The Kind of Mom that I am...

This past week has been a doozie of a week.  And that is putting it mildly.  Some people know the story, but most only know half of the story.  In a one sentence synopsis, this is what happened.  2/5 of my children almost died.  Two out of five.  In the same week.

My family history is one that is riddled with layers of depression, and unfortunately, these two of my children inherited the unfortunate gene.  Apparently, this gene does not skip a generation. 

These events had me spending a lot of time thinking about what kind of mother I really was.  What kind of mother has two children who were so overtaken with depression, that they both tried to take their own lives, in the same week? 
Now, usually, I would be very quick to point out all my wrong doings, all my flaws and mistakes.  Usually I would tell myself what a piece of shit mother I am.  Usually I would turn into a "I am such a sucky person" kind of person. 

But this time, I actually thought about it. 

And I determined to myself that I was actually a good mom. 

A mom who loves her children. 

I am not the kind of mom that bakes cookies and does crafts.  I am not the kind of mom that takes my kids to parades, or any function that involves a lot of people.  I am not the kind of mother who spares no expense for whatever they want.   I am not the kind of mother who has one on one time for each child every week.  I am not the kind of mother who enjoys having her kids in sports.  I am not the kind of mom who cooks dinner for her kids.  I am not the kind of mom who plans elaborate birthday parties.  I am not the kind of mother who likes to socialize with other moms.  I am not the kind of mom that is pretty and skinny and "like the other moms".  I am not the kind of mom who enjoys having kids over.  I am not the kind of mom who lets her kids have sleepovers.  I am not the kind of mom who feels smart enough to help with even the simplest of homework.

I have been the mom who has felt less than good because of the kind of mother I am not. 

But guess what?

I am the kind of mom who makes sure she tells her kids multiple times a day that they are loved.  I am the kind of mom who likes to laugh with her kids.  I am the kind of mom who takes her kids to and from where they can spend time with their friends.  I am the kind of mom that puts God into most conversations.  I am the kind of mom that makes sure her kids are safe, and out of harms way.  I am the kind of mom that has "been there".  to all of it.  I am the kind of mom who understands what depression feels like.  I am the kind of mom who knows that cutting is just a coping mechanism.  I am the kind of mom that knows what it feels like to feel so out of control due to anxiety.  I am the kind of mom that realizes that using medications to stabilize your mood does not mean you are weak.  I am the kind of mom who talks openly to her children from a very early age about monsters who look like normal people, and that their bodies belong to them.  I am the kind of mom that talks about sex and periods and birth control long before any of it is necessary.  I am the kind of mom that has no boundaries of what can be talked about, or questioned. 

I am that kind of mom.  And someday, I hope my children appreciate me for who I am. 

I am overcoming...

I have been going through a LOT of changes lately.  I have been changing external things, and internal things.  People would be amazed at how much change I've accomplished if I were to share.

I will share some.

After years of starving myself, I have been complying with a meal plan for the first time.  I may not complete it 100% every day, but I am close.  I have chosen to return to treatment, at the LOWEST level of care, in an effort to get over some of my severe fears, and to get support, as I really don't have any support outside of those walls, and my sweet therapist.  I do have friends and family that love me, but they could never understand what I am experiencing without getting mad or start backing away from me for being a freak.

As anybody who knows me, or reads this blog, I connect to music...and I have a song for this part of my life.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I do...it can apply to everybody going through things in their life.

I am overcoming.  I am proud of myself.

Seeking out your Help...

Dear anybody who might read this lonely blog.

I am writing to ask you to help me with my cause.  I don't usually ask for money, and actually, I am not asking for money for myself, I am asking for a donation to a very important cause.  Something that is very close to my heart.

I am going to be doing the NEDA walk.  (National Eating Disorder Awareness).  This disease has owned me since I was 15, and I have watched it destroy and mutilate so many of my friends.  I am walking for myself, my friends, MY DAUGHTERS, your daughters and sons, family members and all those who suffer from this horrible self slaughtering disease.

I ask for your help in this endeavor.  Please visit my page, and if you can donate even $5, I would so so so appreciate it.

CLICK HERE

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.  :)