Wednesday, July 31, 2013

The Lie of the Look

I have to share a deep dark secret with all of you.  Part of this blog is about me being open and honest.  I feel like I have to set a thing or two straight so here goes:  I'm out of shape.  Yes, I said it.  I am not even kidding.  I seriously could not run a mile if zombies were chasing me.  I could not finish an aerobics class if I were getting paid.  I could not go on a hike with any kind of incline if there were a fucking pot of gold at the top.  If I were to try to swim I would be food for the fishes.  And, if you want to see something really funny, stand on the sidelines and watch me try to ride a bike for any amount of time.  I literally fell off my bike and had to walk it up a hill last time I rode.  I hate any kind of organized cardio exercise.  I get whiny, sweaty, out of breath, and my side feels as though someone is stabbing me with a knife (and even if they were, I couldn't run far).  Here is another thing:  I am thin.  Now hear me out.  I do not say this to be offensive to anyone.  I do not mean this to sound as, "I'm thin and I don't even have to try!"  What I am saying is, there is a huge misconception of thin = healthy, fat = unhealthy.  I am thin and unhealthy and I have to open up about this.  For those that see me and think I have it all together and I must be super healthy in my eating and exercise regimen.  It's all an illusion.  And I am not proud of it.

I have been fit in the past.  Although, I have NEVER been marathon ready.  I would go to the gym and exercise.  It was not because I was trying to be healthy or feel good.  It was all to get thinner.  Period.  And, it was never enough.  I never got that rush that made me feel awesome when I worked out.  The only rush I got was from the scale.  It was hollow, short-lived and not fulfilling.  The only reason I go to the gym now is to take a yoga class.  I wish I liked working out.  I wish I liked to get out and run every morning.  I just don't.  I would rather take a nap than Zumba.  This is the reality for me and I am actually ashamed of it.  

What really got me thinking about this topic were two articles I came across last week.  One is called All Hail The Fathletes written by Ragen Chastain.  Ragen is blogger of Dances With Fat.  She wrote this piece about what it is like to be an athlete and a dancer while being large.  What attracted me initially to the story was the picture.  Here is a woman, much larger than myself , beautifully doing full on splits.  This is something I cannot do even as a slender woman.  She explains the prejudice she has to endure and the stigma associated with being large.  I thought about how unfair it was that because I am the size I am, it is assumed that I am fit.  I am not.  If I were forced to live off of stamina and physical fitness, I would die. 


The other piece is called This is not Your Typical Weight Loss Story written by  a woman who wants only to be known as "Susan".  This is a true account of what it is like to be a "fat anorexic".  This story was so touching and deep.  I teared up as I read it.  I could relate to her on some level.  I myself have never been emaciated.  I have never looked like one of those shocking pictures people think of when they hear the word anorexia.  Here is an eye-opener for many people:  Most people who struggle with eating disorders do not look like they have eating disorders.  Most are not ghastly waifs that look on the verge of death.  Most of us look "normal" or may actually be heavier.  That does not mean it is any less serious or painful.  Many people who die from their eating disorders do so while looking perfectly fine.

So, as healthy as I may look, let me tell you what I feel like on a daily basis.  I pretty much feel like crap a lot of the time.  I have no one to blame for this but myself.  When I am in my eating disorder I may look great as people have often told me but I feel terrible both physically and emotionally.  I don't follow my body's natural hunger and satiety cues.  I actually can't really tell what my body needs or wants after a while.  So, I won't eat until I go into hypoglycemic mode.  I will get dizzy, burning hot, irritable.  I get devastatingly sad.  I shake so bad I can hardly hold things.  I get so confused it feels like I am dreaming.  My limbs tingle.  By now my body is familiar with what I have done to it in the past.  My biology fights to survive.  This is not what it feels like to be healthy both in body and in mind.  This is not fit.

My conclusion to this blog is simple.  That fat man walking down the street might have just run a 5k the day before.  That skinny girl at the gym may be healthy or miserable in her skin.  As much as we think we know people's stories by looking at them the truth is, we don't.  Now you know a little of my story.  Things are not always what they seem.
 

 
 Food for Thought

Have you ever made judgements about yourself or others by looks alone?

What are your first thoughts when you see someone fat or someone thin?

Where do our judgements come from?  Biology?  Society?  Family?  Friends?  Media?



Live on!

-Kristy


 

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

My Story of Hope

I wrote my Story of Hope for NEDA (National Eating Disorder Association) in January of this year.  I just typed it up and hit "submit" and off it went.  I really didn't think about it much after that.  It slipped my mind.  When I did remember I wrote the story I thought that NEDA must not have liked it.  After all, I got no response.  Oh well.  No big deal.  A couple of months later I got an e-mail form NEDA asking if they could use my story.  It needed a title so I chose Mothering Me.  NEDA asked for a picture so I sent the one of my family and me at the airport when I returned from treatment.  They liked it!  I was surprised to say the least.  My story was going to reach thousands of people.  Wow!  I then submitted it to Hungry for Change UK.  They wanted to use it as well.  What?!  I started getting feedback.  Friends, family, acquaintances, strangers were reading my inner most thoughts about one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make: leaving my family for treatment of my eating disorder.  Everyone I knew, and many people I didn't, could now read about my secret.  Scary, and amazing!  The response I received was overwhelming.  My story could help someone.  Another mother, a teenage girl, a husband, a son of an eating disordered mom.  The possibilities were so inspiring.

From this, I decided to go further.  The Mothering Me blog was born.  My musings of life during recovery.  What a journey I am on!

Here is Mothering Me as it appears on the NEDA website:
http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/node/2958

Stories of Hope

Mothering Me
By Kristy Butler

I remember sitting in an eating disorder support group circa 2000. I had been attending this group for several months with many different kinds of people. There were people young, old, men, women, wealthy and not. There was a mother of 2 small children in the group. I was 22 years old and had struggled with my eating disorder nonstop for 3 years at that time. I was so upset with this woman. I remember thinking, "when I am a mom, I will NOT have an eating disorder!" After all, how could a mom engage in such behavior when she had everything, including children to love and nurture? Nope, not me, I wouldn’t let that happen. Skip forward 10 years. I was married to my best friend. I had two beautiful, awesome children, a son and a daughter. I had a house, a job, friends, and a supportive family who cared about me. Yet there I was, engaging in the dangerous behavior of my eating disorder. I was doing the same thing I had judged this woman for so many years before. That’s what made it feel even worse, I felt like a hypocrite. As much as I thought I was hiding my disorder from my children, the two of them knew something wasn't right with mommy. Sure, I would color and play with them, but my mind wasn't there. My heart wasn't there as much as I had wanted it to be. I was not present with them. All I could think about was my next act, my next time alone where they wouldn't see me. How many calories have I consumed today? How can I get more exercise? How can I hide this from my husband? It was the constant dialog with my eating disordered brain. When my 4 year old daughter asked me if I would have some of her cake when her birthday came around, I could see it in her eyes. When my 7 year old son asked if I would eat breakfast with him, and I said, "no" I could read it on his face. Something was not right with mom. It broke my heart to know that no matter how much I tried to hide, no matter how young they were, they could see through me. They knew I was not well. The shame was overwhelming. How could I be a mother, and have an eating disorder? That was the turning point for me. My children are what made me seek help. If it was not for me, it was for them at the time, which was fine, because in that moment, I didn't think I deserved treatment. Someone else was surely "sicker". I did not believe I deserved it, but I knew my children at least deserved their mother. They needed me to be actually there with them; present, alive, healthy and free. I sought out-patient treatment for several months. Then I finally left for partial hospitalization treatment halfway across the country. I left my husband and kids for 3 months. I told them I was leaving because I was sick and I needed some help. I told them I would be so much better when I got back. Then I left them in the middle of the night. I kissed them and said good-bye while they were sleeping. They didn’t see me leave. I missed a summer and I missed their first days of school that year. I missed reading them stories and watching them play. But most of all, I missed myself. I missed knowing who I was as a person. I worked HARD in treatment. It was the most difficult thing I had ever done. It was painful. It was draining physically, emotionally and mentally. I never want to go back. I would if I had to though, because not only are my children worth it, I am too. I can see that now. Returning home after treatment was mixture of ups and downs, but mostly ups. I fell to my knees in tears at seeing my son, daughter and husband waiting for me at the airport. I looked different but I was alive and excited and overcome with emotion. Getting back into my home life was not easy, but I had a whole new bag of tools. I was learning who Kristy was! I was more than just a mom or a wife, a certain weight or a certain size, I had a soul. I had things that inspired me and made me tick. I still have some days that are more difficult than others, but I see who I really am now. I see the woman my children see. I see the woman my husband sees. I see the woman my friends and parents see. I am a work in progress and I am AWESOME!

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

This is EDNOS

I have to remind myself that this is a process and not a product.  While I am in recovery, I am not "recovered".  I no longer fall into the category of anorexia nervosa so I am classified as having EDNOS.  Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified.  Eating disorders are sneaky as hell and even when I don't think I'm struggling, I just might be.  This is so disappointing for me.  How can I be support for others when I am needing it myself?  How can I talk the talk of hope when I am in a backslide?  Am I in a backslide?  If so, why?  Oh bloggity blog!

Last week I went to my  dietician (I'll just say "D") whom I have been seeing regularly for 2 1/2 years.  I was thinking, OK, where do we go from here?  Can we be done?  Maybe this is the best I will ever be and I'm alright with that.  I feel pretty good.  I have got everything under control.  After chatting we both quickly realized things were not as simple as I was telling myself they were.  After much talking, crying, and repeating my nervous laugh to stifle the tears, I left on a meal plan.  Again.  Only this time it is with the intention to gain weight.  A weight gain meal plan.  The first one I have been on since I was in the treatment hospital almost two years ago.  $#!%!  I was sad, surprised, embarrassed, scared, angry but mostly, tired.  

This is exhausting.

I already have a lot going on in my life and now I have got to put eating, recovery and gaining weight in the front of the line.  I just don't feel like it to be honest.  I mean, gaining weight?  On purpose?  Who wants to do that?!  In treatment I didn't feel like I had much of a choice.  Restore to a healthy weight, or stay there indefinitely.  I wanted out so I did what was required of me.  Out here, while I am not actively trying to lose weight, I am not trying not to lose weight either.  This pressure to gain and be accountable to myself has made my eating habits even worse.  I am just so tired of thinking about food!  What I am going to eat.  How much I am going to eat.  When I am going to eat.  Why I am going to eat.  Preparing food to eat.  Who will see me eat.  Shopping for food.  Am I eating appropriately.  It all makes me....well....not hungry.    

While my ED is screaming at me, I still fight.  I was not aware how present it still is. Everything D said, the asshole in my head had some retort.  And I mean EVERYTHING.  This awesome woman, who is a RD, CEDRD, CD and who has worked with over 600 people over the last 10+ years did not know as much as my Ed did.  Seriously ridiculous.
  I go back to D tonight.  I haven't done shit with my meal plan.  I have not even bought the supplements I am supposed to be drinking.  I have done nothing.  I have turned apathetic.  I am just so tired of this work.  

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

Whacking At It



Recovery.  I have been in a solid state of it for about a year and half now.  By "solid" I mean a  commitment to a permanent, sustainable, long term life without my eating disorder.  I have been in recovery before.  Even for a couple of years at a time.  For example, when I was pregnant with my children I was in definitely recovery.  It just hasn't stuck.  The difference this time is the commitment to not ever having my ED as an option again.  This is terrifying.  Every single time I was so called "recovered" before, I stopped the dangerous behaviors.  Even many of the wicked thoughts took a back seat to my daily life.  However, my ED was always on the back-burner simmering, "I'm here when you need me.  You'll be back."  And I knew I would.  When I wasn't engaging it was still always an option.  This process of breaking up with my ED for good is, well, really hard.  Can it even really be done?  How can I promise I will never go back?  Is full, total, unconditional recovery possible?  Jenni Schaefer, author of Goodbye Ed, Hello Me believes so and has written extensively about this.  But can I truly get there?




This last little string to cut feels more like a steel cord leash.  When I was engulfed in my eating disorder the leash was short.  I couldn't go far.  I had little control to move beyond what the leash allowed (although I thought otherwise at the time).  Even though I have more slack on the leash and I am able to get farther away, I am still tethered.  This part of recovery is the sawing at the cord.  Am I strong enough to break it and run free without ever looking back?  My dietitian and I have talked at length about this.  She used the analogy of Whack-a-mole game.  You know, that carnival game where a toy mole's head pops up and you are supposed to hit it with a rubber mallet.  Eventually heads are coming up from everywhere and it is nearly impossible to whack them all.  Just when I feel like I've got one behavior corrected, a different pops up.  This is my eating disorder's desperate, almost subconscious, attempt to cling to me.  This particular part of the battle has really convinced me that this disease is not a choice, but rather a disease of the mind.  It is not a lifestyle option but a mental illness.

So, one mole at a time, I keep whacking.  The things that come up surprise me.  The ridiculous ideas I come up with seem to come from nowhere.  One strict rule this week might not have even on the radar a month ago.  My brain hears information all around and makes it's own conclusions and rules.  My job now is speaking truth back to these thoughts.  Are non-organic grapes really going to kill me?  Probably not, but not eating will.  What will really happen if I eat lunch before noon?  Not a damn thing.  Is eating more than one fear food in a day seriously affecting me?  Really?  Truth: no.  I continue to speak these truths back to the twisted part of myself.  I try to  consciously challenge the self-placed rules. When my ED says, "you can't possibly eat that."  I try with all my might to fight back.  "Oh really?  And why not?  Who says?"  I push myself to the exact opposite of what the ED is telling me.  It is extremely difficult.  Every day is different.  This week my goal to make fast food a neutral food.  This seems impossible!  But whack I will!  This game is mine.

Live on!

-Kristy

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

Lovely Days

My daughter, Lily
A gorgeous summer day is upon us in Western Washington today.  This is the kind of day that many of us who reside here live for!  All of those dreary days when we wonder why we make this area our home go out the window when the sun graces us with its presence.  The bright orb is glowing in the sky.  It hurts my eyes a little when it has been gone for so long.  It takes a few minutes to adjust to the light.  The temperature was supposed to be in the 80-90's this week which can cause some of us to start wining a little, "too hoooooooot."  But the gentle breeze is keeping sun-starved skin cool and comfortable.  Yes, I am happy today!  I can actually feel my mood is different on days like this.  I don't feel the oppressive gloom I feel on the overcast days.  I have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD) and the fall and winter months can be difficult.  Today however, summer is here, and I will take it!

Knowing this weather perfection  will not last long makes me want to be out in it even more.  I want to put on something pretty, dig out my sunglasses and get out of the house.  I long to enjoy the beautiful area I live in.  For those of you who live in Washington State, you already know how special our corner of the world is.  It rains enough to keep the huge variety of trees lush and green.  The panoramic hills satisfy the eye's need for interest.  The mountains tower above still tipped with snow.  The Puget Sound sparkles and comes to life in the sun.  It seems the water is almost as happy to see the glow as we people are.  I live in a small town and I love to see everyone out in their yards, walking their dogs, washing their cars.  This weekend I fell asleep to the crackling sound of my neighbor's fire-pit.  It smelled like camp-out and I could hear their laughter and chatting.  I drifted off loving life.

My back yard is my sanctuary.  I am out in it whenever I can be which to me is not often enough.  Since I live in a development and all of our yards about not much bigger than a postage stamp, I work hard with what I have.  I have crammed my little space with plants and trees.  Flowers and pots.  There are feeders to lure the local wildlife to our little patch and we have had a successful outcome.  Feathered and furred visitors stop by for a snack or a bath and I sit back and enjoy my handiwork.  Of course, my sanctuary is not my own.  The kids have decorated the space with their toys and creations.  Neighborhood children of all ages gather in my back yard in particular.  I don't mind.  It just makes my little yard more active and full of life.

It is easy for me to stay in the moment on days like these.  Appreciating what I have, who I am with and where I am is so much simpler when the sun is shining.  I feel like I am a part of the world and life around me.  My values are much more in focus.  My family, nature and my spirituality.  If only I could feel like this everyday.  Maybe I should move to where the sun shines more often.  Nope.  Washington is my home and I appreciate the glorious summers days while they last.


Food for thought

What do you truly appreciate about the area you live?

Do you struggle with Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)?  If so, what strategies have you found that help you?

Live on!

-Kristy