Mirror, Mirror

I don’t understand. I really don’t. How so many people can see so many things in me that I just can’t.

I am part of an all female group on Facebook. It’s lead by a photographer that idolizes all body types, and does boudoir photo shoots, among other things. So I decided that it might be a good idea to have a shoot with this photographer. She’s so sweet, and uplifting, and so very inspirational.

I got to set on the scheduled Saturday, after my boyfriend practically pushed my stalling ass out of the house. This was waaaay out of my comfort zone. But, this photographer and her group is what inspired me to finally seek help for my… eating habits. So I took a deep breath, and excitedly entered the studio. The photographer was having ‘a day’. The hair and makeup artist was warm and welcoming… but you could cut the tension in the room with a knife.

The photographer was having a relapse, and the other woman there knew that. So she says, “So let’s talk about eating disorders for a moment.” The photographer hadn’t eaten in 6 days, was being forced to drink a protein shake by her friend doing my hair and makeup, and wanted me to just be the person who understood without really having to say anything. And oh, do I ever.

The rest of the hair and makeup time was spent talking about how hard it is for her to raise up all of these beautiful women, and be inspirational for all of them, while feeling so incredibly horrible about herself. She felt the hypocrisy I’ve so often babbled on about in this blog. And I selfishly hated being a part of that conversation. I had paid to be there, and be pampered, and feel good about myself… and here, the whole ugly eating disorder issue was rearing it’s ugly head right in front of me.

The shoot itself felt like it went extremely well. I was in my element. I had modeled for a bit about 13 years ago… but nothing like this. I felt great. She kept telling me that everything was great, I was doing so well, that I was nailing every shot. And I felt good about that! I was impressed with myself.

Today, I got the sneak peek. A collage by the photographer of 4 photos. And reality crashed around me. I don’t look sexy. I look like me. And it made me cry. Here, I had been anticipating these incredible photos of me outside of my element, being sexy, and all made up… but it was still just me. I immediately started tearing myself apart. And I still am. My boyfriend, obviously, loves the pictures. I had one of my group friends directly message me telling me how incredible I looked.

All I can see are all of the things makeup and cameras can’t hide. My mouth with the down-turned corners. My front teeth that are slightly bigger making me look like a rat. My back that doesn’t arch properly when I try to ‘arch’ it. My thighs looking like sausage links.

I just wish I could see what other people do. I want to be able to find myself attractive without feeling completely empty. At the very least, it would be great to just not hate myself.

Lost Cause

I had an appointment with my therapist yesterday. She mentioned to me that body image and eating habits could take a lifetime to change, and she wants to give me the tools necessary to be my own therapist. She wants to make our meetings less frequent soon, and then just do follow-up appointments every once in a while following that.

I feel like she is breaking up with me. Like my problems can’t be that bad if she doesn’t think I need to meet with her. Which takes me right back to the place of “I’m making this into more than it really needs to be”. When I mentioned this thought to one of my best friends, he said, “Well don’t you think you might be?”.

I want to give up. I want to ignore that anything is even happening. I want to go back to the place where I didn’t talk about anything that was going on with me, and pretend like everything is okay like I’ve done for my entire life. This hasn’t been a problem until now. . .why make it into more than it is?

I feel like I just need to put my big girl pants back on, turn around, and forget that I ever entertained this idea.

But I’m not a quitter. I need to just put one foot in front of the other, and keep moving.

Mental Dumping Ground

I have been in a very bad place in my head the last few days. It’s hard for me to look at any part of my body without feeling the need to literally cry – and I’m not a crier.

I know that I am so much more than how I look. I’m pretty funny. I’m really quite smart. My children adore me, and think I’m the best mom in the world. But I look down at myself, and there is nothing good I see.

My boyfriend has this idea in his head that I have plenty of self-esteem. That I just need to be more comfortable with showing my body in certain ways. Let me tell you something… my self-esteem, though I talk a big talk, is damn near non-existent. I don’t feel like right now, I can realistically show any part of my body without making other people totally disgusted.

I’ve been working on wearing clothes that don’t completely cover my entire shape. I know that there are certain things my boyfriend likes seeing me wear, and so I try to wear them to avoid looking like a complete blob any time I’m around him. Yesterday, it was booty shorts.

I sat down in our outside chairs for a smoke, and I looked at my thighs – and almost gagged. I made it 45 minutes before changing back into my sweat pants and sweater.

Sometimes I feel bad for my boyfriend. He didn’t sign up for all this. He didn’t sign up for a woman who’s so ashamed of her body that she hardly lets him see it. I have been trying so hard to look at myself the same way he sees me… and all I see is how I don’t look as attractive as any of the other girls he looks at.

I know that at the moment, I’m trying to get “better”, but all I can think about is if I get better, then I’m just going to get really big, and lose all the progress I’ve made. For me right now, “better” is 20 pounds lighter than I am, working out and paying attention to what I eat. But realistically, I know that’s not right. I know that “paying attention to what I eat” should really be “making sure my body has the nutrients it needs”, and “working out” … well I could probably stand to work out a little more.

I will say. This blog, as much as it is a mental dumping ground for me, really helps. Every like I get, every new person who follows me makes me feel… less alone? Like there’s someone out there rooting for me. Or learning from me. It makes me feel oddly… purposeful? At this point, I just really appreciate the fact that I have a place I can just vent. And like my profile says… if I’m not helping anyone else, at least I’m trying to help myself.

But if you’re reading this, I want you to know I really appreciate you using your time to get to know me. Thank you.

Dinner Alone

I believe I’ve mentioned before that my boyfriend and I regularly eat dinner together. On the weekend nights that he has his son, if I have my kids the same weekend, I have a hard time figuring out what I actually want to eat for dinner. I have a few go-to concoctions on which I rely. I always keep my staples in the apartment on those weekends. Tuna, peppers and onions, baby carrots, crackers, bread, peanut butter. My list is small, but strong.

Last night, my boyfriend and I had a dinner time with the kids off at their grandparents house. It was just the two of us. And he informs me before I leave for work that because he ate lunch, he wasn’t very hungry for dinner. He didn’t care what we had for dinner, if he decided to eat anything. I had to fend for myself.

I instantly start going through all of the scenarios of how I can convince him that I didn’t need dinner either. But I reprimanded myself for that because it was an unhelpful thought.

When I got home, he was already all comfy and ready to just snuggle and relax… but I still needed to eat. I spent over an hour going over what I had available, what I could make, what I didn’t want, what I could be hungry for. I was in a great deal of distress. And when I finally settled on a very strange concoction of tuna with Mexican corn, sour cream, Mexican cheese blend in a tortilla quesadilla style… he questioned me multiple times if I was sure that that is what I really wanted. He didn’t know if it would actually taste any good. He wasn’t sure that it would all work together. Now, I understand it sounds like a strange combination. But if I didn’t think it was going to work, I wouldn’t have continued making it.

I have a hard enough time trying to decide on what to eat. What can I eat. What should I eat. SHOULD I eat? (yes. always yes) It is far more difficult for me to commit to something when it is constantly being questioned, or when someone is showing constant distaste for the thing I’m eating. And the fact I was eating and he wasn’t did not help my situation much.

We ended up going outside to have a smoke to let my food cool. He got distracted filling a snake hole, so I went downstairs, and ate my food. He didn’t even realize I had eaten everything, and finished before he came back inside. But I did it. And it. Was. Delicious.

It was not, however, how I wanted to spend my date night without the kids. Next time, I’ll be more prepared. Or at least try to.

Work “friends”

The thing that I hate about working in an office is how close to… and how ridiculously far from.. you are to your co-workers. I have always had a hard time being real around anyone. Multiply that by a million when I’m in an office full of women who play the ‘office politic’ game. I feel like anything that I could possibly say to anyone can, at any given moment, be twisted into something that is entirely different than what I intended.

I’ve been a little touch-and-go with letting people know that I’m seeing a therapist. I believe out of the 15 people in my office, 2 I have told, but they all know that I’ve been having regular ‘doctors’ appointments every other week. I’m sure some of them have figured it out.

What they don’t know is why. It’s difficult for me to explain when I’m still trying to figure it all out. I am slightly closer to some co-workers than others. And I’m thinking about the idea of slowly dipping my toe into the waters of owning my problems. I almost feel like if I were to be transparent with one or two of them… it may help to know that I’m not trying to keep this completely in the dark – that being open with a select few might actually help me in my getting better.

I feel like I’m constantly hiding. I try to hide my body. I try to mask my eating habits. I try to hide how I feel. I try to hide…everything. And maybe, part of getting better is taking that mask away. Coming out into the light and saying, I have a problem. I mean… in real life. With people. That sounds so hard, but so is everything else I’m doing in order to … not fix… overcome my illness.

It’s also really been nagging in the back of my brain… maybe you should just tell someone. Maybe, you can find someone who would understand and not think they need to fix you, or worry that you’re skipping lunch again, or look at you in a different way. Okay. THAT is what terrifies me. All. Of. The. Above. But maybe it wouldn’t be nearly as bad as how I imagine it in my head. It almost never is. Until it is.

Atypical My Ass

Something that frustrates me the most about finally addressing my mental health is that I would absolutely LOVE to be able to just turn it off. I am on my lunch break. My routine for my lunch break is go home, check the mail, pick up my daughter from school and drop her off at daycare, then run back to work. Occasionally, I have a few extra minutes to run to the store or gas station.

Today, I have been particularly hungry. I checked the mail and went inside. Keeping in mind my next appointment is tomorrow morning, and I have homework to complete…. I figured I would look for a snack.

I looked in the cabinet. I wanted soup – too calorie dense. Peanut butter? Too many calories. I looked in the fridge. I was there, crouched in front of my refrigerator for 5 minutes… And couldn’t bring myself to actually make a decision.

I haven’t put my number for dinner into my tracker, and so everything had too many calories.

And as I sit here in my car waiting for school to dismiss for the day, I’m unhappy that I didn’t make a choice. I’m upset that I can’t just eat. Why is that so fucking hard? I mean… it’s not in theory. Just in practice.

My stomach is empty. And I should just eat. But something in my brain is preventing me from doing just that. So yes. I am suffering from an eating disorder. And progress doesn’t just happen. It takes time. It takes effort.

Today has been a bad day. But that doesn’t mean that I’ll never get there. Each day starts fresh. And tomorrow will be better. I will be stronger. And every day after that. And when I DO finally get this thing under control, I will look back at this, and be proud of getting myself away from feeling like this.

Long Day

Yesterday morning, my little girl had a dentist appointment with a new dentist. She ended up having two teeth pulled. And I was not in the room with her. They convinced me that as her mother, I would likely make her more nervous.

Let me tell you what. I would have, if anything, made her more comfortable. Because I’m her mother, and I know how to discuss things with her. I know how to make her feel better. But. They convinced me to stay away and allow them to do their job. And I listened.

The guilt that I felt after that is like no other. I make a point of letting her be a part of the decision making process for anything that has to deal with her body. I’m hoping, by doing that, that I will make her more aware growing up of her own body being her own entity that she controls. But for now, she’s 8. Just because I’m her mother doesn’t mean that I should tell the dentist it’s okay to yank her teeth out without me in the room.

We spent the rest of the day together. I called her out of school. I called off of work. And I got to spend time with my baby girl. Ever since her brother came along, we haven’t had too many opportunities for just us. Especially since their father isn’t too much in the picture – his choice, not mine. But it was really nice to just… be – together. We didn’t do a whole lot. We relaxed. And we were just mommy and baby.

I may have overreacted a little bit, and made too much of a big deal out of it…. but it is a big deal. And I wouldn’t trade my day yesterday for anything in the world. Sometimes, as a parent, or even just as a person… it’s nice to just stop. Stop running around. Stop distracting ourselves.. and just be.

Hypocrisy

Let me start this one out by saying, I try my damndest not to allow my little girl, who is 8, to see me stress about my appearance. That being said, I know how observant little ones are – even when you think their heads are in the clouds.

My precious, beautiful little girl is so kind, and loving, and innocent. So very emotionally fragile…. and the pickiest eater ever. I have tried just about everything in the past, and have FINALLY gotten to a point where if I put something, a small morsel, new on her plate, she understands that I expect her to try it. To give it a real go before she decides she doesn’t like it. We’re making progress.

I ran into a problem with her a few weeks ago. It was right after making a big deal about how she’s getting the first signs of puberty – AT 8 YEARS OLD! So I had measured her little mosquito bites to make sure I was shopping for the right sports bra. Shortly after that, I started getting questions from her about how many calories are in certain foods, and her asking to see the nutrition labels on things. 😐 My. Heart. Sank.

I explained to her that at the age of 8, it wasn’t her responsibility to focus on those kinds of things. I explained to her that she needed a high number of calories, as a growing little girl, and that it was my responsibility to make sure that her needs were met – so she didn’t have to worry about it. Just put her trust in me that I was giving her the nutrition that she NEEDS to grow big and strong, just like her mama.

Now the tricky part. I eat, on average, less calories than it takes to run the body of an 8-year-old. How can I preach to her that nutrition is SO important, and food is there to fuel her body so that she can grow… when I have such a hard time allowing (there’s that word again) myself the correct nutrition for my own body. It’s possible she may think that I’ve eaten throughout the day, and my dinner is just a small part of my overall diet…. but I also know she’s more observant than that.

I will say, when I look at her, I see myself. And when I see the ways in which she looks like me, I can’t believe I could ever think so little of the way I look. She truly has done wonders for me. And, unlike my mother, when she tells me how beautiful I am, I shoot right back at her – “And how lucky are you, that you look just like me.” Big talk. I’ve always been good at coming off as confident and self-assured.

She is the real reason I want to get better. She is my rock, though she won’t know that for many years to come. She is my inspiration to be healthy – so she can look at me, and know how to be healthy. Know how to take care of herself. So as difficult as it will be… I will STOP being a hypocrite. I WILL get to a point where I can be a role model for her, instead of a talking head. Do as I say, not as I do – does NOT apply to health. Health is important. I want to be around when she graduates, when she starts her career, when she needs me to lean on when she feels like the pressure of the world is too much for her to bear… and if I don’t beat this… she’ll have to talk to the air. Ask me to ‘guide’ her when I can’t answer. I will not allow that to happen.

I will be there for her. Here. Healthy. I have no choice.

Snack Attack

So I’m working on noticing the difference between ‘normal’ and ‘abnormal’ behavior. It is normal to crave a snack, eat that snack, be satiated, and be done. It is abnormal to crave a snack, so you find everything you possibly can, and eat it alone in bed late at night.

Last night, I had 2 pop-tarts, a caramel MilkyWay bar, a hollow bunny, some jelly beans, some milk duds, and a giant spoon full of peanut butter. Somehow, I managed to eat all of those things within a half hour, alone, in bed. That is abnormal behavior. That, my friends, is what we call a binge. Maybe not the worst binge in the entire world… but definitely a binge.

What’s even crazier in my mind (which I’m sure you’ve figured out is crazy within its own right), is when I did my morning weigh-in. I had gone DOWN two pounds. Immediately, I wanted to reach for my measuring tape… but it’s the weekend – no measuring on the weekend. Ugh.

And now… What? Where do I go from here? What I want to do is punish myself for this. *Not normal* I want to avoid eating anything today, to ‘make up’ for this. *which will lead me right back to this point* But it’s done, so I can’t go back and fix it now.

Now… what should I do? I should take into consideration that I’ve not done that in a long time, and when you deny your body some things for so long, you’ll pay for it eventually. I should understand that unhealthy snacks are actually.. okay.. in moderation every once in a while.

Maybe, I’ll have to work one ‘naughty’ food into what I allow myself to eat for a week. For me… it’s never about whether or not I want to eat sweets – I always want to eat sweets… It’s about what I allow myself to eat. THAT is what I should stop.

I am always allowed to eat.

Eating is a function that provides fuel for my body, that keeps it healthy, that keeps it running, that keeps me here. Why, since I understand the logistics so well, am I so unable to apply these things in practice? That is the part that really sucks the most in particular.

Burden

I absolutely HATE being a burden on other people. I understand that there are people to whom I can talk, and those to whom I can’t. A lot of times, I rely on the people who can’t understand why I need to talk… – which is stupid of me.

I have a very close personal circle. Two girl friends and whoever their dating at the time, and my boyfriend. Everyone else in whom I confide is pretty much ancillary in my life until I decide to make them a deciding factor on one thing or another which no one close to me can understand.

Regardless…. I start to feel like a burden. Whether it’s on my personal friends, my co-workers… Because I’m not 100% honest…. about anything. And when I try to be honest… they think I’m kidding – and with that, I try to roll. Any excuse for me to be in denial.

Actually, a huge reason why I started this site…this blog?…this thing. . . was because I just wanted a space to be open without causing distress on my friends/family/normal life people.

If you’re reading this, and you feel the same way… feel free to reach out. Sometimes it takes a stranger to know a stranger..

If you’re in no way related to this, and you ask a loved one you fear is going through the same thing… good luck, and be patient. Eating disorders like to hide in the darkest recesses of the brain, and denial is their best friend. But don’t give up, just be gentle.