Category Archives: recovery

Hello From Both Of Us

245491-fetus-ultrasoundAfter a little hiatus, I have decided to write again. I am pregnant again and have made it to the second trimester, so we are sharing our news with everyone. After the miscarriage, this pregnancy seemed tenuous and frought with anxiety. There was nothing anyone could say to put my mind at ease that this baby would stay with me on earth.

In November we discovered some medical complications that resulted in a surgery. The last 2 months have been a whirl of hospital visits: surgeons, radiologists, obstetricians, enodcirnologists, nurses, doctors and of course myriad tests: ultrasounds, x-rays, MRIs, blood tests, weight, blood pressure, heart rate…

The list goes on, but nothing measured the anguish and suffering in the mother’s heart.

Today I am recovering from surgery which went well. Baby is thriving from what we can see on ultrasounds. Through all of this, I have continued in the ED recovery program where I see a case manager, medical doctor, nutritionist, psychologist and occupational therapist. As much as I want this child more than anything in this life, I cannot describe the distress of gaining weight as someone with an eating disorder.

Since we confirmed the pregnancy, I have not once binged, purged, restricted or over exercised. The desire is there constantly, but I felt that I could not do that to my unborn child and live with the consequences. It is strange that not taking care of myself has never concerned me, but I cannot hurt my unborn child by continuing with my ED.

Advertisements
Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

hey fatty…

This is how I wake myself up: 

 

Tagged , , , , , ,

Words of wisdom from a friend. 

  

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

  

Tagged

The “V” Gene

“Hello giant,” a coworker greets me at ballet. I am wearing some sky scraper heels and trying unsuccessfully to hide the 10lbs I have gained since June.

“Please don’t remind me that I have giant genetics,” I implore him.

“Oh you have the “V” gene,” he says giving me a salacious look. “V for voluptuous”

My jaw drops in horror.

“Don’t say that to her,” another co-worker interrupts. “She thinks voluptuous means ‘fat’.”

Well we all know that’s what it means.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Bereft

I have been back nearly two weeks. They have been a blur of emotions and days and I cannot quite recall them in minute detail. 
I have existed: gone through the motions, done what’s expected of me at work or home. 
I have not eaten. I have eaten too much. I am now full of emptiness; of leavings and longings and loss. 

In the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep (too scared to close my eyes, too numb to keep them open), I wandered into the kitchen in my underwear and started foraging for food. 

The sight of my mostly naked body was simply an annoyance. Instead of halting me, it spurred me on. I made pasta without thinking about it. I could have gone to sleep hungry, but instead I started looking for comfort in carbohydrates, for happiness in the bubbling tomato sauce and for love in the soft, melting cheese. I let it caress my insides with warmth. I let it soothe me. I ate sitting on the floor with my fat rolling out around my panties and bra, cushioning the agony, shielding me from the dying sensation that will not leave me alone. 

I sobbed into some wine. I wailed in a bubble bath. Tears and snot and mascara mingling with the grimy water, dull as my soul. 

I am a tomb of nothingness. 

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Damaged 

I wish he knew me before I was damaged. I wish he had met me when I still believed in love stories and happily-ever-after – when I wasn’t jaded or bitter or calloused. I wish he could have known me when I loved without restraint, without holding back or guarding my heart. I wish I hadn’t given that part of myself to others or wasted it on the undeserving. I wish he could have known me before the wounds and hurts and heartaches overtook me; before the disappointments and let downs; before the abuse and neglect and rape. I wish he had known me before all this, when I wouldn’t have held back or demanded timelines or been harsh and unyielding. I wish he could see that I want to give him that, but I’m too scared. When he holds me in the night and soothes me and caresses me and my anxieties leave, I lean against his chest – my head upon his heart – and I know this is it. He is my epic love story and I am sabotaging it. I am giving him a hard time because I’m frightened he will not be true to his word – just like the others. Just like the others I am convinced he will mess me around, make me wait for nothing, damage me more. I am convinced in his difficult situation that we, that I, will not survive. I let it come between us because I cannot fight it. Instead I feel like I am fighting him – the one who loves me. He is paying for the sins of the ones who came before him. I wish I could look at him and tell him: I know. My heart knows. I have never been loved this way before. I love him so fiercely it terrifies me. I love his children and the family we have become. When I am not trying to run, I am happier than I have ever been before. When he holds me in the middle of the night as I cry in distress, conflicted, I know I am safe here. I need to remember that moment in all the other moments that overwhelm me. 

Tagged , , , , , , ,

Hope and Despair

2014 started off with so much despair. I left home, leaving my family behind, which took me months to recover from. I was rattled and ready to leave the country. I questioned my life here and once again was stuck between staying or giving up everything I have worked so hard for. I never know which one is right.¬† I dropped out of the ED 12 step program I had been in and once again was purging and overexercising and losing the weight I had gained in “recovery”.

In the summer I started dating my now boyfriend. Having met eight years ago, this was sudden and unexpected. Despite dealing with a lot of anxiety over our relationship and the many complications that go along with dating a man with children, I ended the year with hope. We kissed each other at midnight on New Year’s Eve, tears of happiness trickling down both our faces.

The last few months were not free of ED, despite the happiness I felt, and because of it, I have been very sick. Anyone who suffers from ED knows that everything is a trigger in a relationship. Even now, at peace with the situation and in love, I am not free of anxiety. It is something us ED sufferers contend with on a level no one can understand. I have tried to explain to my boyfriend what it is like. In the last two weeks I ran the gamut of emotions: breaking up with him although I didn’t want to, staying with him, not knowing which was right in the circumstances. A lot of it is rooted in my anxiety which overwhelms everything. After we finally talked on the weekend I felt peaceful. It doesn’t mean I don’t still have moments of anxiousness or fear. For the past few days, I have just wanted to be held, to hold on to him and not let go, now that my heart has decided. He has been there for me; my rock. Holding me in the night when I start to panic, pulling me close and wrapping his arms around me. The other day, I imagined a life free of ED with this man, being healthy enough to enjoy that life together. It was a beautiful thought.

I am looking at 2015 with all the hope we have for that life together. This year has started very differently to the last one. Long may it continue.

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,