It’s not enough, you know. You spent the whole day “working” from home but what did you really get done? Three hours of TV. Picking up and dropping off kids. Yes, you kept the wood stoves going and you put some laundry away and made a few calls but it’s not nearly enough. You’re avoiding – you’re stuck. Continue reading
So I’ve talked about voice #1 – “the bitch” – the one who berates me, tells me I’m stupid, makes me feel like an awkward 12 year old girl with braces left on the side at the junior high dance. But there’s been another voice of late. She hasn’t shown up in a while, but I’m actually glad to hear her. Madame Denial. That’s right – I’m glad to hear Madame because it means I’m getting somewhere. She only shows up when she’s threatened. Continue reading
I eat, and the food sits like a rock in my stomach, and all I can think about is purging. Or cutting. Or cutting and purging and bruising and running and hurting myself in every way possible. But I’m working on it, I really am. Continue reading
It’s 11 o’clock, and I should eat. It says so on my food plan – evening snack. My food plan that my very expensive and talented dietician developed for me that I still don’t understand. But I’m not hungry, and I don’t want to eat. Continue reading
My father was diagnosed five years ago with cognitive impairment – a nice way of saying that his brain is fading away. Later, he was “upgraded” to vascular dementia with elements of Alzheimers. Immediately I turned to friends and a trusted family member and of course, Dr. Google and found out that vascular dementia is actually suckier than Alzheimers. The plaque in his arteries Continue reading
I cannot hear the stories of ED on the support call tonight over the growls of my stomach.
The growls that get louder and louder. Too loud. Go away, I say. I don’t need you. I will tend to you later… Continue reading
I’ve been frustrated that so much of the information about ED recovery out there seems to be targeted to teenaged girls. There are a billion misconceptions about ED that someday I’d like to correct, but that day isn’t today. Part of ED is the shame, guilt, and secrecy. We know what we do isn’t right or healthy, but we’re afraid of admitting we have a problem because we don’t want to be judged. We don’t want anyone to see we are less than perfect, and most of all, we don’t want anyone to know how much we hate ourselves. Continue reading
It’s midnight again and I should be asleep in bed. I would just go upstairs, pop my Ambien, put on my sleep mask and sleep. It works – nearly every night – and yet I cannot go just yet.
I have a quiz to write, a final exam waiting. Trust documents to sign, bills to pay, taxes to review. The kids’ lunches aren’t complete, there’s laundry to be hung, and I could stay up all night working but to no avail. It’s not the work, it’s me. Continue reading
My brother is an alcoholic, and while he’s been recovered for over 20 years, he’s still pretty active in AA. He goes to meetings, he counsels others, he volunteers, he works the steps. And though I don’t envy him and the battles he’s faught, he has something I don’t. Support. And acceptance. And a modicum of understanding. Continue reading
This isn’t an easy thing to explain, this eating disorder thing. In part because I can’t think of a time except when I was a child when I was completely okay with food. Even then, I remember the comments my family made – the “jokes” and teasing that I “took too seriously” but looking back were pretty hurtful. They called me “thunder thighs,” and other names. And yet I wasn’t fat. I’ve never been fat, really. Continue reading