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.

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.

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.

Everything Sucks

Today is a bitch day. Where I just NEED to get everything out of my system.

I. Feel. Disgusting. In every facet of the word. I feel sick to my stomach. I feel like my entire body looks like misshapen pizza dough. And now that I think of it, I’ve felt that way pretty much all weekend. I don’t remember what my weight was this morning… and THAT terrifies me. Last night I was up a bit, and it would have maybe calmed me at least knowing what my weight is.

My boyfriend pointed out a woman at the park during my lunch break. I told him she looks tiny, to which he replied, “That is what you look like.” I didn’t believe him. Today, I feel particularly large. I almost felt like he was trying to prank me… but I think even he knows better than that.

It has just been a particularly rough day. Work is going well. Life in general is pretty fantastic… I just don’t have the energy to deal with my brain at the moment. I can’t look at myself without being disgusted at what I’m seeing.

If I had one wish, and I truly mean this, I would wish that no one would ever have to feel the way I feel about myself, about themselves. I know that I’m not the only person out there that has to constantly battle the thoughts in their head – far from it – but I really wish no one would ever have to feel that way. It’s really not a great feeling. I want to crawl in a whole, lie in a ball, and go to sleep. Just hibernate.

Small Victories

I got new homework for the next two weeks. We’ve started moving away from the easier things, and we’re starting to tackle some of the more difficult things.

One of the things that I find more problematic is when I have a weekend that I’m with my boyfriend and his son. We tend to go out to eat, and when it comes to restaurants…. I tend to freak out.

Last night, we went to a new place, because my boyfriend wanted me to experience the gyros that he knows are really good, since the last gyros we had were mediocre at best.

The gyros were incredible. We also had salads to start, and it came with a plate of fries.

One of my homework assignments is that I agreed not to log my calories one day out of the week.

I managed to eat my entire gyro, the side salad, and almost half of the fries. It felt like a lot. And when we got home, I weighed myself… And I had gained 5 pounds since the afternoon. That is when I broke down and added everything to my calorie log.

The important takeaway for me is that I managed to go, eat without logging first, and eating until I was actually full. Also recognizing that this morning, I am four pounds lighter than last night, and my metabolism has done its job.

I see that as a victory. Today is a new day that I can try to avoid logging. And it’s not the end of the world if I gain a little bit of weight. It will go back away. I can do this.

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.

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.