and generally viewed as someone to stay away from or take advantage of depending on what kind of person you were.  Before that I was a high school overachiever, had a big group of boy and girl friends, loved my family, worked hard in school and sports and was generally viewed as a driven, bright, talented and caring young lady.  Before that I was a grade schooler, self conscious, faith filled, worked hard to be 'perfect', and was generally viewed as a ‘goody goody’ and a bit of a preacher type.

I don't think any of those pictures of me are really true at all but I'd say the high schooler is probably the closest to who I actually was at the time.  Today, I'm certainly not innocent nor do I think I'm all that naive.  I enjoy freeing myself of drama and have a taste for the simplest of entertainment.  People usually assume I've always been this way.  Why wouldn’t they?  My truth is that I'm a recovering alcoholic, drug addict, cutter and bulimic.  I've lived with major depression for half my life, have received 21 ECTs (shock treatments), and am a suicide survivor.  On the flip side, I have a bachelor's degree from one of the best universities in the country, competed on the national level in both club and NCAA Div I athletics, am a successful coach, a talented office professional, and my family gives me more love than I would dare dream to receive. 

You might guess my view - that descriptions and titles of people aren't really worth a grain of salt.  There's always more to tell.  The truth will always be different based on who is deciding it.  So, as I begin this blog I will relate my truth for you to do with it what you will.  My hope is that my experience might lend support and hope to the reader and ultimately enforce one of my most used mantras “There's a chance for change if I just stay alive”.