Careening Down

  Time is against me. As in, too much time on my hands works against my recovery, maybe more than anything else in the world. Too much time means lots of opportunities to exercise. Too much time means time to think and to agonize, overanalyze, worry. It’s not good. What keeps me on track with my healing and stability is keeping busy. I make sure there is little to no idle time in my day-to-day life. And I make sure the things I do are productive, or at least, feel productive. When I was in residential treatment, they purposely gave us lots of down time. It drove me crazy (I mean, yes, I was there because I was “crazy” already, but doing nothing made me crazier!!!!). They said we needed to learn to just “be.” I, especially, needed to re-learn how to rest, sit, relax. I guess, I did not stay in the treatment center long enough to benefit from all that downtime. I came home and totally resumed my former pace. Busy, busy, busy all the time! Moving every minute of the day! Dur...

So...at its heart an eating disorder is a coping technique. It starts out as something that helps...something that gives, at least, an illusion of control.  Control is something I crave. That "illusion" makes me feel safe. It makes me feel "protected."  My journal from today...chaos even here! I thrive on a sense of control...no matter how illusive actual control may be, no matter how many lies that illusion is based on, no matter the reality that, at this point in my life, the eating disorder controls me.  I continue to feel a strong need and I continue to cling to...my familiar coping technique of controlling my weight, my food intake, my body size, my exercise. I continue to try to control what I can in this world...even though my rational mind knows I can control NOTHING! Today was an insane, out-of-control day. I was, as my dietician says, "outside my window of tolerance" from the moment I opened my eyes. I was running from one thing to another with ...

I had a rough night last night. Right before bed, I looked in the mirror and hated what I saw- my stomach looked round, my thighs looked big. I freaked out a little (maybe a lot).  Then I had a bad dream. In my dream, I was about to eat a cranberry muffin. It looked good. I wanted it. I was happy to be able to eat it. Then, my mother and my brother (my brother, whom I have not seen in years) told me it wasn't good. They said the muffin was disappointing and not worth eating.  They told me I should have chocolate ganache instead (strangely in the shape of a Santa Claus-- dreams are so weird sometimes). I agreed to eat the chocolate but then my well meaning family members kept trying to influence what flavor (and Santa shape) I ate. They argued over which was best. I got overwhelmed in my dream and decided I would not eat anything. I just wanted coffee. Now- in real life coffee i s my comfort and my "safety net" so that was not unusual. But back in the dream, they did not ...

Exactly 6 years ago today we became a foster home. We found out we were licensed and ready via phone call at about 3 pm that day. We were approved and licensed to take in one child. At about 6 pm, we got a call for a sibling set of 2 childre n. By 9 pm, we had our first placements in our home- before we even had the paperwork in hand that said we were official. The children were a 2 year old little boy (the children had been removed from their home on his 2nd birthday) and his 11 month old baby sister. From that first moment in our arms, those 2 babies turned our lives upside down in the most chaotic, insane, tumultuous ways. We truly did not know before then that lives could be so traumatic. We did not know sin could run so deep in a family. We did not know babies could be so utterly and completely impacted and hurt and broken by the mistakes and shortcomings of their parents. We would learn- the hard way- the effects of early childhood trauma. Over the next 4 1/2 years (and longer)...