No More Drama

As I sit here thinking of something to write about I realize that I have no tale of desperation to share. I have no overwhelming desire to share a new discovery. It seems as if I have nothing to write about as I have no fabulous new juicy detail to share about my life. And that alone is what I realize I must write about.

For so many years my life has consisted of drama. And no I'm not talking about the kind of drama that you go to the theatre to see. (and yes you must say theatre as such: Thee-ah-Tarrr) Instead I'm talking about the kind of drama that I have allowed to exist in my everyday life. The drama that ensues when one is so focused on dieting, exercise, defensiveness and self-loathing. It seemed that everyday I would come up with some new way to hate myself, either by spewing disparaging remarks about myself, or becoming involved in poisonous relationships or by allowing myself to be a part of unhealthy situations. (Oh to be 22 again and to know what I know now!)

I'm 12 years older than that age now and yet I feel brand new. Still the same old silly, ornery, laugh out loud girl that we all know but with a calmness and serenity that surrounds me now. I guess I don't really feel brand new, maybe just updated and improved. (and now I'm gonna sound like a perfect dork) but I feel like I've been uploaded with new operating software that has gotten rid of the virus infected one from before.

My life is no where near as "exciting" as it once was. (Thank goodness!) And yet my life now is so much more fulfilling and rewarding than it has ever been. I am enriching my life because I see myself as so much more valuable than I did when I was 22. Granted, my life is pretty routine. (well as routine as it can be when I get up at 3am on some days and stay up till 12am on other days) I go to work, I come home, I clean house (haha), I spend time with my fiance and find time for hanging out with my best girlfriends. This life that I am enjoying now has it's own excitements that are so much more long lasting than any night of desperation from before.

I have the excitement of coming home to the most amazing man in the world! (I even get to marry him soon!) I get to play with the 3 best dogs in the whole world. I am fortunate enough to have a yard to go out and garden in, when it's not raining! I am re-immersing myself in arts and crafts. I forgot what it was like to see one of my hand-made creations come to fruition.

So today as I sit here in my red leather chair and look out the window I smile at my contentedness. While others may think my life is boring and pretty standard, (please feel free to judge me all you want, it doesn't bother me anymore), I am more in love with my life and myself than ever before. I'm enjoying the contentment. I'm truly am enjoying living in this moment of my life.

8 1/2 x 11

I was not prepared to uncover the emotions that crept up on me today. They grabbed me out of nowhere. These emotions held me surrendered in my own body. A day off from work, there I was sitting in front of the wood stove, innocently searching through some old boxes I found in the spare room closet. I'd forgotten they were there. They've been resting there for two years. Waiting for me to rifle through them. Waiting for me to fall siege to the emotions that come along with uncovering artifacts from my previous life. A life that molded a box around me so small that I was unaware of the minuscule surroundings that were my life.

When I broke free of that box. When I finally found the courage to bust through the barriers that were keeping me in that life, I realized that I was alone. There was no one there to soften my fall. There was no one there to guide me out of the mess my life had become. At this time it became so blatantly obvious to me just how controlled I had been. I was used as a puppet to manipulate my own life into something that I could not recognize.

So, as I was sitting there, sifting through the mountain high pile of paperwork, photos, letters, cards, folders and notebooks, it never crossed my mind that I would find something that would bring up strong negative emotions. But I found something that did. I was reading a card from my sister. Smiled at the sentiment. Then placed it in the "put in souvenir" pile. Picked up the next piece of paper. A college ruled piece of notebook paper that was folded into quarters. I unfolded the paper, first once, then twice. I saw the handwriting on the paper and froze. Stunned. Held in place by fear and just more than an ounce of hatred.

It was his handwriting. Jotting out some plan of what file he'd worked on that day. What was written there didn't matter. What mattered what the insurmountable feeling of fear, hatred and repulsion towards him. Hatred because of what he did to me. Repulsion because I get sick to my stomach thinking about having spent time with him and almost marrying him. And fear that somehow, someway he will find me. That he will be able to build that box up around me again.

I put the piece of paper down. I look up to my surroundings. I am comforted by my dogs, who are passed out on the sofa and their beds. They have a peacefulness about them. They have an innocence about them. They are unworried by this piece of 8 1/2 x 11 notebook paper. It poses no threat to them. They are no more concerned about this piece of paper then they are lint on the floor. What threatens them are mean dogs, strangers knocking on the door and not getting dinner.

I look down at that piece of paper that somehow has found it's way into the "souvenir" pile. I pick it back up. I see that handwriting. The emotions run over me again. I feel my face contort into a sad painful expression. I can feel my heart beating faster. The tears in my eyes are forming. I think to myself, "I do not want this piece of paper in my house. It is negative. It sucks my happiness from me." I place the paper in the "to shred" pile.

I sit back. Momentarily content with my accomplishment. I look up at the fire place. One of my dogs has moved to roast his belly in front of the wood stove. He's quite content. See? Not worried one bit about that piece of paper. I look back at the fire. A grin forms on my face. I take the piece of paper off the "to shred" pile. Open the door to the wood stove. Place the paper on top of the log that is burning. The paper lights up in a milli-second. The mini inferno it creates turns my grin into a smile. Within a minute the paper with the handwriting on it has been consumed by the fire.

As I sit here and reflect back to this afternoons event, I am quite happy with what I've accomplished. I am very pleased with myself for coming up with such a creative way to destroy a very poisonous prop to my unhappiness. Might I even say I am proud of myself?

The box has been finished. All of the paper work has been sorted into stacks to deal with at another time. The negativity from the box has been purged and all that is left is memorabilia and financial items. I'm looking forward to turning the rest of my house into a no negativity zone as well. I'm looking forward to building up the happiness in my life. After all, we could all use a little more happiness, right?

Journey

I've noticed lately that it has become increasingly difficult for me to keep up this blog. When I started this blog I decided to choose a topic that was very close to home to me. I wanted to use this outlet as a way to express the many difficulties and realizations that have come my way during my quest to overcome an eating disorder. I wanted to share my ordeal with others in a way that didn't involve me chatting on the phone and describing in detail all the things that no one needs to hear. I wanted to be able to share what I chose without receiving questions from inquiring minds.

However, I have avoided this blog a bit lately because my life does not revolve around an eating disorder any more. I have more going on than that. (Did anyone else just read that?) I'll say it again. My life does not revolve around an eating disorder anymore!!! Wow! I never in my life thought that I would be able to say that. Yet here it is in black and white. I typed it before I even knew what I was writing. Is it possible for me to say that I am healed? Can I really be free from this ED that has over taken the last 7 years of my life?

The answer is a resounding: Yes!

I no longer associate myself as being someone who is sick with this disease. Yes I know that I'll still have struggles in this area. And don't get me wrong I know I still have many issues. But my life no longer revolves around being sick from an eating disorder or having my day consumed with healing from an eating disorder.

There is so much more going on in my life than just one thing. I work, even though some days I hate it. I play with my dogs. I go out with friends. I voluntarily spend time working on the house. I involve myself with crafts. I am becoming interested in dance and theatre again. Now that I realize that there is so much more going on with my life then just one, albeit very difficult, thing I think I need to expand the topics in my blog.

I have read several of my previous posts. Many of them are posts about self discovery. So I will continue down that path for my writing. I'm changing the focus from "my journey of an eating disorder" and instead I'm changing it to "my journey to self discovery". It'll give me more to write about. And lets face it, I think we all were getting a little tired hearing me whine about ED anyway!

So onward and forward. Here's to more posts that no longer focus on what disease I am sick with but will focus on who I am and who I am becoming.

Eight Legged Wonders

I have become fascinated with spiders. They are captivating little creatures. It's fascinating to watch them spin their webs. I am filled with wonder and awe over how such a small creature has been equipped with such amazing capabilities. To be able to create the material that one builds its home from is astonishing. Watching one crawl across the ceiling in the house makes me wonder how they can defy gravity. Seeing them descend from that same ceiling with what appears to be an invisible rappelling rope has become a sight for me to behold. Seeing them sit in their web in wait is patience personified.

Recently two wood spiders who have made themselves at home just outside our front door. They each have their own well constructed web. They each silently sit in the middle of their web waiting and watching every time I walk by. I feel lucky that I get to walk by them at least two times a day, sometimes four and then sometimes I just stand there and watch them. I stood and watched in awe for twenty minutes a few days ago while one was efficiently working on rebuilding its web. It didn't rush. It wasn't frantic. It instead went about its work in a calm methodical way. That was what amazed me the most. The calmness it had in rebuilding its own home. Astonishing.

I remember going to my grandmere's house. My sister and I slept downstairs in the craft room that was in the basement. It was inevitable that when you walked down that small ell shaped stairway that a spider, namely a daddy long legs, would be ready to great you on the way. I would hug the wall on the other side of the stairway to avoid getting any closer to the spider than I had to. I hated that my grandmas house always had so many spiders in it. Though it never seemed to bother anybody else.

The beds that my sister and I slept in remained unused when we weren't there. Every night before crawling into the covers I would roll the bed sheets all the way to end the of the bed to ensure no nests of spideys had made a home while I was away. Only after checking every square inch of bed and sheets was I able to crawl in and fall asleep.

Recently, though, I've noticed I feel a sense of comfort when spiders are around. Especially the two that reside just outside my front door. There is something that calms me when I watch a spider go about its daily activities. They don't show signs of frantic-ness, or stress, or self consciousness. They go about their tasks not caring what others think or about what needs to be accomplished next. I think the trait that I admire most about these eight-legged new friends of mine though is their ability to sit for hours on end. They don't feel the need to find themselves some busy work to do, or go to the fridge and eat simply because they are bored or create a blog to express themselves. They simply are content to sit, wait and watch the world.

I would love to learn to have the ability, to sit and wait and watch the world. I have no idea what I would be "waiting" for but their is an appeal to me in being able to be content with just sitting with my mind not running a thousand miles a minute. I'm always thinking of the next thing I should do, what needs to be done next, how soon I have to be at work, etc etc etc. Many of the reasons why my mind is running a thousand miles a minute is because I'm trying to figure out what is next for me. I want to get myself to decide on what I should do next. Maybe that isn't for me to decide though. Perhaps if I just sit with the quiet that is around me I will be better able to hear my true calling. If I don't make myself decide on something but wait for God to provide me with the answers, I most definitely won't have as so much stress in my life.

It's not every day that one realizes they have over come a phobia such as being afraid of spiders. I feel lucky that I have over come this fear. I'm learning a great life lesson from these magnificent eight legged creatures. The ability to sit with the quiet is a gift to be treasured.

Remembrance Part 1

August 1st 2009. Not one of my better days. To be honest, one of the worst days of my life. It is a sunny beautiful morning. The kind of August day that starts out with a mild temperature but climb to the upper 90's by lunch time.

I'm lying in my bed wishing the night before hadn't happened. Wishing that I could have acted sooner. Wishing that Casey would have come home an hour later. I roll over to my side and crack open an eye. I see that the door to the bedroom is shut indicating that Casey is already up for the day. I groan, snap my eye shut and roll over on my other side. This doesn't help. The sun is beating through the window despite the blinds. It is as if the sun is taunting me, "Yoo hoo, Tamara!! It's morning! You might as well get up because I'm not going to let you sleep!" "Damn sun.", I think to myself. I throw the covers off me, get out of bed and put on a pair of comfy pants. (Comfy pants is my term for PJs.)

I stumble to the living room. I look out the window. There's Casey outside watering the plants. I think to myself, "I hate how productive he is." I shuffle my way to the back door, step outside and plop myself down on a patio chair. I watch Casey for a bit. He's going about his day, basking in the sun and playing with the dog. He shows no sign of anything occurring last night. Until he looks my way. I can see the sadness in his eyes. I can see the look of concern radiating from his face all the way across his body. "Good morning honey. How are you?" He asks with a tone that implies he wants me to have been magically healed overnight. My response to him is to just shrug my shoulders and look away.

I wait for him to turn away from me before I allow myself to look at him again. He has turned away to watch our chickens. He's thrown in some feed for them. The three little feathered ladies are running amok trying to get every last bit as quickly as possible. Almost as if it's their last supper. I watch Casey watching the chickens. His shoulders are slumped, his head lowered and his movements sluggish. I know this man. I can tell that he feels like he's losing the fight. A fight that is not his to win. He wants so badly for me to get better. He wants so badly for me to become a participant in my own life. He has done everything he can to heal me. But I can tell that he is close to giving up.

This thought makes me incredibly sad. More sad than I ever thought I could be, especially considering that fact that I'm more depressed than I've ever been in my entire life. My face contorts into a pained expression. Furrowed brow, mouth downturned, eyebrows knitted and jaw clenched. (This expression becomes frozen on my face for the weeks to come.)

The noise in my head is as loud as it's ever been but for a brief moment there is silence. In this split second I am able to decide what I must do. This decision will impact the rest of my life. It is the decision that will take me from dying to living, although I don't know this yet. I just know that if I don't do something I will lose my chance at the life I've always wanted. The life that will enable me to achieve my goals for love, marriage, children, travel and happiness.

I look back at Casey. He has knelt down next to our big dog. Scratching her behind the ears. He feels my look on him and turns his head my way. The sadness in his eyes is overbearing. He knows I want to say something so he stands up, puts his hands in his pockets. Despite the hurt in his face he gives me his full attention.

I don't want to say this to him. It makes me feel like a loser. It makes me feel like I've given up. It makes me feel like I truly am sick. But then, maybe I am. I look at the man I love and say, "If I don't do this right now I never will. Let's go to the hospital."

Casey drops his hands from his pockets. Breathes a sigh of relief and says to me, "I'll go get my keys."

Scaling Back

I have woken up to a gorgeous day. The sun is shining. The air smells of spring. The coffee I made this morning turned out fantastic. I've got my favorite cozy blanket to snuggle under. Seriously, what could be better? So then why is it that the number one thing on my mind is, "I wonder how much I weigh?" ugh

In all honesty I don't want to know what I weigh. I will be completely happy if I never ever know what I weigh ever again. But there is a nagging inside me that continues to wonder how much I weigh. There is a part of me that wants to know what that number on the scale would say. And I know why. This time of year is the time of year of diets, losing weight and getting in shape for swimsuit season. Without knowing what I weigh I have absolutely no idea how many pounds I need to lose before I'm good enough to be seen in shorts or let alone a swimsuit. Without knowing this number I have to no focus on what I need to weigh to be "healthy".

I reread that last sentence and I'm shaking my head at the insanity of it. Where in the world does it say that there is a specific number that lets a person know when they are healthy?

Well I'll tell you a secret, there is no magic number.

Sure a person can pick a number out of thin air, push themselves to over-workout, eat less and less and eventually achieve this magical number but will they be happier, better and more content with themselves if they reach this number? I tell you from experience, absolutely not.

If you can't be happy with yourself as you are then you won't be happy with yourself 5, 10, 20 pounds from now either.

Contentment for yourself comes from inside. It comes from focusing on what really matters in life. Spending time with family, enjoying the little moments in life that many people take for granted, traveling and so many other experiences that are out there for the taking. These are the things that matter in life. The number on a scale matters so very little.

And yet, I made this the number one thing in my life for so very long. I always knew what I weighed, how many pounds I had to go before I got to the goal weight I wanted to get to. Did I ever get to that goal weight? No. Every time I reached a goal weight, I would set a new and lower goal weight. I never was satisfied with what I looked like. I always had more weight to less.

And now that I don't have a scale to weigh myself I don't fall into this roller coaster of weight loss. I no longer find myself over obsessing about what I ate because it'll show up on the scale. I focus on the conversation during the meal, not the food itself.

So why do I sit here wondering what I weigh? Why am I sitting here actually contemplating buying another scale? Why would I spend money on an inanimate object that causes me so much pain? Because there is a thrill rush in knowing that I'm losing weight. There is a calming effect in knowing that I have "control" over my weight. That last sentence is laughable because I know that I'm not the one in control. ED becomes the one in control. ED so quickly senses my weaknesses and will attach itself to me so very quickly.

So, while I may feel a pull to weigh myself or buy a new scale, I won't. The mystery of what I weigh will remain just that, a mystery. I will continue to redirect my thoughts. Every time I think, "what do I weigh?" I will change the sentence to "what can I accomplish today?"

I thought that by now I wouldn't experience these obsessive thoughts anymore. But I suppose that is why this is called a disease. The symptoms take a long time to disappear. I'm just grateful I don't experience the symptoms as often as I did before entering treatment.

I can't go back to that insanity. I won't go back to that insanity. I won't.

Now, what can I accomplish today?

A Look Inside the Mind of an Anorexic

The alarm goes off. I hear the ever so lovely sound of the bleeeeeep, bleeeeeeep, bleeeeeeep repeating over and over telling me that it is time to get up. I get up out of bed and head straight to the bathroom and step right onto the scale. It tells me I weigh 142 lbs. Quick! I think to myself, "go pee!" Now that I've taken care of that business time to weigh again. I step onto the scale. It now tells me that I weigh 141.6 lbs. I am not at all pleased with this number (and yet it is the least I have weighed ever in my adult life). I run to the dresser and pull out the measuring tape. I get out my journal to log my weight and my measurements. I measure my chest, my waist, my hips, the right thigh, the left thigh, the right bicep, the left bicep, the right calf, the left calf. I write this all down in my journal proud that I have lost an 1/8" on my right thigh. That bugger won't bug! Time to take a shower. But first I'll weigh myself again. I step on the scale and this time it reads 141.6 lbs. Dang it! I was hoping it would be lower. When I'm in the shower I spend most of the time checking different parts of my body to see how much "fat" I still have on me to lose. Convinced I'm not thin enough just yet I commit myself to an hour long run after work. I get out of the shower and dry off. I'll weigh myself again just one more time. Still the same.

I head to work, concious all day long of everyone judging me for how "fat" I am. I do not eat much at all, big surprise right?! I come home after an 8 hour day at work. Jump into work out clothes and head out on a run. Disgusted with myself the whole time because today I ate croutons on my salad.

I'm done with my run and decide it's time to weigh myself yet again. 144 lbs. SHIT! I just went running. What the crap!?? It is decided. Tonight I will have half a grilled chicken breast with vegetables. Nothing else. When it's time to eat I end up giving half of my half of a chicken breast to my fiance along with half my veggies.

I'm angry. I'm full of self hate. I am pissed at myself for eating today. I can't believe that I had that soda at lunch. That's it. Tomorrow I'm eating egg whites for breakfast. Salad with no dressing and only vegetables for lunch and fat free cottage cheese for dinner. Once I have made this pact with myself I head for bed. Too tired to do anything else nor do I have any enthusiasm to do anything other than go to bed.

I lay in bed not able to sleep. Thinking about food, fat, calories, cellulite, working out and weight.

The next morning I wake up to the alarm clock blaring at me yet again. bleeeeep, bleeeeep, bleeeeep. I get up out of bed and head straight to the bathroom and step right onto the scale. etc, etc, etc.

Repeat as needed to become completely insane and totally anorexic.