On Coming Out

Just about every day, it hits me:  I went public with this.  Everyone who knows me, everyone on my Facebook list, anyone who reads my blogs, my neighbors, my kid's teachers, my boss, my former classmates, they all know the secret I've kept for years.  Some have known much longer than others.  But it's all out there now.  The voice in my head criticizes my decision.  "You should have kept your mouth shut.  This is so embarrassing.  You can never hide.  This will follow you forever."  I get a sense of panic.  Oh my God.  What must people think of me?  I know what some think because some say whatever pops into their head.  That is almost better than wondering what people are thinking.  I've heard everything from, "I wish I had that!" to, "But you don't look that skinny." I've heard, "Put Kristy in front of it.  She'll eat anything!" to, "Oh you look great!  Are you trying to lose weight?"  I've even had a physician say, "Lift up your shirt.  You look fine."  And another tell me, "You're going to die."  I have heard it all.  It is still much worse wondering what people are thinking and not saying out loud.

So why did I "come out" about this anyway?  Why not just keep the secret?  Looking back, I guess it just sort of...happened.  Two years ago I had to take a leave of absence from work for an undetermined amount of time.  I was being sent to a hospital halfway across the country.  I had no idea how long I would be there but the average was about 6-8 weeks.  I ended up staying there for 3 months.  I figured it was better to start letting people know why I left town.  There had to be a reason why I was away all summer.  Why I wouldn't be taking my kids to their first day of school.  Why I never showed up to cub scout meetings.  My husband had to take time off from work.  My parents and in-laws had to take the kids for weeks at a time.  I knew the rumors would start flying.  People would think I left my husband and kids.  People might think I had a drug or alcohol problem.  People might assume I had some other disease.  I didn't want to put the pressure on my family to lie for me.  So the truth came out.  More so than I initially wanted.  I posted a letter to all those I thought really needed to know.  Friends, family, co-workers.  Some knew already but most did not.  Word spread and I became more and more open and comfortable with honesty.

When I fist opened up about this I was surprised at the response.  I felt so much love, compassion, support.  Some friends became closer.  A few, more distant.  It was a truly eye-opening experience to find out who really wanted to be a part of my life.  Others started sharing.  They knew someone else.  They didn't know anyone else.  They had a sister, a friend, a mother who had bulimia, anorexia, binge eating disorder.  I talked to people all over who struggled with food in one way or another.  This natural, basic need has turned into a big problem for so many people.  I met others like me.  I met families like mine.  I was not alone.  Sure, some didn't have much to say to me or took a step back.  But for the most part, opening up was the most beautiful way to find out who and what was important in my life.

There are times when I wish I didn't have this plastered out there.  I sometimes think that the disorder is all people see when they look at me.  Do people see that I am creative, funny, smart, and basically just pretty awesome?  Or do they just see Kristy, the loud-mouth anorexic chick who just wants attention?  I'll never  truly know what others see in me.  I suppose it only matters how I see myself.  I try to focus on who I want to be and the journey I have been on.  When I get asked for help, when I hear stories from others, I know I did the right thing by being open.  Honest.  Me.

-Live on,

-Kristy

Oh...I Am So Going.

I had a wake-up call yesterday.  I was sitting in "D's" office (my dietician) and I was irritated about something my husband had told me last week.  If I don't get my crap together quick, I might not be allowed to board the plane to Australia in three weeks.  What the #$%*?  Now I know he didn't come up with this on his own.  "Dr. H" must have planted this in his head last week when he saw her.  I was hopping mad!  Or rather, my ED was.  Just wait until I get in a room with "Dr. H."  I am going to give her a piece of my mind.  But after talking with "D" a few minutes she explained their combined concerns.  She gently informed me it would not be ethical for them, as professionals, to let someone who was sick slip through and board a plane for a huge trip with a clean bill of health.  Reality check Kristy.

I hate to admit this but...they are right.

While the airline will not let people fly who are too ill, there is no way in this situation for the airline to know if I am too sick to fly or not.  That's not really the point though.  "D" really had me thinking yesterday.  What kind of trip do I want to have?  How long have I wanted to do this?  Didn't this illness take this opportunity away from me before?  Do I want to be sick on this wonderful adventure?  Do I want to be dizzy, shaky, fainting or more susceptible to other illnesses?  HELL NO!  In three weeks a lot can go wrong in this disease as I have seen first hand.  I have got to get it going in the right direction.  I refuse to let this ED take something else away from me.

My dear, sweet husband also shared his fears with me.  I could see the emotion he often tries to hide written all over his face.  He told me he was afraid to let me go in the state I am in.  I am not only going without him, I am solely responsible for our son.  Who is going to be there if I am too confused to figure things out?  What is my 9 year old going to do if I pass out?  It's all on me.  I need to get well not only for myself, but so I can safely get our son to the other side of the world and back.  I have got to make my health my number one priority.  I've got to be the grown-up.

So, "D" put me back on a strict meal plan that I simply must follow.  And, I am all over this.  I made breakfast my bitch.  I licked lunch.  Dinner is a done deal.  This is happening.  I have to say, while eating my egg, toast and berries this morning I was cranky as all hell.  I think I told my poor husband to go eff off (don't worry, he can handle it) when he came to see how I was doing.  He patted my shoulder in encouragement.  After 16 years of this, off and on, he knows that my ED is the one who is angry, not the real me.  After breakfast I felt..well...freakin' great actually!  I was excited, energized (imagine that?) and motivated.  This trip could be a triggering point (see last blog post Fear of Flying) but this can also be a catalyst for something good.  I am going to fight for this.  I want this for me.  I want to live life.  In ED there is no life.  Only emptiness, loss, and loneliness.  Screw that!  I am going to Australia a healthy sheila.  Watch me!

Fear of Flying

My dad has worked for one of the biggest airplane manufacturers in the world for the last 30 years.  He is always trustworthy, extremely intelligent and kind.  And yet, when he has tried to scientifically explain how a huge, metal tube with wings can soar thought the clouds effortlessly, my mind shuts him down.  Nope.  Nothing that big should be hurtling through the air.  It's just...well...not right.  For me it defies nature.  It is wrong.

I have to bring myself and my son aboard one of these blasted things in three weeks.

Not only do I have to calmly sit myself on one of these terrifying tubes, I have to do so without any help of pharmaceuticals or alcoholic beverages.  My 9 year old will be with me for his very first flight.  Mom has got to be cool.  Chill.  Sober.  RELAXED.  I don't want to crush the poor boy's hand during takeoff.  I don't want to turn into a melting pile of anxiety.  I definitely do not want to make him worry right along with me.  He asked me last night if planes crash into the ocean and if anyone has ever died in a plane crash.  Oh &%@#!  I could feel my heart racing as the image of a plane aflame crashes into the icy cold ocean.  Ok, breathe.  Be calm.  Logically I know that the likelihood of my dying in a car-crash is way more plausible than a plane crash.  But a car is at least on the ground already.  The fact that this thing is thousands of feet in the air mocking God is what terrifies me the most.

Bridesmaids, 2011

This will also be the largest jet I have ever been on and my first trip out of the country.  Not only that, but the flight will be so very, very long!  We will be on our way to Australia (where about a million other things could kill me).  Needless to say, there is a lot of anxiety arising with this pending adventure.  I am an anxious person to begin with.  Throw in some stress and you've got a big, hot mess right here.  I've got to get this under control, and quick.

Now don't get me wrong.  I am excited to visit my sister in Australia!  I am sure we are going to have beauty of a time.  This is a trip that many people dream of!  If only I could just turn that part of my brain off that brings up all of the nonsense.  I am not worried about getting bit by a poisonous spider, or a eaten by a shark.  I am not worried about toxic snails or drop bears.  I am worried about a number of other things.  The flight over the vast oceans is only one of my concerns.

What if this huge trip does not live up to all the hype?  People of told me they have wanted to visit Australia their whole lives.  It's on bucket lists and savings plans.  I just get to go.  Largely due to the fact that my sister and bro-in-law paid for my (death) ticket.  Sure, we had to save quite a lot too for our son's passage but for the most part, this should be a pretty stress-free visit.  No need worry about a place to stay or a car or getting lost.  All of that is taken care of.  So why am I so freaked out?

Well here's another big reason:  My inevitable departure (if I live that long of course).  Saying good-bye to my only sister and best friend is extremely hard.  I did not realize just how close we were until she moved there almost three years ago.  It was devastating.  She tries to visit once a year or so but each time we part it is like a scab getting torn back open.  I miss this person.  I want to be with this person.  And she moved across the planet.  I do not see her moving back anytime soon or ever really.  She is extremely happy there and I want her to be as happy as she can be.  I just long for those conversations over coffee that do not transfer well via Skype or text.  I cannot wait to see her.  I am so very blessed to have this amazing opportunity.  I am just going to have to have my band-aids ready for the wound it will surely open when I leave.

There is also a tremendous amount of pressure to get well before I go.  My eating disorder has flared back up a bit in the last couple of months.  I do believe this trip has brought up some issues.  Issues that are easier to deal with by dabbling in my disorder rather than facing my "feelings" about them.  I have got to get this this going the right direction.  Otherwise, my trip could be severely compromised.  I also don't want my sister to see me like this.  I want her to see me healthy and happy and excited!  Not picking at my food and getting light-headed.  Nothing like a little recovery deadline to add some nerves!

As the days tick down I get more and more excited.  Both the good and the bad anxiety.  I know I just need to take one step at a time.  My intelligence will take over and get me from point A to point B to point C and so on.  I just need to take a deep breath, and step aboard.

Food for Thought 


How do you cope with anxiety?

What are your fears?

Any advice for my travels?

-Live on (and no worries mate)
-Kristy

Living the (revised) Dream

-My contribution to There but for the Grace of Kelly-
 
Here it is again.  A daunting plain white screen and what feels like my very first post.  It's not of course.  I have my own blog.  But writing for someone else?  This is something new.  A new audience, a new group, new possibilities!  Where do I begin?

I guess I'll start with this is a dream.  I have always wanted to write.  When I was a little girl I would make up and write elaborate stories.  I craved written assignments where I could let my imagination roam free.  I would compose my own little books, poems, even songs (I am not musical).  My fifth grade teacher saw potential and was convinced I would be a writer.  I was elated!  I had something to hold on to.  I could be a writer along with the hundred other things I wanted to be.  I could do anything!  Oh the mind of a ten year old girl.

Then, somewhere between middle school and college I lost that enthusiasm and my confidence.  By the time I was in high school my hopes had crashed down to earth.  Any critique or criticism of my work made my dream slip farther and farther away.  Finally a voice in my head became louder than my dream, "You are not good at this.  Others are so much better than you."  My stories, poems, thoughts on paper were shown to no one.  The writing became scarcer and scarcer and finally put away in a box.  A dream was all it was.  I dropped out of college because I didn't get a perfect grade in every class I took.  My black and white thinking grew blacker and whiter.  If I cannot be perfect at something, I shouldn't do it.  This went for everything I did: my art, my education, anything new I tried.  This unfortunately went on for a long time.  Too long.

Hop, skip and jump forward few years.  I'm now a 35 year old woman (with no college degree mind you).  I have a career.  I have a pretty dang awesome husband.  I have two growing children watching my every move.  I want them to see who I am as a woman, not just their mom.  I want to encourage them to try things.  I want them to see me try new things and follow my passions.  I want them to know they don't have to be perfect at something to do it, or at the very least give it a try.  I have learned a lot about myself.  I accept certain things about myself both the good and the bad.  I may never write a best-selling novel but if I enjoy writing, then why not freaking write?  My drawings may never be in an art gallery but if I like creating then dammit I should do it!  The ship may have sailed on some of my dreams, but what options are still open to me?  What can I do?  I can write.  I can reach others through my words.  My dreams and goals may have altered a bit. But is that so bad?


Food for Thought

What dreams have you given up on? 

What has held you back from your goals?

Are there dreams worth reopening and exploring?

Live on!
-Kristy

Summer Break? What is That?!

I am overwhelmed.  There I said it.  Ahhh, that feels good.  I admit I bring this chaos upon myself.  I put too much on my plate for lack of a better term.  And now I am paying for it.  Don't get me wrong.  I enjoy much of what I do.  There is just a lot of it.  Between my full-time job at the office, being a mom, volunteer work, house work and recovery work, I am beat!  Physically and emotionally.  Is it any wonder why I choose to take a nap whenever possible? 

Tonight I volunteer at the wildlife shelter.  I take pleasure in feeding raccoons and listening to the owls hoot as I walk by.  But it is nasty hard work!  I am hauling tail when I am there and I have to remind myself to take a break.  Especially since I go straight from my "real" job to the center.  A day of work at the office followed up by another 5 hours of mopping, sweeping, endless extra gross laundry and dishes at the center.  (Hold on.  Let me tell you about this laundry for a second.  Imagine your cat pooping all over your bed sheets.  You have that, "What the F@$*?" moment before you start to clean up the disaster.  Now multiply that by about 100 and give the crap an extra "wild" aroma.  There.  You've got it!)  Today I will consciously work in an hour in-between the two jobs for myself.  An iced coffee in the sun with my blogging journal to refresh my mind is just what I need.  Tonight when I come home, my husband will take one whiff of me and ask me to go boil myself.  Sexy!

Saturday mornings I volunteer at the animal spay and neuter clinic.  I love the connection I have made with the people there.  I wrap surgical packs and clean instruments as well as help take care of the animals.  More poop!  I really enjoy being a part of the community.  I think it's important to show my kids I have many interests and make time for those things I care about.  I have been volunteering at various places since I was 14 and the work is meaningful to me.  I don't want to give up anything.

I'm just dog tired.  (Pun intended.)


I not only have all of this I do on a daily and weekly basis, but I have hit a particularly rough patch with my recovery.  There.  I said that too.  It's time to bump it up a notch and I am not sure I have any more energy for it.  I have some serious thinking to do and some hard conversations to tackle.  I just don't wanna!  I don't feel like I have much time to contemplate my next steps.  Like really sit and think about deep shit.  I'm always on the move and there is always the next item on the schedule to cross off.

Tomorrow my husband will drop of the kids with my parents so we all can have a much needed break.  The kids also need a little escape from the monotony of our weeks.  We have been spending some great quality time together while they are on summer break.  We have been having fun camping, playing, visiting parks and beaches.  It's great.  But mama needs to chill!  I am so very thankful I have family that is willing to help us out.  Not only is it great for my husband and me.  But I really truly value the relationship my kids are building with other family members.  Some of my fondest memories from childhood are the times spent with my grandparents.  I want my kids and our parents to have that special bond that they can only have together. 

So date night it is!  We have been terrible about being consistent with dates and when we do have time together we get lost on what to do with ourselves.  We need some adventure.  We need something new even if it is just for a weekend.  On Saturday we are pulling out our list and doing something from it!  And we might have to work in a nap as well.  Mama needs a nap. 


Food for Thought

How is your summer shaping up?  

Are you able to take time out for yourself each day?

What is your favorite summer activity?


Live on!

-Kristy

I Camped. Then I Napped

We packed up the kids and went car camping this weekend.  We rarely go camping.  After 30+ days with no rain in the great Northwest, it rained.  Hard.  We started out our fun family weekend drenched in a mud lot in a tarp covered hell.  And if you all think hell is hot, it's not.  It's freezing ass cold.  This downpour should have been a clear red flag that this family should head home.  We didn't.  We said, "Screw you rain gods" and braved the elements.  With much swearing under our breaths by my husband and myself, and a canopy on loan from my fantastic friend, we set up our weekend villa.

Then next thing we noticed once our paradise was in place was the nicely timed burn ban in effect.  $#!%!  No freakin' campfire?!  Son of a...!  No matter.  We were going to have fun on this blasted camping trip come hell or high water!  Remember, we had both hell and high water.

The rain let up a bit and we made do with the soaked site and smoreless evening.  The kids were having fun.  My husband and I sat back and watched my daughter create a slug village and watched the snail races.  She got filthy and played with moss, mud, rocks and sticks for hours.  Excellent!  My son turned our tent into the most technologically advanced nylon nook around!  Complete with remote control lantern.  Things were looking up!

The Snail Races (those are pistachio shells on slugs)

Until that night when our lovely loud-lipped neighbor to the west decided to keep us wide-eyed with her stories of bad taste.  Her voice was one of those that carried.  Her name was Jenna from what we could clearly hear.  Her middle name she mentioned was Tailia.  Classy.  Thank you so much Jenna Tailia.  My kids finally fell asleep in the cold, damp tent.  I put my headphones on to drown out Jenna's drunken cackle. 

We learned you cannot even touch an eagle feather.  Turning one in to a park ranger is a big no-no.  Thanks for the scolding and the threat of a $5,000 fine Ranger Rick.  "Any chance of the burn ban getting lifted due to all that rain we just had?"  The answer was less than friendly.  "Alrighty then.  Thanks."  Son of a...(smile) 

"What sweetie?  You need to go to the bathroom again?  Even though we just walked the quarter mile there and back through the sticker bushes?  No problem!" Goddammit, son of a...(smile.)  "You don't want any of the food I just made you?  You know, it took me half an hour to boil the water for the blessed...(smile.)  "Oh, you want 8 Oreo cookies instead?"  No problem.  This is going to be the best camping trip ever!  What the %$#& just bit me?!

Another night of flying f-bombs from Jenna Tailia.  This time a Ranger Rick told her to keep it down.  She apparently "knows her rights!"  I pipe in with a "SHUT UP!"

We leave by 9:30am the next morning.  I leave Miss Jenna Tailia a little letter pinned to a bush at her campsite.  We are home by 10 in the morning.  I take a nap.  Ahhhhhh.  A  purring cat and a down comforter.  Now this is bliss!  That night we have a freaking campfire at home.  Complete with smores.  Camping again in two weeks?  Sure!

Live on,

-Kristy