The love of a best friend can be truly powerful. When I use the term "best friend" it's something I take extremely seriously. This isn't a person I hear from once in a while or see on occasion or have know for a few years. It's someone that has been a part of my life for not years, but decades. Someone who really knows me-- for all the good and the bad. It's a person who has celebrated my achievements but also has pulled me out of the deepest of holes. I remember when Oprah once described Gayle, she said, "Gayle is the friend everyone deserves to have." I disagree. Lilijohnson is the friend everyone deserves to have. She is my Gayle..... She is the Ethel to my Lucy.... She's the Monica to my Rachel. Most importantly, she's the sister I never had as an only child.
I can count on LiLi to be honest with me, without hurting my feelings. She knows how to navigate me through tough waters. Once again, she's pulled me out of drowning waters. After a brief visit, she has made me see what no one else has even come close to showing me. My behavior isn't just hurting me, but it's hurting others around me. Very Intervention (ie- "your behavior affects me negatively in the following ways....). She has researched anorexia and continued to educate herself, even though she has been down this path with me once before. Sitting across from your best friend, with tears streaming down her face, saying "I can't do this [life] without you. You're all I have and I can't lose you" bring everything to a new perspective.
Considering I'm well schooled in guilt, that's not what this was. It was genuine concern and fright for my well being. That's when it hit me. Someone would really miss me to the point that I don't think she'd ever be the same if I were gone. I guess my husband always thought these were implied feelings on his part but it was nice to hear.... almost what I needed to hear. I had a sudden flash of myself gone and leaving behind all these people who care about me for what? To be thin? Well, that's pretty selfish and self destructive. All it once, like running into a brick wall, it hit me--- I need to get better. This has got to stop. It's just got to stop.
That said, I've decided to enter an outpatient eating disorders program. I'm sure work will be thrilled when the time comes but given that I STILL hear whispers behind my back about my eating, it shouldn't come as a surprise. One day, I'll have to do an Anorexia 101 seminar in the conference room for everyone on my floor.... Rule Number 1: Whispering about the anorexic girls eating habits while she is in earshot can be negative and triggering. *sigh*
Ok, so now what right? I've made this decision but when am I going? That's the million dollar question. There's no convenient time. I totally sound like someone on Intervention, "Oh I can't go today. No, no, no. I've got to take care of my dog/bills/court date/etc." Fear is keeping me from making a solid decision. Fear of upsetting my job, fear of putting on weight, fear of treatment AGAIN, fear of eating.... All of it makes me sick to my stomach but at the same time, I'm tired of feeling tired and weak.
I'm going though, I am. I'm 99.9% ready to go. But I've made a huge decision because this wasn't even on the radar. There was no possibility I was going. I had set a goal weight, once I reached it I was going to stop. Clearly I'm the only asshole who believed THAT theory. It's a big step and I'm scared. More scared than I have ever been about anything in my life. But, I have Lilijohnson. She's there for me. I have my husband. He's here for me. So, I know I'm going to be ok.
I am forever indebted to Lili. Whether this works, or doesn't work, it doesn't matter. She got me to see something I wasn't seeing. The love and concern in her voice was so overwhelming that night, I literally thought my heart was going to explode. I didn't know how to handle it. When she poured her feelings out, it took everything in my power not to cry--- especially when I put myself in her shoes and thought, Oh My God, what the FUCK would I do without her? It actually took my breathe away.
so here I am about to start on this new adventure.... very soon.... and of course, Lilijohnson's response, "This is going to make for great blog material." She's right. ....once again.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Monday, July 18, 2011
What happens when you pass bottom?
For months I've been talking about hitting rock bottom.... Everytime I hit what I think is rock bottom, it's clearly not because I continue on a path of self destruction. It's been a few weeks since I have written and not because of lack of time, but more because of shame. I once believed I had control over this eating disorder but now, I realize it has complete control over me. For example: ordering off a menu has become difficult. I can't do it. My husband either cooks or brings dinner home and put it in front of me because I have no desire to eat so when I'm asked "what would you like for breakfast/lunch/dinner?" I can't answer-- because I don't want anything.
In the time I've been back to work, which is about 5 weeks now, I've lost an additional 7 lbs. I know that's fucked up. I can hear the whispers behind my back at my job so I kow that they've noticed too. My husband has been very supportive and suggested I Netflix a documentary so he could learn more--- which turned out to be a ploy. He wanted me to watch it as an eye opener. So, this weekend we watched it. And it scared the shit out of me. I was emotionally drained, scared, confused, ashamed and sad all at the same time. But, I still said to him, "I'm not as bad as those girls though, right?" He couldn't believe that I still don't see that I am-- but they were getting ont he scales weighing 82 pounds, 90 pounds, 79 pounds, etc. I'm still way above all that. I guess what people see, which I don't see is I am on the same exact path as these women.
Watching the documentary made me curious about how long and how intense this eating disorder has been for me throughout my life. I've kept a journal which goes all the way back to my freshman year of college and so yesterday, I sat and read and cried for the girl who wrote about her pain. The girl who could have been in that documentary. The girl that was me. I hid this from some people for so long. I honestly don't think anyone had a clue except for the handful of roommates I've had. My anxiety has been off the charts and I'm trying to work through it. But..... ya know what? I STILL have a goal weight. It pains me to even type that but I do.
Everyone around me wants me to get help. Sadly-- I have a ton of excuses why I shouldn't go. But watching this documentary, I realized what my biggest fear is. I don't wnat to put weight on. I want to be thin. I really do. I don't want to give up the control. Yet, at the same time, I'm so tired. It consumes me.... I think about it all the time. There is a really small part of me that wants to go.... but it's very small.
I feel like shit. Every single day I feel like shit. My stomach hurts and I'm nauseaus. I live on Turbo Dunkin Donuts coffee which means my stomach has to be a mess. I fear the damage I have done or doing to myself. And at the same time, I still don't wnat to go. I wish I knew what was going on with me and why I relapsed. I have no idea and I don't think anyone can fix me. There are nights I go to bed and wonder if I'm going to wake up. Is my heart going to stop beating in the middle of the night? One would think this would definitlete make me want to go but it doesn't.
Surprisingly I'm not depressed. I'm overall pretty happy with most of my life--- I see more good in it now than I did before I was in the hospital. I just don't know how much further it's got to go before I get help. I say I'm going to voluntariliy admit myself but, honestly, I don't think I'm going to. This week, I'm going to NewYork where my best friend lives. For some reason, I think she's going to have all the answers for me--- but she won't. She'll be able to guide me and she'll be honest with me (which everyone, except my mom who is in denial, has been).
Being anorexic at 22 is much different than being anorexic at 36. My body can't handle this anymore. I just don't have the motivation I need to go. I wish I did. I wish I wanted to go and get help, but honestly, deep down, I don't. I just want to be thin. I want to stay thin forever. I like what I see in the mirror.... but again, I don't see what everyone else is seeing. I know I'm sick. But what's the bottom for me? Death?
In the time I've been back to work, which is about 5 weeks now, I've lost an additional 7 lbs. I know that's fucked up. I can hear the whispers behind my back at my job so I kow that they've noticed too. My husband has been very supportive and suggested I Netflix a documentary so he could learn more--- which turned out to be a ploy. He wanted me to watch it as an eye opener. So, this weekend we watched it. And it scared the shit out of me. I was emotionally drained, scared, confused, ashamed and sad all at the same time. But, I still said to him, "I'm not as bad as those girls though, right?" He couldn't believe that I still don't see that I am-- but they were getting ont he scales weighing 82 pounds, 90 pounds, 79 pounds, etc. I'm still way above all that. I guess what people see, which I don't see is I am on the same exact path as these women.
Watching the documentary made me curious about how long and how intense this eating disorder has been for me throughout my life. I've kept a journal which goes all the way back to my freshman year of college and so yesterday, I sat and read and cried for the girl who wrote about her pain. The girl who could have been in that documentary. The girl that was me. I hid this from some people for so long. I honestly don't think anyone had a clue except for the handful of roommates I've had. My anxiety has been off the charts and I'm trying to work through it. But..... ya know what? I STILL have a goal weight. It pains me to even type that but I do.
Everyone around me wants me to get help. Sadly-- I have a ton of excuses why I shouldn't go. But watching this documentary, I realized what my biggest fear is. I don't wnat to put weight on. I want to be thin. I really do. I don't want to give up the control. Yet, at the same time, I'm so tired. It consumes me.... I think about it all the time. There is a really small part of me that wants to go.... but it's very small.
I feel like shit. Every single day I feel like shit. My stomach hurts and I'm nauseaus. I live on Turbo Dunkin Donuts coffee which means my stomach has to be a mess. I fear the damage I have done or doing to myself. And at the same time, I still don't wnat to go. I wish I knew what was going on with me and why I relapsed. I have no idea and I don't think anyone can fix me. There are nights I go to bed and wonder if I'm going to wake up. Is my heart going to stop beating in the middle of the night? One would think this would definitlete make me want to go but it doesn't.
Surprisingly I'm not depressed. I'm overall pretty happy with most of my life--- I see more good in it now than I did before I was in the hospital. I just don't know how much further it's got to go before I get help. I say I'm going to voluntariliy admit myself but, honestly, I don't think I'm going to. This week, I'm going to NewYork where my best friend lives. For some reason, I think she's going to have all the answers for me--- but she won't. She'll be able to guide me and she'll be honest with me (which everyone, except my mom who is in denial, has been).
Being anorexic at 22 is much different than being anorexic at 36. My body can't handle this anymore. I just don't have the motivation I need to go. I wish I did. I wish I wanted to go and get help, but honestly, deep down, I don't. I just want to be thin. I want to stay thin forever. I like what I see in the mirror.... but again, I don't see what everyone else is seeing. I know I'm sick. But what's the bottom for me? Death?
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