Drifting. . .

Sometimes in life, or at least in my life, I feel like I can't grasp where I am in the big scheme of things.  I feel like I am drifting along, trying to grasp onto something, anything, that might make sense to me. 

Currently, I am drifting...with nothing to grab on to.  The things that are sticking out for me to grab, are pointy and dangerous, and I'm afraid to grab onto them.  So I drift.  I know deep in my heart that they would only hurt for a little bit, and save me from drifting down stream...but I am too scared. 

Fear is a big part of my life.  I'm afraid of most things.  Driving, being liked, being made fun of, being perfect, being fat, being ugly, being a bad mom, being hurt, being left alone, getting lost....and the list goes on to so many more things. 

So right now, I am drifting.  In a boat afraid to look.  Afraid of tipping over.  Afraid of getting poked by a tree limb.  Afraid of drowing.  Afraid of a never ending river.  Afraid of currents.  Afraid of rocks.  Afraid of rough water.  Afraid of drowning. 

But there is a team of voices, outside of me, telling me to grab on.  Telling me to hold tight.  Telling me it will all be ok.  Telling me it is the right thing to do.  Grab onto a pointy limb....eventually I will be safe. 

But for now....I drift. 

My Life with an Eating Disorder. . .

An eating disorder.  Unless you are unfortunate enough to have this disease, and yes, it is a disease (just as real as cancer), it is impossible for you to understand what it is like to live with one.  I will take this time to try and explain what it is like FOR ME to live with this disease.

I have suffered from an eating disorder since I was 15.  I am now 42.  An old lady who has lived most of my life with this horrible illness.  I have had ALL forms of the disease...anorexia to the point of weighing 72 pounds at 5'7''....bulimia to the point of throwing up several times per day for years...over-eating to the point of weighing nearly 270 pounds....to my current state of the disease, bulimia nervosa.  I have lost over 100 pounds in the past year. 

Having an eating disorder is a profound example of self hate.  It also comes with a loud voice in your head that NEVER shuts up.  It screams at me all day long, and has since I was even younger than 15.  It says things like "You are disgusting.  You are so nasty ugly.  You are so so fat.  You better not eat that.  If you eat that, you MUST throw it up.  Nobody loves you.  You are unworthy.  You are too needy.  You scare people.  You are a monster.  You deserve this disease.  You deserve nothing good.  You should hate yourself because you are a worthless piece of shit.  I hate you!!  I HATE YOU!!!  I HATE YOU!!!!"

It is a voice that I call ED.  (Eating disorder).  ED is extremely mean to me.  Even though I call the voice ED, I know it is just myself, my brain talking to me.  It is like having a little marine standing in your ear SCREAMING at you all day long.  It is consuming.  So, I may seem normal to people, I may seem normal at work, I may seem normal to my family...but this voice is in my head ALL DAY LONG. 

All. day. long.

You cannot imagine how exhausting this is.  It is all consuming.  Hearing this voice, fighting this voice, and trying to be "normal"...is just simply exhausting. 

The food piece:  I feel extremely fat and nasty.  Even though I have lost over 100 pounds, I am still very much disgusted at how I look.  I am embarrassed to be seen...by anybody.  I feel that I should lose another 30 pounds.  AND THEN I WOULD BE HAPPY.  Or so I tell myself.  My "wise mind" knows better.  But that is what ED tells me.  I try very hard not to eat much all day long.  If I do happen to eat more than I had planned, I have to literally fight the voice in my head to try and shut it up.  It screams at me telling me that I MUST purge.  I MUST get rid of what I ate.  If I can't help myself, and I eat, I will eat enough to make a purge worth it.  I hate purging.  It is hard.  It is dangerous.  It is socially unacceptable.  It is embarrassing.  It is secretive.  It is gross. It is exhausting. It is just wrong.  I know this. 

But I can't help myself. 

You would think that purging would make it "all better"...but then the voice tells me how disgusting I am.  Things like "How dare you eat!!!  How dare you throw up your food!!!  You are so f'n disgusting.  I hope you have a heart attack the next time you do this.  You don't deserve to live!!  Your family deserves better".  And so...the voice...ED...owns me, it seems. 

And then I am consumed with guilt.  Both for eating.  And for purging.  There is no winning with an eating disorder.  I have guilt 24 hours a day.  Nothing I do is the "right" thing.  Like I said earlier...

exhausting. 

Life with an eating disorder is dangerous, embarrassing, difficult, expensive...and exhausting. 

Looking for that door...

Have you ever heard the saying, "When one door closes another will open."  Yeah, me too.  I believe it to be true, however sometimes it is a very long tunnel with no door before a new door is found.  And God only knows if that door is locked or not.

Throughout my life, I have had doors close and new ones open.  For example, when we lost our business, it was devastating and scary as hell to a mother of five little bitty children.  But before we knew it, new doors opened and life is much, MUCH better today with no business.  When I had a miscarriage, that also was a devastating door closing blow...but look what happened...four more children crawled through another open door and found me.  I realize it all works out eventually.

So, why this blog post?  Consider it sort of "therapy" for me.  ;)

I see myself in the image above.  Alone in a stone, dark tunnel.  Feeling my way around.  Searching for a door...or even a freaking window.  I have been in a tunnel for a very long time.  I am getting tired of the darkness, even if it is becoming a safe environment for me.  In the dark, nobody can see me, which I like.  In the tunnel, I am alone, which I like.  In the stone tunnel, it is cold, and I am able to hide and hope for a better world.  What if I find that door, and the world is no better.  Yes, that is a stupid fear, but it is a true fear of mine.  What if I continue to crawl around, spend time searching, creeping around this dark tunnel, only to find out that the door I find only leads to a darker tunnel?  What if the new dark, cold tunnel has rats?  That would just be too much for me to handle.  So, I think sometimes that the tunnel I currently live in isn't so bad after all.

Unfortunately, I must keep looking for a new door.  Otherwise, I am doomed to this unhappy, unhealthy life I am currently living.  I must learn to trust that a new door may or may not be better than what I have now, but if I stop searching, I have given up.  I do not want to be a quitter.  So a hunting I will continue.

Even if I don't want to.

Worn. . .

I'm struggling.  Maybe it is a shock to those who know me, maybe it is not.  I struggle with things that make no sense.  Food.  Weight.  Depression.  Isolation.  Social Anxiety.  All of the above.  It is a challenge for me everyday to eat...to not freak out over my weight...to find happiness in something...to leave my house...to feel anything other than wierd and freakish. 

I have been in therapy for a couple of years now.  I still struggle.  I have been in treatment twice.  I still struggle.  I have all kinds of support outside of treatment.  I still struggle.  Lately I am wondering if I will ever NOT struggle.  I have all the reasons to STOP this struggle.  My family.  My life.  But the pull to stay sick and isolated is much stronger, and currently very loud. 

I feel very guilty that I am not "better" yet.  I pray and pray and pray for God to help me find the solution, or to magically put the solution into my life.  But to no avail that I can see or feel.  I feel like He is tired of hearing from me, tired of having me ignore Him, tired of trying.  I can understand.  I am tired of myself!

I have a life that MOST people have no way of understanding.  They might understand depression.  They might understand wanting to isolate.  They may understand feeling uncomfortable about their weight.  But my life is a swirling tornado of all of the above, with a huge slice of guilt added to the recipe.  I have huge guilt for not being "better" yet.  I have guilt for doubting God.  I have embarassment for not being healed in the matter and time that is "adequate".  I have huge anxiety over my looks, which I find to be disgusting and monster like. 

I have huge envy for my friends who are still in treatment.  I am ashamed to say that I wish I were still there.  Still working on kicking this monsters ass.  Still able to have the support 24/7 that I need and desire.  

But for me, real life dictates otherwise.  It's OK.  If I win the lottery, I will enter treatment again, and finally heal the wounds that are decaying away my life.  My family's life.  My poor children's lives. 

So, as you may know, I am a huge "music speaks" kind of person.  Today, it is this song, by Tenth Avenue North.  Called Worn. 

ps:  Don't worry Mom and Dad.  I am fine.  I always am.  I always will be.  :)

Going around...it all makes sense now!

Jason Gray, one of my most favorite Christian artists was on Joy FM today.  Fortunate for me, a wonderful friend of mine texted me and told me to turn it on and listen.  The first thing I heard was him singing this song:



Now, both my friend and I are in the middle of something that is hard to escape.  So, we both, simultaneously, in separate minivans, balled our eyes out listening to this song.  

As chance would have it, amazingly, we passed each other in our vans, and got out in the middle of a parking lot and hugged each other tightly.  This was a God moment.  I love her.  I want her well.  She wants me well.  And we both question God...and fight to see the light sometimes.  She is a beautiful mother.  A beautiful wife.  And most importantly to me, a beautiful friend.  Not only beautiful to see...but her heart holds the kind of beauty that most people will never attain.  

Megan, you are beautiful. 

Anyway........

Jason Gray then went on to talk about something a mentor of his told him once, and it resinated with me.  He said that life really shouldn't be like a huge tall hill that you climb.  Climb, climb, climb until you reach the top and then TA DA!!!!  You've made it.  

Nope.  

Instead, life's journey is more like a winding path around that damn tall  hill.  On one side you have pain and misery, but keep walking.  The other side holds your chance to see why you had to face that dark, bleak, mean, miserable side.  This side is full of beauty and the ability to see God in his shining light.  Then dammit, all of a sudden, you are back on the other side of the hill.  More misery.  More sadness.  More darkness.  But with every lap, you learn more and more about how the darkness leads to the light.  And you learn to appreciate the light more and more.  Eventually, when the dark side comes around again, you know that there is light to follow.  

This spoke to me in a huge, huge way.  I have always believed this to be true...as I know and appreciate my bad times, because they have taught me to be humble and appreciate the good times more.  But to hear it explained in this way, was amazing to me.  


That's all.  Happy Day, ya'll. 

Just Keep Going. . .

Just keep Going.  Simple.  Just keep Going.  Automatic.  Just keep Going.  No thought involved. One foot in front of the other.  

That is where I am.  But I don't really see it as a good thing yet.  

I am going.  I keep going.  I keep going.  I keep going.  Because I have to.  I have so much pressure on me to "Keep Going"....Stopping, or turning around is not on option, because of all the people counting on me.

I don't like that pressure.  I want to put a fast halt on moving, turn around, and RUN to where I came from.  I don't like walking.  I don't like not being able to see over the horizon.  I don't like what can come from that.  I don't like being in the realm of the unknown.  

Behind me may be full of danger and hate and ugliness and death...but at least I know what I would be facing.  

Most normal, healthy people have no clue what the hell I am talking about, but you can insert your own struggles into this scenario and be fine to come up with your own situation.  I am not that unusual afterall.  I may be more open than most.  But guess what, I know most of you have hurts and bad things you hide.  I'm just ready to be honest.  This is my journey.  

And I keep going.  I cry every day because taking these steps are painful.  These continued steps are expensive.  These continued steps are never a sure thing.  These continued steps sometimes VERY MUCH resemble the same steps that would be going backwards.  

I have no idea, none what so ever, what "RECOVERY" would be like.  I have never been close to it.  I don't like what I *think* recovery means.  Right now, in my mind, "Recovery" means being happy being fat.  I don't want to be happy being fat.  I want to be rail thin and happy.  Isn't that possible?  

Then I feel guilty putting so much emphasis in my life about size, shape, weight....  How dare I?  I am so blessed to have such a wonderful family...such great friends... a house...enough money to eat...the love of Jesus in my heart...a great school for Julianne...a few friends that are much more than just friends...they are sisters and forever friends.  I am so blessed that I am ashamed of myself for having the feelings I have about weight and lack of being "enough".  

But I JUST KEEP GOING.  

Just keep going.  

One foot in front of the other.  

while looking back.  

while feeling the tight knot from the rope that tries to pull me backwards.  It is a true physical feeling.  

while knowing that those in charge of my healing are smart people, looking out for what is best for me.  

I have to trust that they wouldn't lead me into danger.  

Because that walk forward feels dangerous to me.  

But God does say He goes before me...............

Life of a mother with Agoraphobia...

I am a mother of five children.  I do the best I can, but I am a substandard mother.  I suffer from many things, one of them being agoraphobia.  Yes...I have a stupid fear of leaving the house.  So, my children get bored easy.  Let me give you an example of our day.

I don't sleep well.  So I am usually up way before them.  Thank God.  Some quiet time to myself.  I have my oatmeal, diet pepsi and coffee, USUALLY to myself.  Unless, one or two of the kids migrated to the couches in the middle of the night...then they may wake up, and ruin my "me time".

Eventually they wake up. I must feed them.  Cereal or toast.  Never good enough for ANY of them.  "WHY CAN'T WE HAVE GOOD BREAKFASTS LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE IN THIS WORLD!!!"  Same old complaint, every day.  Same answer every day...."Be happy you have food!".

Almost immediately we start with the, "What are we doing today".  My usual answer is "Cleaning".  This is never appreciated.  I pray that somebody calls and offers to take one or more of them to play at their house, so I don't have to listen to them whine all day long.

My kids are bored.  I have no desire to take them anywhere anymore.  I hope this changes soon....but for now, I don't want to leave the house.

As the day progresses, so does the chaos.  My oldest hates me, and starts with the attitude of how awful I am, and how she does not care about anything I say or do.  To  her, I suck.  I foresee this getting worse before it gets better.  And that sucks.  She is depressed, and I can't help her.

My second oldest begs to have somebody come over.  I am never in the mood for that.  That would involve me being "on" and entertaining-ish.  I don't want to be "on".  I want to hang out in my own sick solitary world.  She gets mad and pouts all day long.

My third oldest either plays nicely,  hangs on me, runs around like a mad woman with the other two little ones or cries LOUDLY that she has no friends to go over and visit.  She is my biggest fit thrower.  And it drives me nuts.

My forth child is VERY bored.  He wants to ride his bike in the house.  He wants me to take him to Target.  He wants to go to a friends house.  He wants to have a sleepover.  He wants to go ANYWHERE.  He is bored out of his mind.  So, mainly, he runs around like a mad man and has his two youngest sisters chase him.  LOUDLY.  Around the table, through the kitchen, onto my bed, up and down the stairs...and so on.  Then it usually turns into a wrestling match...which usually always turns into somebody getting hurt, and then somebody coming "close to dying".  This goes on all day. Loudly.  And my nerves go into high gear.

My fifth child is stubborn and has the attitude of my oldest. Snot. But a cute snot.

Meanwhile, I try to keep calm and stay focused in my own mind.  It is hard. I have a lot going on myself, and  if only I could take them to the park to run off some steam, that would be great.  But I am trapped in my house.  I don't want to leave.  I don't even like talking on the phone.  Thank God for texting.  Now, if only my mother texted.  I struggle with eating, with having major anxiety and depression.

See, my children suffer because of my lack of lots of things.  I hope someday I change.  I am working on it.  They deserve better.  They are wonderful kids just looking for things to do.  .