It’s been a long & winding road…

I stopped blogging awhile ago. I’m not sure why – just time had passed, I was busy, I was working on other things, and I was trying to write my blogs in my journal. But the issue is, so much of my recovery history is here. It’s here because I wanted to be public in a non-public way. I wanted my experience and pain to help even just one person. I wanted this disease to mean something.

To catch up – I’m older, duh, but not wiser. After a disastrous episode on Abilify where I gained 20 pounds in a month (and no, I’m not exaggerating), I was able to lose 10 but the last 10 have hung around. So I’m 10-15 over where my set point weight was. To look at it another way, I’m only 8 pounds less than I was when I started Weight Watchers because I didn’t fit in size 10 pants with Spanx. I’m not a 10 – still a 6 (I miss 2 & 4 but not 0), but shapewear when I’m not in jeans is my friend. I have a belly pooch I cannot lose, but my breasts look decent, and I think my face looks okay, but not as good as it did when I was at my old set point.

I am also “sober” since June 6, 2015 (my last purge) with AA. Nope, not an alcoholic, but a self-described anorexic/addict, my addiction being compulsive behaviors (eating, exercising, self-harm, self-abuse, and many different types of avoidance from running errands to calling people to video games, TV, and even reading). Addicted to reading? No. Addicted to avoiding. Addicted to hurting myself. Addicted to hating myself. Because I’m not addicted to alcohol, I only attend open meetings. Did you know that anyone can attend open meetings? And that each meeting is very different? I have a great and supportive home group that keeps me going. And one of the things I’ve learned is that when I don’t think I need a meeting, or I’m tired, or I don’t want to go = I need to go to a meeting. Even a crappy meeting is better than no meeting at all.

While I’m sober, I am not fully sober but my new sponsor says that’s ok. It’s ok because she gets it, as an anorexic/bulimic, depressive, alcoholic, drug addict, self-harmer. And I think I have issues! She lost so much because of her compulsions, but then again, so have I. I still self-harm, restrict, hate my body, etc. but I don’t purge, and that’s something.

I’m still married, although my husband is currently checked out of our marriage (i.e. we rarely talk about anything non-transactional, sex is rare if ever, and he’s asleep before I come to bed, and gone before I wake). I’m cutting him slack right now since MIL had a mental breakdown, complete with hallucinations and delirium, this past week. Still I miss him, and with feeling fat and hideous, I’ve been shopping around and flirting with men. I’m not sure I could bring myself to meet someone, let alone screw them, but I think about it. I really do.

I see my shrink once a week mostly because I can’t afford twice a week, and my nutritionist once a month, because she really doesn’t help me much but my insurance pays for it. She helps me come up with ideas to eat but I’m not on an eating plan. I just don’t skip meals. I skimp all of the time, especially as of late, because I am so disgusted with my body and my weight.

My work contract is up for renewal and I’m freaking out and avoiding. My dad is still dying, between his stage 4 melanoma and advanced dementia. My sibs are pretty much checked out of the whole dad-thing, but they think they aren’t. I’m behind on everything, am avoiding doing work right now, yadda yadda.

The hardest thing right now is that I was in a car accident three weeks ago and hurt my neck, shoulders, spine, and right arm even though it was pretty low-speed (I was rear-ended). So I have doctor’s visits, orthopedists, physical therapy, and constant pain. CONSTANT pain. I’m not supposed to lift, exercise, do yoga, walk the dog (he pulls and weighs 90 pounds), drive more than 20 mi… really do anything except be. By the end of the day I am in so much pain I have no choice but to take a vicodin, but I try to avoid that as much as possible. Being numb is not a good thing for me.

And of course, not exercising is aggravating my anorexia. And yet I dismiss my disease because I feel fat and am nowhere near a dangerous weight. My depression is – eh. I’m now on so many uppers it’s bizarre. I’ll do another post on the meds that I take and why – it’s hilarious.

I doubt I still have my followers, but if you are there, or you read this, please leave a little comment. This world is too scary and overwhelming to be in it alone.

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The ins and outs of IOP

IOP has been a strange experience, not at all what I expected. Yes, there were waifs and overweight people in the same room, although the bingers had their own program, so it was just Anas, Mias, and everyone in between. But people come and go in a flash – some are there for weeks, others drop in and out. Often it’s just me and one other person, or just me. Continue reading

Evicting my inner critic

I haven’t been posting in quite awhile because I’ve been afraid to come back here. I started this blog out of desperation and loneliness, out of a desire to connect with others like me. It’s embarrassing to be 40+ years old and battling an eating disorder. We watch the stupid after school specials and either it’s a young girl who dieted too much and became obsessively anorexic, or a competitive athlete trying to shed a few pounds who became bulimic. But I’m not 16, I’m not a gymnast, and I don’t eat a single carrot stick with my girlfriends.  Continue reading

Eating Disorders Anonymous – First Meetings

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

The perpetual cycle of shame

Long before I ever started therapy, I struggled with an overwhelming sense of shame.  On the surface, I was ashamed that I had to resort to purging to handle my issues with food, and that sometimes I had to hit or hurt myself to feel better.  I felt terrible and weak that I did these things, so much so that I only told one person about my self-harm, a then-BF I dated in college.  He later figured out the purging when we went to a mexican restaurant and I came back from the bathroom with a flushed face.  Ironically, he was angry that I had “wasted” the food (I didn’t – it was delicious, which is why I ate it and then purged it) and never expressed concern about my purging, or even how I’d been lying to him the entire time.   Continue reading