Welcome to my side of the fence. . .

Welcome to my side of the fence. . . Here you will
enjoy some good laughs, maybe some frustrations,
and hopefully (if I'm a good enough writer), a few tears.

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Keeping it real.

Well, Scotty found out a few days ago that I have been throwing away the food he makes me (try to eat). Then he was standing over me. And then I got an attitude and didn't eat anything at all. So he eased up a bit and we've discovered that I have a better possibility of eating when I'm not forced. Who'da thought? Duh.

He won't let me exercise either. But the four day weekend is over and soon as I post
this, I'm popping in a movie and riding my elliptical. Exercising is like a drug to me. When I don't do it, I have withdrawals. I'm moodier and eat even less because I didn't burn calories to get to eat. If that makes sense. Plus, in my head, I argue the whole serotonin thing. I'm happier when I exercise.

It's too early in the day to have heard from our insurance about a referral for the Emily Program. I hope I get it. There's a couple of things that run through my mind about the program. One, as I am, being anorexic, it's like watching an out of body experience. I see the bad choices I am making, I wish I could not make the bad choices, but I am just watching it happen and unfold in front of me. People are telling me, just stop it. Just eat more food. It's something you can control. But I can't. I get physically sick when I eat more than four bites of food. I will ride my elliptical for an hour and a half if I think I ate too much the day before AND not eat all that day. It's become a way of life. It has roots in me.

Second, this program scares me because I want to do it for my family so that I can get better and stop scaring the shit out of them. But it's gonna be an up hill battle until I get to the point that I want to do it for me. I am hoping that being with other people in my shoes and actually listening to what the program has to say, I will discover that I am worthy and willing to help me for me.

The word 'worthy' catches my attention. Because it's been used so often by so many people telling me I am worth something, I am worthy of happiness, and I am worthy to God. Worthy is having value or deserving. And on the spiritual side of things, I'm really not feeling it. I am so angry at God right now. I am supposed to be in His hand, Him holding and protecting me, yet instead, He's allowed me one more obstacle to conquer in life. As if I didn't have enough. Thank you God. {sarcasm}

I told a friend the other day, I am now a anorexic bipolar with PTSD and DID (disassociative identity disorder). Sounds like a title to put under my name on a business card. She made me laugh though; she said that sounds like just about every woman out there. It does have the vibe of PMS, huh?

This morning, I had to drive Nina to her school orientation (I can't believe I am a mom to a sophomore). On the drive home I was having the realization about doing the program for the family, but not for me and all of a sudden I felt so worn out and tired. I just all of a sudden didn't want to do this anymore. And then I thought about, what if I just kept my foot on the gas pedal and ran my car into the next tree? Then I felt at peace about making a decision like that. And I was wondering out of sheer curiosity if reflexes would take over and I would slam on the brakes. And I contemplated it for a few miles. Fortunately, I got my wits about me and got a grip. I'm fine now and don't want to kill myself. It was just a weird few miles.

Like I said, me writing this is gonna be from a real person, thinking real thoughts as I journey down this twisted road.

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