I'm doing good...

....At least I'm pretty sure I am.
I've got a lot going on
Both in the physical and mental sense.
4 weeks ago we moved into this new house
And it still doesn't feel like home.
There's still boxes left packed
And the walls stay empty for the most part.
The weekdays blend into each other,
And the weekends go too fast.
This new town is small,
So small, there isn't even a coffee shop.
I've got a choice of 2 parks for the kids,
One infested with wasps,
The other bores the kids quickly.
I miss my best friend,
I miss having coffee shops and thrift stores.
But on the other hand;
I've got to look at the upside.
We're not homeless,
We're not starving.
We're healthy for the most part,
And we're all together (well kinda.)
I think mentally,
Is where I'm struggling.
I made a goal at the beginning of the year;
To get to 110lbs.
For the last 10 months,
I fluctuate between 101 and 104.
I can't get higher than 104,
Even if it sticks for a few days,
I'll eventually go back down.
And this triggers Ana.
She tells me that at least I was successful at losing,
But I'm a failure at gaining.
She tries to call me back to her,
While I'm laying in bed at night,
Trying to shut her up.
I still have this constant migraine,
Since May first.
My doctor insisted it was poor nutrition (fuck you bitch)
So she wouldn't leave me alone until I see a dietitian.
So I went, sitting in this room with all these food posters on the wall.
It was all too familiar and I hated it.
I knew that this wasn't the cause for the never ending pounding in my head.
The dietitian dragged on about fats, proteins, exchanges,
Everything that I heard while I was sick.
But I'm not sick anymore.
I am far off from my lowest weight of 78.
So I haven't been back to the doctor since.
I am trying to embrace my body,
Let go of the idea of perfection.
I'm lifting weights, doing yoga, hooping,
I want to love myself.
I want to fully accept my body.
The stretchmarks that represent my children.
The scars on my face from years of picking.
The scars on my arms and legs,
From the hundreds of times with my razor.
These boobs that I can not stand,
That were caused by Ana.
I'm flawed; that I've accepted.
What I haven't accepted is how angry I am.
I'm angry for letting my eating disorders have control for so long.
That I let my eating disorders trump my relationships.
That I lost so much of my life to calories,
To the scale.
Countless hours spent in therapist offices,
Or over the toilet.
That no matter how much weight I lost,
It was never enough.
I always had an excuse to want to lose more.
Now, I'm riding the line of a healthy BMI.
I know that my husband loves me,
At 78lbs or 145; that never changed.
I know that I am stronger than I was 2.5 years ago.
I know that I'll be even stronger in another 2.5 years.
I know that every day I have to make a conscious effort,
To fight for my kids, because they are my life.
I can never give up,
Even on the days where my anxiety and depression is paralyzing.
I am a fighter, I always have been, and I will always continue to be.

Feelings

I feel down
I feel happy
I feel guilty
I feel angry
I feel fat
I feel discouraged
I feel anxious
I feel lonely

I only woke up an hour ago, and I've already experienced all of these emotions
I don't feel justified writing in this blog anymore because my eating isn't disordered (well not really)
The last few days I've been wanting to blog, but every time I try, nothing comes to mind

Which makes no sense
My mind is always constantly racing
I'm averaging about 5 hours of sleep a night
Because it takes me almost 2 hours to get my brain to shut down
But then my dreams are swamped with these unsettling images

Right now, my best friend and my other really good friend are struggling
They're struggling with anxiety and eating disorders
And despite my tireless efforts to help,
I feel like I'm not making any sort of progress.

Which in turns makes me feel like a shitty friend
Why can I not find the right words that will stick?
Why would they listen to me, when I wouldn't listen to anyone when I was sick?

My recovery journey started 2 years ago in May
And although I still struggle, most days are easier to get through then they used to be.
The thoughts are there. Telling me that I ate too much, or that it'll be ok to skip a meal.
But they're Ana's thoughts, not mine.
And I'm pretty good at getting her to shut up. Most of the time.

There are days where she sneaks in like a snake trying to catch the mouse.
One minute I'm fine, and the next, I'm standing in the mirror,
Picking apart my flaws one by one.
I still have days where I'll change my clothes 5 times
Just to find something that won't make me look like an elephant.

No, right now, it's more anxiety and feeling defeated.
I feel like the world is shitting all over us and all the plans we had
And it all started last year when we were rushed to get married.

Of course we were gonna get married,
But on our own damn timeline.
Then my father tells me that he wants us to get married before he moves to Florida
WHICH NEVER FUCKING HAPPENED!

He insisted that he wanted to walk me down the isle,
So we had to get married before he left.
You know how many times I've talked to him since our wedding last September?
Maybe a handful...maybe.

I'm pretty sure he doesn't want anything to do with me,
No surprise there, when has he ever?
I'm pretty sure I'm an after thought for many people in my life,
Which is cool, I've got this shit.

Today marks 118 days with this damn migraine
Which I went to the doctor for a couple months ago.
My doctor left the practice, so this last time I met with a new one.
She focused on mostly my eating disorder
And told me that my migraine was from stress.

She insisted on me going back and seeing a therapist
And also recommended me to see the dietitian.
I did neither because I don't believe they'll help my migraines.
But everyday for the past 118, I've had this fucking thing!

My life isn't all gloom and doom though.
At least I've got my little family,
Well kinda. I'm trying so hard to hold it together,
But all of the tension in the house is getting to me.

My eldest, H, moved in with his dad for the school year,
And even though it's been hard for me, I knew it was best for him.
My 5-year-old has his good moments,
But the majority of the time, he is a big ball of anger and frustration.

My stepson moved back in with us in May
Because his mom couldn't deal with his shit.
At first it was going well,
Until our weed and money started coming up missing all the time.

It was at that point that we stopped trusting him completely
And started locking all of our shit up.
We can't even keep any good food in the cabinets
Because he sneaks food after we go to bed.

The silver lining in all of this is Syrsha.
But she definitely doesn't make it easy.
She's so independent, and smart,
So she keeps me on my toes constantly.

She can say her name already, and is counting to 3.
Her problem solving skills blow my mind.
She's got a healthy appetite and loves vegetables.

So, to conclude this post,
I've got a lot of feelings going on,
Mostly negative,
But I put a smile on everyday so as not to hurt the ones around me.
Maybe one day, I'll be able to make myself a priority probably not though

The boys first day of school

My best friend and I before her wedding

Princess Syrsha

XOXO Katie

Recovery Fucking Sucks

And not for the reasons you may think.

Recovery sucks because of the aftermath of my eating disorder.
Recovery sucks because even though I know I need to be eating double the calories, I just can't.
Recovery sucks because of Osteopenia and I hate the taste of milk.
Recovery sucks because I'm in pain all the time.
Recovery sucks because I fucked up my metabolism.
Recovery sucks because 2 years later, Ana is still there (in the background, but there).
Recovery sucks because I cry myself to sleep 9 nights out of 10.
Recovery sucks because I still HATE MY FUCKING BODY!

Alright, I know; it's been so long since I've written here
I apologize for that
The purpose of this post is not in anyway to turn anyone away from recovery,
But more of a look at what this disease has left me with.

Where to begin? How about that I've been regularly working out for over 6 months now.
My workouts don't contain cardio, well besides jumping jacks.
Initially I started lifting to tone,
But then I realized that I could tone, gain muscle, not fat, and reach a "normal" weight.

Since I quit breastfeeding Syrsha a year ago in May,
My weight has not went below 96lbs, however,
My weight also hasn't gone above 101.
And I'm frustrated.

I downloaded My Fitness Pal again,
But this time I changed my goals.
I entered in that my goal weight is 110,
And to gain a half pound a week.

2,090 calories a day, 40% Protein, 30% Fat and 30% Carbs.
Realistically, this is about what my average day looks like...
1,400 calories a day, 35% Protein, 25% Fat and 40% Carbs.
I can never seem to win.

And why all the details, and what brought me to this rant?
The fact that I'm 2 or so years into recovery,
And I'm still struggling every fucking day.

I still cry when I look at myself in the mirror,
I still cry when I realize that Ana is still in my life.
I still cry because my boobs used to be a 38C
And now...lol....now, I've got fucking nothing!

And as materialistic or silly as this sounds,
My boobs are the reason why I'm so fucking upset.
I can't even take my bra off in front of my own husband
Without that lump in my throat that I'm about to freak out.

Does he really care?
He says he doesn't,
But also says he misses the way they used to be.
He loves me no matter what.

But when I look back to almost 5 years ago when I met him,
I was this woman with curves, boobs, and a light in my eyes.
And because of my fucking eating disorders,
I am a woman with zero curves, virtually nothing in my bra, and the light is very dim.

Am I depressed?
Probably.
Do I even have the time of day to be depressed?
Fuck no.

In fact, this post has been in my head for a couple of weeks now,
But as if the aftermath of my eating disorders isn't enough,
Life is just shitting on me in almost every other aspect of my life.
But lets not get into that, this post has been long enough.

I made a doctors appointment, finally.
After almost 7 weeks with this migraine that never goes away.
After taking Excederin up to 3 times a day,
And getting the Daith piercing.

I don't really know what else to say,
Except that I'm sorry.
I know I've been gone,
But more just lurking.

I've been reading, but not commenting.
I wouldn't be surprised if this post gets lost amongst the feed
Of more active bloggers.

XOXO Katie