I guess you could say that I am a perfectionist.
Ok..that is a minimization. If you look up the word perfectionist in the dictionary..my picture would be right there, with big vertical slashes covering it. 'Cause I SUCK at the whole "perfect" thing.
I HAD to do everything perfectly- school, work, relationships, my faith, my body. I placed this strict criteria on myself, like a crown of poisened thorns. It was my own cross to bear. No one else needed to be perfect for me. I did not wish that on anyone. But for myself- it was all I would accept.
I knew God would love me if I were not perfect. My parents would still maybe love me (though my childhood sent nothing but contrary messages to that statement). Ultimately it came down to me: Could I love msyelf? Could I love the flawed human being that remains when the day was said and done? When I was broken, bleeding, and bruised, crying on the hard, cold floor- desperately searching for that magic pill to take the shame and guilt away- to erase all the horrible things I have done. I was searching for something...anything to distract me. From myself, my fears, my screw ups and weaknesses. From having to accept and admit that I am not perfect.
There is one task I am grateful I could not perform perfectly- the perfection of "Ana", my eating disorder.
Or else I would be dead.
I suddenly became aware that I no longer had control of my eating disorder- It had control over me. It was time for help. The last five months have been a series of "AHA!" moments for me as I begin this business of recovery~
1. I AM NOT PERFECT
2. NO BODY IS
3. Perfection can only be found in one person-GOD! And I have been minimizing the glorious gift He has bestowed upon the world- His Son, Jesus Christ, whom God sent to take away the sins of the world. He placed them on His PERFECT body and had them nailed to the cross. He took my sin, shame, and wrongdoings away, preventing me from having to suffer the same death He did. So why am I STILL crucifying myself slowly instead of just accepting that it was already done. It is finished.
Because I AM NOT PERFECT. Because I am a flawed human being who cannot comprehend that my Higher Power loves me- maladies and all. I am enough, just the way I am. No matter what size I am, what letter grades turn out to on that transcript, or how many jobs are listed on my resume. God loves me the same today as He did when I was born and had not accomplished A THING in this world, but pooped, ate, and cried. (HECK! I still feel that is ALLLL I DOOO!! HAHA)
And He will love me the same when I die and return to Him when the time comes.
To Him I am enough.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Shopping~
My brother and I went shopping today at the mall. I love spending time with my brother and shopping is one thing that we enjoy doing together. It joins two completely different lives and souls together, as brother and sister. It brings us together and gives us some common ground to share.
While I peruse the sweats and over sized t-shirts, he prods me to try on flowy tank tops and airy summer dresses- Not as "safe" as the sweats, but outfits that will not be too triggering either.
The dressing room is right up there with hell in my perspective.
Long, full body mirrors and shady lighting with sketchy doors that don't shut all the way. I slowly enter into the pits of despair where I "resume the position"(Quickly turned away from the mirror to try on the clothes as quickly as humanly possible yet slow enough NOT to hang myself with all the straps and impale myself with buckles and what not). I then crack the door open a smidgen to show no one else but my brother what my new body looks like in the clothes that are now a MUCH different size than they were five months ago. My brother is non-judgmental. He either squeals in delight or gives it the thumbs down. No comments, no questions, no mocking. I quickly tear off the clothing and replace it with the clothes before, quickly leaving the room. I wish I could leave ED's mocking voice behind there as well.
" Look at ALLLLL this flesh and fat you have put on...woooooo boy...yep, that is one flabbbbby lady there. Mmmmhmmm get a good view of that disgusting-ness."
"Shut the hell up." Some day, I would love to be able to try clothes on without wanting to curl up into a ball and cry. To not give a hoot about how "that" pair of jeans fits differently than just the day before. I want to twirl around, stick my tongue out, and blow off the voice that taunts me mercilessly every time I pass by a reflective surface.
I want to be able to shout:
"FEAST YOUR EYES LOVAAAAAS!!!!!" and feel ok with me.
I don't know if that day will ever come. But for now, I tell myself that I am God's girl...His creation, Made in HIS image. So when I get down on myself for sportin' a booty and "love" handles..(by the way who the HELL made up that name for them..LOVE...HAAAA...bite me...) I will keep that chin up-
"For I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are Your works." Psalm 139:14 <3
While I peruse the sweats and over sized t-shirts, he prods me to try on flowy tank tops and airy summer dresses- Not as "safe" as the sweats, but outfits that will not be too triggering either.
The dressing room is right up there with hell in my perspective.
Long, full body mirrors and shady lighting with sketchy doors that don't shut all the way. I slowly enter into the pits of despair where I "resume the position"(Quickly turned away from the mirror to try on the clothes as quickly as humanly possible yet slow enough NOT to hang myself with all the straps and impale myself with buckles and what not). I then crack the door open a smidgen to show no one else but my brother what my new body looks like in the clothes that are now a MUCH different size than they were five months ago. My brother is non-judgmental. He either squeals in delight or gives it the thumbs down. No comments, no questions, no mocking. I quickly tear off the clothing and replace it with the clothes before, quickly leaving the room. I wish I could leave ED's mocking voice behind there as well.
" Look at ALLLLL this flesh and fat you have put on...woooooo boy...yep, that is one flabbbbby lady there. Mmmmhmmm get a good view of that disgusting-ness."
"Shut the hell up." Some day, I would love to be able to try clothes on without wanting to curl up into a ball and cry. To not give a hoot about how "that" pair of jeans fits differently than just the day before. I want to twirl around, stick my tongue out, and blow off the voice that taunts me mercilessly every time I pass by a reflective surface.
I want to be able to shout:
"FEAST YOUR EYES LOVAAAAAS!!!!!" and feel ok with me.
I don't know if that day will ever come. But for now, I tell myself that I am God's girl...His creation, Made in HIS image. So when I get down on myself for sportin' a booty and "love" handles..(by the way who the HELL made up that name for them..LOVE...HAAAA...bite me...) I will keep that chin up-
"For I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are Your works." Psalm 139:14 <3
The Disease~
In my disease, I had many rules for myself. Listed below are three I clung to.
1. Food=BAD
2. ME=BAD
3.Running, not eating, no sleeping=GOOD
Little did I know that these rules do not sustain life.
2nd semester of Sophomore year is where it all came to a head.
1. I have moved eight times in my life. The hardest move transpired my senior year of high school. Then again when I moved to my college town.
2. My parents separated. My view of marriage forever shattered.
3. I fucked up every relationship I was in. With men, with my friends, with my family- with God.
4. I was so sick and in my disease I had to pull out of school. I would not graduate in four years with my friends. I had failed.
5. I was miserable. Despised myself. Had no idea what the hell I was doing in life. I was powerless over my disease. My addiction. And my life had become unmanageable.
I had wished to become invisible. Be careful what you wish for..you just might get it. I wish I could go back in time and tell that ten year old little girl who had just been told she was fat, that her worth was based on a number, and that she was nothing if you couldn't see bone. If you did not sweat. If you did not bleed. I wish I could have a re-do.
February 17, 2011 I got a chance to have somewhat of that desired re-do.
February 17, 2011 I entered into an Eating Disorder intensive inpatient facility in Arizona.
April 17, 2011 flew to California to continue my treatment in a less intensive facility.
June 24, 2011 returned home to my beautiful family and friends who love me and support me no matter my size, weight, or image. This is my journey. My New Journey.
R.I.P. ED
1. Food=BAD
2. ME=BAD
3.Running, not eating, no sleeping=GOOD
Little did I know that these rules do not sustain life.
2nd semester of Sophomore year is where it all came to a head.
1. I have moved eight times in my life. The hardest move transpired my senior year of high school. Then again when I moved to my college town.
2. My parents separated. My view of marriage forever shattered.
3. I fucked up every relationship I was in. With men, with my friends, with my family- with God.
4. I was so sick and in my disease I had to pull out of school. I would not graduate in four years with my friends. I had failed.
5. I was miserable. Despised myself. Had no idea what the hell I was doing in life. I was powerless over my disease. My addiction. And my life had become unmanageable.
I had wished to become invisible. Be careful what you wish for..you just might get it. I wish I could go back in time and tell that ten year old little girl who had just been told she was fat, that her worth was based on a number, and that she was nothing if you couldn't see bone. If you did not sweat. If you did not bleed. I wish I could have a re-do.
February 17, 2011 I got a chance to have somewhat of that desired re-do.
February 17, 2011 I entered into an Eating Disorder intensive inpatient facility in Arizona.
April 17, 2011 flew to California to continue my treatment in a less intensive facility.
June 24, 2011 returned home to my beautiful family and friends who love me and support me no matter my size, weight, or image. This is my journey. My New Journey.
R.I.P. ED
My addiction~
For me, there were few things that were certain in life.
1. I would always live live in the same town growing up.
2. My parents were the epitomy of marriage, destined to be together forever. My parents were beside God. They were perfect. They would be around forever.
3. I would be a loving mother and attractive wife.
4. I would go to college and graduate in four years tops.
5. Because I am a Christian, I would A. always be happy. B. Never have any problems. C. Know God's plan for my life ALWAYS.
You are all probably laughing at me right now thinking how naive I was. Laugh..laugh till you cry. Because those 5 knowns, contstants, truths were FACTS in my life. I thought they were entirely true. I obviously had not payed attention in science. Because facts are based on humans flawed thinking, their day dreams and ideas they one day decide to try and prove. Science cannot be PROVEN. But I thought my thesis in life was IT. Boy, was I wrong. Still laughing?
I have had an eating disorder as long as I can remember. I can remember being eight years old and placing myself on my first diet. I wanted to be like mommy. Little did I know "mommy" had a problem. It would be years before I found out the scary truth and then I would swear I would never be like her. Unfortunately, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and at the age of 14, my parents intervened on my first attempt at perfecting my eating disorder. Their attempts failed. I was "ok" for a little. Then I graduated and went to college- I was freeeeeeee. Ah! Freedom...It tasted like...Diet coke, mustard, pickles, splenda and whatever else I could find that was zero calories. Glorious.
It was at school I discovered the beauty of (harp music) the gym. Even more beautiful, was the fact that I had no one there to monitor how many times I went to the gym, what I did there, and the time I spent there. I picked up running. It was like picking up ecstasy or heroine, but without the creepy side affects. It was free, real, AND socially acceptable- even praised. And this was how my drug of choice came to be. It was easy as 1, 2, 3. Or 5 or 6 or heck! 10 miles. It was never enough. I was trapped. Endlessly, hopelessly in love.
1. I would always live live in the same town growing up.
2. My parents were the epitomy of marriage, destined to be together forever. My parents were beside God. They were perfect. They would be around forever.
3. I would be a loving mother and attractive wife.
4. I would go to college and graduate in four years tops.
5. Because I am a Christian, I would A. always be happy. B. Never have any problems. C. Know God's plan for my life ALWAYS.
You are all probably laughing at me right now thinking how naive I was. Laugh..laugh till you cry. Because those 5 knowns, contstants, truths were FACTS in my life. I thought they were entirely true. I obviously had not payed attention in science. Because facts are based on humans flawed thinking, their day dreams and ideas they one day decide to try and prove. Science cannot be PROVEN. But I thought my thesis in life was IT. Boy, was I wrong. Still laughing?
I have had an eating disorder as long as I can remember. I can remember being eight years old and placing myself on my first diet. I wanted to be like mommy. Little did I know "mommy" had a problem. It would be years before I found out the scary truth and then I would swear I would never be like her. Unfortunately, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree and at the age of 14, my parents intervened on my first attempt at perfecting my eating disorder. Their attempts failed. I was "ok" for a little. Then I graduated and went to college- I was freeeeeeee. Ah! Freedom...It tasted like...Diet coke, mustard, pickles, splenda and whatever else I could find that was zero calories. Glorious.
It was at school I discovered the beauty of (harp music) the gym. Even more beautiful, was the fact that I had no one there to monitor how many times I went to the gym, what I did there, and the time I spent there. I picked up running. It was like picking up ecstasy or heroine, but without the creepy side affects. It was free, real, AND socially acceptable- even praised. And this was how my drug of choice came to be. It was easy as 1, 2, 3. Or 5 or 6 or heck! 10 miles. It was never enough. I was trapped. Endlessly, hopelessly in love.
Winter
For those who know me, I am named after the season winter. There are several things that are ironic with this statement.
1. I was born in Floria
2. It WAS my parents favorite season for a short time, but now thanks to record breaking snowfalls where we live, they have had their fill of the snow and thus, the season.
3. I hate the cold.
I cannot tolerate it. No seriously. For the last five years of my life, I have been freezing with no hopes in getting warm. No many how many layers I wore or blankets I wrapped my body in, I was chilled to the bone. No amount of tea could warm my innards. I was constantly covered in goose bumps.
No, I don't live in the Arctic Tundra. I wasn't subjected to any overwhelmingly cold climates in those five years. The truth is, it was my fault! I subjected myself to years filled with misery and mystifying self-harm that only I could understand. It was I who held on to my eating disorder.
For years I was fighting a losing battle no one could see on the outside- it was all in my head. I was David trying to stone a Goliath, my eating disorder. The problem was, I thought I could beat down this demon by myself, with my own strength, without the help of anyone. I couldn't understand why Goliath just kept getting bigger and louder in my head as I progressivly grew weaker and weaker. What I did not understand is David didn't slay the giant- God did. But I didn't want God's help. In fact, I didn't want anyones help. I wanted to be invisible. Inconspicuous. A small whisper in an immense crowd.
"Drown me out," I beg. My inner self is a stark contrast. I crave your praise. I seek your acceptance. I need to know that I am noticed and not only liked, but loved. This side of me is selfish I have been told. It never got what it needed as a little girl. The two parents could not be there for me in the way that little girl needed. So in order to shut up that little girl who was screaming for a voice, searching for recognition- I starved her.
1. I was born in Floria
2. It WAS my parents favorite season for a short time, but now thanks to record breaking snowfalls where we live, they have had their fill of the snow and thus, the season.
3. I hate the cold.
I cannot tolerate it. No seriously. For the last five years of my life, I have been freezing with no hopes in getting warm. No many how many layers I wore or blankets I wrapped my body in, I was chilled to the bone. No amount of tea could warm my innards. I was constantly covered in goose bumps.
No, I don't live in the Arctic Tundra. I wasn't subjected to any overwhelmingly cold climates in those five years. The truth is, it was my fault! I subjected myself to years filled with misery and mystifying self-harm that only I could understand. It was I who held on to my eating disorder.
For years I was fighting a losing battle no one could see on the outside- it was all in my head. I was David trying to stone a Goliath, my eating disorder. The problem was, I thought I could beat down this demon by myself, with my own strength, without the help of anyone. I couldn't understand why Goliath just kept getting bigger and louder in my head as I progressivly grew weaker and weaker. What I did not understand is David didn't slay the giant- God did. But I didn't want God's help. In fact, I didn't want anyones help. I wanted to be invisible. Inconspicuous. A small whisper in an immense crowd.
"Drown me out," I beg. My inner self is a stark contrast. I crave your praise. I seek your acceptance. I need to know that I am noticed and not only liked, but loved. This side of me is selfish I have been told. It never got what it needed as a little girl. The two parents could not be there for me in the way that little girl needed. So in order to shut up that little girl who was screaming for a voice, searching for recognition- I starved her.
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