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. 

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.

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 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.

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.