Training Up My Voice.

I never thought that my loud, mouthy stuck-in-my-ways self would ever lead to anything. I am experiencing what speaking up and using my voice is like. And it's like this:
Raising funds for NEDA and bringing awareness to Idaho.

I knew nothing would change and utilizing my loud mouth might work. I'm doing this for all of you. For the people that pop by my blog and take a glance. Most of all, for my fellows in Idaho. It's tough to recover here. I hope things will begin to change.

The time to recover is NOW.

Many thanks for reading.

The Extremely Tricky Part

Weight loss. Realistic loss for health. Needs to be done. My doc told me she's happy where I am now considered where I was. Ok.....but I'm not happy.
She knows this. She said my weight is stable, and yes, I choose to know the number. Takes the blinders off. It's ok for me, but not a smart choice for everyone.

Had a little slip. Got so tired of shoving everything inside and keeping quiet that I lapsed. For a little while. It's somewhat comforting that this will happen. It's totally a normal part of the process.
This comforts me. I, for once, don't have to feel perfect and error-free.

I quiickly rebound after my intent was questioned by my doc. I hate being questioned. Having my intent questioned is like having my pride and integrity attacked. Yah, that's how my brain currently thinks, and that's what's got to change.

But the issue of losing weight. I can't predict how I'll do. Losing weight to me is like being trapped in my own private oblivion. I feel sooooo satisfied.

I'm nervous. Very. It's a step that will need to be taken. Soon.

I feel like a newborn. Trying to live this loving, positive life. Right now, I am heavily dependent on my treatment team. All I can do until I get my bearings is do what they say. And don't question. No talking back. No smirky lip curls. None of that. Just total submission.

While this feels like the most complete give up of control I have ever experienced in my tumultuous life, I know deep down just how strong someone must be to move forward.

This is freakin' sticky. Controversial. Bold. Reality at its ugliest. And me at my most vulnerable.

Thanks for reading.

Remain Thankful.

I am realizing more and more that focusing on what we're grateful and thankful for calms the mind down.

I think it takes a great amount of practice to step out of your own chaotic head and focus on what you're lucky to have - who you're lucky to have.

It tends to keep me grounded. Reminds me where to focus my energies. By doing so, I not only help myself, but I hope to help others.

Maybe someone you know needs to hear they're appreciated. They're loved. Respected. Make an effort to tell someone. By phone. Email. And *gasp* snail mail. You may just make all the difference in the world.

P.S. You don't have to have gone through a nightmare or tragedy to remain thankful. Take one thing at a time and build on it. It becomes a way of life.
Peace.

Thank you for reading!

The Time I Was Questioned

The time? More like times. Most recently I was questioned about my intent. Do I want to continue on or get better? I have been asked that countless times in my almost 3 years of active recovery. No one dances around the question. Everyone knows my games, and the question is always asked point blank.

So? The answer?

Ultimately, yes. However, one must understand that bulimia has been a part of my life for 19 years. It's not like sticking a patch on and weaning off from it. This is the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life. Quitting smoking and drinking was thousands times easier. Keeping my eating disorder around meant I had something to dive into when I wanted to self destruct. There was something certain that could be my demise. It dulled feelings and thoughts that I have worked 19 years to hide and ignore. Without it, I expose myself. Me. The REAL me. And I am still discovering exactly who that is.

My treatment team is phenomenal and has more faith in me, I think, than I have in myself. I respect people that ask me straight out if I want to recover or not. That question burns me. I hate it. It forces me to really stop and be honest with myself. Staring your own truth in the face is scary. It's honest and real. And you can't escape it. No amount of vomiting or laxative use can completely hide the truth.

And the truth is....I'm discovering. It's taking a long time. And I'm still working at it because people believe in me. I've had intimate conversations with my team about how hard it is. I can never fully describe it.

My therapist, Kristin, made a good point to me last week in session. She told me it's her job to do the best she can for me. To help me, to encourage me. And, she said, she expects the same from me. Own up to recovery and the fact that I show up in her office each week. Do the work. Be honest. Take control of my life. Yep, sista said it well.
That conversation was followed up with my MD asking if I want to recover or not.

Bottom line...moment of truth. I suck at lying. They all know this. They know when I omit information. My face says everything about me. I hate that. But, I think, it's saved me. I can't get away with anything anymore because I respect them too much to lie. And I owe them the best I can offer. So, when I am asked if I want to recover or not, this is what I'm able to come up with.

I will treat it as a journey. A learning experience. I will take whatever struggles I have and deal as they come. And they do indeed come. Frequently. This is the one life I've got. I've been sick for most of it. I'm ready to start discovering the real me. And I want everyone to know who that is. Most of all, I want what I said during my baptismal statement.
I want to live a life Jesus would be proud of. And I will do the work to honor that statement. For once, I am vowing to be true to myself. That, as I just NOW realized, is the first step to me loving myself.

I love my life. It's not easy. But I am damn lucky to live it. God knows I'm worth it. I'm actually starting to believe it myself.
Thank you to all that have been a part of my journey. It's been gnarly, and I hope you're all still game. I am.

Thanks so much for reading.

Ending

2011. This has been one of the most tumultuous years of my life. I entered eating disorder treatment and was discharged because of insurance issues. 4 days. I was crushed.
I totaled my Honda. Andrew and I escaped without a scratch.
I was fired. Completely traumatized. But I received my justice. If I were to give them a piece of my mind, I would BLOW their minds. And I wouldn't have used one negative word.

Changes in my treatment and who's been treating me. Intensive outpatient. Still close follow up with my physicians and my therapist. But 3 more counselors added. Crazy insane.

Hubby went back to school. He just aced his finals this week. I'm so proud of him.

I've been confused, hurt, lonely and resentful beyond belief. But I've had time. A lot of time. When my friend told me she no longer saw the hollow look in my eyes, I was filled with so much hope. I felt God press on my heart that my heart has indeed been healed and is no longer damaged. I remain hopeful. I am still frightened by the unknown, but it's time for me to raise my chin up and grab it, head on.
The most important people in my life haven't given up on me. They've remained faithful to me and have been encouraging. During my darkest moments, I have been shown mercy by an incredible person. She's taught me a lot about compassion just by her actions.

I'll be ok. I am stronger and more vigilant. I know my triggers; I know how to make it through.

What seems devastating in one's life can become the most obvious blessings. Sometimes one just needs a little shove, a kick in the tush, and just a little love to recognize that.

Bring it.