Success is a choice~

I walked by a car the other day that had the quote, "Success is a choice" on it the other day.
I totally agree with this statement. The unfortunate thing, however, is I am a master self sabotage- er.
The choice can be plain as day in front of me and I still choose to ignore it and look the other way.
Winter, you need to stop running temporarily you are injured.
Winter, you really should take better care of yourself...you are looking a little frail.
And the inevitable..Winter you need to stop this or you will die.
The fact of the matter was, I couldn't. I was consumed. My only "choice" was death. I couldn't stop what I was doing on my own.
Today, I have choices. I have the choice to succeed in this "recovery" thing or choose to ignore my team's recommendations for me.
On Friday, I will have been out of treatment and back home a month. And I need to integrity check. WOW its been a long time since I have done one of these! So here we go~ I can tell that my "choices" are beginning to be tainted by ED again. My choices to skimp a little here and add some cardio in there. Now, granted, it has not affected me YET. But I know where these choices take me- I can play out the tape...all the way back to freakin rehab in Arizona. And God knows I NEVER want to end up there again. I just needed to come clean. And I will need to come clean on Friday with my dietitian. Because it is getting to that place where I am beginning to fear my choices- My meal plan- to fear surrendering again. So that's what I need to do. Because the secret of success...is surrender. To your higher power. To your team. And I just keep thinkin' I can keep doing it by myself. But I cant. I need all of you. No more secrets. I'm letting you know now. Progress..not perfection.

RAIN~

The rain began last night. Thunder and lightning graced the sky periodically. The rain continued into today in the form of a steady down fall.
I went for a walk in the rain. I LOVE walking in the rain. It clears the cobwebs from my mind. The droplets wash away all doubt, pain, suffering, and care in that moment.
Wash over me-make me new.
The rain makes me long to be a child again. I want to make a giant blanket fort, find flashlights, and pretend we are astronauts on a long anticipated venture. Indians hiding from fierce storms. A family living back in the Colonial times.
I want to lose myself in between the covers of a mystery book, lost in the wonder and angst of what happens to Bobby and Sue as they solve the mystery of the century.
I want to run outside. Climb trees. Seek out adventure. I want to fall and feel the pain and have you pick me up, kiss the boo boo, and reassure me that I am OK- It is just a scrape.
I want to finger paint, color outside the lines, sculpt masterpieces that would shame Michelangelo with Play Dough.
I want to play dolls and script their life, making every aspect perfect, knowing all along the plan for their life.
I want to pretend the world is not rotating today- that all time is frozen and it is just you and me.
I want you to look at me the way you once did. I want to hold your hand and hear about your day. I want to tell you my dreams, all the while feeling my insides burning with anticipation and hope. I want to be able to trust. To feel. To know that I am safe in your arms and that no matter what happens, I have you.
I want to be ignorant of all the world says- all that it requires of me. It is on days like today that my inner child creeps out and begs to play. My little Winnie whispers to me, patiently, beautifully- twirling around in her black, sequined leotard. She is fearless. She is un-knowing. She is willing. She is PERFECT.
Why? Why cannot I see that little girl in the mirror staring back at me with her big brown eyes and waist-length curly hair? Why can't I hear her simple requests for fun- for life- for food- and for love and meet them? Why do I neglect this small child yearning for love and attention? If I could go back in time and tell her anything, I would simply tell her this:
"Take your time little one. One day at a time. You are a daughter of God. You are loved. You are beautiful."
Please open your eyes. See the rain. Feel its promise. Drink it in.

Back in Black*

Soooo I think my funk started with this whole stupid job thing. I get stressed over choices. I get stressed when they are a big deal to me and they involve other people. I get stressed when it means my choice might hurt someone else and impact them negatively.

I think I dove farther into my funk on Friday when I met with my beautiful dietitian. She weighed me. And the numbers  did not move. My weight was stable for a week. For once! Now, this should be a great thing, right? I should be happy. Oh Lordy, here I go with the “shoulds” again. Well I was not jumping up and down with happiness or joy. In fact, I just kinda sat there. Ok. Cool. Whatever.

I felt numb. Sedated. Apathetic. Checked out.

 I left and it hit me. I felt…sad. Depressed. Confused. Disgusted.  I have become so accustomed to every appointment with the dietitian being a big fiasco, usually ending up with me blubbering hysterically. I am usually forced to have to do things I am not comfortable with. The usual….you need to eat more-walk less..blah blah blah. However, this appointment did not follow the status quo. It went..fine. Well many would argue. But I maintained.  My eating disorder was PISSED OFF.

“What do you mean you maintained? Um..hello! Have you seen yourself!  You disgust me.”

The eating disordered, messed up, sick side of me was sad- angry even- that I had not dropped. I realized that I am really going to have to do this. I am really going to have maintain this new body of mine. This new body and I are not friends. We are closer to the enemy side of things. In fact, I really freaking hate me right now. I kinda wish I could just start cuttin’ pieces of my fleshy, fat rear right off! OK, a little morbid I know… I realize that. But I’m serious. This whole new body…ya..not so much a fan right now. There is little I can do about that right now but accept where I am at in this moment and get through it. Not pussy foot around it. Or try and jump over it. Trudge right through this slime pit. :/ Blarg.

So I accept that I am where I am at.  I am in mourning. There is creepy dungeon music playing out of a massive organ as I am swathed in black attire mourning the loss of what was. What I have worked for my entire life. I worked so hard to achieve greatness, attain perfection. Until I woke up one day and realized this was all wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen. It’s not supposed to be like this. I was supposed to be happy! And all I felt...was death. So now I must bury those years that are said and done. Dead and gone. Place them in a casket, lower them i to the ground, and place a tombstone (luckily not my own..though it was a close call) above marking the end of sickness- the beginning of life. My life. Not ED’s. Here’s my eulogy to the bastard.

R.I.P

First and foremost, goodbye to my “sick” body. There are times where I really, really miss you. A lot.

Goodbye to forever feeling internally cold- chilled to the bone by uncertain death.

Goodbye to that favored feeling of emptiness- the hollow sensation in my stomach. Pure, clean, beautiful hunger.

Goodbye to the ability to poke and prod and squeeze and feel nothing but skin upon bone.

Goodbye to purple,  paper thin skin always covered in lanugo, bruises, and goose bumps.

Goodbye to the inability to sleep through the night because your body keeps waking up due to it thinking it will not get through the night without nutrients.

Goodbye to THAT size you so longed to be. Goodbye to surpassing that size and having literally nothing fit you. Goodbye to these  “favorite” clothes. Those sizes should be discontinued.

Goodbye to the stares, the raised eyebrows, the frowns, the questions and concerns caused by your appearance. Goodbye to the tears and heartache you bestowed onto those who loved you.

Goodbye to loss of memory, chronic headache and fatigue,  and no recall ability. To the constant war inside your head. To not being able to get through one paragraph, no scratch that, sentence of a book without having to re-read it.

Goodbye to the blood, sweat, and tears devoted to your addiction.

Goodbye to compulsively working towards a slow suicide.

Goodbye to countless hours spent acting out- all the time wasted you will never get back.

Goodbye to the lies. The obsession. The fear. The shame. The guilt. The hatred. The hypocrisy. The torment. The control. The worry. The anguish. THE HELL YOU LIVED IN.

Goodbye to Vogue, US Weekly, People, Women’s Health, Runners Mag, and all the other bullshit out there that should be burned.

To America’s Top Model. Go eat a freaking cheeseburger.

Goodbye to wearing four layers of clothing and still be shivering- lips blue, bones aching.

Goodbye to the theory that less is more. The lower the better-the faster the better-smaller the better.

Goodbye to numbers. Sizes. Measurements. Calorie counting. Label checking. Mirrors. Scales. Fitting rooms.

Goodbye to the digits slowly dropping. Slowly dying. Melting. Evaporating. Disappearing into ashes. These numbers- till death do us part.

Let go~

"Let go and let God."

Why can't I seem to listen to this seeminly simple five word piece of advice?

:/

Choices~

I am NOT good with choices.
Especially when it comes to the choice of where the heck should I work!
The care-taking co-dependend side of me says I should just stay with Target- because I do not want them to be mad that I am ditching them. Plus, it is safe. And I am boring.
The other side of me wants more hours and more money. Thus, I need something different.
But the perfectionist side is scared that I am going to make the wrong choice- screw it up somehow. Since I usually have a good knack for that.
Just when I think I have it all figured out, I find out...oh...I don't.
Shiiiiizzzzzz. What to do what to do....:/
I want a burning bush. I want the voice of God to just YELL out which job I'm supposed to take.
To quote Brittany Spears...."GIVE ME A SIGGGGGN! HIT ME BABY ONE MORE TIME!"
Ohhh gosh..did I just quote Brittany...yes..yes I did. :/

Dessert challenge~

During my time in Arizona in Intensive Inpatient, the facility thought it would be "fun" to give the patients there dessert challenge twice a week...on top of our already monumental meal plans.
I can still see it now- Patients shuffling slowly through the cafe line with panic stricken looks plastered onto their faces.
Only here in an eating disorder treatment facility is eating a dessert, something that is meant to be enjoyed, the equivalent to drinking a vat of poison- a cruel and unusual form of torture. We thought the world would end once the first bite touched our quivering lips.
Needless to say, I am still alive:) The dessert did not kill me. But it is sad for me to admit that I am still very wary of challenging myself to venture out of my safe zone- my meal plan. To go over my designated and "recommended" amount of food is mind blowing to me. It freaks me out......

So the other night my dad, my friend, and I all decided to grab dinner on our way back from a dietitian's appointment I had in Spokane. The appointment went longer than I had anticipated and it was already past dinner time so it was suggested that we stop and grab some grub.
Immediately my heart rate went up-
1. I was going to have to eat...period.
2. I was going to have to eat out....
3. I was going to have to eat out in front of other people
Dang...this recovery thing is challenging..:/
THEN came the business of trying to figure out where the hell we could go~ We finally decided on The Ugly Asian Fish Bistro where my friend works at (and gets a discount!:)
I enjoy sushi...I really do. However, I eat the sushi that is strictly rice and fish. Other human beings are bored by this combo (I cannot fathom why:) and enjoy getting enticing and flavorful dishes and sushi combos.
They scare me.
So we got three different kinds and I very mindfully tried the other two kinds....and yes, decided I enjoy my boring sushi still :)
So dinner went OK without any major mishaps or breakdowns on my part (even though my chopstick skills were sketchy at best.)
I'm all set and good to go....and then the lovely waitress comes and offers us the dessert options. Oh shit...now I feel like I'm simultaneously having a heart attack, my face is on fire, and I just may faint.
Of course my dad and bestie each order a lovely dessert and when it comes out they thoroughly enjoy it, making orgasmic moaning sounds of pure happiness.
Internally, I feel like I'm having a lobotomy. I could moan and cry and beat my fist on the ground with angst. :/
They offer me some...ED yells at me..
"Don't you dare you fat cow!"
Recovery:
"Just one bite won't kill me. I have not done a dessert challenge for months and it would be good to try it. Plus, I did not meet all my needs at dinner."
ED: "Ummm  you met your fat needs faaaaar beyond what you need girl. Give it up piggy."
I shut my eyes and try a bite. Yep, I did it.
ED was not happy. He tried to pull all sorts of crap on me...The whole, oooooh now you have done it! You
in a zillion pounds now that you are completely out of control!
Or..you should really go running tomorrow now to compensate for that dinner and dessert.
SKIP YOUR BEDTIME SNACK YOU FATTY!
All these things were running through my mind. So what did I do? My friend and I headed over to my bestie's house and sat and visited with her late into the night. No running, no starving- just healthy distraction with those who love me and don't care what I look like.
I just wish I could not care what I look like....Some day...Some day I hope ED will be barely a whisper...
Someday I hope I can try a bite of cake...Have my cake and eat it, too. Maybe some day~

Boundries~

I knew this was going to happen. I knew it was something I was going to have to face.
I just did not think I would feel this bad.

My mother and I are best friends- soul sistas- kindred spirits.
We also suffer from the same disease
And she is my relapse waiting to happen.
Thus, in the last five months, I have done a lot of work around separating these two twisted, enmeshed, contorted lives and acknowledging that I am not my mother-my mother is not me. I do not have to become my mother though we share the same genes. I can choose not to participate in the activities she engages in that are not beneficial to my recovery.
I am my mother's daughter, but I am not my mother's keeper.
This is really hard for me. I look up to my mother. I LOVE my mother. I would take a bullet for her.
Co-dependent? oooh ya baby :/
I also have a hard time looking at my mother these days- as I have just grown bigger, she seems to be dissipating into the vapor of no return- "Ana"
For many who suffer with Ana, their greatest fear is becoming fat. I must admit, it terrifies me. A lot. Vain, I know. I cannot justify it, or wish it away.
But there is a concern that runs deeper than the blood that courses my veins:
The fear of losing my mother to this insidious disease. The fear that I have impacted my brothers or anyone else in a negative way.
I cannot control my mother. I cannot anticipate or worry what will happen to her or others. All I can control is my actions to situations. So when my mother and I have a lovely discussion and I state my boundaries and she gets pissed, I have to keep on. I can't starve away the guilt, I can't take my anger out on the situation by running my body into the ground. I acknowledge that she is angry. That it is my words that caused her this pain. But I also play back the tape. Was what I said respectful? I own what I own and leave the rest. So instead of letting ED get the best of me, I get my hair dyed with my brother's girlfriend and rest in the peace that God knows. He is omniscient and all-powerful. I have no power over my mother. Just like she has no power over me anymore. And just like ED is slowly losing power over me.