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!