I threw up again today.

F#@$!!!!!

It was an unexpected turn of events, leaving me shaky, breathless, and defeated.

And once I started, I found I couldn’t stop.

Didn’t stop.

WOULDN’T stop.

But now?

I want to do it again.

NEED to do it again.

Again.

And again.

The sensation of swallowing food I won’t and can’t allow myself to eat, on a daily basis?

Forbidden foods.

Little Treats.

Entire fucking Meals!?

Washed down with Milk.

Maybe a Chocolate Shake.

If I’m low on cash, a McDonald’s Cone.

Ice-Cream is my FAVORITE Binge Food.

The softness off the cream…

Allows me to bring up harder foods that can’t, and won’t, come UP on their own very well.

Like Chips.

Or Crackers.

Their hardened edges, soft and soggy.

Enough to purge, without stabbing the back of my throat on the way back up.

Rice.

Yesterday’s leftover Casserole…

Clumped together in a thick cheesy wave of Vomit.

Pizza…

Didn’t taste AS good cold.

No time to heat it.

TASTE isn’t my goal.

Mmm….BUT, the Bread?

The Crust?

AMAZING.

The tomato sauce burns, causing even MORE of a pungent acid burn.

My entire Bathroom AND breath will now seriously REEK.

However, I DID savor the ENTIRE “Family” Package of Oreos I excitedly inhaled.

Feverishly licking and Biting the sweet Creme Center until it had completely dissolved.

I uneasily ate the dry Cookie remains.

Chugged a shit-ton of water, and then headed to the privacy of my Toilet.

Shit.

What the FUCK am I doing!?

I can’t believe I’m actually back to THIS!?!

Bruised my knee on the way down.

I shut and lock the door.

Re-locked it.

Ran the sink faucet.

Took off my Wedding Band…

Placed it on the sink.

Thrusting my fingers down into the back of my throat, I hoped “it” happened quickly.

It’s not something I DO on a regular basis.

Although, as of late, it’s been a foremost thought.

Ok, Action.

Thankfully, it DOES.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

Until it’s gone.

ALL gone.

I watch the soiled remains of my broken desires begin to swirl together and travel downward.

A few splashing onto the cold tile below me.

Get rid of the evidence.

Wipe down the Toilet.

Check.

The area AROUND the Toilet.

Check.

Air freshener.

Check.

Rinse.

Brush.

Repeat.

I scrub my face, frantically trying to erase the acidic stench OFF my skin.

Gum.

Check.

Heartburn pill.

Check.

Better double up just in case.

I reapply my Mascara.

Blow my nose.

I apply a lotion with a strong powdery but woody, scent to hopefully cover up any remaining puke scent….

Clinging to my skin like a shroud of a hazy, and thick cloud of cigar smoke.

I hide my Secret burden.

For now….

Tomorrow,

Is ALWAYS another Day.

Try, try again.

And again.

And again.

I feel the need to Purge.

BAD.

I just inhaled an ENTIRE bag of Strawberry Starbursts.

An E.N.T.I.R.E. Bag!?

I HATE myself for NOT feeling OR being IN control around “Forbidden Foods”.

But, the Monster WITHIN needed to be fed.

But NOW?

I have to get it out.

I feel full.

TOO full.

Of Sugar.

Calories.

It’s sticky sweetness is threatening to swallow me whole.

My deterrent?

A Husband’s prying eyes.

His Super Sonic hearing.

I’m so desperate I contemplate puking into the Bathroom sink, as I’m brushing my teeth for Bed.

The tap water flows loudly, creating the perfect opportunity.

It’s now or never.

NEVER is NOT an option.

So, it’s NOW.

Bile begins to rise into my throat.

It burns my nose.

My eyes begin to water.

I quickly bend over, squeeze my stomach, and expertly thrust 2 fingers as far down my throat as I dare, without sounding the Alarm to my Husband.

Loud retching is so NOT cool.

A thick Pink Taffy-like goo begins to swirl down the drain.

Mixing with my Toothpaste, creating an almost iridescent pink Sea Foam.

I begin to smile slyly,

As I wipe the pink goo from the corners of my mouth.

Rinse.

Brush.

Rinse.

I closely inspect my Teeth in the Mirror.

I’ve got quite a few MISSING from this discusting fucking Habit.

Yes, a Habit.

An Addiction.

NOT only to Food, but to also getting RID of it.

Quickly.

Efficiently.

Cleanly.

It has ALMOST become a very alluring and deceitful Art form.

Discreet.

Quiet.

Calm.

I despise the fact that I have fallen “head-over-heels” into a Love Affair that is slowly and silently killing me from within.

What can I say?

I enjoy a candid Lover.

It is ALMOST worth the pain and heartache.

I can’t tell a lie.

I restricted yesterday.

A lot.

A Coffee.

A Halo.

A Yogurt.

ANOTHER Coffee.

An Apple.

Yoga.

Dinner with my Husband.

I wasn’t going to eat, but as you can probably imagine, I was H.A.N.G.R.Y.

And when you DON’T want to EAT with the Husband, it looks a little weird.

And then he gets mad.

Besides,

RECOVERY

IS.THE.GOAL.

Right??

We had Stir-fried Broccoli with Garlic.

My FAVE.

And grilled Apple and Turkey Sausages.

YUM.

My scarce meal took a turn for the worse.

I had originally only planned on having 1 Sausage.

Because all I REALLY wanted, was JUST Broccoli…

Buuuut,

It quickly turned.

I was STARVING.

And my Body just took over.

A “Binge”.

Yes, I’d consider it a “BINGE”.

Why?

Because as someone who is still struggling to actually eat SOLID food, I ate MORE than I wanted to.

Hence,

3 Sausages.

A HUGE Bowl of Broccoli.

I was SO full!?

Like, distended BELLY,

FULL.

I stood up, lifted up my shirt, and MADE my Husband LOOK at my Food-Baby.

He shrugged.

And I thought,

THIS is PROBABLY considered a “normal” meal for someone!?

Okay.

Breathe, this feeling WILL pass.

You got this gurrrrl.

UGGG.

Not fast enough.

I try to distract myself with a Movie on Netflix.

Ug.

It’s NOT passing.

My Brain is in overdrive.

HOW.CAN.I.GET.RID.OF.THIS

I hate this feeling!

Because NO matter WHAT I say or do, the URGE is there.

Slowly seeping outward like a discusting slick black oil.

As gross as I felt, I was craving something SWEET!?

SO, I tried telling myself that THIS is GOOD!?

I can do this.

I’m “Challenging” myself!

Even though I FEEL full, I’m STILL hungry!?

I nonchalantly saunter over to my “Naughty” Cupboard.

Scrounging around, I find a King-Size Kit Kat Bar.

Yessss.

And some leftover Chocolate Eggs from Easter.

OK, the SALE after Easter, so that I could stock up!

Thanks for calling me out…

Besides, WHO doesn’t LOVE a good Candy Sale, okay!?

Oh, you KNOW you’ve done it, too!

Either way, I’m continuing to stuff my face.

Without a care in the world.

Tasting the chocolatey sweetness melt and ooze down the back of my throat.

All I’m thinking about is how EASY it’s going to BE to bring it ALLLLL back up.

Pooling into the toilet water like a messy mud puddle you’d see on a dirty forlorn street.

An acidic strench hovering over me.

I blink.

I’m STILL sprawled on the couch.

The delicate glass jar of Candy tucked neatly into my thighs.

My Husband laughs at something we’re watching.

I am STILL inhaling Chocolate like a wild 5-year-old Child let loose with their Easter Basket after the Hunt.

Partly because I know where this is leading.

I don’t want to.

But once I’ve started, there is NO stopping.

Until I’ve decided that I can’t physically EAT anymore,

OR….

A Bulimic’s nightmare-

I run out of food.

But TONIGHT,

It ENDS with the Easter Candy.

It’s actually quite embarrassing to see the amount of food one can pack IN during a full-fledged Binge.

It’s honestly like another person has taken over, and my mind is being held hostage.

No joke.

By an Evil Fat Girl that desperately wants to be released of her insecurities and inhibitions.

I hear she wears a Cape.

Just kidding!

LOL.

Sorry, I couldn’t help myself.

I am not proud of the fact that I could easily win a Food-Eating Contest if offered the opportunity.

IF I could throw up after.

Just being honest.

Probably NOT encouraged by the Judge’s.

Every person’s binge, is different, but most of us would be absolutely mortified if we were to ever be caught red-handed in the middle of THE Act.

I had a friend once, that was caught by her Husband when he returned home from work early.

She had pulled almost EVERY box, can, and jar containing any food in their entire house, out onto the Kitchen Table.

I’m not talking just cookies, and crackers, or peanut butter.

This crazy girl was eating olives, and sauerkraut, and frosting by the spoonfuls!

It was on the floor, it was on her shirt, and she recalled having remnants of half-eaten food on her face, when her husband walked IN through the garage door.

Not only was HE disgusted by what he was actually seeing, SHE was absolutely horrified that he had now found out WHY their grocery bills were always so ridiculously high.

She went into treatment,

And He left.

Took their Kids, and filed for Divorce.

My friend never did finish Treatment, citing irreconciable differences with the Hospital Staff.

Yes, lol, I’m quite sure of that!

She has suffered numerous relapses, Hospital stays, and most recently, 2 Heart Attacks.

Back to back.

She has not remarried.

And her Kids do not live with her.

In fact, the last time she saw them, was when she entered Treatment upon her Husband’s request.

She refuses to get help.

And she refuses to date anyone.

The Love of her Life is Bulimia.

I think of her sometimes.

Quite honestly, more when I’m about to use Eating Disorder Behaviors, than when I’m not.

I TRY to use her as my own example to scare myself into a “FULL” Recovery.

So far, it isn’t working too well.

Before I actually write this down and bravely (and with honesty), show you what a page from my SECRET Food Log looks like, LOL, pleeease know that I am NOT endorsing this as a “healt8hy” OR “safe” Meal Plan.

In fact, even on a “good” day, I’m most likely still NOT taking in enough Calories or Nutients.

Maybe I’m NOT even considered to be IN active Recovery.

I’m “supposed” to be.

I want to.

Kind of…..

But things have been a little harder as of late.

I’m finding it very easy to slide back into “old” habits.

So, WHY am I sharing this?

Because, well, I probably should.

To show the extremes each day holds for someone, like myself, who IS struggling WITH an Eating Disorder.

Gahhhh, here goes…..

Every day is different.

It depends on how busy I am with work, or how my “mood” is.

Sometimes, it’s due to WHAT has happened or IS happening that day….

If I’m feeling anxious or depressed,

An intense Therapy Appointment,

Opening up about my past or the Trauma I’ve had to live through.

A Dr.’s Appointment where they forgot NOT to weigh me with my back to the scale.

Or an arguement with my Husband or Friend.

All of those scenarios can put a HUGE damper on what and how much I eat that day, unfortunately.

“BAD” DAY:

⚠️Coffee with Stevia x 2

⚠️3 oz. Applesauce Packet

⚠️1-2 Small Halo Tangerine’s

⚠️2-4 Ritz Crackers

⚠️Coffee with Stevia x 2

⚠️3 oz. Applesauce Packet

“GOOD” DAY:

⚠️Coffee with Stevia x 2

⚠️Berries w/ Greek Yogurt

⚠️3 oz. Applesauce Packet

⚠️Veggie & Tofu Stir-Fry/Rice

⚠️Apple w/ Natural PB

⚠️Coffee x 2

⚠️1 Banana

⚠️Dinner with my Husband

There are days that I’m hungry,

And days that I’m NOT.

I DO try to the best of my ability to eat EVERY day.

Obviously, sometimes I win that game,

And other times I do not.

Does it hinder my “Recovery” when I DON’T?

Probably.

Do I CARE?

Kind of.

I WILL admit that sometimes it is a cruel game of whether or not I can eat just a little bit less than the day before.

It is a constant battle of numbers and lists, and uneven comparisons.

And THAT is what gets me in trouble.

I am STILL intensely afraid to gain weight.

I feel that when I eat “normally”, it happens without trying.

ALWAYS.

I swear, I just SMELL food, and I gain weight!

It’s TRUE.

My Dr. and Husband say that it’s a GOOD thing.

That I NEED to gain weight.

That my Body WANTS to be at a higher weight.

THAT scares the absolute shit out of me.

I don’t WANT to BE that “big”.

I don’t WANT to FEEL that “big”.

And I don’t WANT to LOOK that “big”.

I WANT to be small.

Take up less space.

I don’t like being in other people’s way.

The smaller I am,

The smaller I feel.

Then, the larger the space IS around me.

I’ll be completely honest….

I’m THAT girl who slyly is ALWAYS using the Handicapped stall in Bathroom’s.

I know, I’m a jerk.

FYI: I’d NEVER steal it away from someone who TRULY needed it!!

Girl Scout’s Honor.

Promise.

I like to control the things I CAN,

And TRY to control the thing’s I CAN’T.

It will be my demise, I’m sure of that!

Therapy IS helping me.

A lot.

To have someone who doesn’t know me,

Listen to my rambling, sobbing, and angry outbursts?!?

Golden.

Seriously.

I sincerely LOVE and APPRECIATE those of you who DO truly know me.

And listen to me when I NEED to vent, cry,

Or ask for advice.

But there is something to be said for the personal feeling of complete annoniminity.

Because…

It is my OWN insecurity.

It is my OWN fear.

And it is my OWN shame and embarrassment.

It is my OWN feeling of being “judged”…..

Even IF you SAY you DON’T and WON’T.

I have an INTENSE fear of trusting people.

Why?

Because when I HAVE,

I’ve ALWAYS been hurt.

Sometimes intentionally,

And other times NOT.

But, we all know, all it takes is ONCE.

MAYBE twice.

The THIRD time, I’M the Idiot, and I don’t ever want to see you again.

Bloop, DELETED.

Byyyye, Felicia!

We ALL know the feeling of being betrayed.

To LEARN that your feeling’s are invalid.

That your story of TRUTH, falls on deaf ears.

To FEEL the hurt and disappointment.

And to KNOW that you can’t do anything about it.

THAT is why.

My Shrink can judge me allll he wants,

And I DON’T care.

Why?

Because I don’t TRULY “care” about him.

I don’t LOVE him.

I don’t even HAVE to LIKE him!

He is not my Husband.

He is not my Friend.

He is not my Pastor.

And he is NOT my Family.

He is my THERAPIST.

Someone who HAS to listen to my endless craziness that I call my brain, because he’s getting PAID, to.

HE has to deal with my immaturity, and silliness, when things are tough.

HE has to coax me out of my shell when I am refusing to talk.

To pry my heart open, to release the pain that is stored far away.

HE has to deal with my snarky argumentative comment,

And stonewall glares when I get called out.

The painful silence,

Of trying to explain my own inner turmoil.

Yikes!!

Be THANKFUL it’s NOT you!

You may decide you don’t like me anymore.

That I’m “crazy”,

Or have too many “problems”.

That I’m not WORTH the investment of being your Friend.

Or,

That you’ll leave.

There.

I said it.

OBVIOUS abandonment issues, I suppose….

But, THAT is a different Blog for another day!

The more and more I work on these issues, I am learning that I am also someone who was diagnosed, and suffers from Borderline Personality Disorder.

No, I DON’T have Split Personalities.

OR Multiple Personalities.

Look it up.

YOU probably have it!?

Medication can’t, and is NOT needed to “fix” it, but going in and doing the hard stuff.

Talking about the Abuse and Trauma,

And using my learned Coping Skills….

Now, that DOES work.

So, now y’all know WHY I’m in Therapy.

AND what I’m eating at the moment.

HOPEFULLY, curiosity didn’t kill the Cat!?! 😏😘

Oh, the elusive Thigh Gap.

The one we desperately search for, as we twist, bend, and contort our legs in the mirror, just to see the tiniest gap.

As proof that we now have some sort of “elite” status in society, over all the other “Fat” Women.

Proof that our endless hours on the Treadmill running, or restricting our food intake so severely to the point of blacking out, actually IS working!?!

That our Collar bones and Hip bones are proudly and sharply protruding, like a prized piece of abstract Art on display.

Awesome.

That our days and nights scouring our pantry’s, cupboards, and fridges or freezers, shoveling endless amounts of Foods we normally CAN’T and WON’T eat on a daily basis, (Cookies, Cake, Pasta, Pop-Tarts, Chips, Popcorn, and my PERSONAL favorite, Ice-cream!), down our scratchy raw throats.

Hoping, and praying that all the suffering and anguish WILL help us reach our distorted goal.

As we TRY to fill some sort of endless black hole, as quickly as possible.

Then making that despised but alluring walk to the Bathroom, just to perform our all TOO familiar ritual of sinking to our knees, flipping the lid, and hugging our Toilet’s like a long-lost Ass-hole of a Friend, we haven’t seen in awhile.

Ha!

For some of us, it could have been yesterday or earlier that day, but who’s keeping track?!

Repeatedly and crudely, we jam our fingers down our throats until we’re absolutely SURE we were able to throw up EVERY SINGLE DISCUSTING CALORIE we just foolishly and frantically consumed.

And maybe a little blood, too, but that’s nothing new.

Tears slipping down our faces, as we silently brush our teeth, hoping that anyone we may encounter, won’t smell the rancid sour stench of vomit on our breath.

The watery eyes.

Or how about the raw red mark’s on our knuckles, from hitting our teeth, as we expertly glide our fingers down our throats?

What a lovely and pleasant thought.

Proof that when we stand, we desire that gap, but even more SO, when we’re sitting down!

“There is nothing pretty OR desirable about a Woman’s Thighs that, gasp, TOUCH, Darling!”

Mother’s voice was curt.

And I saw the look of pure distaste on her face.

She was VERY matter-of-fact about it.

And there was absolutely nothing sweet about about it.

I cried myself to sleep that night.

Skimped on Breakfast.

Threw away my Lunch when I got to School.

Worked out extra hard at Practice.

Did extra Conditioning.

And then did even MORE when I was in the privacy of my own room as soon as I got home.

Skipped Dinner.

“Ohhhh, darn, I already ate…”

Later, while sitting on my bed, I take out the metal Tape Measure I’d stolen out of my Dad’s Tool Box.

I wrap it around my leg.

Up by my inner thigh.

The most despised part of my leg.

I squeeze it as tight as I possibly can, without “cheating” TOO much.

Tighter.

Tighter still.

Until I welcomed the stinging pain of the metal digging into the most delicate area of my inner Thigh.

Reminding me that once again, my legs were TOO big.

TOO big for WHAT exactly?

I spent endless wasted hours in my Teens and 20’s, measuring, squeezing, poking, pinching, and punching my upper legs.

Spewing the most hateful digs at my Thighs, vowing to make them as small as possible.

NOT an easy feat when you were an avid Runner and Gymnast.

AND someone in your Biological Family had some pretty decent muscular genetics….

That will actually later in life, win you a few Awards and Trophies for Natural Body-Building.

And AGAIN, at an in-state Power-Lifting Competition for being able to be the only Woman in my weight-class to be able to actually bend over, grab and pick up, a loaded bar with #300 lbs. by Dead-Lifting it.

No shame in THAT, I guess!?

But shame on ME, though, for NOT being able to FULLY appreciate that at the time.

Some HOW, some WAY, NO MATTER WHAT IT TOOK…..

I was going to miraculously whip up a new pair of sexy toothpick-legs, while I sat there punching and kneading, like I was preparing my Granny’s Award Winning Homemade Biscuits in the kitchen on a sweltering July day!?!

Mmmm….those sound good right about now, right?

Maybe with some Butter and Raspberry Jam?

Ooo, even BETTER, dripping with Honey!?

For REAL, tho’!

For WHAT?

Who REALLY cares that my inner thighs touch?

I mean, I had to quit Gymnastics as a Kid once because my thighs rubbed together SO much, that my Leotard caught on fire!

Just sayin’!

KIDDING.

Why have we as Women, not actually accepted that a Thigh Gap on MOST of us, is a sign of either small bone structure, poor eating habits, or lack of exercise?

Can we NOT glorify bad behaviour?

Thank you.

Oh sure, there ARE Women out there who somehow got #BLESSED with teeny-tiny thighs, who rightfully so, prance around in skin tight leggings, and teeny athletic shorts!

Proudly displaying their stringy but beautiful wishbone Thighs.

That somehow Magically, DO.NOT. touch!?

Not at all.

Not even fucking close.

Ever.

Even WHEN they’ve shoved their mouths full of salty Potato Chips, have their Monthly female Visitor, AND should be retaining a shit TON of water.

Whiiiich would make you feel a LITTLE better about the whole disullisional situation.

BUUUT, it really doesn’t.

Nope.

Never.

Nada.

I am NOT bitter.

NOT.AT.ALL.

Ok, maybe a liiiittle.

Can you blame me?

It’s the most desired cure-all for a Woman’s self-esteem, didn’t you know that!?!

FML.

But for the vast majority of the rest of us?

Our inner thighs will probably ALWAYS gently “Kiss”….

Ooooo, how lovely and romantic!?

Ok, MINE will most likely be like a full-on facial hug, faces smushed together, slightly suffocating you a bit!?!

BUUUUUUT ya’ll get my drift.

LOLOLOL!

I’m ok with that, I guess.

I HAVE to be.

Because it’s the way MY body is made!

Besides, who ever SAID that thick, toned, muscular thighs were unattractive!?

Legs are legs, despite any delusionsal sought after Thigh Gap.

They help you to Walk.

Dance.

Run.

Ride a Bicycle.

Do the splits.

Jump.

Ski.

Squat.

Deadlift.

Ummmm, you pretty MUCH use them for EVERYTHING.

EVERY day.

But more importantly, your legs allow you to STAND.

On your own 2 feet.

Rooted strongly and firmly into the ground.

Like the Goddess Warrior pose I’ve learned in Yoga.

Even IF you and I don’t have a Thigh Gap.

I’ll take sturdiness.

And the ability to kick YOUR Ass in Leg Wrestling, for starters!

My legs have helped me do numerous, amazing, things!?

How about YOURS?

Let’s NOT take them for granted, shall we?

Today I had the opportunity to visit my old “Roomie” from my stint in Treatment, AND another gal that I also met in Treatment, at Treatment.

It saddens me deeply that they are both back at Inpatient.

It saddens me even MORE, knowing that more than half of the Friends I’ve made there, have also relapsed.

Some have made their way back to Treatment, and some of them have not.

I don’t ever want to go back there.

Ever.

Not just to Treatment, but to going back to being smack dab in the middle of the insane chaos, I knew as Anorexia and Bulimia.

Yes, I am STILL Friends with “Ana” and her Cousin.

I think I always WILL be, they just won’t ever be able to visit me as much.

Hopefully, not at all, as time goes by.

But THAT is a goal that is very challenging.

Can I DO it?

I think I can, absolutely.

Tonight was a foreshadow of that.

Seeing my friends at Inpatient, feeling their fragile skeletal bodies, seeing the feeding tubes, and their gaunt faces, I winced.

And I cried.

I cried for them, and I cried for me.

The 3 of us held each other tight.

You see, WHEN you “break up” (or are trying to), with your Eating Disorder, you grieve.

DEEPLY.

You grieve the loss of your BEST Friend.

The one that was there for you EVERY time you needed her.

Every time you failed or succeeded at a milestone in your life-

SHE was there.

To celebrate with you and to be your shoulder to cry on when you needed Her.

She wiped your tears away, and told you all the things you needed to hear, just so SHE could stay.

She stole from you and lied to you, but you for some reason, you STILL let her hang around.

She’s like that Friend that is ALWAYS around, even if she wasn’t invited.

She’s good like that.

Bitch.

But I LOVE her.

She’s hard to get rid of.

I don’t like to be mean, no matter HOW mean she is to me.

What’s UP with that!?

I’ve kind of decided that I really DON’T want her in my life anymore.

I made that decision, very clearly, while riding down in the elevator to leave tonight.

To be honest, I felt it start to creep into my heart, as I sat there with my Friend’s, NOT making small talk, but blurting out our secret grievances over the last 6 months.

Obviously, MINE are not as prevalent.

Yes, mine are important, but I am NOT the one in the Hospital.

THEY are.

Does it mean I’m not sick enough?

No.

I am just not choosing to partake abundantly.

I am doing the best I can.

Every day.

As I was exiting the building to walk to my car, I saw an older couple leaving as well.

For some reason, I asked if they had been visiting someone there today- duh, lol!

The Woman replied, “yes, our “adult” Daughter is here in the Eating Disorder Unit….

Again.”

Why am I NOT surprised?

I don’t mean that comment to be insensitive.

But I’m finding that not very many of us that are struggling, are able to walk away from our Eating Disorder.

It is a life-long battle.

And not many people win.

I smiled at the couple in front of me.

I told them that I had been a Patient there 6 months ago, and that I had been there visiting my old roomate.

Her mouth gaped open.

“Really??? It’s so good to meet someone who has beat this! You look great, and you are full of excitement!?!”

I chuckled.

I HAVEN’T beaten all of my inner demons.

I’m good at hiding them.

But, yes, I AM full of excitement!

You know WHY?

Because I don’t WANT to be SICK anymore!

I don’t want to HAVE to eat Hospital food, or get weighed EVERY morning!

I don’t WANT to get my blood drawn, and have to take Miralax with every meal!

I don’t WANT to have sit in a Group with a room full of other people who are hurting just as badly as I AM, and tell everyone how I am feeling and WHY!

I don’t WANT to have someone standing outside my bathroom door every time I go, to make sure I’m not vomiting up the nutrients I was just forced to take in.

I don’t WANT to meet with a Psychiatrist every day, or a Nutritionist, to make sure that I am being “compliant” with my Meal Plan!

I don’t WANT to be THAT girl.

The one you talk about….

Maybe out of concern, but mostly out of obvious boredom.

The girl that you watch to see WHAT and IF I’m eating.

What are YOU eating?!

Or if I’m going to the bathroom after Dinner.

I like to FLOSS my teeth after eating, ok?!? Geeeez.

I don’t want to be that girl.

The one who hates everything about her appearance.

Or cringes in the mirror when she tries on clothes.

I don’t want to be the girl who cries herself to sleep at night because life with an Eating Disorder seems absolutely impossible, and she just wants it to end.

The one who abuses and self harms her own body to somehow justify the Trauma she has endured.

I don’t WANT to be her anymore.

But, I AM.

I now have a choice to make.

Sickness or Health?

You tell me.

Someone asked me today WHY I followed JESUS, and HOW I’d met Him.

MY reply:

“How did I meet Jesus? Mmm….Well, I met him at Summer Camp when I was in Jr. High. 👊
I’m an Adopted kid from a rough part of Jersey, a bi-product of a Drug-Addicted Prostitute who was in jail, struggling to grasp the notion of having Children, before making an undeniably difficult and brave decision, signing her Parental rights away to my Adoptive Parents 2 years later…💔
I grew up in a physically abusive home, and I am also the the survivor of Sexual Abuse…..😔
I LOVED going to Church Camp EVERY Summer until I graduated from High School! Actually, I LONGED for it, and personally celebrated it! Why? Besides OBVIOUS reasons, duh, of being able to hang out with my Church Friends all week, and learn more about God, the abuse I was suffering at home STOPPED when I arrived at Camp. My Abuser actually came WITH me, which was difficult at first, but I honestly felt like even just for that short time, I had one WEEK of absolute freedom, both physically and mentally of the abuse at home. 😁
One year we had the opportunity to turn our lives and our “ugly baggage of sin” over to Jesus, during a Campfire log-burning ceremony. I remember practically shaking as I threw my stick into the fire, inviting Him into my life, and praying he’d take me away from the hurt, anger, and shame I was carrying in my life. I got Baptized that same year. 😀
Fast forward 35+ years, but first, let me take you BACK 20! 🙄😏🤣
I graduated from High-School, and attended Beauty College right away that same Fall not far from where I grew up. And, I can’t tell a lie- with my newfound freedom of living on my own, I stopped going to Church. Why bother? 🤨
At that point, the perpetual shame and anger from the Abuse I suffered as an Adolescent, had started to spill out. I developed a severe Eating Disorder, I started drinking, doing drugs, and having one-night stands, to TRY easing the pain that I couldn’t seem to get rid of, no matter HOW hard I tried! Plus, I knew in my heart of heart’s, that I DEFINITELY was NOT living the life I’d promised Jesus earlier in my childhood. 😶
And so what did I do? Like any normal person, out of shame and embarrassment, I ran. I ran for quite a few hard “lesson-learning” years, including a Date Rape where I was drugged, and an Abusive Boyfriend, before the Lord graciously and surprisingly presented me with the Husband I had prayed and longed for, all of my agonizingly and lonely Teenage years!? 😍
We were married for about 10 years, before the conversation of finding a Church came up. After searching for months, I couldn’t stop comparing the Churches we were attending, to my HOME Church!? 🤔
So, due to a Funeral, and a gentle but firm shove- maybe a swift kick, from God, I swallowed my fear and went Home to the Service. 😥
I gotta tell you, I KNOW Satan tried REAL hard to get me to turn that car around and NOT go! He hissed horrible lies into my ears, and unleashed horrible worry and panic unto my brain! I literally felt like I had a Devil on one shoulder, and an Angel on the other, duking it out, between my ears! 👿
BUT, the longing of returning to my “Home” Church, and hoping to receive the love and support I was so desperately seeking due to my past mistakes, motivated me to GET there! I finally collapsed in the last pew in the back of the Church. I can recall feeling a blanket of peace and comfort wash over me like I’d never experienced before, as I let the tears just roll down my cheeks. 😟
I cried non-stop during that Funeral, feeling my heart ache like it had never ached before. After the Funeral, I was able to reunite with people I hadn’t seen in over 20 YEARS!? People I’d grown up with, and who had known me since I was a Toddler, people who were actually genuinely happy to see me after all those lost years!? 🤗
Truth be told, I haven’t missed more than a handful of Church Service’s since then! That was almost 5 years ago! 🤩
What has happened since coming back to Church, and re-dedicating my life to God? I started out as a Camp Counselor at the Summer Camp I attended every year growing up, for Jr. High kids.
Then a few years later, I had the notion to enthusiastically volunteer to be “The” Camp Director! 🙄😄🤣
I was THEN asked to be on Staff for my Church’s Youth Group, WITH my Pastor, who was MY favorite Youth Group Leader when I was growing up!? 😃
And Now? Lol, I AM one of the head Youth Group Leader’s!? 😂
It’s crazy how the Lord has swooped in, loved on me, has continued to heal my heart, and faithfully walk WITH me on a daily basis!? 😊
Not only has He rejoiced in my “Homecoming”, BUT, He has used MY past struggles and triumphs, to be able to help empathize, support, and motivate OTHERS to lean towards Jesus, and learn about HIS amazing grace! 💗
God is SO good!! I’m learning more and more every single day, just how much He is!” 🤓

I’ve been pondering about this for awhile now….

Only because, as someone who has struggled with some form of Eating Disorder since they were 12/13 years-old, WHEN does a “Teenage” angst-filled ED begin to morph into an “acceptable” lifestyle to a Woman in her 40’s?

What do I mean as an “Acceptable” Lifestyle?

Mmm…..

Well,

When does one just accept that they will ALWAYS be living IN the insanity of this “Disorder”?

Vs.

Being “Free” of it.

Forever.

And what exactly does that word MEAN to someone who is constantly bombarded with seething self-hate towards their body on a daily basis by her own Brain?

Honestly.

I’m being 100% serious.

And, by the way, I’m NOT trying to make excuses for not wanting to get “better” as quickly as YOU would like, ok!?!

Ok.

You know what?

It’s actually quite the opposite.

Do you know what it would BE like to NOT live in a world where everything is eaten, measured, and calculated in maddening cynical cruel numbers?

To NOT feel like you have to prove you ARE worthy of eating, tasting, AND enjoying your food?

That you ARE entitled to “mindlessly” munch on that delicious Breakfast, Lunch, or Dinner you just made?

NO matter how “healthy” or “unhealthy” you think it is?

Or what anyone ELSE thinks, for that matter.

That you DON’T have to scheme up deliberate plans to “work” it off by walking, running, or biking around town for hours!?

Or taking multiple Classes at the local Fitness Studio or lifting weights for hours at the Gym?

That you WON’T have to manipulate your self-approved eating “Schedule”, to eat less.

OR skip a meal or two….

Shit, maybe, even the REST of the DAY, because of the horrifying amount of Calories, Fat, and Carbs you just decided to “lose control” around.

WHICH you embarrassingly INHALED like a “Fatty-Patty” just let out of her Barnyard!?

Oh yeah- by the way, your meal will probably ALWAYS look smaller than anyone else’s, because NO matter HOW much you hopefully TRY to fill your plate, you KNOW you will just be cunningly throwing it away anyway.

So there.

BESIDES…..

Name ONE Woman who is also NEVER on some new, sparkling, and shiny, Life-Altering DIET!?

We ALL watch what we Eat.

Keto, Low-Carb, Low-Cal, Sugar-Free, Vegetarian.

Whatever.

The List COULD go on and on, I’m sure.

MAJOR eye-roll just now.

Like, HARD!

GAG me!

Ha, good one!

I DO enjoy a good pun.

Anyhoo-

This.

These are the things that run through my mind.

A LOT.

I honestly do NOT know ONE WOMAN who LOVES their body to its MAGNIFICENT ENTIRETY.

Who can lovingly admire herself IN the mirror, AND graciously and nonchalantly ACCEPT:

A Chubby Chin….including the soft skin below.

Flabby under Arms.

Saggy or droopy Breasts.

Belly Rolls.

ESPECIALLY when sitting down.

Back Fat.

A round, flat, or saggy Booty.

Thick, round muscular Thighs, that rub together.

Cankles. Not EVERY day, but after a long day of standing or walking, it ISN’T pretty!

LOL.

Fat Feet.

Short stubby Toes.

Siiighhhhh.

Name one.

Seriously, can you?

Your Mom?

Auntie?

Grams?

Your sister?

Cousin?

Lastly,

Yourself.

No?

Can’t do it?

Yeah, I can’t, either…..

For REAL.

There, I said it!

I’m slightly CRYING as I say it, BUT I AM actually saying it.

Out loud.

To another Human being.

You.

Can you remember a time when YOU were never ashamed of your Body?

When you slyly and shyly side-smiled at yourself in the bathroom mirror, when you discovered that you were becoming a “Woman”?

Could people TELL?!?

Did the Boys at SCHOOL know?!?

That you were delighted you were FINALLY getting Breasts!?!

Boobs.

And the Boys were NOTICING.

The way your Hips began to fill out your Jean’s, and your Rear-end was starting to become a bit TOO perky for the School-Boys, inviting a few to anonymously pinch it in the Hallway.

And you secretly liking it.

Or maybe it was when on a deliciously warm Summer day, when you were basking in the Sun at the Pool with your girlfriends, and the CUTEST Boy there ONLY talked to YOU.

Thank GOODNESS, you’d convinced your Mom earlier in the week to actually BUY you a nice Swimsuit, rather than make you one!

Can you truthfully tell me that you’ve ALWAYS loved your Body?

BEFORE this nasty, cold, cruel, weight and superficial obsessed world, chewed you up, and spit you out?

Labeled you “Fat”?

Maybe it was your Mom who pinched your chubby Baby-face, and called you her Lil’ Twinkie!?

Awwwww.

Adorable.

Right?

Or maybe she would always overreact by cringing when you’d pull up your pant leg and proudly show off your pretty amazingly and genetically gifted (thankfully NOT by her!?!), muscular calves.

Maybe your Dad called you Chubby and Muscular instead of Pretty, or maybe even Beautiful, in front of all your Family as they took pictures of you and your Date before Prom.

WITHIN ear sight of the two of you.

Gaawwwd, how embarrassing THAT was!

All YOU really remember from that night was skipping Dinner, pretending to not “feel well”, and sipping water with Lemons while everyone ELSE enjoyed their Food.

And laughed,

And danced.

And then made out with their Prom Dates.

While I figured out a way to get Home as fast as I could, to sleep the disaster away.

And eat yourself to death with the leftover Ice-Cream in the fridge.

OR,

Maybe it was “THE” Day.

THE Day that violently shook, undeniably stole, and devilishly robbed you.

Leaving you scrambling to pick up the broken pieces?

THE day that your heart was unapologetically shattered and carelessly ripped out of your chest like the precious live beating Soul that it was.

THE day that you fell headlong down a fucking Rabbit Hole that you just couldn’t escape.

And STILL haven’t somehow managed to.

SO…

Maybe “living” with an Eating “Disorder ” isn’t all THAT bad, really!?

Plenty of people can be “functioning” Addicts and continue life as “normal”, right?

Tell THAT to the Girl who has somehow realistically convinced herself that 3 oz. of Fruit-Infused Applesauce is a “Meal”.

Tell THAT to the Girl who has decided that Snack-Packs of Ritz Crackers, Banana’s, Cutie Tangerine’s, Sugar-Free Natural P.B., Boxes of Raisins, Hard Candies, and gum, WILL be the ONLY things on her Grocery List.

Or on that day’s Menu.

Yes, please,

DON’T forget about GUM!

G.U.M.

Of EVERY Flavor and Variety, for the taste and texture.

More for the taste.

I mean, seriously, how ELSE can you trick your belly into thinking you are feeding it something deliciously Fruity or Minty, rather than actually FEEDING it, to quiet the exasperatingly loud growling pains!?

PLUS, you get to enjoy the lovely annoying snaps and pops that gum provides, keeping your mouth far away from any Food in your path.

OR

Tell THAT to the Girl who wanders aimlessly through her days drinking INSANE copious amounts of Coffee EVERY minute of the day, just to keep GOING!

She should SERIOUSLY consider buying stock in the Coffee Trade at the rate SHE’S going!?!

Maybe an I.V.

That would be absolutely AMAZE-BALLS!?

Yeah, well, THAT Girl’s going to get her wish of an I.V. all right, but it definately WON’T be a pleasant experience.

THIS girl has ICE-COLD Potassium unbearably coursing through her veins for HOURS.ON.END. while laying in a Hospital bed.

Tell THAT to the Girl who will allow Herself to Eat in front of you, but ONLY to please you.

To satisfy your overwhelming, and suffocating criticism,

And your strangled words of concern.

Tell THAT to the Girl who drifts day in and day out, like an angry unapologetic Sea, crashing into the surrounding jagged Bluffs, hoarsely screaming a painful story.

A Story that yearns to be told.

Tell THAT to the Girl who honestly just TRIES her best every damn day.

Not only to please YOU, but to guiltily swallow the remains of what could HAVE been a few minutes of preciousness to Herself.

Without the Clutter.

Without the Chaos.

Without the NOISE.

Just….

Herself.

And,

Silence.

No time.

No worry.

No shame.

Just…..

Silence.

Of her own unnecessary messy and chattering, mind.

Beauty.

Of the Nature that has been colorfully born around her, arriving surprisingly swiftly this Spring.

Balance.

Of all the things fighting for Her scattered, preoccupied time.

And, like the fire that can’t be quelched over time,

Burning from deep within.

THIS is the story of my life, quite honestly.Even when I was a small Child, I ALWAYS saw the same stupid note on my Report Cards, no lie-“A pleasure to have in class, but does not work up to her full potential!”Disappointment.Damn.What do YOU think I always thought when I read those comments in bold red ink?You’re not good enough.You’re not trying hard enough.You’re dumb.You’re lazy.You’re stupid.You’re a failure.I think I’ve always carried that throughout the years.Why?Because even until I got OUT of High School, I ALWAYS read that SAME comment.You know what’s odd?I ACED Cosmetology College!Like, A’s and B’s.WITHOUT really trying?!Trust me, I was just as surprised as my Parents were.My Parents, thankfully, accepted the fact that I was NOT gonna be a Scholar like my older Sister, and encouraged me to blossom with my own talents.I am extremely grateful for that!They NEVER pushed me to go to a 4-year College, because they KNEW school was really hard for me.School was definitely NOT my thang!Or WAS it?In Middle School AND High-School, my grades were…. mmm, shall we say, acceptable?And unacceptable to my Parents at times, too, I’m sure.I was a C’s, D’d, and the occasional F’s, “kind-of-kid”.I don’t know if it WAS, because I never really applied myself.I KNOW I DEFINITELY had ADHD.And PTSD.There was a 5/6 year span of my time in my School years, starting in Middle School and finally ending when I graduated from High-School, that I was enduring horrible abuse at home.Physically, mentally, and emotionally.I was a shell of the person I thought I once was.Suicide attempts.Then, I met “ED”.What an amazing outlet.There is something very calming about “purging”, even IF at the time, it is a harsh, violent, and discusting habit.I can’t explain it.I’d like to chalk up my bad grades and short attention span to PTSD.I just didn’t realize it at the time.I was in:Denial.Shame.Helplessness.Hopelessness.My life HAD to continue on like normal.Whatever “normal” is.So, the inexcusable and harrowing “trauma” I was experiencing, got stuffed down.Hidden.Kept secret.Deleted.Normalcy was craved.But, chaos ensued.UNTIL I graduated from High School.The freedom I experienced came with a price, though.My Eating Disorder became an inner Demon that devoured my peace of mind, body, and soul.I had the opportunity of NOT having to eat meals with my Parents….or anyone for that matter.My time was spent going to School, working at IHOP (I absolutely loved that job! Good money, but also encouraged my Eating Disorder by enticing me with FREE food! A Bulimic’s jack-pot!), Running for hours on end, and doubling up on Cardio Classes at the nearby Health Club.AND frivilously spending every penny I owned on food so that I could binge and purge.At the time I was living behind Woodman’s West in Madison.NOT ideal when you have Bulimia, but the store also became my solace.I would spend my ENTIRE paychecks and tip money.And when THAT money was spent, I’d bounce checks.Horrible, I know.When THAT got out of control, I’d go and pretend to be grocery shopping, filling my cart with useless things, while I binged on forbidden stolen foods.Pathetic.I religiously hovered in their bulk-food isle, cramming my mouth full of granola, nuts, dried fruit, and candies.I’m surprised I never got caught.Can you image getting ARRESTED for stealing food?I mean, seriously, I did it for MONTHS!?It only STOPPED because I eventually moved downtown.THAT is another story for another time……How embarrassing.TRY explaining THAT to a Police Officer!ANYWAY-Sorry for going off on a tangent.Disappointment.I STILL feel like this.To myself and everyone else.Like I’m NOT working up to my “full potential”.How do you break away from that??I’m tired of feeling like I can’t ever NOT disappoint people.Perhaps THIS is WHY I Pet-Sit!?Animals don’t get disappointed.They are just happy to see you.To love you.Unconditionally.NO disappointment there, am I right??DOG spells GOD backwards.I am entertaining THAT idea!💗🐾💗🐾