Twenty Five Days

I drove the Tahoe, pulling behind me an enclosed trailer full of boxes filled with all my personal belongings, two patio chairs, and an air-bed, still in the box it came in. I left early, before the daylight was able to show itself. As I drove, I cried. I cried because of the finality that had set into my psyche. My twelve-year relationship with my husband was now severed from the likes of an unnecessary divorce.

I tried to save my marriage, I tried but I failed. My husband was adamant about ending our marriage for the sake of saving himself from any more financial ruin that may occur in the future, should we have another unforeseen episode of irreconcilable differences. My heart was broken, so was his. We had lived a very fulfilling life together. We had traveled to both far and exotic places together. I was adopted into his family as one of their own, always feeling the warmth of  welcoming open arms from the moment I’d met them. My life with Ken was picture perfect.

The funny part of the scenario, is that regardless of how picture perfect my life had become, I had an emptiness inside my heart for something I’d lost in the past. Not only had I lost my self-respect at the ripe old age of fifteen, I’d also lost my boyfriend who basically walked out of my life without my desire nor my consent.

Throughout my life I carried that empty feeling along with me wherever I roamed. I married a man who is the father of my two grown boys. For many years I held on to the comforts of my family life, paying very close attention to my boys but disregarded the love of my husband, thus the marriage dissolved. Throughout the entire time, my eating disorder played front and center fiddle, taking up almost all of my free time, and kept me busy enough to stay clear from any close friends and or acquaintances. You see, it never seemed to matter how much love I was given from anyone else, it was never enough, because I had no love for myself. I hated everything about me due to what I did when no one was looking. I hated my life and how I had no control over what I did in secret. No matter how hard I tried, the eating disorder had all the power, thus I was left with no self-esteem, and a hatred for myself that simply would not disappear.

When Ken entered my life, I felt everything would be different. I was happy, I was loved and I had no needs that were not met. We melded together like cold butter on hot toast, his sense of humor was astounding and very infectious to me. We shared likes and dislikes and lived together, giving one another strength through the loss of his beloved Father.

All the while, my heart was still aching inside. I’d moved away from my boys to marry Ken. I had a feeling of failure inside my soul out of guilt from abandoning my own offspring. I’d left my Dad, my sister, my brother and I’d left my career. I left everything behind to start over in a new city with a new man who was going to turn my life around, and I was going to be able to leave the eating disorder behaviors behind….not so…

As it turns out, the only thing I was able to hold onto after the move, was the eating disorder. Not only did it follow me to my new life, it also became stronger and more pronounced than ever before. Over the nine-year period which I lived with Ken, he became more and more aware of the strength that the eating disorder had over my psyche. He stood beside me through some very difficult times, always making sure that I had all the help I needed right down to the dental reconstruction of my eroded enamel from years upon years of self-induced vomiting.

Sometimes I wonder if I had it too easy with Ken by my side. I find myself looking back at what I had, and how I took everything for granted. I took the love from Ken and stuffed it inside myself somewhere, unconsciously trying to make more room for the behaviors that continued to feed me regularly, my eating disorder. You see, if I tried to refuse the commands of ED, nothing else seemed to function. Yet, in like manner, if I listened to the voices of ED, nothing would function in long run anyway. My life was unmanageable no matter how I tried to live it. My frustration level inside myself was as combustible as a jet engine in flight. I fought hard with my own thoughts daily, always falling short of resisting the behaviors of the dreaded ED.

About seven months ago, that old boyfriend who had walked out of my life when I was fifteen, re-entered and open Pandora’s box. My heart was jump-started, and that emptiness I’d felt for over thirty-four years was filling fast. We communicated via telephone, reconnecting just where we’d left off so many years before. All the while, I knew in my heart of hearts that I was a very happily married woman, yet somehow I couldn’t resist the temptation to talk to my old love that I never was able to forget over the years. I was suddenly more engulfed in my anorexic behavior than ever before. The less I ate, the better I felt. Before I knew it, Ken had me sitting inside the office of my old psychotherapist, who in turn, convinced me to admit myself into a treatment center for eating disorders as an inpatient.

My husband was at his wit’s end, now wanting nothing to do with me other than to make sure I had the help I needed. His intentions were to get me the treatment I needed, and then wash his hands of me. After hearing those very words come out of his mouth, I was convinced that my marriage was over, I had to regroup and concentrate on what was to be my next chapter.

I continued to converse via telephone with my old flame, becoming more convinced each day that he had entered back into my life for a good reason. I suddenly felt whole for the first time in years with the addition of his presence again, thinking that this was the end of the full circle battle which I’d been living for years. With the completion of he and I being able to finally re-unite, my eating disorder was certainly going to be silenced for good. I had no desire to continue the relationship with ED, as the eating disorder was finally losing it’s power.

After months of regularly feeding myself in the confines of the treatment center, I became more aware of the fact that I was a very strong woman. I was now able to control the eating disorder instead of the eating disorder controlling me. Yet the world I was heading back into was beginning to unravel at a fast pace. My husband had given up on me, he no longer wanted me as his wife. I ended all communication with my old boyfriend. I had come to my senses, and knew with my whole heart that I was in love with my husband, I’d simply been in love with a memory of the past at the same time: a memory that wasn’t going to be anything more than a memory.

Two months have now passed since I left the treatment center. In turn, it’s been twenty-five days since I drove away from my second failed marriage and the house of my dreams.

I am living in a home under construction, I have no kitchen, and only two patio chairs and an air-bed, now out of the box it came in, all blown up. One would think that with all the depression that has followed me throughout the last twenty-five days, I’d be fully engulfed in anorexic behaviors and hanging on to the voices of the eating disorder as never before. Not so…you see, for the first time in my life, I’ve managed to exercise the tools in which I was given at Melrose Institute. I’ve managed to “manage” my eating disorder and its uncanning behaviors instead of it “managing” me. My focus is now on trying to find my strength to live alone and continue to strive for a successful, fulfilling and desirable future. I have come to realize that pain, frustration, confusion and self-hate is all I ever received from starving myself. Food has become a staple in my daily routine and I now am able to eat freely in front people I have only recently met. If the old me was in control, I’d have resisted each mealtime possible. I’d have had great incentive seeing as I have no kitchen. But I’ve chosen to follow the path in which I will continue to recover: I’ve somehow managed to finally leave ED in the background of my mind. Don’t get me wrong, it’s still a daily struggle, but it’s getting easier.

I’ve started my new job as a Nurses Aid in The Care Center in Crosby, Minnesota. I’ll be earning Union wages and regular pay increases over time. I’ll receive good benefits and my needs will all be met. I can truly say that throughout all the disruption in my recent past, God has had mercy on me, he has come through on every level. The hardest part is trying to focus on the future, instead of remembering all the good things in my past I shared with Kenny.  I miss my husband, and I miss our lives together, but I’ve come to the realization that we have both moved on in our own ways. He made sure I had the help I needed, then he washed his hands of me.

Twenty- five days…depression has taken hold, but I’ve left the eating disorder behaviors in the back part of my mind. They try hard to make me listen, but I continue to resist. I’ve heard said that inside every grey cloud there is a silver lining. It’s what I have to hang onto at this point. Out of the demise of a good strong marriage, at least I can say I’ve moved on without the eating disorder in center seat. God is good, and I thank Him for his mysterious ways.

Just Wait…

It doesn’t look like much now, but just wait till I’m done! For weeks I’ve been anticipating the demolition and remodel that will keep me occupied, keep my mind tied up so I won’t feel the sadness anymore. In the same breath,  my stomach is churning at the mere thought of living alone. I find myself content with my life and whats become of it, and suddenly out of nowhere I panic from inside of my soul, trying to figure out how I will be able to come home from my new job, and have absolutely no one to talk to about my day. I panic because of the insecurities I still feel that I harbor within myself.

I bought a home, I managed to get a good job with full benefits, and I have a huge project before me. My huge project is to, in a sense, become my own contractor…I’ve hired a great carpentry crew to do all the hard work, but I will be in charge of painting, staining, organizing, decorating and moving…

I walked around Menards one afternoon looking for new toilets, lights and tools. I added up all the items in my mind as I waltzed through the store, when suddenly I had a phone call. It was a call from my old faithful personal Psychologist, Kathy Kater. She was worried about me, I hadn’t yet called her since I was discharged from Melrose Institute back at the end of March. I apologised to her for my distance, not to take it personally. I had been busy taking a class for CNA certification, I’d been busy trying to find a home and it had taken up more of my time than I realized. I assured her that my life was going well and I would certainly call her if I needed to talk to her…She listened and then she spoke.

“Lori, I just hope that you don’t become so busy that you forget to eat and or let down your guard.”

Point well made…I know myself, and I think she knows me too. I tend to get totally wrapped up in a project, and become so fully engrossed in it, that all the bulimic behaviors subside and go dormant. What I fail to realize, is that it is then when the anorexic behaviors excel, it’s then when I am in the most danger. It’s also the time that I most favor. I feel strong and I feel invincible. I feel as though all my problems are gone because I am behaving the way anorexia wants me to behave. When she is control, my life is a perfect and most satisfying place to be.

Lately, out of nowhere,  I panic and I cry and I beat myself to a pulp verbally inside my mind. I have paved the way for my future and it’s all up to me as to how everything will pan out. The cards are falling and I must say that I am scared. I will be as busy as a beaver for the next month trying to put together a little piece of heaven, my own diamond in the rough. I’ll be starting a brand new job, wearing scrubs and entering a whole new world. Among all the newness I have to keep my sense of awareness about me as I trudge through the days. I enjoy hard work, I enjoy a challenging project…but I still have to respect the sleeping bear that is more powerful than I am…With Gods help, I will be OK, I cannot do it alone.

One Day, Three Interviews?

My good friend of whom used to be my second husband, drilled into me the fact that when life brings you lemons, you practice the art of making lemonade. For weeks now, I’ve been trying to wrap my mind around the idea of being single again. I know myself all too well when it comes to being alone in a world that is constantly dishing out stress, confusion, and missed opportunities. I can look at the world with that same attitude of frustration and self-pity, and my life will certainly follow suite. I’ve come to a crossroads that has been more eye-opening than any before. I’ve come to realize that I am able to trust myself more than ever. I’m not as afraid of myself as I used to be.

Life did bring me lemons, and now I’m making lemonade much the same as my ex-husband has been trying to do in his spare time. Instead of dwelling on everything I’ve managed to lose, I’m trying my hardest to make the best out of a poor situation. A few years back, my husband and I went through the process of building our dream home together; only the best of the best would do. We enjoyed the process and had no problems with the unforseen stress that so many people warned us we would encounter. From day one of our project, we breezed through the process unscathed by stress or frustration. We trusted the builder and all the steps he took along the way. At the end, we moved into the most desirable home I could ever imagine…and it was all ours…it was home sweet home.

However, life does give you hic-ups from time to time. Kenny and I experienced a hic-up out of absolute outer space that we were not able to work through. Since then, I’ve had to begin paving a new road on which I travel. In the past, my intentions were always to have become a nurse. The more time flew by, and I continued to age and turn grey, I put the desire to become an RN on the unfinished list. My days are numbered as I’ve reached my forty-ninth year. Am I crazy to believe that I could one day become that RN I’ve always wanted to be? Well, for starters, I earned the CNA title only a short time ago. I put the cart before the horse, so to say, and purchased a fixer-upper in my old hometown. With no job in hand, I signed a purchase agreement and planned to move back home. Suddenly, I was mortified by the fact that it was possible I may never even get a job, people my age are having much difficulty nowadays trying to find employment, not to mention someone who is young and fresh out of college! Had I made the most monumental mistake in life so far? Had I been out of my mind to put that cart before the horse?

Yet, among all the advice I’ve been given over the past few weeks, I listened patiently, and tried to be calm with my response. I had to bite my tongue and keep my cool when I heard people tell me I was making a giant mistake. You see, there has never been a time in my life that I have ever believed in myself as much as I do right now. For most of my life I’ve not had an ounce of self-respect and or self-esteem. I have relied on others to take care of me because I’ve never felt I could take care of myself due to the distorted behaviors of the eating disorder. I never trusted myself for any length of time to be on my own, always needing the guidance of someone at my side to help me better decide my next move. The funny thing about it is even among the closeness of my marriages, ( two failed ) I managed to sneak in the learned behaviors of ED and give them top priority.

Now after months of treatment and therapy, I’ve come to trust myself and the strength I have inside my core. I managed to make some lemonade and become a CNA, prerequisite to RN if I do so wish to pursue it. Something inside me told me if I had faith in myself, everything would eventually fall into place. I did put the cart before the horse, I bought a house without a job in place to cover my monthly expenses. Even still, as I went through the motions, there was a stillness inside my mind, a stillness that gave me a secure feeling when in reality, it looked to everyone else as if I hadn’t an ounce of it to behold. Somehow, I trusted my gut feeling that I was going to be OK. I trusted my instinct and believed that in good time, everything would fall into place.

On May 4th, I will be signing all the necessary papers and paying the final bill on my new home.  I am scheduled for three separate job interviews on the 26th of April. No, I haven’t managed to find a job yet, but I feel my chances are pretty good. One out of three is a fairly good percentage when it comes to odds. I had faith in myself, and I had faith that everything,  in good time, would fall into place…I’m not afraid to be alone anymore, there’s a new force inside my mind that grows stronger each passing day. I believe in me, and it feels good.

Happy Easter?

I woke up this morning without the enthusiasm I’m accustomed to on Easter Sunday. Every year of my adult life I’ve prepared a giant feast for my family and managed to make it to church to exchange “He is Risen!” with everyone in their Sunday best. This year was different, no family…no excitement…

All I’m able to elaborate on is the fact that ED never won today. I made it through another holiday without the disruption of the unhealthy learned behaviors of the eating disorder takeing control over my actions.  However, I made adjustments to my diet throughout the day, but only because I wanted to have some ice cream for desert…and I wanted to feel good about it… What I know for real, is that I didn’t have any business restricting my food early on. An occational ice cream treat is not something I do often, therefore, there’s just no need to make adjustments. I made the adjustments so I wouldn’t feel the fullness which I simply can’t stand. I made the adjustments because I was listening to anorexia as she silently scolded me as I conjured up the idea of indulgence. I didn’t have to listen to her voice and I don’t have to listen to her complain about the fullness now. I don’t have to….but I can’t shut her down either.

The only way I am able to shut her down is to refrain from purging up my Easter Sunday ice cream treat. I have no desire to give in to the bulimic urges to get rid of it, and I have all the intentions of standing my ground for the rights of me to be able to enjoy something I love the taste of…So shush up anorexia, go to hell bulimia…I’m in charge now.

Yes, I made it through another holiday in spite of my personal dilemma of the demise of my marriage. One step at a time, and a bit of patting myself on the back…I’m extremely exhausted, but kudos to me for winning today.

Bigger And Brighter Days Ahead

A few days ago I was in a hurry to leave my house when I accidentally dropped my new Smart Phone face down on my ceramic tile floor near the garage door… As I knelt down to pick it up, I found the face of the phone shattered into a million pieces.  How on earth was I supposed to survive without my phone in working order? Needless to say, a quick trip to the Sprint store was my first stop. Today I experienced the pleasures of  my  little disaster. Unlike my old Smart Phone, with an alarm which caused me to jump to my feet out of a dead sleep, in turn causing my heart rate to catapult into a near cardiac arrest, I was now peacefully awakened by the soft sound of a beautiful melody from my new alarm app… It started out quiet and slow, then  began to crescendo ever so slightly to wake me from my slumber.

I’d set my alarm to be sure I was awake in time to get ready for my last therapy appointment at Melrose Institute. Yes, my last “scheduled” therapy appointment.  If I refuse to give the eating disorder the respect it needs, I’m sure to set myself up for failure. Therefore, I have to remember the power it possesses over me, that of which I’m not able to resist at times when I’m weak. I say my last “scheduled” appointment, leaving the door open for future needs, should I find I’ve forgotten EDs’ powerful persuasion.

My therapist and I talked about the day I arrived and the state of mind I was in at the time. I listened to him praise me for my efforts to shut down the behaviors I’d trained myself to live with for the better part of my life. I listened to him tell me how he witnessed how I’d managed to recover from the ups and downs of life’s highs and lows which continued to play a large part in my months spent in treatment. As I listened, I felt somewhat proud of my efforts…proud and at peace with myself for the first time in many, many years.

I recalled to him out loud, as I walked through the process of my stay at Melrose. I reminisced how it began all over again with my obsession for treading water…My semi-recovery from the last treatment program became interrupted. I was caught up in exercising to lose weight, not for the benefit of my health, big difference. My obsession for treading water, again, took control of my eating habits. I failed to support my caloric intake with regards as to how much I burned off in the water. My body was a shrinking shrine to the likes of anorexic thoughts and behaviors. I was falling into a trap which would have held me captive through to the end of my life at the rate I was going. Once more, I had been in denial, and refused to look at what I was doing as unhealthy. I was in the arms of anorexia and loving every minute of it.

That November day, the day before Thanksgiving, I was mad as a hornet. I wanted no part of seeing anyone who would try to get me to feed my face. I wanted no part of going to a treatment center where I’d no longer be in charge of what I placed into my mouth. I’d been hijacked, brought in to visit my therapist against my wishes, whom I hadn’t seen for several months, and had no intention to visit again anytime soon. My therapist was persuasive enough to make me realize at that time, how important it was for me to surrender to inpatient treatment at Melrose, if they were so kind to accept me. There was an opening and with reluctance inside my core, I agreed to give it a chance.

Melrose did admit me. I remembered in detail, how I would make my way into the dining room at the treatment center and find myself scared to death as to what was on my appointed tray before me to consume. Every time I sat down to eat, I cried out of fear, going against everything I’d believed in, everything I’d programmed myself to trust. Tears came to me as I picked up the knife and fork to slowly begin to shovel it into my mouth to make its way down to my stomach… I had to refrain from ridding the forbidden food from my body, enduring the agony of fullness and the fear of becoming obese in what I believed would be only a matter of days.

Over a period of time I began to feel less fearful of food, and I was able to actually enjoy some of the contentment brought on by the taste of real food. Real food, the stuff that didn’t only consist of chicken Cesar salad,  yogurt, or a smoked turkey sandwich with no cheese. I was now feeding myself a variety of foods which I’d forbade myself from doing for years. The kicker…I was still wearing the same jeans, they fit a bit more snug, but they were the same jeans nonetheless.

Throughout my stay at Melrose, my personal life was in an uproar. I was facing the reality of my second divorce and trying to shut down a lifelong relationship with ED all in the same breath. All the while, I was communicating via telephone and email with someone from my past, whom I’d always thought to be my soul mate; most likely, I always will.  I was torn between so many different emotions, all which seemed to just evolve around my new daily ritual of eating on a routine basis. In a way, I felt as though the routine eating pattern was a distraction from the issues of my personal life struggles. In equal measure, the personal life struggles were a distraction to all the routine eating I was forced to participate in.  Melrose became my safe place from the rest of my troubled world. I was safe from myself when I was in the treatment center, I was safe from making rash decisions that would surely change the path of my future. I didn’t have to worry about working or socializing or shopping or cooking or laundry or cleaning or anything ordinary while I lived in Extended Structural Living. Therefore, when I was discharged and  expected to do all the work on my own, I was scared out of my mind.  Thankfully, I still had the opportunity to utilize the outpatient treatment program; it gave me the stability I needed for transition into the real world again.

Time heals, and the reality of putting one foot in front of the other has had a way of helping me continue to stay in recovery. Over the  past few months: more than once, my heart had been broken, my future as I saw it, had been destroyed in any scenario I was to look at it, and my hopes for a life without ED at times, seemed to be somewhat of a pipe dream. Getting a grip on the realities I’m faced with, took much concentration and strength. Now I am in the process of practicing all that they have taught me on a day-to-day regime. Some days I’m still consumed with sadness, yet other days I’m finding myself singing along with the  radio as I go about my daily grind.  The eating disorder thoughts will likely never go away. It’s possible, however, to try to teach myself to refrain from acting on the behaviors, or listening to the thoughts that are destructive to my health and body. In the past month I’ve been able to witness changes in my behavior. I’ve begun to notice that whenever eating disorder thoughts enter my brain, an obstruction, almost in the form of a grey wall, appears inside my mind. This obstruction gently stops my thought pattern and replaces the destructive behavior urges with a halting caution sign. It’s as if I am coerced from within to refrain from “going there”, in reality, I’m actually retraining my brain and it’s working.

I’m back in my hometown visiting my sister and brother-in-law for a couple of days. I have to set my splendid new Smart Phone alarm tonight because tomorrow I have planned  to spend the day with my Realtor friend.  I pray he will help me find a house to call my very own… I’m hoping to find a house that’s just the right size for me, but too small for ED to enter into. I’m starting over in every direction of my life, so I may as well try my best to leave that pesky old eating disorder behind. There’s no bigger and brighter days in my future than those which are free from ED.

Here’s to waking up without the fear of heart failure from my alarm clock, thank you rock hard ceramic tile floor, I owe ya one…

A Brand New Day

I continue to look forward to the darkness of the sky so I am able to shut down myself for the remainder of the night. I look forward to the solace of sleep so I no longer have to deal with the reality of what my life has become. Yet, in the early morning midst of a very confusing dream, I was drawn to the idea of reaching out for a cup of my most favorite beverage before my body had a chance to even realize it was awake. I could smell the aroma of fresh brewed coffee at my bedside nightstand, and the pleasure it gave me to open my eyes was more willing to wake me than my dream was at keeping me asleep. My morning coffee, placed there by my husband, the same man who is ending our marriage. The difficult part of this moment was when I had the chance to look around, rub my eyes and take a few deep breaths, I knew that all my unsolved problems were still there staring at me. They were still alive and willing to challenge me throughout another day…That’s when I felt that feeling of struggle, frustration and depression once again come to life… A brand new day, with the same old complications as the one before.

I am struggling with more issues than I care to describe. I am struggling with the morals I believe in, the lies I’ve told myself, and the distortions of my outer appearance. I’m struggling with what I am going to do to try to live through the disarray I’ve managed to place in front of my daily grind. I’m face to face with the demise of my marriage and the start of a new adventure. Am I strong enough to endure all this that is placed before me, or will I crumble as I’ve done so many times in the past?

I’ve gone through the necessary steps to learn the differences between myself and the mind patterns of the eating disorder. Although with the addition of dealing with a divorce, and feeling the worthlessness of yet another failed marriage, I’m afraid I’ll lose my mind. In many ways I’ve already lost it; my integrity is shattered, my self-worth is next to invisible and my focus on becoming free from the haunts of the eating disorder are somewhere in outer space. At times I just don’t have the strength to fight it anymore. I’m tired and I want to rest. It’s become too much for me to handle and I have to give it all to my maker…I’ve lived through harder times, however, I was much younger then.

They say time heals a broken heart. They also say that you must give yourself time, time will pass, and time is on your side. I feel as I have wasted so much precious time throughout my life that, I’ve almost run out of time. If I could only make the next right decision, time could become the result of something positive for me. I have to get myself together, I have to concentrate on my future and what I desire it to look like. I don’t want to live the remainder of my life with the baggage of bulimia taking center stage. I do, however, have the desire to continue my relationship with anorexia…I have the desire, but I know in my own mind if I continue to hang on to the beliefs of the disease it will only hinder, disrupt and destroy any chance of a happy and fulfilling future.

Dear God, I wish I had a magic pill to make everything destructive in my life go away, and everything beneficial to my health and happiness blossom, like that of the wild flowers of the fields in Spring.

Week Three Post Discharge

I’ve now reached my  forty-ninth year, and I’m still trying to shut down the ugly side of myself called ED. The eating disorder is really only a negative force inside my brain which tells me fictitious lies about myself and others, all while trying to be my only friend in the process. I have to begin trusting in the positive persona of myself, yet it is the hardest thing in the world for me to do. For years I’ve listened to the negative thoughts, and believed them to be true. I’ve listened to the negative distortions of how others perceive me to be, without the addition of their thoughts or words expressed by themselves. I’ve been a fortune-teller and a professional mind reader for decades. I’ve believed the eating disorder to be my own personality, yet it’s an entity all its own. If I could just believe in myself, and be able to trust the person I know I am on the inside, I can overcome the negativity; I’ll be able to distinguish the differences in the two voices inside my mind without concentrating so hard. My new thought pattern will become as automatic as my old one, and my freedom from the eating disorder will be shut down for the rest of my life.

I’m coming to grips with the reality of going forward without constant support surrounding me. My weekend was difficult at times, although I continued to press through the learned behaviors of the eating disorder by being accountable to my husband who is still temporarily playing the part of my coach. My future is unsettled yet, as my belongings are slowly being divided and packed into boxes. I want to save my marriage but I’m afraid it may be too late. The bond of trust is a terrible misfortune to lose in a marriage. Even though countless others have strayed from the vows of marriage far more than I did, the trust has been dissolved and my chances to save what is left is more of a fantasy than a reality.

All of the personal struggles are weighing heavy on my mind. To mix it all up with the thought of shutting down a life long eating disorder is like that of holding down a full load in a College Semester, all while keeping a full-time job to boot. I’m shooting for the Deans list, but would be happy at this point with a B average.

The sun continues to shine and the seasons too, shall continue to change. With that thought, I too will emerge out of this mess with a greater understanding of myself and what I’m really made of. I pray I’ll find a silver lining in this big grey cloud covering my head. With perseverance it will happen, and it will be worth the wait.

Another Day, Another Ten Hours

Back in the car at 9:33 am heading west for St Louis Park and forty-five minutes of Brandy Carlile belting out the tunes which tend to take some of the depression to a different level. There’s something about her voice that simply pacifies my soul. When I arrive in the parking lot, I gaze up to the third floor windows where I used to play a little game with all the other girls in the morning hours, “Who is it?”. We would stare out the windows and watch people as they parked their cars and then proceeded to walk into the building for work.  Each day I look up, and each day I see no one there to wave to. I miss them and I miss living in my comfort zone. I was in the confines of the treatment center long enough to experience the routine of daily mundane life in a nine bed unit of wonderfully beautiful girls of all ages and a couple of guys, all dealing with the same demons as I have lived with for years. I look up to the windows and I have a feeling of discontent with my life; life has changed and I am not content with the differences it’s caused me to face. When I was up there on the third floor, I followed the rules and lived through it, regardless of how I was feeling at the time. I look up to those windows and remember the feeling of being safe from myself and safe from the world around me.

Now the windows are empty, maybe they stopped playing the game, or maybe I’m arriving a few minutes early…either way It’s still a feeling of discontent. I can’t visit my old friends up there on the third floor. I have to adjust to the outpatient program and sit in an entirely different room for my down time between group sessions, meals and snacks. Living is so completely different now. I’m responsible for taking the next step to recovery without the twenty-four hour babysitters and RN’s taking care of me. I have to rely on myself for stability and the assurance that tomorrow is yet still another day, God willing,  to do it all over again.

I’ve made it to the crossroads of my adult life. I’ve made decisions in the recent past that compromised my marriage, that compromised my recovery, that compromised my future. I’m dealing with all of it now in one lump sum. I can’t pretend it’s not happening anymore, nor can I put it on a shelf to deal with at a later date.  The choices have been made and the cards have been played. Dear God in heaven, I wish this was easier to do, but it’s not. I’m on an uphill climb and my horizons are a completely new color  and moving in an entirely different direction than they were only a few short months ago. It’s wake up time, and I’ve slept in way too late.

Monday Morning Blues?

I can’t remember the last time I looked so forward to Monday morning. I looked forward to my commute to the treatment center where I’d be able to focus again and be free from the feelings of being alone. I found myself almost impossible to be with for the past two days. I woke up late, skipped my schedualed meals and starred out the picture window while curled up in a ball on the recliner. I thought about my life and how it’s such a mess. I thought about all the mistakes I’ve made and it overwhelmed me with grief. I tried hard to get myself to accomplish something but failed to do so. I spent my forty-ninth birthday crying in the presence of my youngest son, he now, trying to take care of his own mother. Yesterday I waited patiently for the sun to go down so I was able to crawl into bed at 6:30 pm, pretending it was already nine o’clock at night. What becomes of my life is all up to me.  I pray I’ll be able to see through the mistakes to try to make sense of my next step. I wish so bad I still had my mother to talk to. She was always able to help me through the mud in one way or another. For now I have to rely on myself…I have to come to grips with turning the page to a completely new way of life. I want desperetly to practice all I’ve learned the past couple months, however when my entire life is up in the air I simply don’t know which way to turn.

Discharged And Scared To Death

After eight and a half weeks of inpatient treatment for eating disorders I was reluctantly discharged, due to the fact I was doing so well at following the rules. My insurance company was beginning to question the fact that I was still in need of twenty-four hour care. In my mind, I was not ready to leave. I know myself all too well, and I was well aware that if I were on my own, I would fall right back into the restriction habits. I left Melrose on Thursday, February second at noon. I drove without any music in my car all the way to my hometown, mesmerized by the sound of traffic just outside the confines of my car. I made a stop at the local Target store to fill my prescription and purchase a few groceries for the rest of my day. I had to feed myself lunch, an afternoon snack, dinner, and another night-time snack before hitting the pillow. I grazed through the produce section, my mind not having a clue as to what I was supposed to buy… I settled for Lean Cuzine, chocolate milk and Activia yogurt. It would be simple enough to put a frozen dinner in the microwave, and I knew I would be able to eat it; the portions were adequate and I would be safe.

I arrived to an empty home, my husband now on the Caribbean cruise we had planned a year before. I was alone, and the house breathed a sound so cold I wasn’t able to handle it. I forgot about eating, and helped myself to three cans of beer instead. I cried from the inside of my heart, not knowing how on earth I was going to be able to live my life without the companionship of my husband. The following morning I’d lost two and half pounds and was now on my way back to Melrose to start my outpatient program. Upon arriving, I had my vitals taken and stepped onto the scale. I started out the day with an emptiness inside my soul and a longing for my life to take a turn for the better. I miss my husband and the warmth of his arms. I need desperately to regain my focus on the life I shared with Ken…he is my strength.

Dear God I pray that we will find our path, I pray that we will be able to conquer the disruption of the past few months of trauma…Please forgive me for all my wrongs and grant me peace with a long fulfilling life with my husband. Amen