Not a Problem

"You are not a mistake. You are not a problem to be solved."

Yup that's from Women, Food, and God.  This is my new favorite affirmation, at least I'm making it my new favorite. Actually it's my only favorite, I tend to think affirmations are stupid and asinine.  I like this though. When I first read it I said, "Yeah well you don't know me."  I actually gave the statement no thought until I was about 40 pages deeper into the book when Mrs. Roth started talking about our inner voices, what she calls The Voice.  I know it as ED.  My inner voice has become so tangled up with my self image that I assume I am my ED. Some days, when I try really hard, I can pinpoint that voice and recognize it as the bastard that it's being but most of the time I plod along and suffer in silence while ED enjoys his tirades. And ED always works on the pretense of trying to "fix" something.  Like there is something wrong with me that needs to be fixed and he has me convinced that being at the "perfect" weight will fix it all...well even I can recognize that as the load of crap it is. But having listened to ED for so long, letting him have his say and going unchecked I've come to believe that there is something wrong with me down to my very core.

We're not made to work this way, I can look at my children and know that.  O was playing with one of her toys yesterday, trying to make two pieces of a puzzle cube fit together that weren't made to go together, and said to me, "It's broken, fix it."  I told her to keep trying and to try other pieces.  She kept working at it, stubbornly trying to shove the pieces together, finally had enough of it and said, "Mommy it's just broken right now, I'll go get a band-aid."  And she was off.  Never mind the fact that the two pieces just didn't belong together, not once did the child blame herself; the problem was in the toy, not in her.  I love that!  Had that been me I would have instantly blamed the problem on myself and my inabilities. I want to think more like my child.  

How much happier would I be if I stopped finding fault in every little thing that I do?  If I stopped focusing on all that I perceive to be wrong with me and instead appreciated all that is right in me?.  If I accepted everything, EVERYTHING, about myself just the way it is?  I think I'd be much, much happier. 

Okay so I don't like my weight.  I am overweight, but not grotesquely so. My weight shouldn't determine my self worth, but I let it.  Why?  Marc recently lost some weight.  Do I love him more now because he's thinner?  No.  Would I love him less if he gained 20lbs? No.  Either way, at any weight, I love Marc because he's Marc.  Now I just need to learn to love Jessi, for Jessi.

 

I am not a mistake.  I am not a problem to be solved. 

Why?

I've gotten a little further into Women, Food, and God and maybe Mrs. Roth isn't completely off her rocker.  I still don't think a peanut butter and jelly sandwich says anything about my belief in God, but I've come to the understanding that's not really her point.  She says we use food to numb ourselves, to hide from what we are really feeling, what we're afraid of. And she's right.  Whether I'm  stuffing myself silly during a binge and anticipating the release of purging or drastically restricting my calories it's because I'm hiding.  From myself.  It's no secret that I don't like myself...the question I can't answer is why don't I like myself?

Everyone who has ever really, truly, mattered in my life has loved me and accepted me for who I am.  No matter what my weight.  I can name people who I wanted to love me, care for me, or accept me that didn't.  That made me feel like crap, made me feel ugly, unwanted.  But in the grand scheme of things those people don't deserve my time and energy and should have no bearing on my self image.  So why do I still feel like the 15 year old girl that was the butt of a cruel joke?

Women, Food, and God

My mother in-law gave me the book Women, Food, and God by Geneen Roth the other day.  I'm about 40 pages in, I would be much further but I keep throwing the damn thing.  Not that the book isn't good, it is, I just don't like the points it makes.  


In the very beginning of the book Mrs. Roth says, "...our relationship to food is an exact microcosm of our relationship to life itself."  She goes on to state that our relationship with food can reveal how we feel about love, fear, transformation, our mothers (somehow they impact how we view God), and God himself.  My first reaction was to throw the book and declare that the woman was a nut and completely off her rocker. How in the hell does a bowl of Chocolate Cheerios (yum mama, home run there!) and the way I eat it say anything about my belief in God, or the relationship with my mother? I don't really think it does.  My mom rocks, she's always been supportive, has never told me I was anything less than beautiful, and would be the first in line to kick ass on my behalf should the need arise.  And I believe in a compassionate, loving, all accepting God who loves me just the way He created me (whether I like it or not is another issue all together).  So I don't agree with Mrs. Roth there.


But I'm going to keep reading.  Anything that I have the urge to throw (when it comes to food issues that is) usually ends up to have some beneficial qualities to it.  

Goal Weight

I've been trying to figure out a goal weight for myself.  I have a number that I think I would look great at, its a nice number, a number I wouldn't mind hearing said aloud at a doctors office, one I wouldn't mind seeing on my bathroom scale.  A number that my husband thinks is entirely ridiculous. In fact my entire family thinks a healthy weight for me is 15 to 20 pounds higher than the weight I picked.  Hmph.

Is my dysmorphia really that bad?  Probably.  I'm really scared that I'll get down to the goal weight we set (I deferred to my family...) and I'll still see a big fat cow in the mirror.  One of the therapists in treatment warned me that no matter what I weigh I will always perceive myself in an improper manner.  I'm hoping not.  I'm really hoping the fun house mirror effect starts to dissipate as I get closer to my goal weight, in a healthy manner.

It's a start

I've had a few, okay a lot, of mini-breakdowns over the last couple of days.  I've had to have my hubby make my food for me sometimes, I've had to sit in the bathroom with him while he took a shower because if left to my own devices I don't want to know what I would have done, I've picked fights with him because I don't like the way I look in the mirror, and sometimes I've just been a flat out b*tch cause its easier to be mean that to admit that I hate myself.

My little sister, genius that she is (and no I'm not being sarcastic she really is a genius...well maybe she's just logical but I'm calling her a genius), said that every time I have a negative thought about myself that I should write down positive things about myself to counteract the bad thoughts.

Here were her rules:
1. For every one bad thought write down three positive things.
2. Include something physical (mainly because  most of what I criticize about myself is physical)
3. Had to be about myself...not my children/husband/family etc.
4. I don't have to believe it, I just have to write it.

I've had a lot of negative thoughts today (surprise, surprise) and writing down three positive thoughts for every one negative thought is kind of a challenge, so I just tried to come up with a positive, any positive, thought about myself.  Here's my list, its not a long one.

• I'm not bald
• I have cute toes
• I have a good sense of humor
• I'm pretty damn smart, academically speaking
• I haven't dyed my whites pink in a very long time
• I make cute kids

It's not much but its a start. And okay the last one is about my kids, and yes Marc had something to do with it, but I carried them for 9 months damn it so I'm taking the credit!

Mini Rant

I was trolling through the eating disordered blog world and came across this comment:

"Eating disorders are just like any other addiction.  Suck it up and get over it already...alcoholics and junkies do it everyday."  ~ Anonymous

Yeah, you're right an eating disorder is really similar to an addiction, some will even argue that it IS an addiction...I'm personally still out on this verdict...but you forgot one key element in your thought process douche bag: alcoholics and junkies don't have to drink or shoot up they can avoid their addiction. People with eating disorders still have to eat, multiple times a day...it's not so easy for us to "suck it up and get over it already".

Douche bag.

Five French Fries

I freaked last night.  Over french fries.  I ate some french fries and I panicked...couldn't breathe, started crying, had to actively try not to puke, called my husband then my mom, freaked!  Do you know how many french fries I ate?

5.

That's right.  5.  FIVE.  I counted.  And they were baked, not fried.  Five french fries were enough to send me into an all out panic.  I'm seriously disturbed...

How do normal people deal with food?  The shit scares the crap out of me.  Mainly because I like to eat, a lot.  I grew up in an Italian family, the food's just good...maybe if we were English and ate fish and chips all the time I wouldn't have a problem.  But no, we like our carbs.

I don't know what it is but the more I like a food the scarier it is for me.  Chocolate, steak, and pasta (of any kind) all make my mouth water and my knees tremble.  ED has convinced me that if it tastes good its bad for me and will ultimately turn me into a whale.  So in order to not panic when it comes to eating I'd have to live off tofu, brussel sprouts, beets, and liver....

GRRR

I want to exercise.  Really, really exercise.  Walking at night with the girls, while enjoyable, is NOT enough for me.  I want to sweat.  I want to burn calories...lots and lots and lots of calories.  But I can't.  Not for 20 more days...it should only be another 14 days but my damn doctor couldn't get me in for my 6 week check up until June 16th (which is a day shy of 7 weeks thankyouverymuch).  And until he clears me I'm not allowed to do anything more strenuous than walking.  And I'm pissed...

I don't particularly like to exercise, okay actually I hate it - well aside from yoga...yoga rocks.  But I NEED to do it, not doing it makes me feel fatter and lazier.  I feel fat enough right now.  And yes I know I just had a baby, and if one more person points that fact out to me I think I might scream...no offense mom (I love you!).

ED Gets a Wife

My first day in treatment for my eating disorder my therapist told me to give my eating disorder its own voice, to distinguish my thoughts from its thoughts.  Like most recovering from an eating disorder I call mine ED.  But since I've been in recovery ED has developed a counter personality, Mrs. Bitch.

While ED likes to harass me about my weight, calories, exercise, and my lack of perfection in almost every area of my life, Mrs. Bitch likes to harass me about my imperfections associated with recovery.  If I skip a meal or snack she takes note.  If I don't eat the minimum number of calories I'm supposed to in a day she points it out.

Seriously, WTF!

It was bad enough having one monster terrorize me.  Now I have two.  A journey into my brain if you please...

ED: You're eating again.
Me: It's a granola bar.
Mrs. Bitch: You didn't have enough protein with lunch, you should eat some peanut butter too.
I don't want peanut butter.
Thank God, it'd go straight to your thighs.
You need the protein.  You're not eating properly.
I'm eating.
Fat ass.
Eat a boiled egg instead of a granola bar.
I want the granola bar and we're out of eggs.
Eggs are fat.
Eggs are not fat.
Everything has fat.
No everything has calories, not fat.
Celery doesn't have calories.
Okay so live off celery.
You can't live off celery.  You need protein, carbohydrates, and good fats.
You need a bigger pair of pants.


If I wasn't certifiable before I sure am now...

Damn Mirrors

I'm really starting to hate taking a shower.  Probably because our bathroom was designed by a moron or a super model who loved to see their body from every imaginable angle.  The bathroom is L shaped with the sink and medicine cabinet directly across from the closets in the elongated section of the L and the shower and toilet are around the corner.  But the part I hate is the fact that the closet doors are mirrors, floor to ceiling mirrors.  And while getting in and out of the shower the mirrors are front and freaking center because there is no bathroom door to speak of.

I don't like mirrors in general but I absolutely despise full length mirrors with every fiber of my being!  I think full length mirrors should be destroyed.  Its bad enough that I have to bypass the mirrors every time I need to use the restroom, that I have to confront them every time I change my clothes, and that I can clearly see my backside while brushing my teeth.  Do I have to be tortured while getting in and out of the shower too?

ED is loving it, naturally.  He takes every opportunity to point out every stinking flaw in my body.  Does he care that I had a baby less than a month ago?  Of course not.

He's lucky we're renting otherwise I'd be taking a hammer to those damn mirrors.

My O

My O is 3 today...wow!  I can't believe how fast she's grown.  I still remember the first time I held her.  Its hard to believe that tiny, helpless, little baby now runs around babbling about anything and everything. 

Happy Birthday O-bug!  Mommy loves you!

I've Got Some Work To Do

When I was in in-patient treatment they were big on positive affirmations.  At every group therapy session we would read one in particular, I stumbled across it again today.

"I am Me.  In all the world, there is no one exactly like me.  Everything that comes out of me is authentically mine, because I alone chose it -- I own everything about me: my body, my feelings, my mouth, my voice, all my actions, whether they be to others or myself.  I own my fantasies, my dreams, my hopes, my fears.  I own my triumphs and successes, all my failures and mistakes.  Because I own all of me, I can become intimately acquainted with me.  By doing so, I can love me and be friendly with all my parts.  I know there are aspects about myself that puzzle me, and other aspects that I do not know -- but as long as I am friendly and loving to myself, I can courageously and hopefully look for solutions to the puzzles and ways to find out more about me.  However I look and sound, whatever I say and do, and whatever I think and feel at a given moment in time is authentically me.  If later some parts of how I looked, sounded, thought, and felt turn out to be unfitting, I can discard that which is unfitting, keep the rest, and invent something new for that which I discarded.  I can see, hear, feel, think, say, and do.  I have the tools to survive, to be close to others, to be productive, and to make sense and order out of the world of people and things outside of me.  I own me, and therefore, I can engineer me.  I am me, and I am Okay." ~ Virginia Satir

I like this even though parts of it I haven't quite accepted and internalized.  I completely agree that we are all individually responsible for our actions, behaviors, thoughts, and so on and so forth.  My main disagreement with the statement lies in the last line, "I am me, and I am Okay."  I've never been okay with me.  But rereading this quote today I realize that's because I don't love myself nor am I friendly with all my parts.  And that's sad.

If my daughters felt about themselves the way I think about myself I would be devastated.  They are so beautiful, and even though they are so young they each have these wonderful personalities that are only going to get better as they get older.  I want my children to always see the good in themselves....but how can I teach them to do that if I can't do that for myself?

I've got some work to do...

Great Laugh

This has nothing to do with ED it just made me laugh.  I hope I'm never personally in his situation but the guy is making the best of it...I think he's a genius!

Ex Wife's Wedding Dress

My Morning Convo with ED

Today, like every morning since Little Bit's birth, I woke up and made a mad dash for the bathroom.  If I'm lucky I have enough time to relieve myself before she realizes I'm no longer laying near her bassinet, if I'm really lucky I can sneak a 2 minute shower before she starts wailing and wakes up Daddy (he works nights). This morning wasn't one of the lucky mornings...I had just enough time to use the restroom and scoot.  And apparently ED had enough time to catch a quick glimpse in the mirror and formulate an early attack, usually he waits until I've had my first cup of coffee...apparently he's an eager beaver today.

ED: You look like shit.
Me: I just woke up...
Not my point, your thighs...if you insist on being so fat you could at least sleep in sweat pants.
Its to hot at night to sleep in sweat pants.
Well then lose some weight, A LOT of weight.
I just had a baby.
No excuse, plenty of women have babies and manage not to look like Jell-O afterwards. 
Shut up.
You were fat before the pregnancy, now you're a whale.
I was not fat...
You weren't thin.
I was losing weight.
A pound every week does not count.  You know how to lose weight, real weight.
I can't do that...its not right.
Those three tires around your gut aren't right.
I'm breastfeeding.
There's formula.
Are you paying for it?
So don't throw up.  Eat a little less...and EXERCISE.
I do exercise.
Real exercise...pushing a stroller around the block doesn't count.
I can't yet.  Second c-section, remember?  I really prefer not to rip the incision open.
You gotta do something. 
I am, I'm eating healthy.
Key word: eating. 
I have to eat.
Not so much, skip breakfast.
Can't Marc will get mad.
Don't tell him.
He'll ask. He always asks. And he can tell when I lie.
I'm sure he'd rather you skip one teeny tiny meal than be married to a mammoth. Look in the mirror, would you want to sleep with you?
Shut up.
Just saying, no man likes flab.
I JUST HAD A BABY!
Keep telling yourself that...

I didn't skip breakfast...feel like hell though.  Needless to say today's going to be a battle.

You're Kidding Right?

I should stop reading!  Or at least stick to fiction, this informative reading crap is going to wreck my fragile hold on sanity...

Out of morbid curiosity I decided to see how many calories a nursing mother needs in a day, after all I have to make sure Little Bit is getting what she needs right? So I need to know the number of calories I should be consuming in a day.  Logical.  Yup, logical. 

In general, you should simply listen to your body and eat to appetite - this is usually all you need to do to get the calories you need. When exclusively nursing a young baby, it is very common to feel hungry much of the time... listen to your body. Mothers of older babies may feel hungrier when baby temporarily increases his or her milk intake (for example, during a growth spurt)... again, listen to your body. Counting calories is rarely necessary unless you are having problems maintaining a healthy weight. (www.kellymom.com)

I should have stopped reading right there.  Eat when hungry, eat healthy, and Little Bit will get what she needs.  Simple enough.  But did I stop reading?  Of course not!  I went in search of a number damn it and I want that number.

1800 to 2200.

1800 to 2200

Oh.  My.  God.

I had to go looking for a stupid number.  

1800 calories in a day.  I...I....I'm at a loss for words.  Seriously, that many??  Sure breastfeeding burns extra calories and yes breastfeeding promotes healthy weight loss in lactating mothers but still 1800 calories!?!  Each day?  That number seems insurmountably high.

I can do this...it's for Little Bit.  It's for Little Bit, it's for Little Bit, it's for Little Bit....

Reasons for Recovery

Right there.  They are my reasons for recovery.

Every therapist I've had  (I need a new one...if you know of a good one in or around Deltona, FL let me know!) but for one, and oh how I miss her, has told me that I'll never recover if I don't do it for myself and myself alone.

Well screw you.

I know they have their reasons and years of medical training to back their little philosophy but I think its crap to tell someone in recovery that they can't recover if their motives aren't driven by self-preservation.  Truth is I don't really like myself enough to leave ED.  Sure I like the fact that my hair no longer falls out, my throat isn't constantly on fire, and I have enough energy to get out of bed to make my coffee but those are all benefits of being in recovery...they aren't the reason I fight the urge to purge everyday.

My family is.  One of my biggest fears is that my two little princesses, O (2) and Little Bit (2 weeks), will develop an eating disorder of their own.  And that it will be my fault, they will have learned the behavior from me.  I won't let that happen.

So for now, I eat for them....  Hopefully one day in the future I'll be able to say I'm doing this for Jessi and Jessi alone but for now they are my motivation.  And there's nothing wrong with that.

Biting Back

"Eating disorders are not always textbook things. They don't have a particular face." ~ Heather Fisher

Oh how true. For so long it was easy to convince myself that there was nothing wrong with me because I simply didn't look like I had an eating disorder, still don't for that matter. Most days I still struggle to believe that I actually have a problem even though I know I do.

I started down the road with ED when I was 15, that was the first time I threw up anyways. Dissatisfaction with my body started much younger than that. I developed much faster than the other girls my age, I remember shopping for bras with "supportive straps" when I was 13 while my girlfriends and cousins were buying frilly little training bras. My mom said I had curves, I said I was cursed.

I remember constantly comparing myself to the other girls around me. I remember hearing this little voice in my head every once in a while, "You're fat you know. None of your friends wear a size 5." Soon that little voice became a giant nagging bitch that assaulted me on a daily basis. "You aren't pretty enough. Your stomach is too big. Can you see over those boobs, you know those are just big pockets of fat right?" Throwing up made the voice shut up...for a little while at least.

10 years later I still hear that voice. I've been in recovery for 2 years and haven't actively binged/purged for over a year but the struggle is still there. I hope to one day be able to wake up and not be nagged by my ED. He bit me first, now I'm biting back.