Treatment is over!

      I know it has been an overwhelmingly long time since I last posted, so I'll give you a recap.
I finally graduated from my program! Hurray! Well, sort of. I look back and I want to cry. For those who know me, this is not a common problem. I don't cry. I have this idea that if I control what I eat, I'll never be hurt again.
      Oh the lies we tell ourselves in the eating disorder world, that somehow makes it alright.Only it's not. I'm so terrified of the weight gain and what effect that will have on my mood from here on out. I've been out for 2 days and am already restricting again. What am I supposed to do?! My meal plan? MUST BE EXACTLY AS IT READS. There's a problem with that too. It was supposed to increase, I can't handle an increase right now. My body wants it, and I hate it for that. I will sit there before meals feeling so so so hungry and then after, with my empty plate, feeling so disgusting. I'M SO HUGE RIGHT NOW, WHY IN THE WORLD DO I NEED MORE FOOD?!?!? I don't understand.
      Completely leaving out the fact that it's medically necessary is a problem. Not only that, I've been exercising a lot more than needed. I'm supposed to be at 30 minutes a day, 3 times a week until I can better control myself. PSYCH! Here I am doing an hour and a half a day, maybe more. The conditions of my discharge were that I try to keep it under control unless I want to be admitted again. The statistics are worse for people who get out of treatment and it's not under control. That's what the doctor told me, in fact, upon my departure. If I don't get it under control, I could die from this disease.
      Die....wow....that's a lot more intense than my original intentions starting out. What was my plan, you may ask? To lose fat, gain muscle, be healthy, energetic, and thin. Looking back on my goals, I scoff. I couldn't be further away from them. I may have lost fat, but in the process I lost muscle as well. I'm not healthy, I'm on a better path, but I'm not there yet. I'm sick.
      Another thing that has been bothering me, people talking at the gym. I understand what it feels like to hate your body, please don't make it someone else's concern. For instance, I went to the gym a few days ago (naughty me, I know) and a lady was weighing herself on the scales. She hopped off proclaiming that she would not eat at her friend's house for dinner that evening. Her friend started to protest saying she'd feel worse, she's so skinny already blah blah blah. Silly friend, that's just fueling her negative body image. She might not admit it, but she felt some pride even if she didn't believe you. I marched on over there and said eating disorders are a serious issue and if she ever needed help, it is within reach.
      They probably thought I was just another crazy, there are many out here, but I mean it. Does that mean every person has an eating disorder? No, I just wanted her to stop triggering me to lose more weight. I think it's unfair that everyone else gets to be thin but I don't. Then again, everyone's equal when they're dead, that's not somewhere I want to be!
     

Treatment so far....

Well friends, I began treatment. It has been a whirlwind of ups and downs, let me tell you! I first had to battle out with my insurance which was previously covered by the government. Due to all the commotion surrounding that at the moment, my benefits were denied. That being said, I worked out an alternative so that I could actually go through with treatment, much to my disappointment.

Don't get me wrong, I need this, but at the same time I'm regretting my decision. I'm not ready for treatment as my previous posting suggests. I could not be anymore painfully aware of that than when my dad came home while I was trying to eat dinner last night. While I was struggling to choke it down, he told me I obviously was being dramatic about it.

This goes against everything we've covered so far in therapy. Food is nourishment for your body so it can continue functioning. I figured it was functioning just fine when it wasn't, however that became glaringly obvious that was not the case when I noticed how little energy I had to complete simple swim practices. Something needed to change but my irrational thinking is that I'm slower because I have more fat. This is just terribly confusing because I keep on getting told different things everywhere and who should I listen to? The person who has been dictating my life, the people trying to help me in the hospital, or the voice in my head that has been present for over a year and seems to make sense?

Sorry all for that confusing post. I just needed to get it out somewhere.....

I want to be normal?

I was coaching my dad in the art of swimming techniques. It made me think. What am I doing right now?

Going nowhere it feels like.

I'm not sure how to combat this, but I will try. I got a call from the ED treatment, I start on Tuesday. There is no backing out, as much as I love/hate my issues, I wonder what it's like to be normal. To go a whole day without thinking about my problem spots and how much I need to lose. How many calories are in EVERY bite of food I consume. The numbers swirl through my head in a never ending cycle. I am so ready for that to at least be more calm.

I have prayed long and hard about this. I finally found peace in my heart. While my brain sometimes works against me, at least I know that God's plan for me is much better than this pseudo-reality I've created for myself. This isn't living, this isn't what God intended for me. It's time for me to let go, I know this to be true. I'm not meant to suffer needlessly. Hopefully, however, I can be a lesson. Or help out others who find themselves in my position. I know how dark it can be, and any ray of light no matter how dim it may be, helps.

I'm feeling a little bit more hopeful than dreading the coming days. It might get ugly, and I implore whoever reads this, to say a little prayer for me. I'll be saying plenty of my own, but any help is greatly appreciated.

-A.

Reaching Out

"Would you like anything to drink?"

--

Our sessions always start the same way. She should know by now that I never accept. However, it is nice hospitality to offer. We then got into the routine of her asking how my week went. Honestly, it was exhausting. Thanks to Apple's release, I got more work than I bargained for. People are very serious about their technology. I almost got in between one of their fights over placement in line!

I gave her my usual non-committal answers just passing time until we got into the gritty stuff. Over the course of our session I did a lot of searching. 

I found that I am scared to even talk about my problems with anyone. I'm afraid that something is horribly wrong with me, and by digging deeper, I might not like what I find. My other barrier to digging deeper was I still have the Marine mentality. DISCLAIMER: I AM MAKING NO ENDORSEMENTS FOR OR AGAINST THE MARINE CORPS, THIS WAS SIMPLY MY EXPERIENCE. I LOVED THE CORPS.

The problem with this is that it's not common to ask for help in the Corps. You were made into a weak body, a failure so to speak. To even admit that you have feelings of any sort, is highly discouraged. Thus, the decisions I've made up to this point have still been in that mind set. What I'm feeling doesn't matter, I can carry on the way I have been. 

Reality of the situation is, I can't. 

Let me enlighten you, or at least try. I got counseling while I was serving due to my weight. Essentially I was told I don't look good in uniform. Generally if you tell a female this, they're bound to get a little upset. I just wanted to fix the problem but in turn created a far greater problem. What started as a bid to get rid of a few harmless pounds turned into an obsession. While I am a very intelligent person, my rational side doesn't always rule my brain as it should. 

I stood over the toilet, heart racing, straining to hear the occupant in the stall beside me. Scared of being caught I turned around so my boots were in the right direction. This carried on for months at a time. Fooling everyone on the installation. Or so I thought. I would go to the chow hall with my brothers and sisters in arms. We would eat, or I would pretend to eat. One day, my roommate noticed what I was doing and urged me to go to medical. I loathe medical, always have, always will. Aside from waiting what seemed like forever, I don't like admitting that I'm struggling. I'm very stubborn and prefer to string out things as long as I possibly can. Do not try this at home, folks. 

I eventually broke down and went to mental health, blah blah blah, I'm a civilian again. I hate it.

Before you all take offense, let me explain. I have always craved the structure of the military. I had similar instances in my youth where structure plays a big part. (As is common in eating disorders which are often strictly regimented) It does not make sense to me how I started purging. However, I did, and it has been downhill since. I strongly dislike purging so I like to restrict much more. Yes, this often leaves me grumpy and tired, but anything is better than getting called out for being fat. You may ask why I still do this months after my discharge from the military, some days so do I. Those are my good days, the ones I actually do want to "get better." Majority of my days are not like that.

The other day I got a comment from one of my co-workers. I believe they meant it to be in a joking matter but it still crushed my fragile self-esteem. It went along the lines of, you need to be careful or you're going to get fat! I'm not sure what possessed him to say it and will not make excuses for him. Eating disorders are tricky, just as I was beginning to (attempt to) push away from it, it reminds me why I need it. Without it, I am nothing-just another fat person in the US. Calories and restricting rule my world. There is never a moment where I don't think about them. This is my identity, and I will do anything in attempt to please that dark voice in my head. That ever persisting voice that haunts my waking and resting hours. 

Anyways, my therapist (the one I see primarily for ED's) recommended I get evaluated at an eating disorders clinic. This was also at the urging of my aforementioned therapist whom I see for "everything else." My honest reply? I don't want to. You can try to scare me however you wish, doesn't matter to me. The daredevil in me says that I'll just face it again when (if) that time comes.

If you were to see me on the street one day, assuming I wasn't compulsively trying to run the fat off, you'd think I was just another average 20 year old female. I don't look like I have an eating disorder which validates my point that I don't have an eating disorder. I did go to a medical doctor as part of a physical, and if anything, that made it worse. 

It wasn't due to lack of nutrition. They took my height and my weight, embarrassed by the numbers I was quiet most of the visit. My EKG ran clean, but I was very dehydrated and my electrolytes were becoming imbalanced. This didn't scare me though, I can always drink more water/sports drinks. In my medical charts, it states that I currently see a mental health provider due to PTSD, depression, etc. It also says that I may be suffering from anorexia nervosa, the Doc took notice of that and looked me up and down. She proceeded to tell me that I looked fine and probably didn't have any problem with eating. It was mortifying. So I was forced to conclude that I am overweight (amazing how the brain works, huh?) and need to take action. This is my motivation to lose weight. I need to lose weight, by any means possible. That number reflects how I value everything, if it's not low enough, I fail that day. I get a chance the next day, but it ALWAYS must be better.

That's all for now, I'm going to go get off my lazy butt and go for a run....or to the pool....probably both.