I woke up this morning with some pretty swollen eyes. I know I cried yesterday. I didn’t think I did for long though. The way my eyes looked I’m pretty sure I cried while I was sleeping. It wasn’t the first time I’ve done that. (There is some pain behind those eyes)
My boss asked me if I was okay when she came in. Since I’m taking this big leap of honesty and trying to heal myself I told her no. I told her I had a rough night. I told her I saw an eating disorder therapist the day before and it was a little rough. I didn’t tell her a lot but I told her I was struggling. She asked me if there was anything she could do and I said just support. I need support. We talked for about a half hour. She told me she would absolutely Support me. Then my coworker and I went for our morning smoke break and she had overheard part of it and asked if I was okay and if she could help. I told her I was working on me and eating and getting better. She offered me some animal therapy with her herd of goats. I told her I would be taking her up on that.
I also decided to share my blog with some people I’ve joined in a very small depression group and that was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. I allowed myself to be vulnerable, using a description of the feedback I got from the group. (So vulnerable that I actually put part of a picture of me in my blog!) The remarks and comments I got from them had me in tears. Not sad tears. Tears that were such a relief to let out. Tears that I’ve been holding on to for so long. Tears from my story that I so desperately want to tell in hopes of helping just one person. Tears because maybe I didn’t break that promise I made to my brother the night he died.
I also read an article tonight about exercise and depression and the effects with meds and exercise or both or just one. I was quite surprised about just the exercise. It gave me a little hope that I need to get off my ass and get out and do something. And tomorrow I will do just that! It’s late tonight and it’s past my bedtime.
Look at that, two posts in a row and I sound like a different person. 🙂😘
I went to an eating disorder therapist today. I told myself it’s time to be honest with myself and face all my crap that I hide or justify. It’s helped a bunch being honest not with just myself but with the few people I talk to anymore. I never considered myself anorexic because I would eat. (Sometimes) so I justified not having it. Even if I ate 200 calories that day I ate so I wasn’t anorexic. I don’t know who I was fooling. I’m one of those people that punishes themselves for their behavior by refusing to eat.
It didn’t start out that way. I told my therapist today that when I graduated from high school in 1992 my boyfriend told me my butt was fat. He says he said phat. I heard fat. I am 5’7 mind you and after he said that I went from 152 to 113 in 3 months. I ate a bowl of cereal every other day and eventually got to the point where if I tried to eat I couldn’t. It would make me sick. I got thin and he still was a jerk. Then I married him. (Gawl) Weighed 113 when I got pregnant and weighed 159 when I had my sweet little boy. 2 weeks later I was 125 and tanning in my bikini. When he was 4 months old I spent 4 days in the hospital for toxic shock syndrome. I walked in as dead as a person still alive could be. Temp 105.1 and B/P was 60/20. Yes. 60 over 20. And I walked in carrying my baby. They used 3 blood pressure machines on me because it was so low and then I’d never seen anyone move so fast and swoop me to a room.
I recovered but my mentality didn’t. I couldn’t let myself get fat again. I did not starve myself while pregnant. Those were the three times I took care of myself nutritionally. So much so that when he and I had our second child at 7 months pregnant my doctor walked in the room and said whoa you need to lay off the ice cream. (I was in the 160s). He crushed me with those words. I ended up having a ten pound baby so I wasn’t fat, I knew that but I’ll never forget his words.
Now fast forward through my life and I’ve been one who if they cause someone some kind of grief or upset them in anyway I get such severe anxiety that the appetite just knows to go away. And back to starving myself I go. Since my husband and I have been separated last December, he has been the one feeding me. He has me come over and he makes me eat. I left in December at 164 pounds and I’m down to 125 now. I look so gross. I hide myself in clothes that don’t fit me I rarely take photos of myself and I hide from people that don’t know what’s going on in my personal life because I don’t want them to ask what’s wrong with me.
My therapist told me today that anxiety and eating disorders go hand in hand and the majority of people suffering from an E.D. Had anxiety long before. And I did. As long as I can remember I just didn’t know what it was I was feeling and it went unnoticed. This is just the beginning of my recovery and most likely part of my story I will write one day. I don’t necessarily want advice I think I’m just so very lonely tonight I don’t want to feel alone anymore because today I feel myself slipping into that hole that I don’t want to be in anymore. I have so much to my story and it will have a happy ending but I think for me and my recovery I need to get my story out there.
Of course this wasn’t the beginning of my struggles but this is the point I chose to tell it from today.
I’m new to this blogging thing. I have things I want to talk about and I will eventually. Let me tell you a little about myself. I’m a mother of three wonderful young men and I still have my parents. I had a pretty good childhood. I have an older brother who was my best friend and my hero. I lost him to suicide September 28, 2009. It’s been a rough few years since he’s been gone. He was my first bout with suicide. I didn’t know anyone who had died by suicide before him. It was quite an ordeal to go through for me. I read and read and read everything I could on suicide and why people die by it. I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder after he died. I’m positive he was bipolar too. I joined suicide prevention groups and thought I knew enough about it to know that it was preventable. You see my brother drank a lot. More than I ever imagined. He was a wreck inside of emotions. He was going through a divorce. He seemed to be fighting some kind of inner battle with himself. He had a lot of demons. He had them his entire life. He had to silence them somehow so he ended his life. Little did he know that he would be ending my life as well. While he is no longer in pain, I have carried it with me since he’s been gone. I try not to. I’ve been suicidal myself and checked myself into the hospital last year only to find out that the hospital had no means to help me. They saw a paycheck in me. I didn’t give them that much because I saw immediately they were not out to help me. I didn’t want to be seen as crazy! I wasn’t. I’m not! One month ago on January 8,2016. My step father took his own life. He was going blind and his quality of life was gone. He didn’t tell anyone of his struggles. I miss him but I can say that I do understand. His suicide has completely changed my view of it. Everyone is so big on prevention but who am I to tell someone they don’t need to die? They say suicide is selfish but I don’t believe that. I believe it’s an act that takes tremendous strength and power. I think it’s selfish to ask someone to stay alive just because you don’t think you can live without them. My step father did not want to burden anyone. He was a very active man who used his sight for his living. Without his sight he was left to sit in the house while my mom took care of him. That wasn’t the kind of man he was. He took his options and did what he thought was best. Who am I to say that was wrong of him? I miss him but I understand. For the past month since his passing I’ve done nothing but reevaluate my belief of suicide and whether or not this prevention needs to be rethought. I will write more about that later but for now I just wanted to introduce myself and speak my own thoughts where I won’t be judged or mocked.