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.

The Little Things

I’ve noticed that a lot of my posts are quite negative. Even when I am trying to do my best to encourage myself, mostly around the end, that I’m doing alright.

This morning, I had a particularly difficult time with the dress I had picked out to wear. I even have three outfits still laying on my bed as alternatives, because I really was not feeling my outfit for the day at all. To be honest, I’m still really not feeling it.

I asked my boyfriend if my dress looked weird, as it hangs differently at certain parts that I’m really not used to clothes bunching. He assured me, more than once, that the dress is indeed cut weirdly, and it has a few bunching issues. He also said I looked fantastic, and that it wasn’t me – it’s the dress. Now, that didn’t fully reassure me, and I’m still having some issues with the way I feel in this dress. But I will say, it made me feel better to hear him say that. The fact that it wasn’t all in my head was a great relief.

I’ve come to terms with the fact that there is no possible way to explain to him the way I feel about my body and the way I look. There is no way for me to expect him to understand. But I have noticed that he really seems to be trying to reassure me when I need him to. He believes me when I tell him how poorly I feel. And that wouldn’t be the case if I didn’t come out and tell him that sometimes, I need a little extra encouragement. He’s always thought that I’m just really hard on myself. But now that I’m opening up to him about my therapy, and some of the issues that I’ve kept locked away, I think that he’s really trying to understand and take it seriously – take me seriously. And that is a really important aspect of our relationship.

So. The last few weeks have been a little difficult. I’ve slipped up a little, and maybe moved in the wrong direction. But – and this time I really mean it – that doesn’t mean that I can’t move in the right direction. Maybe I do need to be a little less hard on myself. It may not be the only way to rectify my situation, but accepting that it’s okay to default as long as I don’t get stuck there is a big deal.

I know that right now, it feels like a never-ending battle. It feels like I’m treading water, not making any progress. Like any time I do move, it’s backwards. But I’ve taken some huge steps. There are a lot of things that I’m taking on, and I’m not failing at all of them. And that, in my book, is enough of a victory for now. It’s the little things in life that really make a difference. and each little baby step that I take toward changing and being healthy is actually a huge step toward accomplishing that goal.

Struggles

This weekend was a nice balance of hanging out, working hard, and having fun. It was not, however, conducive to my progress.

I had a great night Saturday. I had a nice little tuna cake burrito. It was fab. I snacked on some carrot sticks with peanut butter and ranch after the kids went to bed. It was wonderful and delicious, and I didn’t feel horrible afterwards.

Then there was yesterday. I was doing a bit of early summer cleaning, organizing, getting rid of things. Then I took the kiddos to the mall for a bit, had some fun. We went out to eat lunch, and I had some coffee, thinking “I’m not hungry yet, but I’ll eat a good dinner”. Then there was more cleaning to do when I got home, and getting dinner ready for the kids, and getting them ready for bed, then my shower… then it was 10 o’clock and by boyfriend was home.

I feel like I’ve taken a full step back. And I find that disappointing. But now all I need to do is take two steps forward, right? Get back on track. That can’t be too hard. I just have to keep my head up, and one foot in front of the other. Easy peasy….

If you couldn’t tell by now, a lot of this blog is me trying to implement the old tried and true method of – “if I talk like I mean it, some day it will be true”. Let me tell you what. I talk a big talk. I always have. I’m very good at convincing people to love themselves the way they are, and that they are beautiful just the way they are. And I’m great at saying that I’m perfectly fine, and people believe me. But not one time have I convinced myself that I’m telling the truth. I used to say “Fake it ’till you make it, and one day, you won’t have to fake it anymore”. I’m not so sure I agree with that anymore.

But here I am, trying to convince myself that I’m strong, that I can do this. That I’m capable of letting go of this crutch that has carried me through my life. But am I really? Or am I just faking it again, and this time I’m actually trying to believe my own lies. I’m not quite sure yet. But I don’t have much of a choice right now but to at least try.

Slippery Slope

This is a wonderful, glorious weekend where I have nothing to do except for spend time hanging out with the kids and relax. My boyfriend is at his home this weekend with his son, so it’s just me and the kiddos.

There’s only one problem. I was so excited to have an evening with just the kids last night, and they had eaten dinner before I picked them up. So aside from the three bites of my work snack before deciding the cheese had warmed up too much to be good and ditching it back in the refrigerator, I didn’t eat anything yesterday.

Now I’m at a point where I so easily find myself. I’m not hungry. Nothing sounds good. And I have no motivation to eat. Here I am, trying to get better, trying to become healthy, and I have one day where I don’t eat… and I feel like I’m right back at square one. If anything, this just makes me want to work out. I love the feeling of my muscles working off the excess weight I’ve been carrying around the last week on an empty stomach. Nothing else to weigh me down.

I’ve recognized this as dangerous territory. This is where, in the past, I would just go with it, and not really worry about the fact that my body had absolutely nothing to fuel it but caffeine and nicotine. I would just embrace it as starting my new cycle. But because I’m trying to break that cycle, I recognize that I need to eat something. I need to eat something before I become terrified to put anything into my body again…which happens at an alarming rate.

I also recognize that it would be so easy to just… not. That, I think is one of the hardest and scariest parts of all this. I know that I would be completely fine going another two days without eating, and everything would be hunky dory. But I’m not trying to get better because it’s easy. And I made a commitment to myself when I started being open about this and going to therapy. I am NOT a quitter. And I don’t take the easy way out. So damnit, I’m going to find something, anything, that I will eat for dinner tonight. Even if it’s something small. Before I slide all the way down that hill.

Back-Track

This past week, I’ve been trying to push myself. I ate more than I wanted to Saturday, didn’t log on Sunday – having 3 plates of food at a buffet, no less! – and I’ve been trying to keep my dinners above 500 calories.

My brain is telling me that I need to simmer down with all of this change. I’m gaining weight back. I’m becoming ‘large’. My body is jiggling in places I’d rather it not. I look disgusting, and my fat is bulging everywhere. I’m not exercising, and it’s starting to show. I can’t find any clothes that look right on me. This is not progress. I am effectively “letting myself go”.

I talked to my boyfriend about this. About feeling like all of this is more hurtful to me than helpful. That I feel so gross and unattractive. He does not think I look any different now than I did before I gained 5 pounds. In his mind, 5 pounds will melt off in a day. I do not measure any larger than I did – with the exception of on the scale. And when he looks at me, I can tell that he’s attracted to me. He has a certain way of making me feel like the most beautiful woman on the planet when he looks at me in a certain way. But then I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror… and I wonder… how? How can he make me feel this way when I look like that?

This next week, I may have to backtrack a little in order to find a bit of balance. My self-esteem this past week has been critical to say the least, and I have an event next weekend that will either boost it… or crush me entirely. I feel like if I take a few steps to make myself feel better… even if it’s just adding exercise to my extra caloric intake, or taking my dinners down a step… I think that would ensure that next weekend won’t be a catastrophe.

I need to find myself again. The person I was before I allowed this… mindset… to entirely take over who I am. I wish I could just enjoy life again, and not be in perpetual worry that whatever I’m doing is going to result in me blowing up like a balloon. And I may need to take a step back from my “progress” every once in a while to cope with certain things. But that does not mean that I will not get back on track. And I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that I am NOT alone.

The Week That Never Ends

This is one of those weeks that feels like it is just never going to end. But then I realized… This week is just a continuation of all the same issues from last week, which had bled over from the week before.

Usually, especially where work is involved, if I have a problem, I take care of it, it’s done. I don’t see the name again for a few weeks. The last two weeks, I’ve been trying to solve two specific cases where the people with whom I’m working either aren’t listening to what I’m saying, or they think they know the situation better than I do. Now I’ll be the first to tell you, I’m still learning. I do not know everything. But if I am working on something, actively, for a long period of time, you can bet your ass, I’m going to know everything of which I’m capable related to the issue at hand.

On top of all that frustration, I’ve been not doing very well with my homework from my therapist. Actually, with the exception of not taking tape measurements over the weekend, and – okay – I did manage to go a whole day without tracking my calories on Sunday. Those are both victories.

*Breathe*

Okay. I’ve been doing a decent job of following my homework. And while I recognize that, it just doesn’t really seem to be helping my thinking process, or the way I’ve felt about myself. Boy, I wouldn’t say half the things that have gone through my head about my worst enemy. So why do I think them about myself? Why is it so hard to just love myself? Or, at the very least, tolerate me.

Tomorrow is Friday. And then I get to have a wonderful weekend with my wonderful babies. And I will re-find my center. This is good. It will end.

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.

Out Loud

I’ve mentioned a few times before that I have a hard time admitting that I have an eating disorder. It’s even harder to talk about it out loud to another person. I tried talking openly with my boyfriend last night. I asked him if he wanted to hear about my new homework for my therapy, and he said, “…sure.” I could tell he was trying, but he really has a hard time understanding.

Yeah.. he didn’t really understand the importance of me working on my homework either. He mentioned that as long as he’s known me, this is a different ‘phase’ than he’s ever seen. According to him, I have a regular eating phase, an eat everything phase, and an eat next to nothing phase. This is a “weird” phase where he thinks I’m eating “normally” but I’m still obsessing like I would be if I was in an ‘eat next to nothing phase’.

I think that is actually a small victory. I’m in a different phase. I’m TRYING to break the cycle. I’m working toward finding that happy medium, and living there.

I told one of my co-workers. The one to whom I’ve been talking about my frustration with my boyfriend where mental illness is involved. She understands the need for therapy, so why wouldn’t she understand my reason? So I told her. I’ve been diagnosed with Atypical Anorexia Nervosa. and she said, “Oh my god. That’s so terrible. But wait… I thought you always eat supper.”, and she proceeded to try to give me constructive ideas on how to fix my problems. 😐

People may be more understanding of mental health now a days… but boy, they don’t really understand mental illnesses. Anorexic people eat. Bulimic people can keep food in their stomachs. And sometimes… you just don’t fit into a category at all. So they call you atypical.

It’s conversations like these that give me doubt. Even my Primary Doctor noted that I have a possibility of an eating disorder. Sometimes, I really wonder if I’m just making it worse than it really is. Maybe, I’m just a normal, healthy, 26 year-old woman experiencing normal thoughts for a healthy 26 year-old woman.

Or maybe I trust the therapist and acknowledge that I indeed have a problem. That this is not normal. That I am so stubborn, that I wouldn’t have even considered talking to a doctor about this if I wasn’t concerned, or thought I could do it myself. . .But I can have hope that one day, I will be able to have a boring, regular NORMAL life! There’s plenty of other things to make my life exciting. And I want to enjoy them.

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.