The Urge to Share (Anorexia)

I've had quite a few opportunities and interest in "my story" lately.   I've been leading a few small groups and curiosity has been piqued as I've had a couple high school friends in these groups and they clearly know bits of my story and alluded to it in these small group conversations.  

We also have a monthly event where people share their stories.  My husband finds volunteers and people share as a community-building experience.  My husband has been after me for three years to share my story.  I'd just share the "safe" things - I made bad choices sometimes, was in some crappy relationships, battled anorexia in high school (never would I mention as an adult and in full-time ministry) but God did so much in my life and I'm a new creation!  Bam!  

That's the safe side.

Frankly, there's so many parts of it - the illicit relationships with my pastors, the abuse, my anorexia while being in full time ministry - that I'm NOT ready to share.  Some of those things wouldn't be appropriate to share nor do I know if I ever could share.

But I keep getting asked if I know anyone who has experience with eating disorders.  I say, "No, I don't know anyone who can provide counsel along those lines.  I wonder if Counselor So-and-So could help?"  End of the conversation.  However, it's happening frequently and I'm feeling it's more than coincidence.  

I'm a mama, a pastor's wife, a worship leader, a childbirth professional and a bazillion other titles follow my introduction, but recovering anorexic or abuse survivor or someone who had sexual relationship with not one but two of her pastors in high school?  No.  Those things should not be included in my title or story.  I can't bear to say those things and look people in the eyes, let alone type them.  

As usual, sign after sign keeps arriving in my lap.  My faith is there and present but at a low spot.  I have doubts. We have a new-ish pastor at our church and as I'm slowly working up the courage to share more than a few words with him (poor guy, he obviously has no idea why I'm so cold - I'd be SO embarrassed if he ever found out), it's bringing about a lot of anxiety in me.  He called a meeting with me about worship when he first started and I had to meet in his office with him.  Windows were open, the door was cracked, my husband was right across the hall praying for me, it was a brief meeting, but it was very triggering for me.  Even thinking about it right now leaves me feeling panicked.  Would he pursue me if he knew those things about me?  Would he take advantage of me as well?  Would I be able to resist or would I fall back into the silent victim?  What if he is like the other pastors I had?  

I am completely awkward towards almost all men I meet.  I am feeling some prompting towards release, but I think I will pursue a professional therapist.  The Statute of Limitations is well passed, but I still worry.    

My story is incredulous, I get that and most likely, I wouldn't even share details about any of the above if I did share my story, but to admit defeat by any of the above?  Pride.  I am prideful.  People guessed I was anorexic, but I rarely admitted it.  Ha, I've been in ministry my whole adult life; I learned early on to keep things internal or get eaten.  To share would degrade my pride and everyone loves a good story about the pastor's wife.  

And at the same time, how can I let such awful, shitty, heartbreaking things be wasted?  How can I let my story stay hidden for vanity's sake?  Or fear of the ladies' circle?

I can't.  

God HAS done miracles in my life.  I want to share them.  I'm just not sure how.

In the State of Normal

Life is normal for me.  I never thought I'd say that.  

Recovery from anorexia seemed impossible.  And surely, I'd gain so much weight that I'd be unrecognizable.  

I'm not.  My heart is still the same.  I have the same passions, loves and duality of a gentle and feisty spirit.  

I have times at home of eating animal crackers with my kids.  I sit on the couch and watch a TV show at 11:00 PM with my husband instead of exercising.  On Sunday mornings when I'm rushing to the church for worship practice, I wear whatever clothing I can grab first.  I don't spend hours agonizing over how fat I'll look in certain outfits.  We have a new pastor on our staff and I was actually able to have a couple brief conversations with him, where that previously would've sent me into panic.

Life is normal.  And so am I.  

Am I perfect? Nope.  Just like anyone else, I have down days, days where I doubt many things and question my abilities to continue with anorexia playing an active role in my life, but those moments are brief, usually reigned in my a glance at my children or a quick phone call with my husband.

Recovery IS possible.  I am LIVING it.  I am LIVING proof.  

5 Years of Eating Disorder Recovery

Today is an important day.

It's almost better than my birthday.  After all, itt's not unusual to have a birthday; to gain life.  Everyone has a birthday.  What's unusual is to fight for that life from the grip of an eating disorder and do it successfully for five years.  Not everyone does that.

It was five years ago today that I sat in my living room, sick from the flu.  As I slowly walked back to my couch from a trip to the bathroom, which took all my strength, I felt release.  I cannot describe, with words, what happened.  It was something supernatural.  God spoke to me that it was all over.

"It's over."  It was nearly audible. 

And that was it.  It was over.  Hell was gone.

I gorged on rice cakes the rest of the day.  

It took me over a year to get to a healthy enough weight to sustain a pregnancy.  I wasn't restricting or binging and purging.  I just took things slowly.  After all, recovery was physically difficult and taxing on my body.

Today, I celebrate on the interwebs, with people whom I've never met.  My husband stands by my side and cheers me on. 

But every other person I encounter today, has no idea the significance of this day or the joy I feel inside.  

What an accomplishment.  It IS possible.  I never believed it before.  But you CAN recover from anorexia or bulimia.

After all, I am walking, living, breathing proof.  And more than just a life, I have a happy, content, peaceful, grateful one at that.  

Thank God.

Back and Forth, Up and Down

Since I've last posted, I've had a baby.  A beautiful, delicious, little one joined my life -- I'll call him Gentleman. 

I am grateful.  Humbled.  In love.

I am also human. 

I struggle with how I look, with how I feel.  The jiggly bits around my stomach and all the loose skin, rumpled up like bread dough that sat exposed to air for too long.  The thighs and ass with dimples, more than can be counted, can be seen through my pants.

My love for my Lovebug (child #1), has kept me from relapsing more times than I can count.  It has kept me up.  I'm guessing I'll have the same story to tell a year from now in regards to Gentleman.

But weird things happen postpartum. Emotions and feelings and general craziness.  What was once up gets lost.  Differentiating between up and down is a struggle.  You squint and turn your head and shrug your shoulders for a view of Direction Up.  Sometimes you leave befuddled, stumbling, but hopefully not headed Direction Down. Sometimes you blindly hope that as you feel your way, step by step through the dark, you will begin to see Up. 

I feel that way right now.  I wouldn't be lying if I said that I hate parts of my body right now.  I want to work out.  I want to run.  I want to purge.  I want to run hills until I puke.  I want to buy diet pills and laxatives and only eat safe foods. 

We cannot give ourselves only what we want.  I cannot give myself only what I want.  I cannot be driven by selfishness. 

But yet, I'm so disgusted with my weight.  I want it gone NOW and I know how I can lose it quickly. 

The majority of the time, I am making healthy decisions.  But other times I find myself counting calories, doing squats while I brush my teeth and obsessing about food.  All those things can be healthy, but for me, those are obsessive things I do while I'm struggling.
 
After I had Lovebug, I think I struggled with some Postpartum Depression (OK, I know I did) and I got obsessive about my weight loss.  I was too scared to tell anyone, though.  I exercised and weighed and counted calories.  I didn't relapse.  I just controlled everything.

I don't have anyone to talk to.  My husband is so busy right now, I can't stress him out and need to support him.  If you talk to me about it in person, I come across strong, determined, resolute.  It's here where I can be honest and say I have fears, insecurities and doubts.  I have trust issues, so the few people who have known about my anorexia have been slowly cut off.  And most think it's an issue that plagued me years ago.  True and false. 

It is always there.  Sometimes fresh, sometimes stale.

Here I am: day by day, back and forth, up and down, all these thoughts and emotions in my head. 

The weight will come off slowly.  Patience.

Patience.

For now, I lean on my faith, my love for my kids and myself.  I can do this. I have to.
 

Recovered Anorexic and Pregnant

I don't call myself recovered too often.  I normally say 'recovering', but lately, I have felt OK saying recovered.  To no one else, only in my own head does those words come about.  Oh, and of course, here.  To you.

I'm pregnant, eating normally, not exercising excessively, not purging in any form and I generally don't battle every bite of food.  I don't think obsessively about how I will lose weight here or change this about myself. 

Maybe time does heal.

Do I like the way my body looks?  Not really.  Except for the precious baby that grows in my belly, I'm not super appreciative of my form.  But I don't hate it either.

I feel the need to exercise, to lose weight, the get toned, but I know that time isn't now. 

I'll have time for that in the future.  Right now, I need to continue being a recovered anorexic, pregnant and a happy mother. 

Purging and Pregnant (again)

I'm pregnant and I'm not happy with my weight gain.  I have no support.  My first pregnancy, I was fresh into recovery so I had quite a bit of encouragement, mostly from my husband. 

But people think I'm 'better' now.  Just because I'm pregnant for the second time. 

The truth is, this is the hardest part.  I'm really gaining weight and I'm freaking out.  I'm pretty depressed about it and have a hard time even getting up sometimes because I can't stand the sight of my body. 

I mentioned it to my midwife today and she was aware of it all because my history with anorexia was in my medical files.  She was nice about it and asked me if I'm using laxatives or binging and purging. 

How do you answer that?  I actually answered honestly.  Fuck.  I'm not doing that stuff all the time.  I'm not in danger, my baby is safe, right?  I just purge sometimes when things feel out of control. 

And right now, everything is out of control in my marriage.

Speaking of marriage, I just told my husband that I'm struggling and he stormed out of the house.  Thanks? I guess.

I'm gaining a lot of weight and when I asked for support in one of the online due date groups, I was met with lots of  "yes, I'm gaining so much right now! 4 pounds!"  I specifically said I don't want to hear from the people that gain 2 pounds by 20 weeks: I want to hear from others who gain a lot, like I do.  

I need to know I'm going to be OK. And the only person outside voice that can reaffirm that, my husband, just walked out the door.

Guess who's pregnant?

Take a wild guess as to who has fallen pregnant?  Yes, I have!  I'm ecstatic and very grateful! 

I'm quite ill and nauseous, but I know this babe will be worth it all.  All the weight gain, all the struggle, all the pain, all the victory.   

Thank you all for celebrating with me and cheering me on.  I'm just glad my body finally let me keep enough weight on!