Yep, I Think So…Heaven Is For Real…

I’m sitting in my little writing room looking out the windows in front of me. The heat and moisture of the great outdoors is fighting with the air-conditioned coolness of the inside of the house. It’s quite difficult to see anything at this point other than condensation with a hint of green in the background. That makes it all the better to be inside the stillness of my contemplating room pecking away at my story.

I just finished a book that was suggested to me from my stepdaughter, “Heaven Is For Real”. I can’t express enough how powerful this book is when it comes to building faith. There are so many things I’d love to do before I die, I want to be able to bake cookies in my new beautiful kitchen and not be afraid to eat them hot out of the oven. I want to be able to someday have one of my grandchildren perched on a kitchen chair next to me as we experience it together. I want to feel no need to rid my body of something so pure as the pleasure of playing and eating homemade goodies with a grandchild. At this point, I have no grandkids, none of our children are even married yet. Long term, my goal is to be at peace within myself, to feel confident in my own skin and content with my appearance. I want to be happy, healthy, wealthy, and wise. I want to live my life to fullest, regardless of how I’ve wasted so much of the past intermingled with the likes of an eating disorder. In reality according to the book, when I die, there are so many more things I will have to experience.

The past nineteen days have been more successful for me than I’d anticipated. My thirty-day goal is now within reach. It didn’t just happen, I’ve had help. Nothing good happens without the love and support of our great God Almighty. He has made it possible for me to find yet one more tool for my recovery. I have discovered something extraordinary, and yet I feel that I can’t let anyone know what it is until I know for certain it has helped me. Everytime I’ve tried something in the past it has helped for a short while, then it’s back to eating disorder thoughts as usual.

I have high hopes and faith that this new discovery came to me through the Holy Spirit by way of a new acquaintance. Mom always told me, “The Lord works in mysterious ways.” I believe that with my whole heart, and I believe in divine intervention…. Here’s to good things and healthy relationships. Here’s to old acquaintances who become new to some. Here’s to feeling better about myself so I can in turn be better to those I love.

Writing And Staying Focused

I’ve been working hard the past few days…happy to announce that I’m on day two of my thirty day goal…Here is a glimpse of page 173 of my book.

 Ten months have past since I wrote this last entry. I find it most difficult to put down into words what I myself have done to the person I am. Living my life as I did was one thing, writing it down in the detail that I must do to understand the healing process is yet another animal in itself. I find it embarrassing to actually put on paper how I’ve lived my life. You see, living it, I simply hid the bad stuff from everyone. Therefore, if no one else knew how I spent my free time I never had to face my eating disorder head on. I was able to bottle up the shame and frustration only to continue to make false promises to myself.  But actually putting it on paper makes it real, it’s no longer a secret life; it’s reality.

Starting Over, Again, Tomorrow

It all began when I was just fifteen years old…or was it when I was two and a half? Either way, the process started early; my thought patterns were forming without my knowledge that they were twisted. My brain was wired to work the way it does. At times my intelligence is incomprehensible even to myself. Yet there are times when my mind tells me to do things that would throw every ounce my intelligence in the trash. I have been trying to overcome this demon inside my head, I’ve yet to be successful. I only want one day free from self-destruction. One day will turn into two, two then, will morph into three. I am striving for thirty days straight, thirty days of concentration and a jump-start on breaking this destructive pattern I’ve fallen back into. I want to wake up in the morning and be proud of myself again. I want to be able to look my husband in the eye, and tell him I’m happy and I am free from the demons of destruction. I want to love myself so I can in turn love those around me…guilt free, without shame.

The past three months have been the most disappointing period of my life since before I started down the road to recovery from the eating disorder that has enslaved me for a lifetime. Depression is settling in, uninvited, but making herself very comfortable. The destructive part of my mind has now managed to outsmart all the road blocks that I’ve used. I’ve tried to barricade the monstrous side of myself to keep me safe from my own self-destructive learned behavior. Dear Lord, I’m running out of strength and I’m running out of time. I pray you will help me out of this mess I’ve created once more. I beg you, Dear God, have mercy on me.

Do Over…

It’s a new day, therefore I am able to start fresh. The sun continues to shine, and my flowers continue to grow. I have the world in the palm of my hands in comparison to some. I’m going to have to change the date of my massage as I’ve lost count at how many times I’ve stumbled. I so thought that if I opened up my secrets to you, it would help me to stay focused. It’s a new day, it’s a new start…Dear God, catch me before I fall too far.

Happy, Healthy, Wealthy and Wise…someday…

So far, so bumpy… What can I say? I have really had it with the distortions taking control of my psyche. I’m struggling, but I’m doing better, far better, as I’ve not entertained the bulimic monster that’s been trying so hard to persuade me to play. I’ve toyed with the idea of restriction, but faltered because of what the healthy side of myself is trying hard to pound back into my head. I am feeding myself even when I have the chance to starve. I’m having mixed emotions with my choices as I know it would be so easy and so desirable to skip my breakfast and lunch when I’m alone. My time is my own for three days every week, yet I haven’t skipped meals, and more importantly, I haven’t indulged in bulimic behavior.

I’ve been busy writing my book, or should I say “rewriting” my book. Proofreading and rewriting has taken up a great deal of my afternoons spent alone. I’m re-learning the history of myself as I go back and discuss, with myself,  the idiosyncracies of my past. I’m learning more every time dive into the depths of this craziness I’ve led myself to believe, yet, still I want so badly to reunite with the anorexic side of myself more than anything else in the world. I can’t explain why, but I still have the desire and the need to be in control of my body. I have the drive to restrict nourishment, which to me, still seems like an indulgment, not a necessity. I’m fighting myself and at this point, I do feel like I’m (healthy Lori) gaining the strength needed to win the race…at least for the moment.

I’m Stumbling And I Need To Shape Up

I haven’t been very good to myself lately. I’ve discovered that the complexities of my distorted thought patterns are more complicated than I knew. It was recently brought to my attention that I am the big oak tree in the middle of a wind storm that refuses to let the wind blow me into a swaying back and forth motion. It was a nice way of telling me I’m stubborn. My stubbornness is more dangerous than it should be. I refuse to admit I have any serious issues with anything more than food. I refuse to try to live my life without the destruction of unhealthy behaviors. It started out slowly, and continued to gain momentum. Bulimia has once more entered my routine. Along with bulimia there comes deceit and stealthy secret ways of which I’m not proud. I’ve gained weight and I know it’s because I’ve let my guard down, I’ve let myself indulge in more food than I know I can handle… I’ll get rid of it anyway… I’ve come to the conclusion that I have to once more focus on everything I feed myself. I have to know that whatever I place in my mouth I am obligated to digest it.

Every time I allow bulimic behavior to enter my life, I strengthen the path in my brain of which I’ve tried so hard to shut down. If I am to overcome this obstacle again, I have to set a goal. I’ve got a voucher for a massage, I’ve decided to reward myself thirty days from today if I can abstain from engaging in bulimic behavior. Alcohol is becoming problematic in the sence that I try to numb out the guilt and shame by self medicating. I want a clean slate, and a clear mind. I need to once more try to concentrate on what I’m thinking, I have to focus on what I let myself listen to.  I’ve got to be good to myself, and I can’t do it on my own…Dear God, please…I’ve come too far to fall back now.

Planting The Seeds For Inspiration

My desire to write has come to a complete stop. I’ve been trying to figure out if my passion for warmer weather and green grass has anything to do with it. The winter of 2010-2011 had to have been the longest, snowiest, coldest and most dreary winter I’ve experienced in years. I took advantage of my time spent inside the warmth of my home, cheating the frosty winds which constantly blew outside the walls that kept me safe. My writing class was most inspirational and managed to keep my creative mind busy and fresh with new ideas along with a chance to set a date for the completion of my book.

The winter has finally passed, whew! Unfortunately, with winters passing along went my desire to sit in front of my desk pecking away at a story that is becoming more of chore to finish than I care to admit. At times I feel it’s unnecessary to write the ending as I feel I’m not out of the woods yet, nor will I ever be. I’ve tried so hard to discipline myself. I’ve tried diligently to overcome the distorted thoughts that continue to haunt me throughout my days. But I’m afraid that the decades of time which I’ve devoted to the unhealthy thought patterns have been there too long. I’m afraid that they will always be there in the forefront of my mind and I will forever be jumping the hurdles that spring up on a constant basis.

I have learned so much, and I have come so far…I resist the temptations to give in to bulimia behavior, although at times it’s still incredibly difficult, sometimes it’s impossible. Will my book end the same way it begins? I certainly hope not.

As I look out the window of my contemplating room, I watch the birds fly around my back yard. I can hear the sound of the chimes as they sway in the warm breeze, I can see the growth of last years perennials making their spring debut. There is absolutely no place on earth I’d rather be than in the surroundings where Kenny and I have made our home. Keeping that thought in my mind is like seeds of inspiration. I have to plant them every day until they are the routine healthy thought pattern which will one day replace the unhealthy super highway I’ve burned for so long.

Placing one foot in front of the other, I pray to God that he will give me strength…

Insecurities…Will They Ever Go Away?

The weather has been unbelievable, the sun has been shining, the temperature above normal…so why am I feeling like I’m on the way down? There’s a familiar heaviness settling in. I have no reason to be feeling depression, yet each breath I take, I can feel it crawling deeper and deeper inside me.

I stood in front of the podium in my writing class this morning. My hands dripping with warm beads of steaming perspiration as I tried hard not to let anyone see my insecurities. It was obvious to all present that I was out of my element while I read ten pages aloud of my personal manuscript to a sea of scholars.

There were ten of us, all chosen by the instructor by choice, after she reviewed twenty pages of our  submitted manuscripts. She did choose me. I submitted my twenty pages and I had to wait patiently for the call telling me I was accepted. But why? Why was I chosen to be part of a select class of  writers when clearly I was so completely unrefined from all the others. One had been a successful lawyer, another was a college professor. An astrologer, a psychotherapist, and a woman who spent time in Irac writing new government policies.  If that’s not enough to feel insecure, one man was once the Dean  in a quaint little college out East that calls itself  “YALE”.

I was the last to read. As I tried to make eye contact throughout the fifteen minute reading, I observed the faces of all these successful people. The looks of concern and empathy were clear, no words were exchanged at the end. We had very little time before I was either in need of feeding the meter down the street or paying a hefty parking ticket…the choice was mine. I left swiftly choosing not to return. As I was leaving, the former lawyer shook my hand, telling me she was impressed, “It’s a very difficult thing to show your vulnerability, but I have to tell you it’s also very important.”

It’s really the only feedback I received, I didn’t know if it was good or if it was bad. The class has now run its course. Twelve weeks have come and gone, it’s possible I’ll never see those people again. I wish I felt better about sharing my story with a real audience…

It’s nearly impossible for me to look at this situation in a positive fashion; “unacceptable” inside this doubtful mind of mine, is all I see. It’s the way I’ve trained myself to think. The other day my husband said,

“Maybe we’ll hire a cleaning company to come in and get all the nooks and crannies cleaned before summer.”

Most women would raise their glass to that statement, but I, on the other hand, heard something all together different. I heard him say, “Man, you’re an awful excuse for a housekeeper, I’m gonna find someone who can get the job done that you are incapable of doing.”

Obviously, I had to rethink my negative thought pattern. My learned behavior of feeling less than, is still so unbelievably strong inside my mind.

For now, my audience is you…please understand that no response is not necessarily better than negative response. Until I’m able to figure it all out, silence is simply the unknown negative.

Staying Busy, Staying Focused

I’ve been up to my eyes in work related stuff lately. It’s the busy season for us. Spring time brings the thaw, along with the thaw comes a flooded basement; we sell basement waterproofing supplies…good combination…busy as a beaver (no pun intended).

Staying busy is good for me, it keeps my mind and body occupied. I spend more time getting to the root of what needs to be done, and less time concentrating on if, what, or when I’m going to eat ; and if I’ll be able to refrain from purging if I decide to feed myself as normal people all must do…

It’s times like this when I know I must be careful. I have a tendency to let my guard down when my mind is over occupied. I’ll work harder throughout the day and become honestly hungry in the evening. That’s not the problem, the problem lies in letting myself overeat when my body is genuinely in need of being fed. If I let my guard down and savor something I’m not accustomed to, or if I have extra of the things I do frequently enjoy, my mind goes into a spasm. Suddenly I’m faced with the dilemma to eat mass amounts of food again, just so I can get rid of it by self-induced vomiting. The triggers are so alive, and they are everywhere.

Today I pray once more for the strength to continue my recovery, I pray for guidance and peace within, to keep the eating disorder thoughts safely tucked away in their slumbering place. I know they won’t disappear, but I don’t want them to wake up; I have a better time hanging out with myself when I don’t use eating disorder behaviors.

Counting My Blessings

The other night I sat here in my chair rewriting the last chapter I’d finished to date. I found myself a bit tongue tied, I couldn’t think of the word I needed, I was too spent. It was 8:30 pm when I finally packed it up and hit the hay. My husband had no idea I’d gone to bed. Before my head hit the pillow I was lost in dreamland. Sometimes you just have to listen to your body.

I was awake at 7:30 am by the sound of the morning news on the television that hangs on the wall in our bedroom. I listened with my eyes still closed to the story of chaos in Japan. The earthquake was getting more news time than Charlie Sheen.

As the day progressed, I managed to get boatloads of extra things done at work. I cleaned and organized things and finished all the necessary duties for the day. I felt like I’d accomplished more than normal, maybe because I’d been fortunate enough to get  great sleep the night before.

Throughout the day news of the tragedy in Japan was told and retold. I saw the debris of goopy looking  black water taking over the landscape. Homes, automobiles and buildings of all kinds were being taken hostage in its path. There is little we can do to stop the strength of a hostile mother nature. I feel for all those people in Japan, I can’t imagine the future they have in store. My heart aches for those who have lost family and friends in the disaster.

My thoughts are naturally brought back to my eating disorder. Like an earthquake, an eating disorder takes over the mind and the body of the one its consumed. In many ways they are the same, uncontrollable at first, then you must deal with the aftermath; you must take care of the destruction its left in its path.

The reality in my heart is how very fortunate I am, how fortunate we all are, who have not been consumed by the earthquake in Japan. My eating disorder is so big, yet when you compare the complexities of learned behavior and natural disasters, it brings everything to yet another level. I still have a mountain to climb, but there are hundreds of innocent people who have just lost their chance to live an extra day. Sometimes I have to count my blessings and thank God for all the good in my life. At this time I see the progress I’ve made versus the work I still have ahead of me. I pray for all those who have been hurt by the quake. I beg forgiveness for my selfishness, and I thank God for all the goodness he has given to me.