RecoverED

I asked my doctor one time how long my eating disorder would stay on my record. She said for things like colds and sore throats it would drop off really fast. But the eating disorder would stay on for a long, long time. I remember the look on her face when she told me.

I know what I'm supposed to do. I have had people tell me for over 10 years that I should counsel people with eating disorders. September 3 I start work on my associate's degree with a concentration in psychology. My goal? Ph.D specializing in eating disorders. I've had a phenomenal example of people that have educated me, treated me and that I'm still in contact with today - 3 years after I started active recovery.

Have I had any slip ups? Not in the last year. Do I miss it? .....Sometimes. Is it who I am? Shit, no. Who am I without the eating disorder?

I'm Jennifer Christine Delage. Age 33. I live in a town nicknamed Poky. I knit. I have tattoos. I own a boxer named Koda. She follows me everywhere. I find great thrill in gliding on ice with a 1/8" blade of steel. I can finally answer that one question that people always ask you on interviews - where do you see yourself in 10 years?

Dr. Delage - licensed clinical psychologist specializing in eating disorders.

Try telling me to "Bring It". See what happens.

Thank you for reading, everyone. It's good to be back. 

Buck Up, Baby.

Bad days. Oh yes....Jenn has them. See that? Just tried to detach myself from it.I've often had trouble about blogging about the bad stuff. Don't want to be a bummer. As logically as I know that bad days happen, I don't want mine in focus, But I can't see anything else right now.

And here I sit. Fighting the frustrated tears. The scared to death, frozen tears. Plans of crash dieting swirling in my mind...no, no NO. My therapist - my soundboard - will be leaving soon. Fuck. There is virtually no one else that will listen to me so openly. I feel like I am the only one with this thing....this death sentence. That's what it feels like anyway.

There comes a time when I just can't trudge ahead right now. I am having a bad moment, I am......scared. Big time. Not sure if I'm ready. Want someone to walk with me. Don't think people have time. And I am so envious and  jealous of alcoholics who can just pick up and go to a meeting. More power to them.

Suck it up, hon. Put on your big girl panties and deal. F that. Watch me cry like a baby.

This is a bad day. Consider yourself introduced.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

The Exam Room - Where Possibilities Explode.

I'm always reminded when it's the day for my doctor's appointment that I need to "Get my head out of the clouds, kid. Reality check." Up until this very day, I was seeing my MD on a weekly basis. And I have been for a long time. Accountability check. Today, I graduated to bi-weekly visits. This is no small feat, mind you! It means I have progressed and feel comfortable enough to be on my own that long...without a check.

No stranger to the exam room, I take my proper place and let the MA do her stuff. Pressure, temp. Ooops, she bonked me on the head today with that thing. No biggie. But I always anxiously wait for them to leave. I love to be alone in that exam room while I wait for my doc.

I've looked at magazines, snooped in the cabinets, stolen tongue depressors and returned them, saying I'm sorry. I've looked at the forms in the file on the table, the BMI chart on the door and the instruments that dangle from the wall, waiting to be used. I've taken a nap on the cold, hard linoleum while waiting for test results to come in. I've spun around in circles as I sat on that round stool on wheels designated solely for the physician. I've curled up on the exam table, turned off the lights and covered my head with my sweatshirt....just waiting.

But lately I have designated the exam table to be my own personal blank canvas. That crinkly, annoyingly loud paper that protects the table has become the dumping ground for countless words and drawings by me. Each time I walk into the room, I am greeted with blank paper. I'm never without something to write with. Even if it's a faded pink highlighter.

Often, what I choose to put on the paper is spontaneous. I've asked questions that I've been too afraid to ask...I've drawn a holiday scene. Make a turkey at Thanksgiving by tracing my hand! Often what I write down is meant specifically for my physician. It may be a genuine concern, observations, or in today's case, a personal declaration. I chose to answer the question proposed by pastors Monty and Konrad: How do you want to be remembered? And I just took that and ran with it. Here's what I came up with.

How I Want To Be Remembered.

• I'm bold.
• Defender of those that can't defend themselves.
• Someone that was guided by love.
• Creator of the "Smile Project" - a ground breaking stunt that paved the way for which I am to follow.
• Mother and Guardian of two fine boys.
• Forever curious of people and their personalities, behaviors.
• No matter how much I've chatted with them...always humbled to speak to authors.
• Crazy, obsessed manipulator of words and lover of language.
• Passionate about expression - in whatever medium it comes from.
• Vigilant of my past but refuse to let it identify who I am.
• Teller of the truth - no matter how many times I have suffered in doing so.
• If I have blue ink smudged on the underside of my left hand, it was a good day!
• Marveled and day dreamed about positively being called Recovered.
• Always gave my deepest thanks to the people that have fought and believed on my behalf.
• Responded most to people that challenged me. When asked to "Bring It", I whole-heartedly complied. That phrase became my way of life - my mantra.
• Knitter of things to be given away. Found great things are possible with different yarn weights and colors.
• Aggressively followed and pursued victory for people in Idaho that suffer with eating disorders.
• Some of my biggest influences are former drug addicts.
• Aware of my weaknesses and how they can be utilized in my life in a positive manner.
• Firmly believe that the greatest of all medical doctors will share something about themselves and encourage others. Knitting has become a healing practice in its own right. It still holds the power to calm all corners of my soul.
• Firmly believe that honest compassion involves admitting your own weaknesses and struggles.
• Always admitted fault if I was wrong - no matter how my pride got in the way.
• Never forgot where I came from, who believed in me, who didn't want to bother with me and who actively engaged me. I've taken from EVERYONE.
• Always a little scared, a bit intimidated. May I never get so full of myself that I forget there are bigger things. Like...GOD.
• If you scare me, I will tell you so and tell you why.
• And if you alter my course because of who you are and what I've learned from you....I will tell you so.
• I don't believe in sugar-coating. Just be honest. It is what it is, and you can't cover up the ugly reality.

• The Soul of the Healer. Random, gentle reminder from one MD that treating really is a two-way street. Be mindful of the feelings, frustrations and concerns of the person entrusted to guard your health.

I discovered as I kept writing that not one thing is most important to me. Each one of these things, and ones yet to be discovered, are equally important to me. In each thing listed, I learned something. I was taught. I was encouraged and shown .....mercy. I was inspired. Grateful.. Forever grateful.

I found it a great gift and privilege to be able to reflect on these things now and not as something I did later in life. After all, the things I choose now impact everyone around me later on. Oh....and one more thing.

• May my two sons, Andrew and William, walk in love. Wisdom. Truth. May they love each other, love God and be proud of the young men they will become. And may their influence spread like wildfire.

Thanks very much for reading.

This.....Voice Thing.

Ok, someone help me out here because I'm a little.....unsure?

Finding your voice and using it. I stayed quiet, shy, you name it for so long. They called me crazy girl in high school. I had no interest in communication.

So......now I have cases of really bad verbal diarrhea. My head reels with everything I have to say, and my lips can't keep up. But things are coming out.

While doing my taxes the other day, my husband and I were waiting for our $50 bill so we could go home. An employee asked if we'd like some soda, tea,.....coffee? I told him "I want our $50 so we can go home." Everyone in the waiting room laughed and the employee walked away.

Really? I looked at my husband, confused. What did I say that was so funny? A little while later another employee came along and asked the same freaking thing. My response with a little more irritation was: "I'd like our $50 so we can go home."  Could not believe that everyone laughed ....AGAIN!!

So....I really wasn't rude. I wasn't joking. Straight face, eye contact...whole nine yards. But I was downright honest and it was funny?

Maybe I should reconsider my life as an introvert.

Yah right. I've been yakking lately, so there's no stopping me....

Do you think that maybe once we learn and have the courage to use our voice, we mean business when we do?? I find myself saying things I would have NEVER said 3 years ago. Giving my opinion. Delicately. Honesty with people. Telling people things they should hear...cause I love them.

But what the freak up with the laughter???