Thursday, March 21, 2013

So it’s Thursday and I can just feel the tenseness that Thursdays always seem to bring. In one week from today my friends will be coming and my anxiety has just amplified. I want to be calm, be still, be thankful instead of being overwhelmed. This is one of the joys in life and yet I turn it into an awful, miserable, scary, self-loathing, dreadful experience. I don’t want to do that. I want to look back and see peace, stillness, joy, contentment, freedom. So today, even though it’s an inevitable stressful Thursday, I need take some deep breaths, and still myself.

I get so overwhelmed sometimes that I literally just start attacking myself. I look down at my arms and legs, or pinch my cheeks or feel my lower back and just criticize myself until I reach a place of exhaustion. But I am thankful that it has been a week and a half since the last time I emotionally ate, and I do not want to travel the road that will lead me to that numbness and the devastating destruction it brings in its aftermath. I know that I’m unhealthy still because although I have no reason to hate my body, although I have been eating extremely healthy and well rounded, I still find areas that I need to improve, I am still disappointed in myself. Most recently I have been hating my body because I have been feeling like my rib cage is too big. I know that means I’m just picking a fight with myself. I have felt that way before, and that hatred has led to over eating. Only after I over ate was I able to see how off that thinking was, how I was truly just trying to pick a fight, choose something to hate so I don’t have to feel so out of control.

And that’s the feeling. I feel out of control. Why do I let myself get like this any time something good happens? I’m scared of the unknown. I’m scared of the silence. I’m scared of being out of my comfort zone. Of not being good enough for these people, for not getting their approval, for being yet another disappointment and failure. I wish I could just let all of that go. Who cares if my fridge isn’t 100% cleaned? Who cares if I don’t have a whole month’s worth of food stocked up in the freezer before they come? Do those things really make me any better of a friend, a hostess? Will those things change our time together? Is it absolutely necessary that I am perfect and have everything in my life neatly and perfectly trimmed and organized for us to be able to have a good time? Absolutely not.

They’re not coming because of the food, or the home, or the amount that I have or have not prepared for their stay. They’re coming to spend time together, and if I’m in some hard off planet too consumed with my own attempt to perfectionism then that won’t even be possible. That hasn’t been possible for years. My priorities in these more stressful times get all jacked up. I value perfectionism and the attempt of appearing like I’ve got it all perfectly put together more than I value appreciating the means behind these things. I value rushing, rushing, rushing, scrambling to get everything “just so” more than being a loving wife.

And let me just pause a moment and address my whole approach to school. Somehow along the way I developed this expectation that I had to complete the entire semester of school before it even started. Why is this so? Do I think I’m really that egocentric to not have to work as far as everyone else throughout the entire semester? Do I really think I am that “above this all” to be expected to be 2 months ahead of schedule? Why am I trying to rush so hard to get ahead? I’m failing to enjoy the process, failing to enjoy the joys and pleasures of education. I feel this huge burden and anxiety of failure because I have work to do! That’s absolutely absurd! Calm down! Breathe! I have work to do because I am a student. I have cooking to do because I value nutrition. I have cleaning to do because I am neat and organized. I have errands to do because I am a good hostess. So I need to stop hating this process, I need to take it down a few notches. I need to breathe. I need to appreciate the gift of every day, even Thursdays. I am blessed beyond measure, I just need to be still to see it.

Posted in Ed

Wise Mind Exercise

Write down the emotion mind thoughts and feelings, the reasonable mind thoughts, and the wise mind thoughts and feelings. 

Emotion Mind

  • I feel fat.
  • I feel overweight in my stomach and my lower back.
  • I feel like my face looks too big.
  • I feel like I am ugly because I am fat.
  • I feel like I am not capable of being close to others when I am fat.
  • I feel like I am not loveable when I am fat.
  • I feel like people like me more when I am skinnier.
  • I feel like people are prouder to be around me when I am skinner.
  • I feel like people treat me differently based on the way that I look. Specifically, I feel like people are more considerate of my feelings when I am skinner. I feel like I am overlooked/ignored when I am fatter.
  • I feel like in order to be loved, there has to be less of me.
  • I fear giving up, so I rigidly control how I eat so I know I am still trying.
  • I fear emotional eating, and retracting to how I used to eat, completely emotionally.
  • I feel more attractive when I am skinnier.
  • I do not feel like I am capable of good things when I am fatter.

Rational Mind

  • I want to be healthy.
  • I want to have my period.
  • I do not want to starve or binge.
  • I do not want to spend so much time thinking about food.
  • I do not want to be constantly hating myself.
  • I want to spend my time focusing on more important matters.
  • I want to nurture my body with nutritious food and healthy exercise.
  • I want to be stable with my nutrition, exercise, and mood and I know that binging and restricting will not help me to achieve those goals.
  • I am negatively affecting the lives of those around me when I “act out” in eating behaviors.
  • I am negatively affecting my relationships when I “act out” in eating behaviors.
  • The people closest to me were in my life when I weighed the skinniest, but they were also there when I weighed the fattest.

Wise Mind

  • I commit to stability.  I commit to stability in my nutrition and exercise.
  • My eating disorder is hurting my life. I will no longer use food to solve problems. I will stay committed to stable nutrition and exercise. I will tend to my mental health and stop judging my feelings.
  • I do not have to starve myself to be skinny.
  • I do not have to be 110 pounds to be skinny.
  • I can be 110 pounds but still FEEL fat.
  • I need to change the thoughts I have about myself in order to change the way I see my body.


Posted in Ed

February 12, 2013

Today is a new day. To be perfectly honest, it feels dullingly like an extension of other crappy days. It’s cold, wet, rainy, and drapped in gloom. It’s perfectly suited for my mood, yet our compatibility makes me even more cranky.

I have been having a really hard time with Ed’s changing demands on me lately. Binge, restrict, , restrict, run as fast as I can for as long as I can. I crave my old runners high, I crave feeling impressed by where my body can take me. I crave the high of consistent restriction. The security, the purpose, the feeling of being lighter, more capable of floating away.

I miss my dad so much. The gravity of his death is slowly sinking in and the pain and despairity that it brings is terrifying. At times I feel such an overwhelming hysteria that all I can do is remain painstakingly still, for any more interaction with this fucked up world will push me over a limit I have never crossed before. The hole in my heart cannot be filled by binges and restrictions, and while I never lose sight of that truth, they serve as a numbing distraction, and for that I am grateful. I am not ready to accept this, I am not ready to cry, to scream, to let go, to say goodbye. I am not ready, never ready, refuse to be ready, refuse to, refuse refuse refuse. So I will hold Ed’s hand and try to keep our relationship under the rug, because I refuse to let that rug trip me, to admit that that rug was brutally torn out from under me many months ago.

In just a few weeks, it will mark one year since the last time I saw my dad alive. The last time I hugged the man that raised me. The last time I said goodbye. And though that weighs on me constantly, though my sleep is haunted by that shattering reality, I refuse to feel it. I don’t can’t won’t. So I’ll starve myself until I can’t feel again.

February 6, 2013

Today was such a close call. I have been really struggling to keep my footing with my recovery lately, and today was so close to my binge breaking point. My schedule lately has been all out of my routine and that has really been messing with me. Thankfully, I was able to pinpoint that I was feeling out of control with this break of a routine type of day, and was able to engage in activities that were positive and helped me catch myself become I fell.

Last weekend I was going to go to visit out of town relatives, and this weekend I have family coming in town as well. With these experiences on my radar, I have been feeling extremely threatened and unstable. Schemes of restricting to lose an extra couple pounds, and intense impulses on the need to binge, binge, binge, have been a large part of my thoughts lately. I have thought about why it is that I always- even in much, much easier times, get so anxious around these visits. I realized that the only time in my life I ever really good positive feedback was when I reached puberty and my body changed. I was constantly being complemented on my outward appearance. I felt valued and loved because people liked the way that I looked. People treated me differently- with much more respect and compliments. Now, at 23 and I often feel like my body is 33 with all of the stress it carries, I’m not showered with the same attention. I’ve gone through periods of weight gain and my body looked much, much different, and I was treated negatively from people who mean a lot from me as a direct result of that.

The reason why I get so anxious before visits is because Ed knows that I will be given more affection and positive treatment if there’s less of me. So I hate every extra ounce on my body, especially before a visit, because I know that that will decrease the love that I feel like I’d otherwise receive. And I am desparately starved for love and a feeling of belongingness. So I restrict, restrict, love going to bed hungry with the desperate plea to dissolve by the morning, to fit the image of who these people want me to be. And I have overwhelming and addictive impulses to binge and intoxicate myself in that numbness when I feel hopeless, when I feel like I will never get skinny enough, when I feel like I will always be out of touch of love.

Posted in Ed

January 28, 2013


I am currently quite frustrated, and I have debated for quite some time to succumb to the practice of blogging. Normally I hate to write. I hate how it makes me feel, hate what I write, hate the feelings that are poured out from the simple practice and writing what I think. However, I am at my wits-end, so here I am, an anonymous blogger. However, at the very least, I think it may have the potential to be neat to look back and see the places I’ve been, the things I’ve felt, and see how I’ve grown. I hope this can be a somewhat cheesy reflection piece to see how even though sometimes I feel like the years are just cyclical, my emotions and problems are just on repeat, and I’ve completely at a stand still, that is not necessarily the reality of the situation.

The last few months have been awful. In December of 2011 my father had a heart attack and multiple surgeries to attempt to save his life. During my drive back visiting my pops in the hospital, I watch my uncle’s defibrillator shock him. And that marked the downfall of 2012. Trying to gain control and make sense of the awfulness surrounding me, knowing that I’m losing my dad and not being able to stop it, I count every single thing that I put in my mouth and violently punish myself for my shortcomings for being ounces heavier than the day before. Falling deeper and deeper into isolation, abused and manipulated by Ed, I almost completely lose touch of the outside world, of any possibilities of a healthy and normal future, of the capacity to love and be loved. Then, on September 13, 2013 my dad falls to the floor dead. The misery of that year that I had been predicting in nightmares time and time again happens. I got the call that I had been dreading yet anticipating.

Fast forward a few months, here I am trying to move forward in my recovery, in a recovery that Ed sincerely intents to halt every second of every day. My mom who has never really been there for me is now very dependent on me. My sweet, sweet husband who has so selflessly put himself on the back burner is by my side, and I am trying so hard to fight to make this circumstance as normal and okay as possible for the very sake that he didn’t choose this. He shouldn’t have to have yet another year of absolute pain because of the wife that he married.

The last few nights my sleep has been awful. It’s ironic too, since I had nightmares the nine months leading up to my dad’s death, nightmares of him having a heart attack and me not being able to stop it. And yet not once after his death have I had a nightmare even close to similar to those. Yet the last few nights I’ve been getting awful nights sleep. Worrying about my mom who refuses to be independent, despite the constant radio flowing out of her mouth detailing her made-up accomplishments and fantasy plans. The texting is what has pushed me over the limit. The texting, the stupid texting, of her careless thoughts and selfish motives as if she does not have any idea that she’s indeed texting another human being, a human being that she’s hurting, a human being that she’s damaging, is what has pushed me to my limit. I live by boundries, I love them, and I am struggling at this moment to feel it. They’ve been the only thing that has kept me in the illusion of security, of safety from the insane situations that I wake up to. I am desparately trying to remind myself that they do exist, yet all the while as the lines become harder and harder to become clear, my mother and Ed are shouting at me, indirectly and very, very directly how much I suck, how much of a failure I am and have always been. The constant noise and ruthless, incessant sabotage has left me with one massive headache, and heartache for my dad.

Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the words of the wise brings healing. Proverbs 12:18.