Here and Now

For someone with an eating disorder, I know this may sound strange, but I absolutely loved being pregnant. I never took better care of myself than when I was carrying my boys inside of me. I enjoyed observing the changes in my body, and rarely worried about the weight I was gaining. I knew that I was nourishing my babies with healthy eating, and that made me feel amazing. Unfortunately I've never been so great at nurturing and caring for myself, and so after each child was born, I would revert back to the eating disorder. I didn't want to be seen as the stereotypical overweight housewife, and my sense of self was and still tends to be nonexistant. I wanted to be seen as the perfect wife and mother, with a spotless home, and gourmet meals on the table each night. Eventually I could no longer keep up with the facade, and it all fell apart, beginning with the night that I told my husband that I had been raped as a child. It was both the beginning and the end... Tonight in therapy...

I thought I would check in, so here goes... I'm just getting over a kidney infection, so I've been pretty run down lately. That is what I get for not taking very good care of myself. I had to take a few days off of work last week, but I did take my very 1st yoga class on Saturday morning, and it was really wonderful. Today will be my third class, and I'm really looking forward to it. I have made a serious vow to start caring for myself from here on out. Food has been better, and I will continue to add more throughout this week. I ate breakfast both mornings this weekend. It is going to take me awhile to work up to where I need to be. I did skip breakfast this morning, but I had some trail mix at work, and this afternoon before I go to yoga I will have a snack, and then dinner when I get home. It's not perfect, but then neither am I, and I'm going to stop expecting myself to be. Other than that, nothing else is new. Now, if we could get some spring weather, I would ...

Delete I was deleting old e-mails, and there it was... The suicide letter that I wrote to you. I suppose it wasn't really a letter, only a few desperate lines and misspelled words so atypical of me who prides herself on rarely needing spellcheck. I had taken an entire bottle of Xanax, sent the e-mail, and then off I went to the movies with my family. There was a good chance that you wouldn't read it in time and by the time you did, I was already incoherent, and nearly passed out in the theatre. I awoke in the hospital, hallucinating... Swarms of insects flying all around me, my hands swatting at the empty air. The next five days were spent sullenly staring out the hospital window into the darkness of winter. Why do I relive this now? I'm more than sorry. I'm ashamed. You had every right to be angry telling me that I could no longer e-mail you. I worried that you wouldn't see me again. Sometimes you ask me if I feel safe. Safe with myself, no, sometimes I don't....

Here it is finally, after months of anticipation...Yes! The first day of spring!!! The crocus and daffodills are beginning to bloom, the sun is shining and the temperature is supposed to rise into the 70's. That is about as close to perfection as you can get. I will enjoy this for the next two days, and then it is supposed to be yucky again, but at least I know that better days are around the corner. The good news for this week is that I'm going to start taking yoga classes. I couldn't afford it on my own, but my parents are generously paying for it. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!!! I haven't been this excited about something in a long time. When I was in treatment, we did yoga a couple of times a week, and I loved it. It helped me to relax, get more in touch with myself, and to recognize the beauty of what my body can do. It is important for me to not focus only on what my body looks like, but to step outside of that, and feel my own strength. One day when I was at R...

It's St. Patrick's Day, spring is right around the corner, and it brings with it renewed hope. I had therapy yesterday, and I wonder if she has given up hope for me. She keeps saying that I will change when I'm ready, and leaves it at that...no more helpful words that only fall on deaf ears. She is waiting for me, but what if I'm never ready? That thought frightens me, but the fear of food and eating is what drives me to do the things I do. I do think about changing, and the steps that I might take. I want to be in touch with my body and treat it well instead of abusing myself. I need to get back to exercising, but I need to be able to eat enough to do that. Dave said he would pump up the tires on my bike for me. It is almost like flying to ride in the wind. I make plans, and I suppose that is the beginning of change. I feel like I'm almost there. Almost...

I had a psychiatrist appointment this morning, and I told her about my problems with sleep, the racing thoughts, and the anxiety. I think the anxiety coincides with the racing thoughts. My mind gets stuck on a loop of past mistakes, or stupid little things that I've done or said, and I tend to replay them over and over again, until the anxiety builds up, and I walk around feeling like a horrible person. My psychiatrist changed the dosages on my medications and hopefully that will help. I hate having to rely on medication, but I'm facing the fact that I will probably be on them for a long time, if not the rest of my life. *SIGH* Half of my week is going to be spent seeing my treatment team. Tomorrow is therapy and Thursday is my nutritionist. I think that I've done better with food in the past few days. I ate what everyone else was eating for dinner a couple of nights ago, and I ate breakfast this morning. I get full so easily though because my stomach has shrunk due to the ...

My heart hurts today, but for some reason, I cannot pinpoint why I'm feeling so sad. I tend to escape when I feel this way, so I took a three hour nap, hoping the melancholy would be gone when I woke up, but, no, it is still hanging on. I find myself taking deep breaths and trying not to cry. It is the beginning of my spring break, the weather is beautiful today, and I should feel fine. There is no explanation for this, but I keep expecting one to come to me. I went and bought some wine, which maybe wasn't a good idea. I know that it is probably not the best way to deal with my feelings. Precisely...I don't deal with my feelings. All that I want is the numb to take over. The eating disorder doesn't always work anymore. Sometimes the feelings still sneak in, taking me by surprise. I see my psychiatrist on Tuesday. Maybe I need a med change or something. I've been taking my medications like I should. I should probably just figure out why I feel the way I do. Actually ...

You say that you are going to try a different approach in regards to my therapy. "Like an experiment,?" I laugh nervously and look down at my hands, feeling somewhat ashamed. "I'm not doing it right," I think to myself. "I'm finished asking you about how you are doing with food," you explain. "It seems that you have made up your mind to stay where you are, so instead I would rather we talk about the function of the eating disorder and what you are getting out of it." I stare at the herringbone pattern on the couch until all of the lines blur together, afraid to look up, feeling as if I'm about to fail an important test. I will try to convince you, but you will twist my words until they are senseless even to me, but still, yes, I will try to help you understand. "I need to have control over my body..." NEED. CONTROL. MY BODY. MINE. When you say that it's not me in control, but the eating disorder, I want to scream, "...

Photosynthesis My bones ache from the months of cold shoulders hunched, chest sinking in on itself as if I could disappear inside of my own warmth like the core of the earth that smolders when all the while death sleeps upon the frozen ground I think of the seeds buried beneath my feet dormant waiting for the change of season never impatient while I grow weary and dissatisfied forgetting what longs to bloom within And yet my soul still remembers to bend toward the light Angela Minard 2011©

If I give in, I'm a failure with my greedy wants and needs. I stand in the kitchen, open cupboards, examine the calorie contents of foods that I may allow myself, only to be riddled with guilt for even the thought of eating. Even the oatmeal and banana, which is what I have been subsisting on each day for weeks has become a source of anxiety. Do I really need it? I eat the banana because without the potassium, my hands, feet, and legs cramp up. The symptoms of the eating disorder are reminders that my body needs fuel, and yet I still deny myself. Right now I'm reading a book called "Gaining" The Truth About Life After Eating Disorders, by Aimee Liu, hoping to find some secret to recovery. I read about the turning points of other women with anorexia, but all that most of them say is that they had to reach a point where they were just so tired of the tyrannical voices in their heads. I get tired too, but when will I get too tired? I rarely challenge that voice, instead ...

Who's to say that I have to figure it all out today, right? It's full speed in the wrong direction, that I know for sure, and yet I can't seem to find a way to turn back. I'm actually feeling good today. It is a cold but sunny day, and after such a grey week, it is a nice change. I just got home from judging my sons high school forensics tournament. I judged both the poetry and prose competitions. It was my first time and I didn't know what to expect, but it was fun. I had to get up at the crack of dawn though! Now I have the rest of the day ahead of me, and I've planned a haircut and some grocery shopping. I had an interesting conversation on the phone with my brother a little while ago. He wanted to know how I was doing, and I was honest in telling him that I'm struggling. He wanted to know what with, so I told him that I was having a hard time eating. He said that this was the first time that I had ever really talked with him about my eating disorder. He ...

I read so many wonderful and inspirational recovery blogs, but I guess that you have come to the wrong place if that is what you were expecting here. Nope, this is the blog of a depressed, anxious, relapsed anorexic woman in her forties, who has no plans to budge from this spot at the moment. I do contemplate the thought of making a change, but I'm so afraid that it's not even funny. I turn all of that fear into the fear of gaining weight, the fear of food, of being seen consuming food. I make it all about the food so that I don't have to focus on anything else. I apologize for not being the most positive, uplifting recovery blog ever. I read those blogs, so there is a part of me that must want to recover. I'm not hiding the fact that I'm struggling from anyone. I'm being completely honest with my treatment team. There is help for me, I'm just not taking advantage of it. Maybe I will just sit here for awhile and dangle my feet off the edge of this cliff.

After a sleepless Monday night, yesterday was rough. I felt so wound up, tense, and exhausted that I could barely make it through work. I hadn't eaten all day, and when I did get home from work and actually wanted something to eat, there was nothing in the house. My husband went to the store later, but by then I was past the hunger, so I ended up not eating anything. Food is so hard and complicated right now. I'm rigid in what I will eat, and things that I used to be okay with all of a sudden seem scary. I was at least eating a protein bar for lunch, but now having one seems like too many calories. I feel like I can only eat one item per day, and that would be oatmeal at the moment. I'm on the verge of panic most of the time, and my mind seems to jump all over the place. I can barely hold on to one thought before another one rushes in, and everything feels like it's going so fast. Last night I did get some sleep, but I had a dream that I tried to commit suicide by elect...