Happy 3rd Birthday Zach!

Happy 3rd Birthday Zachary! That's the cake I made him! Woke up at 4am and finished it before work. This year Zach is all into trains. We've got a Thomas set that snakes around our living room and takes up way too much space. I'm always tripping over this train or that train, but hey, it makes him happy so I'll deal with it.

Wow, it's really hitting me, today is my son's 3rd birthday. I can hardly believe 3 years has gone by and my baby boy will be starting preschool next week. I still remember being pregnant, worrying about delivery, being HUGE and waddling around - lol. I feel like the time is moving too quickly and I'm not doing enough of the things I should be doing for him. As (most) moms probably do, I worry that I'm not a good enough mother. The older he gets and the more aware he gets of things, the tougher it will be on me because he will start to put 2 and 2 together, ask questions and come to realizations I wish he wouldn't. He probably already knows I'm a weird eater but I don't want him to realize just HOW weird.

It was bad enough when he asked me recently, "Mommy, are you going to the hospital? Will they put a tube in your nose? Why did they put a tube in your nose?"

I feel like this birthday is maybe a chance at a fresh start for me (and for him and for us together). I vow to be a better mom to my darling boy. I need energy to do this. Food = energy = healthy = better mommy = fat & disgusting.

You Never Know

It's always been a challenge for me to think of my teachers/therapists/doctors (etc.) as real people with lives of their own beyond their jobs at work. I know logically that their job is just one facet of them, but I find myself sometimes wondering what their home lives are like, what their families are like, what they like/dislike. No, I'm not a stalker!!!

A request for me to do up an an invoice for burial services came across my desk today. It turns out the woman who passed away was one of my elementary school teachers. Major FLASHBACK!!! She wasn't a nice woman. She was probably the most disliked woman in the school. Anyways, she passed away without a will and no family so that's why I had to invoice the bank for the burial costs on her behalf.

I was struck with sadness. This poor woman probably had a horrible time at work (we kids hated her) and at home (being alone). You never know what someone is going through and how much pain a person may be in. She probably was so grumpy all the time because she hated her life. I don't know what the point of this post is… just rambling I guess… I'm going to try my hardest, so very very hard, not to judge other people who may rub me the wrong way or come across as bitchy because you never know what they might be facing in their own lives.

Something that drives me crazy is the fact that I am "high functioning". Despite everything crashing around me I somehow manage to keep my job and just function at a baseline level. This fools me into believing that what I'm doing is OK when clearly it's not. It works against me. I wish sometimes that I were a weaker person.

Body rebellion

Last night was the worst night ever in terms of binging and purging. Or, perhaps I should say binging but NOT purging. It's like my stomach had a mind of its own and decided that it would not let me bring anything up. I was in so much pain, pain and discomfort like I have never felt before but no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much hot water I drank, jumped around, every trick I knew in the book, nothing would come up. I thought my stomach was going to explode.

I am usually OK purging any food. Some people have problems with chocolate or bready things (like pizza) but not me. Except for last night. I think it was the doughnut holes that did me in and refused to come back up. I swear right now - I am never eating another doughnut.

After (honest to god) 2 hours of trying, finally, relief. I bet I ended up digesting a bunch, but by that point, I was so exhausted I just wanted to be over. I finally crawled into bed at 4AM, throat raw, eyes pulsating and heart beating a mile a minute. I don't want it to be like this. I can't keep on like this and if I do, the only way to go will be downhill. Our bodies were not made to throw up daily so why oh why is it so difficult to stop!?

When I really think about it, b/p is a strange addiction. At least if you are addicted to alcohol or drugs, you get a high from it - aka. some kind of enjoyment - but I don't know anyone who ENJOYS purging, or ENJOYS sticking their head in the toilet.

Warming up?

I didn't wear a jacket today! This is a huge thing for me as I am always always cold. My car doesn't even have A/C and I don't miss it even in the summer. I actually wore a wool scarf most days last summer because the A/C at work was so damn cold. Today was really sunny, still a little chilly, but I took a teeny tiny step of boldness in leaving my parka at home :)
Yes, I have my heater on under my desk and my fingers are moving slower because I'm colder, but this little thing is just another reminder of what I can look forward to if I recover - being able to maintain some body heat.

.... I just have to put the image of me turning into a blubbery whale out of my mind.

Self-Analysis v. Appointments

Medical appointments are like the ticking, whirring clock of my life. Everything revolves around my appointments. Which hospital, which doctor, what therapist, what group... those are the first things that get inked into my calendar. Everything else must fit between those gaps. Sometimes I get sick of spending all this time being poked and prodded at and questioned to death, but underneath it all, I would be terrified NOT to have any appointments to go to. For example, living without therapy is a completely foreign concept to me.

Being Anorexic, the girl who's always in treatment, the girl who always has "special exemption" from doing stuff for medical reasons, the emaciated girl, the girl who's always in therapy... that's the only "me" that I know for certain. That's the only constant identity I have had all these years. In some ways I have never grown up past the time I first got sick - age 10. Even though I am a "functioning" adult - I got a degree, I'm still doing more school, I work full-time, I am a mother - there are still traces of the little girl who never grew up. I throw tantrums, I don't cope well with a lot of things, I never really LIVED my growing up or teenage years. I was too busy being sick.

That hopeless, fragile shell of a person was what I knew, was all that I thought I had to offer this world whose idea of a beautiful woman is an emaciated woman. And now I'm 25 years old. I envy other women because they are WOMEN and they have embraced their womanhood, curves, femininity. They are real, vibrant, and beautiful. I want this for myself but I'm scared. What if the Tia I discover does not fill me the way my anorexic self did? What if I can't find anything else to be good at? What if I no longer can use being sick as an excuse for things that make me unhappy?

Don't give me chocolate!

How is it that I manage to be such a terrible daughter all the time?
I constantly disappoint my mom, cause her so much pain and sadness and ruin all family get togethers. All she does is love me but her love is suffocating me. I know I am the reason our family is dysfunctional. They say I'm selfish and manipulative... and that everything's always gotta be about me. Me me me. Then on the other hand my treatment team says to work on my self esteem and to standing up for myself and my needs. They say I don't ask for what I want enough of the time. Well, what the hell am I supposed to believe when these are 2 completely opposite points of views about me? Can they both be right?

Tonight's big fight resulted from the Valentine's gift my mom gave me. I should have just smiled and thanked her but instead I tried to approach her about the effect the gift had on me. She got me chocolate. Not a few pieces of chocolate, but 3 huge boxes. No kidding - 1 box of turtles, a box of toblerone and a box of Lindt hearts. OMG. To an anorexic/bulimic that's like handing them a loaded gun. I was so shocked and hurt that she'd give me such a thing. It felt like she was totally dismissing the fact that I have an ED and trivializing it. You wouldn't give an alcoholic a case of beer, so why would you give a bulimic a shit-load of chocolate? She tells me to stop purging cold turkey and then gives me a huge trigger food... I don't get it. I still wish I had bitten my tongue and just given the chocolate away. I feel like an ungrateful bitch.

The broccoli I ate for dinner is sitting like a rock in my stomach. God, I better go to sleep before I engage in some more self-destructive behaviors. This morning I was spitting blood... this is getting insanely out of control and for once even *I* can see that living like this is NOT normal.

CNY, Vday, 2010

3 events this weekend:
1) Chinese New Year
2) Valentine's Day
3) 2010 Winter Olympics in my very own city

There's so much activity going on in this city right now it makes me feel even more alone and apart from everyone. Watching them celebrate, eat, be NORMAL while I grow more and more aware of how uncomfortable I feel in my own skin and its paralyzing effect on me. For God's sake, the olympics are at right here at my doorstep. People from all over the world travelled miles to Vancouver and I have the luxury of living right here, but I didn't do a damn thing this weekend.

I did have the opportunity to go out with friends but I couldn't drag myself out of the house. Instead I spent 4 hours straight bingeing and purging. From junk food to frozen pizza to extravagant dishes. Everything in the house is gone, no food is safe around me. I'm disgusting. Wasting food when people are starving, shutting myself up in the house into the shadows and out of the light.

Exhausted, dizzy and shaky, I crawled into bed and took a 5 hour nap - I couldn't believe it. My body must have been so sleep deprived. Let me tell you, it felt amazing. That was the highlight of this weekend. I want to want to get better, but I'm still so ambivalent most of the time. This is not a life, rather it's a helf life. If I an doomed to living the rest of my life like this, I'd rather die.

Mediation

My stomach is twisting itself in knots. I have a mediation in 4 hours with a family justice counsellor and my ex regarding child support and special expense payments for Zach. Basically, he hasn't paid me anything since September 2009, not a single penny. This step of going to a counsellor is in order to avoid going to court. If we can't "mediate" it out between us then we'll have to put it in the hands of a judge who will decide what arrears he will have to pay, what portion of the expenses, etc. I really want to avoid going to court because then it's completely out of our hands. Whatever the judge decides is what it will be.

On the other hand, I don't want to feel pressured into coming to an agreement that I am less than happy with and signing it and regretting it later.

I used to be stronger inside but I guess the physical effects of the ED are wearing on me too. I used to approach conflict with gusto and confidence, standing up to people and holding fast to my ground and my belief in myself. Now I feel deflated and insignificant overall which of course impairs my ability to stand up for myself.

I just want today to be over :(

Mad at Tx

I just got back from a nutritionist/dr appointment. I am so freaking MAD at them. I hate how they assume things and tell me things about myself that I don't think are true. When I voice my opinion/experience, they tell me that it's the ED distorting things and basically invalidate my own point of view. I thought they were supposed to support me and help me to see things "right" instead of just telling me how things are and aren't. They say they can see that the Prozac isn't helping and they should up the dosage but *I* have noticed a slight change. It's tough enough for me to motivate myself to take the damn pills in the first place and now they want to push me to take MORE! What about what *I* want!? I'm not certified, I'm not medically at the point where I can't make decisions for myself yet it feels exactly that way. Whatever happened to empowering the patient or at least working collaboratively.

I'm probably overreacting and being a baby, but I was so close to bursting into tears of frustration. Decisions and opinions always being thrown around regarding ME when I'm an adult. I should have a say dammit! I try to move forward and it sucks when it seems like it's not fast enough progress, as though everything I have done so far is NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Maybe it's just me, period, that isn't good enough. No pats on the back, no thumbs up, just more pushing and pressuring from them.

Days Go By

The first month of the year has come and gone.
It feels like life is just going by and I'm struggling to keep up. I have lost my "purpose" in life. I don't know why I wake up every morning.
I used to try and find one thing - even a teeny tiny thing like watching a TV show - to look forward to and that little thing would keep me motivated to keep going until the next teeny tiny thing I could look forward to.

Now, I have lost my ability to find these little things. When I wake up, I look forward to when I can go back to bed again. On one hand I want things to slow down but on the other, I want time to pass quickly so I don't have to deal with ... well... anything...