Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The Damn Hard Part

When I lost my job in June, I had no idea what to do. I would lose my insurance in 2 weeks. Granted, I would be put on my husband's, but insurance is messy. I flirted with the idea about stopping working on my recovery all together. What the f*** was the point now? I thought. If all of a sudden going from two incomes to one with a mortgage, car payment, bills, MY medical bills, etc. wasn't a big enough stressor or trigger, I had no idea what was. I actually punched my Ford Escape and busted a couple fingers. I hadn't even made the first payment yet.

I didn't know what to do. Go find a job or work on my recovery. My recovery was suffering greatly right then. When I expressed these frustrations to my my husband, he told me "Just pick one and do it." Despite needing the extra income to make the mortgage and other bills, he gave me the choice to solely focus on my recovery. I could not believe that. I thought recovery would totally be a jaunt down easy street with no work stress. Oh my heavens, how I was wrong.

To get a basic idea of how my life goes right now, here is an example of a typical 2 week period for me:
Aug 11 - Rhonda, my dietitian.
Aug 16 - Dr. Skinner
Aug 22 - Dr. Ashaye
Aug 23 - Kristin, my therapist.

Those are all actual appointments coming up. They are spaced very close together. My providers call each other if concerns arise or if I have a special request. They're all very good to me. Very loyal. But, and this is a big but, there are agreements. For example, if I ever tell Kristin I am actively suicidal (no, I'm not) and go and do something regardless of the help she's offered, she will drop me. End of relationship. And I totally understand.
In addition to my appointments, I keep daily food logs. Everything that passes my lips needs to be logged. Many times I forget to do this. It just needs to become a habit. This information is very informative for my dietitian, Rhonda. She can see what my weaknesses are and where I had good, strong days. On the days I forget to log, or the log is sparse, I must explain. That I don't like to do. As always in every regard, honesty is the best policy.

No, my kids don't come to these appointments. I'm not ready to tell them about my disorder yet. Later. I must find daycare. My sister, Hollie, and mother in law, Doris, have been absolutely astounding in working with me so I can go to my appointments. My family takes care of me very well. I am one lucky chick.

After all appointments are done for the week, I am absolutely floored with exhaustion. But I must continue on. I have my household and family to help take care of. Thank goodness I get lots of hug therapy at home. Cause, you know, sometimes I just want to kick my feet up and relax. Knit. Zone. Rest my head on my hubby's shoulder.

It's damn hard. But blogging my struggle publicly has produced an insane amount of rewards. Each time I see the count go up, I am so very hopeful that someone realizes they are not alone. I totally encourage emails. Whether you've got anorexia, bulimia, ED-NOS (that's me), binge eating disorder, or others, you are not the only one and not alone. There is nothing anyone can tell me that I don't know. However, I can be scared. Dr. Skinner told me one time that if I continue down this road there's a good chance I'll never recover. That stung.
That's the kind of stuff that needs to be told to people. Some of us may never recover. Some of us may die. But we need the truth told to us, and for us to get better, we must tell the truth.

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