It's been a few days...

*poof* It's gone!

That is all.

Have a beautiful day, everyone. <3

Eating Disoders Suck

Hello my wonderful followers,

So, I have many dear friends right now (you probably know who you are,) who are really struggling with ED thoughts and/or behaviours. They are so precious to me. It physically hurts for me to know that they're hurting. So, these are letters of encouragement to them.

Airamust,

Hello you beautiful woman. I just want to tell you how amazing you are. You are so wonderful. You're gorgeous, intelligent, strong, and utterly amazing. This eating disorder has got nothing on you. I sincerely believe that this is your time, and recovery is yours. I know that you're working your ass off, and I am so incredibly proud of you. You mean the world to me, and I truly believe that one day soon, we will be living the lives of freedom which me yearn for. I believe in you!

I love you so much!

---

RJG,

You are perhaps the strongest woman I know. You have fought hard for every step you've walked towards "recovered, period." I know how potentially triggering things are right now for you. (I hope you know what I'm talking about- I don't want to give specifics on here.) I truly believe that the stuff that's gone on lately is just an obstacle that you have to overcome. I have complete faith that you'll get through it, and it will make you stronger than ever. I love you so much, and I have confidence in you. I believe that recovered, period is attainable, and you've shown me that. Thank you.

---

CG,

Love, I know how hard this is. You know I do. I've said everything I would write here to you before. So, I'll just say this. I believe in you. Something Nicole and Chebon always said to me was this- If you can't believe in you and your recovery right now, believe that I believe. Because I do. I believe.

I love you.

---

CS,

Hey darling. I have seen your struggle- the will to live a life of freedom, yet the eating disorder just won't let go. I know that God has a wonderful plan for you, and that He will guide you through this one step at a time if you call upon Him. He is almighty, and He will save you, just like He saves me every day. God never gives us more than we can handle. I have faith in you. I believe in you. Just like you always tell me- Recovery is yours! Believe it.

I love you!

__________


Things are hard. Recovery is a bitch sometimes. I've been depressed lately. There will always be hard days in recovery. There will always be hard days when I'm recovered. It's part of life. Nothing meaningful in life is easy to get. That goes for everything, especially for eating disorder recovery. If it was a walk in the park, everyone would be recovered. It's not, and so every day I have to fight for that. Every day I have to listen to the voices in my head that scream, "Go back, Go back!" And every day I have to scream even louder, "No!" There is an actual dialogue that I say out loud. When I eat, and the voices in my head say, "time to purge," I say out loud, "No, this isn't happening to me. This is not an option." Something about confronting those voices out loud gives me strength. The voices are stuck in my head, they can't verbalize out loud what they're saying. I, on the other hand, can. And I do. It's very calming for me, realizing that I am indeed stronger than those damned voices in my head.

It's like they're playing on a cd on replay. Just like my OCD. The voices that make me obsessive and compulsive also scream at me to turn back. "Really. Is this all worth it? You could be numb. No fear, no feelings at all. Empty, in every sense of the word." It sounds good sometimes. My feelings are so intense. It was a prerequisite for me having an eating disorder. Feelings and emotions that are so intense that I feel like I'm drowning in them. They say that creative people often have that, and that's what makes them excel in their craft. I believe it. The intensity is a blessing and a curse. When I'm happy, it's this sense of incredible joy in my life; When I'm sad, I'm wracked with sorrow, covered in it, like it's a blanket that's been tied around me and I can't get out. There really isn't a middle ground for me without my medication, and sometimes it doesn't work anyways.

I know that only by living a life in recovery will the voices eventually die down for good. I'm waiting for that time anxiously. Until then, I fight. I fight with everything I have, no matter how tired I am, or how depressed I am. And today, like every day, I will fight hard as hell, because I will win. I might not win every battle, but I will win the war.

Love,

S

Hungry.

My body is healing it's self. I know that's a good thing, yet it's terrifying. The other day I found out that my gag reflex has returned. No, I didn't get sick on purpose. I haven't done that even 1 time this time in recovery (over 5 months). Before all this started (and during the first many years of my illness) I threw up extremely easy. I didn't even have to try. I would cough a few times, and then BAM, I would get sick. During the last couple months of my illness, when I was at my worst, I couldn't get myself to get sick without seriously doing some dangerous stuff. I won't enlighten anyone on my "methods" for obvious reasons. So, the other day, I coughed a few times, and got sick. It was incredibly scary. Because 1) I haven't gotten sick in a long time, and 2) because my eating disorder immediately started talking to me. "Awesome, Staci! You don't even have to try to get sick anymore. Think about how easy it would be to just get rid of that big meal you are going to have tonight." And I was stunned. Nothing sounded better in that moment than to get rid of food and lose some weight. But then I came to my senses, and was scared, because I was temporarily relieved that I could go back and start up again so easily. Then, I replied, "No. Hell no. I could, but I won't. I will not go back there. Sorry to burst your bubble."

I've been having that conversation with my eating disorder for days. Every time I eat, it starts up again. But I won't do it. Not because I can't, because I could, but because I won't.

My hunger cues are back too. I've been ravenous for days, and that's scary. I'm not eating like I should. Too many carbs, not enough of everything else. My mom hasn't been making vegetables for dinner, so I'm not getting enough of that, and I haven't been eating my fruit. The last few days have been hard, because I have this insatiable appetite. I feel like I've gained weight, and that's ALWAYS a bad thing. My mind starts fucking with me when that happens. So, I need to get back on track. I'm not following my meal plan and that's dangerous. Today, I'm finding it incredibly hard to eat breakfast. No one would notice if I just skipped it. However, my eating disorder would notice. If I skip breakfast, it'll be much harder to get back on track for lunch. Nicole used to remind me of that all the time. So, I know what I have to do. I just don't want to do it.

I'll be miserable if I skip breakfast. I'll get shaky and weak and feel dizzy and lose my concentration. I really don't understand how I didn't eat for days when I was sick. I guess I got used to the feeling so much that I didn't even notice it. It's funny (in a not so funny way, of course) how much I notice those symptoms after just skipping one meal when I'm well, but didn't notice them when I was ill. It's like God's little reminder of how bad things can be.

I'll do what I need to do. I've got to, so there's really no question.

Anyways. Yesterday we had my cousin lindsay's 23rd birthday party. Happy birthday Lin! We ate and swam (and by swam I mean we got on floats and tanned). The boys swam around and played football. My brother (James- see below) hit me with the football twice and it really pissed me off! However, I did get a nice tan, and that's always a good thing. I'm as pale as a ghost, and it's nice to have some color, even though my freckles get crazy dark in the sun. I look like one big freckle. Thank you Irish ancestry! Red hair, blue eyes, pale skin and freckles. Unlike 90 percent of the red-haired population, I tan rather nicely if I'm out in the sun long enough. I did wear my bikini, even though I felt extremely fat yesterday. I'm proud of myself. I have a bunch of 1 pieces (thanks to swimming competitively) and tankinis, but I said to hell with it and wore my bikini. I needed sun on my belly anyways.

Anyways, I'm finding recovery rather sucky today. What does that mean? Absolutely nothing, because it happens. Today my motto is "You've gotta do what you've gotta do."



Be healthy today.

Love,

S

Ramblings at 8:30 in the morning.

Good morning, ladies. (And maybe some random gentlemen that are reading this)

It's a beautiful morning here. The sun is shining, and it's not hot yet. It is probably 80 degrees now, but it's supposed to get up to 96 today. So much for spring-like weather. I think spring lasts about 1 week here in Memphis. I really want to lay out today, but that would require me getting into my newly acquired two piece swimsuit. I don't know how I feel about that today. I'm all for having a healthy body, and being at a healthy weight, but when I put on my swim suit I can't help but think how much better it would look if I was at my low weight (25 pounds ago). Yes, I know. I know. I looked like shit at that weight, according to many of you. And I know that, logically. But, really, when I look in the mirror, I can't help but miss that body sometimes. But then I remind myself of how miserable being in that body really was. It was not fun, it was not easy, and I definitely saw myself as heavier than I see myself now. Only with nutrition (that makes my brain function correctly- what a novel idea!) do I see that I was in fact much smaller than I am now.

The mirror is such a frustrating thing for me. I see myself now, and I look much bigger than I did when I got home. That is ridiculous, because, in fact I look the exact same to everyone else as when I got home. How do I know that? Well, it's because, when I went to the doctor the other day, I weighed the EXACT same weight that I did as soon as I got home (2 and a half months ago). Exact down to the decimal. So, logically, I know that it is physically impossible to look different if you haven't gained one ounce of weight. That's comforting to me, because I tend to be very logical when I'm not in the depths of my eating disorder. But, alas, the mirror- something that is supposed to reflect perfectly what an object (or person) looks like- lies to me on a daily basis. It's called bdd. Body Dysmorphic Disorder. It's when your mind sees your body as disfigured or bigger than it really is. When I look in the mirror, I see something much different than what you all see when you look at me. Same as photographs, videos of me, etc. Part of my brain will always (unless this rather unfortunate phenomenon is healed by the grace of God) believe what I see in the mirror, even though, logically, I know it's a lie.

My eating disorder uses this against me on a daily basis. Just another manipulative way to get me to go back to the hell that an having an ED is. I won't do it though. I refuse to let my eating disorder take over my life again. It can go fuck it's self. I've come too far to let it's lies send me back into the darkness.

However, the great thing about being in a strong, real recovery is that I don't give a damn. Yes, the mirror lies to me. The sucky thing for my ED is that, even though I see myself as 170 pounds (obviously I'm not 170, and there is nothing wrong with being 170, so don't get offended, please.) I accept my body looking like that. (even though it really doesn't). I look in the mirror and say, "Yep. This is what I see. Do I like it? No. But, do I accept it as what it looks like to me, even if it's not true? Yes." I accept that, even if I do look like that, I won't do anything to change it. I'm living the life that I dreamed of for so long, and, really, who the hell cares what I look like as long as I'm healthy and happy? I try not to.

Today, I am loving recovery. That definitely doesn't happen every day, but I am thankful for each day that I wake up and think, "Recovery is amazing." I thank God every day that he's brought me to the other side of this. From his grace, I can see clearly what life was like while I was sick. I no longer hold any illusions of grandeur about my eating disorder. It sucked. It sucked completely, totally, passionately. It sucked. There was nothing positive about the years I was sick. However there are some positive things I gained by being sick, and most importantly being in recovery. I have great amounts of understanding and empathy for all people. I know that everyone, no matter who they are or how happy they are in the moment, is fighting, or has fought, or is going to fight a hard battle of some kind. I understand the world around me in a completely different way than most people. And most importantly, I've come to realize that, yes, what doesn't kill you does indeed make you stronger.

I am strong, and I am a free woman.
And it feels great.


Love,

S

Coffee, Cigarettes, and Blogging

Good morning, all.

So, firstly, I want to welcome one of my closest friends to the blogging world. I love you, Amaris! Welcome!

So, I've promised to write in this blog for both accountability and for my mental health. It's always good to get things on "paper." Here it goes!

I've been feeling like shit lately. My muscles and joints have been aching, and my heart's been racing. After a month of this, I decided it was time to go to the doctor. So, yesterday, off I went. I love my nurse that I see. Her name is Mary, and she's young, and a woman (obviously :P) and just all-around awesome. She checked me out, and doesn't know what's wrong. She did some blood tests, and my CBC is normal (Thank you, God!), but the other ones haven't come back yet. So, I left with more questions than answers, but I'm accustomed to that.

So, recovery wise, everything is going pretty well. I have my slips occasionally, but 95% of the time, I'm in full recovery. I find that it's hard to eat most days. I do it, but it's still hard. After 5 months of being in complete recovery, the voices still haven't gone away. It's always, "You're fat," "Why are you wearing that? It makes you look like a (insert huge, fat animal here)," "You could stand to lose a few pounds." I won't lie to you, 9 times out of 10, I believe those stupid voices in my head. Sometimes they're just a whisper, and I can barely hear them. Other times they sound like they have a megaphone and are screaming in my head. I hear that sometimes they never go away. I've accepted that. I hope for the best- that they will go away- but I prepare for something less than the best. Maybe I'll hear them for the rest of my life. I can't control that, but I can control how I react to them. I do that now, for the most part. If you're asking if I never skip a meal, then the answer is "No". I do, some days. I decide in my head that lunch really isn't THAT important, and really, what harm comes from skipping a meal? Normal people do it all the time. The problem is, I'm not normal. Every time I skip a meal, I give a little bit to the eating disorder. I give it something to work with. Luckily, most days when I skip a meal, either my body protests fiercly, or I come to my senses and make it up later in the day. 99% of the time, I still get in what my body needs in the day. Why? Because recovery is so much more important than those stupid voices in my head.

So, today, like most days, I hear the voices in my head. "Why did you eat breakfast, you fat pig?! Now you have to skip lunch or you'll gain 10 pounds!" And to that, I say, "No, I will not gain 10 pounds. Matter of fact, I'll not gain anything. Why? Because my body is stable, and it's at it's set point, and if I eat, I'll maintain, which is exactly what I need." And they reply, "Stable?! Who wants to be STABLE? Who wants to MAINTAIN?! Everyone wants to lose weight. Especially you. Isn't that what your whole life thusfar has been about? You're never happy with your weight. How about this. You can lose just 5 pounds. 5 pounds won't do any damage. Trust me." And, I roll my eyes and say, "Five pounds won't change how I look, but it will throw me right back into my eating disorder, and I don't want that. And! Why would I trust YOU? You ruined my life for 8 years. Trusting you is not an option. You wont win this one, so shut the fuck up!" And, everything is quiet in my head for the moment. They'll start back up when I'm fixing lunch, and I'll have much of the same conversation that happened earlier today.

It's a constant battle in my head- the will to live and the will to die, fighting for control of my body and mind. The attainable and maintainable fighting against the unattainable. Thank God that I find life so much more becoming than death.

For the first time in probably 10 years, yesterday, I thought of death and didn't wish for it. Even in recovery this time around, I would still think of it and say to myself, "Dying wouldn't be so bad." Yesterday, though everything isn't sunshine and rainbows right now, I thought, "Damn, it would suck to leave all of this behind." Life is hard. Recovery is harder. And, yet, I find life to be a grand thing. I've been blessed with having a beautiful, imperfect, amazing, joyful (not always happy, but definitely joyful) life. It's too much to willfully leave behind. It's not my time yet, as God has proven time and time again, saving me from death at the last moment sometimes. But now, when it is my time to go (which I hope will be about 70 years from now) I'll have had much more joy than pain.

So, today, I choose to live.
I pray you choose that too.


Love,

S

The first post.

My God. I haven't seriously blogged in years. This is quite weird for me. Well, let me start off by saying this: This blog is about my recovery from anorexia, and just for daily (or weekly- whatever) ramblings about my life. I know that many people ("many" might be a bit generous) want to know about my trials and triumphs in recovery. You will find that here. I need a place to vent, rant, and talk about the shit-ness and awesome-ness of recovery. So, that's what I'll do. In case you were wondering, resmiranda is a latin term meaning "wonderful circumstance." That's what my life has been so far- a hell of a lot of wonderful circumstances.

Anyways. So, this is it. I'll try to update as much as I can. Follow my journey with me. It will be fun.

Staci