Do u wanna?

Okay, so my sister started an invite only page on fb called Feed Rachael. She invites certain people to show a pic or describe what they eat at each meal, or even post a recipe. I love the idea because it just might make me hungry, which is the challenge for me; I'm not even hungry anymore. So, if ur interested, u can friend her and she will invite you. Her regular fb posts that you'll get aren't an overkill of mindless junk. She is a business owner for a massage company, so she posts specials, and she has a horse, and she's pregnant. That's pretty much her fb content. Just so you know you won't be overloaded with crap posts. She's a great person. Anyhow, her name is Ayla Tidwell. I'll give her a heads up that she might receive friend requests. It's up to you if you want to participate. I won't judge ya if you pass on this.

Life's cocktails.

"Life is unpredictable, often challenging us with new possibilities and change."
I found an envelope that had been slipped into my tablet and that's what it says on the front of the card. Scott always knows when I need words of encouragement. He says them all the time. But I'm not always hearing them. It's hard to listen or absorb optimism or hope. It's not because I'm being stubborn or selfish. I WANT to believe what he says. I want to feel that the words are truths. I want to be permeated with it. But it doesn't stick to me. I have glimpses and fractions of a moment where I think I might get what he's saying, but soon as I reach out to grasp it, it's like touching a little cloud in front of me and my fingers go right through it. And that's discouraging. But ironically enough, there must be hope in me somewhere because the next time I have that opportunity to grasp it again, I try again.
The last few days have been almost emotionally strong days. Towards bedtime, I get a little anxious and down. So I pop an ambien and the rest of my med cocktail in my mouth and go to bed.
For the bipolar and anxiety, I take effexor, clonazepam, lamotrigine, and geodone. The most important pills are the lamotrigine. It's a mood stabilizer. So is geodone. It plays second fiddle to the first. Effexor is anti-depressant and anxiety. And clonazepam is purely anxiety. Ambien is a sleep aid.
If I didn't have a family, I wouldn't take pills. But because I love my family and am trying to the best of my ability to take care of myself because they love me, I take meds. When ur off the meds, the manic is such a high. I feel like I can do anything. Except fly. Pretty sure I can't fly. I have such great ideas and I create awesome projects and art. I don't sleep because I'm so into whatever I'm doing. I can write anything (I've been published during times like this). I want to be out in the world and be with friends and laugh. I throw parties at home. I'm like a whirlwind of happiness. I thank God for my wonderful life and go to bible studies (and even lead them). But then the crash comes. And I start wondering if I should test that theory on flying. I can't get out of bed. I don't answer the phone. I don't eat, shower, or change my clothes. I write, but it's dark and dangerous. I create art, but it reflects my misery and desperation. I sit for hours, lost in another world and I don't even remember what I was thinking about. I want it all to go away. I hate feeling that way. I ask God to kill me. I want to kill myself. So then battle begins: death or survival.

But that's not today. With meds I'm a little bit more stable. Still have some off days. I'd say I'm boring now. I don't really socialize too much cause I have routines now that I've etched into my mundane brain. Because it's safe. I have to plan everything. I'm NOT a spur of the moment kinda girl, unless I'm having an off day. My craftiness is normal level. The passion isn't as pronounced as it is when I'm unmedicated. My writing. . . It's just writing. I would say it's normal, too.
I miss the intensity of not being medicated on my manic days. Scott says I was the life of a party back in those days. Now I'm just a body at the party. I don't like normal. It's not how God created me.
But on the flipside, I have responsibilities. I got married and had kids. And they love me. It would be selfish of me to not medicate myself. I owe it to them. It's doing the right thing.

Today is a day of trying to get myself to eat. I ate breakfast--an actual bowl of cereal. That's a big deal, but now I feel that I have to burn those calories and ride my elliptical for more than an hour. So the struggle today will be the elliptical time. If I can stop myself from riding it too long, then my next struggle will be to still eat. I'll want to eat less to compensate for eating breakfast. And so the rollercoaster begins. . .

Clarification.

I want to clarify why I'm writing the good, the bad, and the ugly. Because it's real. It's not just about me. It's about the twenty plus million of people who suffer the same thing. And I want to be a voice that gets heard. I want to fellowship with others who suffer. I don't know where my fate ends (do I die at age 99 in my sleep, or do I swallow two bottles of tylenol when I'm forty-five) but it is my goal to enlighten and educate the ignorant along my journey. I have been really hard on those who have looked the other way. Well, frankly, it hurts to be ignored. And I know you're not really ignoring me, you just don't know what to say. I get it. But it's been laid on my heart to speak up. And at this point, I know who gets me, who's trying to understand, and who are going to continue to pretend life is happy, happy, happy and pretend people like me don't exist. Okay then, you do that. I guess what I'm saying is I am not seeking support, I got my tiny group. And I am secure in my faith of where I stand in my Father's eyes. He knows my heart and He gets the whole picture. But if you want to crawl inside the head of a person who deals with mental health issues, for whatever reason you chose, then read on.

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.

Raw.

I'm so angry and feeling vulnerable. I tell my friends and family that I have a life-threatening serious problem. I reached out, not for attention, but for allies in my war and from time to time a wingman in my battles. But instead, I feel like the car accident on I-5 that everybody, for miles and miles, stops to rubberneck the fatality, shakes their heads and keeps on driving.

I have forty friends on FB. Twenty-three views on my blog. Four people have talked to me since.

I'm angry because people I call friends continue to live in ignorance. There is so much hurt and pain in this world and you even know someone experiencing a suffering and you hide behind your computers and busy lives and not address it. I'm not saying focus on me, give me your daily attention, but damn people, to have 23 views on a post and four responses? You are selfish enough to watch the train wreck, but not person enough to help the wounded. And I'm pissed. It's not about me anymore.

24 million of all ages and genders suffer from anorexia in the United States and anorexia has the highest mortality rate of any mental illness. Fifty percent of anorexic's meet the criteria for depression. Twenty percent of people from anorexia will prematurely die from complications related to their eating disorder, including suicide and heart problems. http://www.anad.org/get-information/about-eating-disorders/eating-disorders-statistics/

I am going to lay out my experience like an open book. Maybe someone will learn from this. Maybe most of you will just "enjoy the movie". I don't care anymore who wants to be a bystander. It's obvious: it's my war. I apologize for inconveniencing you.

Going Public.

I have a problem.

I weigh 118 pounds and I don't eat more than 700 calories a day, but I run or ride my elliptical for over an hour a day.

I freak out when I gain a pound. I'll go a whole day without eating to punish myself.

I have become angry, forgetful, irritable, depressed, hopeless, unhappy, and have turned into someone I'm not. I go through the motions of the day, numb, and just playing the part people want to see of me.

My hands shake, I get headaches and dizzy and I'm overall weak. I'm in a constant state of anxiousness and paranoia. My body has begun the first stage of shutting down because it's eating itself.

I suffer from anorexia. If I don't fix it, they tell me I could be dead in the next six months.

If my insurance approves it, I will be admitted into an outpatient facility called the Emily Program. There, I will get guidance and help to undo the damage.

Please pray for me.

What to do?

 

I think I have a problem. No, no. It's not my obsession with canning.

You would think that at first glance.

 

There's just so much canned food lying around.

 

And I have so much more I want to do.

 

I haven't even started on the fruits.

 

Where am I going to put it all???