Acknowledgement

I find it hard to believe that it has been close to a year that I have posted on my blog.  It isn't that I have had nothing to say or report on my journey to some kind of recovery from the eating disorder, but that  my years has been one of distress and  pain both emotional and physical.  I wasn't sure at the time that I could actually share with people the reality of my life anymore, or the pain I was inflicting on my family as well as my self.

I spent most of the summer of 2012 fighting to feel a sense of normalcy return to my mind and body.  Frankly, I was struggling with a depression that I wasn't sure I was going to make it through with or without medication.  It was different than the summer before when I actually walked willingly back into the Anorexia/Bulimia( I am still not sure which label I fall under ).  Then, I was withdrawn, numb, in denial, and using all my energy to hide my secret and to play the role of the happy wife, mother, and etc.  I didn't feel the depression back then. I just didn't feel.  The Anorexia was doing its' job. by mid summer  2012 I felt it, I heard it, I could no longer deny it to myself, my family, or my therapist.  The depression  was huge!  It was real, although despite the reality of it, I somehow felt more alive and more connected just by acknowledging it.  So now the depression and eating disorder on the same page.

It wasn't just the depression that was huge, so was the eating disorder.  I still managed my food, weight, and exercise with a vengeance all the while trying to  convince myself, family,therapists,and doctors that because my weight had stabilized at 113lbs -117lbs.  I was fine because I no longer looked frail and weak.  My therapist and I would go around and around on this one.  Oh, and the 117lbs scared me so much that I quickly dropped back to 112lbs.  I was much more comfortable to hover at 112-115.  Yet most the time I felt safe at the lower end of the range, and most thought I appeared so much better than the early months of 2012.  I find such humor and confusion that the same people that were horrified by my 113lb frame when I came home from Michigan 2 years ago now think I look fine.  So, I must be fine right?  Not exactly.

Through out the summer of 2012 I struggled with numerous anxiety provoked health problems.  Some insomnia, eye twitching, and Burning Mouth Syndrome.  The hardest part through all this was believing that God had abandoned me because I had deliberately walked back into the eating disorder;  therefore demonstrating disobedience, and a lack of faith.

I review my journals and find a common theme of hating my body woven throughout the text.  I hated that it constantly seemed to betray, not just in the present, but through my past.  It never did enough for me.  It wasn't fast enough, strong enough, tall enough, smart enough, kind enough, faithful enough, thin enough, pretty enough. What was enough?  I wasn't sure.  I just knew in some way I wasn't enough and my body was the enemy, and if I could somehow at least be thin enough, the rest would fall into place.

So began my first battle with Anorexia and with my body.  One that went untreated and became disguised by the fact that my family and friends saw me eat.  What they didn't see me do was purge any meal the observed and pick my way through food the rest of the day.  I had settled into believing that because I WAS eating, I wasn't sick.  My parents, not wanting to look at how unhappy I was, or at themselves, lived contently in my denial.  I was happy to let them.

I was also happy to let Kurt believe this as our friendship and dating lead to love and marriage.  However, knowing I wanted children, and tired of living a lie, I confessed my struggle.  This was so painful for me to acknowledge to myself as well as Kurt.  So, began 10 years of working towards recovery.

Then the ultimate failure of losing 3 babies to miscarriage or ectopic pregnancies sealed the deal.  My body couldn't do the most primal task of having babies.  I felt like I was being punished by God and spent much of my time angry with him and my body.  Somehow forgetting the blessings of the two boys I did have.  (The oldest is 24 today.)  Not that I for one second didn't love them and care for them with every ounce of my being, but forgot that God hadn't forsaken me, but blessed me beyond measure.  Somehow through it all I was recovered and stable.  I became comfortable with my body and my life for the next fifteen years.  Or so I thought?