What Will You Lose?

Today I overheard a commercial on my TV (it was for a weight-loss cereal) that said, "What will you gain, when you lose?"  I couldn't help but wonder, "What did I lose, when I gained?". 

A lot, I guess.


Today I fell through again.

I did so well until after dinner when my mom left to run errands.

I just ignored my conscience and my motivations. I overate for around two hours. It was one of the nastiest feeling things I have ever done.

Why is it that I always fall apart right before I have one successful day?

I ended up feeling so sick that I purged after.
Oh the irony...

Another failure.

I can't decide what to do.

I feel like I'm failing God, and my Savior. I guess I don't have enough faith to abstain from these harmful habits. Do you think that an eating disorder counts as a sin? It goes against the Word of Wisdom....

I keep thinking I should fast, but what if my blood sugar goes low? What if I break it on accident?

It doesn't help either that my stomach has completely expanded so I think I'm starving ALL THE TIME.

I think my biggest problem tonight was that I allowed myself to say upstairs in the kitchen after I had eaten dinner. I should have gone downstairs, I even told myself that several times.

Some days I really just want to call it quits.


"It's hard enough having to live with you, and your Diabetes every day, Alyson!"

Thanks Mom.

I don't really know where to start as far as my emotions are going tonight. Tensions are definitely running high  here at home.

It annoys me that my family thinks that they understand me so well when they really don't. If they did understand me, they wouldn't over-react to some of the things I say. Half of the time, I have no idea what I'm even saying anyways. Most of the time though, they have have no idea what my intentions were behind what I said.

I guess its my fault that I feel this way. When I get frustrated, I do get upset. But let me just clarify that I get upset when I'm misunderstood, which usually results from being accused of something, or chastised for something I never meant to be offensive.

I usually say most of my conversations, and thoughts to myself. And no, I'm not crazy or schizophrenic, I just think to myself more than I talk to others. I guess it's because I trust myself more than anyone else. It's also safer to say something in my mind, than openly to others. I usually know where I'm coming from, and the reasoning behind what I want to say. This makes it hard for me to actually express myself adequately to those around me though. Often, the conversation I want to have is already over in my head, and I can't remember what I actually wanted to say to the other individual.

I just wish people would give me some slack. I try to do the same for those around me, and again, I do this in the privacy of my own head, which only complicates things even more due to the fact that I come across as ignorant at times. In reality though, I was already one step ahead of those around me.

I don't want to give a sob story about my life, or have a personal pity party, but I can't explain how hurt I feel whenever this happens. If people really knew me, and my character, they wouldn't say some of the things they do. Maybe if I understood myself better I wouldn't let myself get so upset.

I need to stop for a second to read a text my mom sent me about tonight.

She says that because she isn't agreeing with me it doesn't mean she doesn't care about my feelings. I appreciate that, but that wasn't the problem tonight. I didn't want her to agree with me, I wanted her to understand where I was coming from, probably more that anyone should need to. She also told me that I needed to apologize to my sister. I ALREADY DID THAT AN HOUR AGO MOM! I REALIZED THAT SHE WAS HURT WAY BEFORE YOU THOUGHT YOU NEEDED TO TELL ME. YOU SHOULD KNOW ME BY NOW. I WAS THE ONE THAT GOT HER TO APOLOGIZE TO YOU, AND THEN YOU CAME IN AND TOOK OUT YOUR REMAINING FRUSTRATIONS ON ME NOT EVEN KNOWING WHAT I HAD DONE, AND NOT EVEN GIVING ME THE CHANCE TO APOLOGIZE MYSELF. DO YOU EVEN KNOW ME??????!

I guess I'm still hurt by some of the things she said earlier. I understand that my blood sugar levels can control my temper, but I can't help it most of the time. I'm not an emotional wreck, I'm a human being. I'm not a walking disease. I have the right to my own emotions, even if their timing may be inopportune, or if they are enhanced by sugar levels.

You think it's hard living with me? Try living with a disease and an eating disorder at the same time.

Try having to live with yourself.

I don't know how to fix this gap between myself and my family. I know the responsibility is entirely on me, but how can you change someone's perception of you when they way they treat your personality is habitual?

I don't really know where I'm going with this, but I guess it's all out now.
I don't even talk to my mom about how I feel anymore. It's not worth it. This happens every time.

I get frustrated when she doesn't understand what I'm saying, and she gets upset when I say she doesn't understand me.

Seriously, this blog has become my lifeline.


Ah, another day of failures.

I did great up until the hour before my friend's birthday party. I had been holding myself back from snacking because his mom was going to make everyone dinner and snacks. I held my group fairly well, but then I just snapped. I can't explain what happened.

Again, I just think it was a lack of motivation and self-control. I've been trying my hardest to remind myself of the consequences of my actions both presently, and eternally. If I don't stop my compulsive eating, I won't be able to serve a mission at 19. I've often wondered if this is a weakness of mine that is only being brought to a new level of severity because of the adversary. I feel weird typing that up and saying it outside of the confines of my mind, but I can't explain just how strongly I know this to be true. I know that just like anyone else, I was meant for great things in my life. However, even though we all have many opportunities to achieve greatness, not everyone can reach it. I think temptation plays a major role in every failure in life.

Although I have great intentions to quit, and to reach my full potential, I just keep getting pulled back down by my actions. I know that I'm not the only one aware of the possibilities in my future, but I wish I was stronger. I've had several moments in my life where I had to stand for something. It was hard, but I wasn't swayed in the least to do things I knew to be wrong. I think I reached the hiatus of my spiritual strength when I was dieting and losing weight last year. We're taught that moderation in all things increases our connection with Heaven, and that when we discipline ourselves, it is easier to do what is right (hence the purpose of fasting). I was doing both of these things for a good 6 months of my life. During that time, I wasn't afraid to do what I knew to be right, I had a bright spiritual future. Now, with no discipline, and definitely no moderation in any aspect of my life, I've found it to be harder to not only hear the Holy Ghost, but to listen to Him as well.

I feel like Satan knows that this eating disorder is the key to my destruction. I've never been troubled by the fact that I have Diabetes, and I've always been able to rise above any cruelty shown to me.

But he knows as well as I do, that I have a terribly low self-esteem.

I think its great that I can realize all of these different aspects of my disorder. Sadly, I seem to forget my observations as quickly as they come.

I want to try to see my life in an eternal perspective, but its always easier said than done.

I want to receive the blessings that have been promised to me, I want to serve the Lord, I want to grow.

I want to repent.
I want to be happy.
I want to be healthy.

I want to be in control again.

Needless to say, today wasn't perfect. I fell apart, and gave in to the enticements of food.

Maybe tomorrow I'll remember these things.

Maybe not.

Food is like a drug. I can't stop thinking about it, and I have to have it when I know it's available.

I even dug through the garbage tonight to eat my mom's leftover Cafe Rio.

I'm disgusting.

Failing at Succeding

Where to begin with today's misadventures...

Well, I continue to impress myself with how frequently, and willingly, I seem to fail at living.

This is in no way a pity party, or a way to have anyone feel sorry for me, but I feel like lately I seem to succeed at failing, and fail at suceeding.

I did so well until an hour after dinner. Ultimately, I ended up eating about a 1/3 of a cereal box, plus a little extra on the side.

I didn't purge though.
I was definitely tempted, but I didn't.

I feel so fat right now. I mean, I feel fat all of the time, but having a stretched out stomach only makes it more of a reality rather than an ideology I hold concerning myself.

I wish I had something really upbeat to say right now, but frankly, I've got nothing.

I read a blog today that was definitely on the liberal side of writing. Although it was too extreme for my tastes, I couldn't help wanting to be like her. To be someone different, someone radical.

I saw something on Pinterest today that had a picture of some super fit legs with a caption that said, "Would you rather have french fries, or a gap between your thighs?"

Honestly, that little gap is one of the things I miss the most about the old me. I miss my friend, my role model.

I wish I had more confidence that I could make my past my future, but one can only fail so many times before losing hope.

I've decided that my "Nom De Plume" (more or less applicable to it's actual definition) is positivity. No one has no idea how painful my very existance has been lately. I don't even talk to my mom anymore. It just isn't worth it.

I don't know what to do with myself.


Whenever someone would state a misconception about me, I would always think to myself, "Do you have any idea who I am?!". Nowadays though, I find myself asking myself, "Who do I think I am?". 

Its obvious that this eating disorder, and weight gain have definitely impacted my personality, and my mentality as well. I'm not who I once was. 

I'm more cynical, more self-conscious; I don't care about how I look, and I put less thought into what I say. I've detached myself from things I used to hold dear. And quite frankly, I can't stand people anymore.

Its hard enough looking in the mirror to only find a stranger staring back at you, but its even harder not recognize what you consist of. 


I feel like I'm split between who I was, and who I'm allowing myself to become. Its almost borderline schizophrenic. 

I guess I'm trying to bring a dead person back to life in a sense, but that person is long gone. 

Sometimes I wonder if who I was, was really that great to start out with. Maybe I'm just idealizing her, and only remembering the best moments of my past. In my memories, every did seem brighter and gilded with gold. 

But gilded objects aren't truly gold, just the thin outer coating is.

I've already admitted that a year ago I was definitely proud, and more than a little harsh at times. I still carry those traits with me, but in different forms, and different levels of severity.

Can I move on? I seriously have no idea. All I want is some stability in my life.


Today, I fell asleep after school, and didn't wake up until 6:30pm.

My blood sugar levels went low during that time period, and I went to go get dinner to help raise my levels while also having a meal to keep me away from snacking.

Well, that plan failed.

Dinner wasn't ready, and with low blood sugar brain, I'm not the same person...neither is my reasoning.

I ate pineapple, chocolate milk, half a container of Cool Whip, some maple syrup, some pasta....and then finally soup for dinner.

Despite being full, I kept eating afterwards. I think part of the reason why this happened was that my will-power was definitely not being used to it's fullest measure, and I think it also was a result of my Mom not being home to give me a little peer pressure as far as staying away from the kitchen goes.

I'm frustrated that I failed again. I'll try again tomorrow, and test my blood sugar before I eat.

After bingeing, I felt like hiding in my downstairs bathroom to purge.

Luckily, I didn't.

Instead I finished up a drawing assignment for Sociology. I've noticed that drawing, music, and reading are the best ways for me to not only be distracted, but feel better about myself. I think I might set up an hour each day that I have to do one of these things....It probably won't happen, but at least I sound better by at least talking openly about the idea.

I should be fine tomorrow....
given that I don't doubt myself, and actually follow through on something for once.

Mom told me that I need to be more Christlike today... I feel like I'm always misunderstood. 

Mirrors, and Illusions

I've been thinking a lot lately about my how I see myself, and how others see me.

Personally, I've noticed that my self-esteem often depends on the mirror I'm looking through. I can remember thinking about this back in middle school. During that darkly awkward period of my life (which I think it is for pretty much anyone), I began to pick up on the impact that my reflection had on me while I was shopping for clothes. I found that in the "trendy" name-brand stores, their dressing rooms were my personal Hell. I conceived a notion eventually, that those businesses strategically planned everything about those stalls--from their width to their lighting, to play on your emotions as a shopper. I've often wondered if stores adjust the mirrors to cause consumers to look thinner than normal, or in some instances, slightly thicker. Giving a not so "fun-house" effect within the business. 

Lately, I've noticed that I feel my most comfortable looking at myself in my bedroom mirror. After thinking about this, I've decided it's because no one is watching. No one is there to critique me, and I have nothing to compare myself to.

The school tends to be the hardest though. 

Perhaps it's because while there I'm constantly being swarmed with petite girls who seem to have never been larger than a size 6. 

Perhaps it's because I'm my harshest critic when I feel uncomfortable. 

Perhaps I set my expectations too high, and my evaluation scores low. 

Or maybe, my reflection is warped by my own negativity...hmmm...I haven't thought of that one before...this writing this is a pretty good idea. My mind can just roam free without impacting anyone, but myself. 

Today as I was parking for work, I looked at my reflection in a window of an abandoned business. I was shocked to see that I actually didn't look that bad. My legs looked leaner, and I looked more idealistic. 

The same thing happened when we went out for dinner for my brother's birthday. I looked in a store window, and I looked thinner than I thought I was. Sure enough though, as soon as I strutted up to Kumon's glass doors, my hips expanded, my height shrunk, and my ego was again crushed.

Do you think that Alice would have seen the same Wonderland had she gone through a different looking glass?

Are all mirrors created equal? I honestly have no idea. However, I do have a hunch that our reflection often depends upon our angle, our distance, and the light that is being shed during that situation.

Sometimes I wish life was black and white. With no varying options aside from those already placed before us. No paths to wander, no pitfalls to encounter. A solution for every cause, and a single action that set off only one or two events rather than a landslide of consequences.

 A cake to grow larger, with an available solution, like a fan, to grow smaller once you realize how terribly uncomfortable you have become.

It always seems to be that when we find ourselves to be 3 inches just right, another person finds us to only be  a wretched 3 inches tall. What does it take for us to not allow outside forces to effect our own sense of worth? 

Do you think it would be harder to memorize every event in your future, or to forget every negative incident of your past?

Musings of a Sunday Night

Do most problems in life arise from expecting too much, or accepting too little of ourselves?

I feel like bingeing is often the forgotten, or unknown eating disorder. It's common in lives of many people, but often goes unrecognized, or undiagnosed.

Well, there isn't exactly a cure either.

Lately, whenever I meet someone new, I find myself wanting to shout, "I didn't always look like this! I actually was quite attractive, powerful, and popular for a year!"

I wonder if that is because my own insecurities need assurance, or as an act to safeguard my remaining pride...

One thing I did notice when I was smaller, was that with beauty (and a small pant-size) comes great power. It's understandable that Helen of Troy had so much influence over those around her due to her looks. Beauty is something that is feared, envied, respected, admired, coveted, and emulated...especially in the world of high school.

I'll admit that when I was a size four, I looked down on those who were larger (even by a little bit), or unhealthier than I was at the time. Now, I can't help but wonder if people think the same of me. I also fear the idea that people are glad that I gained back the weight, that I was defeated.

I never was intentionally rude to anyone, but I definitely was more than a little prideful. And honestly, I think I deserved to be. I worked hard to lose that weight, and wanted my moment in the sun more than anything else.

Now, I just want to hide in the shadows.

What are "acceptable" curves?

I understand that a big chest, and a big bum can go a long way, but what about the other curves? Like pot bellies, flabby arms, chin fat, and back rolls? What about the stretch marks, jiggles, and health problems that are also included?

I think it's funny that skinny individuals are often the ones that say we need to accept how our bodies look. They can say that because they literally don't have much to accept.Would those same women change places with another person who is morbidly obese, and still think that they are beautiful after dealing with the insecurities, and complications of everyday life?

 I think that there are definite body types in the world, but where is the line drawn between thick boned, and over-weight? Which one was genetic, and which was preventable? Personally, I think that if you have a protruding stomach, then something isn't natural (unless, that is, you're pregnant....). Should we be telling a 200 lbs. 10 year old girl to love her body when she clearly is not healthy for her age?

Do women often go through these feelings as their bodies change with age? Can I parallel my emotions, and experiences with theirs?

Gosh. I do not want to go Black Friday shopping this year. I'm just going to get depressed.

Plus, I have no clothes that hide my stomach anymore, and my pants barely fit me.

My stomach floods over the waistline.

I had a lot more that I wanted to say before I sat down to type this up, but I think it can wait for another time.

This was nice. Let's do this again sometime.


Well, my week of purging has finally ended.

Hopefully I'll be able to keep out of that grave for good this time.

I can't help but get frustrated lately with how hard it is to quit. I thought that I was finally done with this eating disorder back in July, but I still can't accept just how wrong I actually was. I've gotten larger in the meantime, and it is physically strenuous to keep myself away from food. I'm doing better, but for how long? When will I completely snap again?

I'd like to think of myself as a thoroughly religious individual. I want to serve a mission in the near future, but that can only happen if I end this addiction. The scriptures talk of faith overcoming all trials, but my faith hasn't helped me at all lately. I feel that I have withdrawn myself from God again through my doubts. I guess that one can only face so many disappointments and failures before breaking down. I know that I'm a broken individual.

Today, things were better up until dinner. I controlled my eating, listened to my stomach, and successfully kept out of the kitchen. During dinner, I ate a regular amount--even leaving some of my unfinished meal on the plate, and then caving in to have a piece of cake with everyone else afterwards. However, as soon as everyone left the kitchen to socialize, I began to fall apart. I should have known better, but  I can't explain how hard it is to resist food that is left out after a meal. It's not that I went totally overboard with my eating, but I definitely ate more that I should have. Heck, I don't even remember what I ate. But I broke my own rules, and goals for the day.

All I want is to lose enough weight to be healthy, if not skinny. I don't even know how much I weight right now. I'm guessing that I'm bordering around 170 lbs. (more or less). Its depressing to think that I literally gained 50 pounds over about 6 months. I know I'm fat. I know I'm weak. I know that I should try harder.

But how?

Food makes me so happy. I guess that's the addiction talking.

I can't help feeling like a failure after all of my relapses. I just can't seem to stay resolved for long enough. Knowing myself, I'm a very impatient person. Often, I seek instant gratification on issues like this. When I chose to diet two years ago, I did the maximum calorie deficit possible in order to lose the weight fast. Now, if I don't see a physical change within two weeks of monitoring myself, I give up.

I think part of my problem deals with the fact that I haven't quite accepted the reality of my decisions. I still want to be that skinny girl I was a short year ago. It just happened so fast. I was robbed of my chance of being healthy for a change.

Because of this, my faith has began to dwindle.

I can't decide if this trial was something that I need to go through, or just a consequence of my actions, and those around me.

I know that this disorder has shaped my character for better, and for worse. But how much of it has been necessary?

Another part of me just wants to place the blame on those who have hurt me in the past. Although my emotions are more controlled now, I still feel a lot of contention towards my mother, my sisters, and those who I once called close friends. How different my life would have been had they acted differently in my life. And on the same note, my life would be drastically different had I chose to react differently to their actions.

I've noticed that often, trials cause us to drown in the waves, float above the surface, cling to a life-preserver or swim to the shore. In my case, I think I was floating for a while, but I distracted myself from surviving a few moments, and now I'm slowly sinking again.

The FUN clinic doesn't really help me anymore, and I don't think that this new therapist will either. Maybe it's my pride, but something keeps telling me I should be able to overcome this. I just can't for some reason.

I don't want to say that unseen forces are trying to hinder my actions, or that I can be healed completely by someone else acting on my behalf, but this whole experience has been a trial of my faith. I have faith that one day I will be healed, but I don't know how, or when it will happen. The bigger question is, why aren't changes happening now? Why can't I apply gospel teachings to my life to help me save it. Should I talk to my bishop? Do I need to go to a rehab center?

I'm going to try harder.


I need to post this. I can't hold it in any longer. 

Within the past week, I've started to purge again, but much worse than in the past. This time around, I'm actually throwing up, not just gagging myself by thrusting my index finger against my uvula. 

The bingeing has gotten worse too. Like worse than before. The past three days have been the darkest since this eating disorder matured last February. 

I just cant stop. I want to go to rehab more than anything in this world, but it wont ever happen. I guess I just want to separate myself from the real world for a while. I know I can make it without needing food when I'm not in close vicinity to a kitchen or food source, but being at home is like living in Hell. I don't want to talk to my mom about what has started to happen lately, she's never around anyway to help me when I need her most, and she just gets upset at me when I tell her that I'm struggling. She also isn't much help either. 

Please don't think that I hate my mother, because I don't. But I do hate talking to her about this. 

I can't handle this anymore. I truly cant. I've tried all that I can, but I'm never consistent. The urge is just too strong. And now, the urge to purge is getting stronger as its own separate addiction. It feels so...satisfying. 

I'm so done with everything.


I'm making my blog private....at least for a while. 

I guess its because I just want to express my inner-most thoughts with no restrictions, and without an audience. My mom once said during one of our therapy sessions that I couldn't ever say what was truly within my soul while she was there listening. 

And she was completely right. 

For that reason, I'm going to shut this public journal down. 

Thanks for listening, maybe you'll be able to tune in to my thoughts again in a season or two. 

I just need to write honestly, and I can't do that when I'm trying to avoid offending those who may read my writing. 

...not that anyone other than my family was even listening to start out with...

Progress Report.

I've been pretty vague lately on how my disorder control has been going. I figure that it'd be best if I just spilled the beans and made a promise to be completely honest with myself again. 

For June and July of this year, I was clean. No binges. No purges. August went well up until the second week of the month when I decided that I had enough control to diet again because I hadn't lost any weight yet (little did I know that my metabolism was practically frozen thanks to my later diagnosis of hypothyroidism). After a two weeks, I still didn't lose any weight and I became depressed again about my body. I began to binge, but not purge, again and that was fairly consistent until the last week of September. I visited the F.U.N. clinic downtown for the first time in way too long. They helped me get back on my knees rather than my feet, but it was a start in the right direction again. 

I want to go back a little bit and talk about my relapse. I guess it's a better way for me to understand myself while giving others an insight into my world.

Sunday dinners became one of the hardest things for me to handle. There were so many foods and desserts available--they became to hard to resist. My family had a hard time putting the food away after we were served, so I picked at everything throughout the night. My mom tries to hide things she makes, but I always find them; probably because I know something was made by judging what dishes end up in our sink and also because my mom isn't that great when it comes to hiding food. 

Talking to my Mom has started to become harder again. I feel like she gets mad when I ask her to move or throw away certain foods. I constantly feel like a disappointment to not only my family, but to myself as well. I don't really eat so much due to depression anymore, now it's a matter of will power. Which I lack.... big time. 

One of my new favorite binges consists of Special K berry cereal and milk chocolate chips. I still also have a hard time with anything sugary or ice-creamy. I don't binge after school anymore or in the morning, or even at lunch. I have the hardest time with the hour before dinner is ready and not being able to leave the kitchen for long enough after I eat my dinner. I actually binged tonight.

I was doing so well today up until I came home from a birthday party. My family had pizza for dinner with ice-cream and cake for dessert. I did fairly well, I probably at one scoop to many of ice-cream, but my Dad put it away for me so I wouldn't have to look at it anymore. I went to the party, I was full the whole time and didn't snack there. I came home and was full, but my biggest mistake was going straight into the kitchen and staying in there when my mom went downstairs to work on the computer. The whole thing is just embarrassing. 

I've actually been doing really great for the past week with my eating. General Conference really boosted my spirits back up again and I felt hope for my future. I fell apart again on Wednesday though. And Thursday. And Friday. And today. I can't express how upset I am right now. It's all my fault. I just can't understand what my problem is lately.

I feel like I've been able to handle and overcome every thing that has been thrown my way in life, but this. Why?

Why am I not as strong as I was a few months ago? Why can't I just stop? Why do I let this happen when I know its wrong? Why is this so hard for others to understand?

...I wish I could answer my own questions.


I've noticed more so lately than I have ever before (probably because I'm not a size 4 anymore) how obsessed all girls are with their body sizes. No label seems hurt as much as a dress size. You could pretty much call a girl anything you want, except for a size larger than a 6.

I guess this first came to my realization last month during dress fittings for A Capella at school. It was ridiculous to watch and even worse to listen to what girls were saying about their bodies. It was seriously like a competition to see who was the smallest, who looked the best, or who lost the most weight in the last year. I understand that I was once that way too, and i'll admit that I still am at times. There is nothing that I want more than to be fit again, but there were some girls that forced themselves into sizes smaller than they were just so they could feel better about themselves. 

Having an eating disorder has really caused me to step back and look at the way that others view their bodies because I always have to deal with my own body insecurities that I've brought upon myself. To keep my thoughts brief, that was one of the worst days of school so far this year. It was just another reminder to me that I wasn't the cute petite girl that I was last year, and that others could see me for I was now, they noticed my body change just as much as I have. I had a friend (who I think was trying to be kind) ask me what size I was. I told her what size I thought I would be, and (embarrassed for me) she started to say how I  couldn't be that big and people that size are huge. Trust me, that felt like rubbing salt in a very fresh wound. She also happened to be a size "0" herself, so I don't think that she realizes just how hurtful comments like that are to someone of my size because she hasn't had an ounce of fat on her body in her life. 

Me and my closest friends at one of our high school
football games this summer.

It seems to be that those who have never had weight issues tend to be the most ignorant as far as body image goes. They don't mean to be hurtful, but they haven't ever felt the insecurities and depression that comes with excessive weight gain. I think they just say things without thinking or they try to help and end up making the situation worse.

I understand that everyone has things that they want to change about themselves, but weight is something you can never fully understand unless you have too much of it. Unless you feel the fat jiggle and reverberate as you move. Unless you experience not being able fit into any of your clothes and then having to give a majority of them away. Unless you experience the looks people give you.

 It's a terrible thing to have your body be your worst enemy.

The thing that hurt me the most about the dress fittings was the fact that so many of the girls had no idea what I personally have had to go through over the past few months. I'm not naturally the size that I am. It's because I let food take over my life and become my anti-depressant. They have no idea the role that diabetes plays in my weight gain either or the fact that hypothyroidism makes it so my metabolism doesn't even work. They don't know how steep of a hill I have to constantly climb. 

They have no idea just how poisonous their words can be.

I've been doing a little better the past week, but I've begun to relapse again over the past couple of days. Usually, its because I didn't test my blood sugar before eating and I ended up having high sugar levels, or I had to wait too long for a meal. 

All I want is to be who I see myself to be on the inside again. I see a stranger in the mirror, not the real me.

 I guess I just hope others can see past my exterior better than I can. 


Within the past month, my eating disorder has finally gotten (somewhat) under control.

I still binge maybe once every week at the most, but they are definitely smaller and not nearly as frequent as before. I usually binge whenever I feel anxious, go a long time without eating regularly or have low blood sugar (I've learned that I can't eat when I'm low--it's just too risky. Even if I medicate to raise my sugar levels, it takes at least an hour for my mentality to get back to normal which makes me extremely vulnerable to bingeing). 

For a long time I wanted to lose the weight I gained immediately. After several failed attempts and months later, it finally hit me why I was struggling so badly. I needed time to assimilate back into regularity. I guess even more so, I needed time to heal.  In a sense, I was trying to run before I could even walk--let alone crawl.

A week ago, I decided to try cutting some calories out my daily diet using a calorie counter on WebMD. However, I decided that this time around, I would diet the right way. Last time I did a calorie deficit, I was living off of fake low-calorie foods and celery. Now, I'm working on moderating everyday foods and controlling my portion sizes at meal times.  I can't explain how good (and right) it felt to start eating healthily again. I've been feeling happier and like myself again. I even feel more in control and like I could finally handle the responsibility I was putting on my shoulders.

I guess I would normally consider myself a very religious or at least a very spiritual individual. A few months ago I don't think I could say that with as much assurance as I can today though. I believe that my eating disorder slowly corroded my ties to God. I unintentionally began to distance myself from Him. I'm not sure why this happened, but I do know that eating disorders take hold of you body, mind and soul. I stopped attending church events and even church itself at times. I avoided my scriptures. My prayers consisted of bitter tears and angry complaints.

As I began my path to recovery, I tried to put myself back on the path to God. By restoring that vital balance back into my life, I was better able to help myself and allow God to help me as well. Without Him, I'm not sure if I would have ever been able to heal to the extent I have today. He has sustained me.

During my worst moments I felt as if God had abandoned me; I wasn't worthy of his companionship, a lost cause. I just kept failing and moving in a vicious cycle. In retrospect, I now realize that He had been with me the entire time, but He couldn't stop me from experiencing the consequences of my agency (plus it didn't help that I wasn't exactly "welcoming" either at times). I guess my experience supports the idea that you need to be spiritually strong (no matter what religion or beliefs you may be affiliated with) before you can be successful in any other aspect of your life.

Today I learned this lesson again.

I was flipping through the channels on my T.V. and I ended up on MTV. Normally I would avoid or skip over channel 55, but today I stopped just for a moment and ended up watching a marathon of "Awkward.". I'm not going to lie, I loved the show. It totally captured high school life and it was BEYOND funny (there was even a girl struggling with her weight...I teared up for a second during one scene..). However, it definitely was not a "clean" or "G" rated show. Initially I just ignored the swearing and sex references. Then the "F" word was said more than once, nicknames consisted of the "B" word and the "H" word was used pretty frequently. Plus, the entire show was about teenagers having sex and making out (I haven't ever kissed a boy, so I couldn't help but be curious...but a lot of the conceptsd in the show did go against my personal beliefs...). I'm sad to say that despite all of this, I ended up watching the entire marathon and I enjoyed it...more than I should have. I knew it was wrong as far as my standards went (curse my conscience), but I didn't really care (and I'm not totally sure if I do yet...I'm feeling a little guilty for my indifference). For the entire day, I felt nasty (even while I was watching the show). I could feel myself slowly being dragged away from that which had been supporting me for so long.

(Going back to the whole "spiritual balance" subject a couple paragraphs back) I definitely did not help myself spiritually today, I was weak and as a result I struggled with my eating habits. I ended up bingeing around dinner time and now I just feel gross (after going off bingeing for a while, I've been able to realize just how nasty I used to feel all of the time). Despite the negativity that went along with today, I learned a valuable lesson.  I do need to stay spiritually strong to be physically healthy. I've been getting a lot more heavenly help than I realized before and today I cut myself off of that help, exposing my weaknesses--which ultimately resulted in a binge.

I'm sure that many binge eaters have recovered without even thinking of their spirituality, but I guess I rely on the spirit to support me whenever I face extreme challenges. It's intrinsic to who I am.

I know tomorrow will be a better day, as long as I do all that I can to ensure it will be.

My motto.


For the longest time I felt like I was trapped within myself. Aside from having an eating disorder, this past year was really difficult for me. I lost friends, felt like I was being constantly kicked around and it also didn't help that I had a major chip on my shoulder against my relatives. Ultimately this all contributed to my meltdown in January. Sometimes I wonder where I would be at right now had things gone in a more "positive" direction, but I guess it doesn't really help much to dwell in the past or to think of what could have been when what matters most is the present.

My realtionship with my mom's side of the family was killing me. As I look back on it now, I was upset about things that I could never change or expect to be changed. I was sick of dealing with what I considered to be a compilation of cowardice, ignorance and plain old meaness. I won't deny that at times I was more than a little immature, but my actions were fueled by hurt and hatred. Emotionally, I was stuck...literally. My anger was eating away at me, I ensnared myself in my own trap. Along with my family issues, all of my energy was spent on negativity. I hated myself, the world, my "friends", my luck and my life. After a while, my thoughts look over my countenance. They were no longer inward feelings, but an appearance that I assumed gladly. I was upset and I wanted everyone-- and anyone-- to know how I felt.

My emotions definitely played a major part in the progression of my bingeing. Food became a medication. I used it to numb and express my frustration with those around me. My life continued on like this for months and then it just stopped. I don't know or remember what caused a change to happen in me, but I think my mind was sick of being angry all of the time. It was tiring.

I didn't really think much of what happened until I experienced the benefits and gratitude expressed because I let my anger go. The hurt never left, but the bitterness disappeared. I think my Laurel teacher, Sister Bennett explained my inner turmoil beautifully in a lesson she gave on Sunday. She was talking about her career as a psychologist and she stated that from all of the patients she helped, she noticed that "...emotions are meant to flow, not to stay stuck." When we let this happen, that's when we give ourselves the most grief and self-induced pain...like what I did to myself.

Special Olympics with Taylor.
My new positive attitude definitely shining through!

I've noticed that with my improved outlook on life my eaing has been able to improve too. In all honesty, I think that whenever we find turmoil in our lives, we need to resolve any turmoil within ourselves first; had I done this, life would have been much easier for me.

Better late than never!

Blessings and Nightmares

Lately, I've been doing great as far as eating regularly goes. I've gone to several camps and at each one, I've been able to control myself better than I ever thought I could. Even at my family's reunion I did a pretty good job when it came to portion sizes and snacking (and that's no small feat considering the role food plays in the lives of my relatives).

Overall I've finally started to make major long-term improvements! Personally, I think this started when my Dad gave me a Priesthood blessing before the first camp that I went to this summer. I had a meltdown the night before because I felt that I couldn't make any changes in my life or habits and I had a huge binge. I knew that my family couldn't afford to send me to in-patient treatment if we had to resort to that level of help. I felt defeated and afraid, but most of all I was angry with my parents for having inadequate finances to support me in a way that I felt was necessary at the time. The next morning before I left, my Dad gave me a blessing. It wasn't the first time he had done this for me, he had given me a blessing before, back when the disorder began, but it was a father's blessing rather than a blessing specifically for the sick. This time, however, he decided it was appropriate to give me a blessing for sick following this incident.

As I think back about the two blessings I received from my Dad, I can't help but realize that I wasn't the only one that changed during the past year. My parents view me and my struggles differently than they did originally. Now, my disorder isn't just a bad habit to them, it a serious illness (which it is) that not only effected me physically, but mentally as well.

After he blessed me, my life started to take major turns for the better. My self-esteem, though still very fragile, began to improve and as a result my cravings began to as well (whenever I became down on myself I would eat, creating a vicious, self defeating cycle).  I'm still amazed at how in control I am right now. Everyday I'd like to hope I improve. I realize my weaknesses more readily and am able to heal easier.  I have been able to control my actions and I've improved my relationship with food drastically. Along with that, I haven't binged in weeks. I seriously thought that I had no reason to be afraid anymore, that I had finally started to overcome my "demons". I guess I was a little too confident in myself.

Within the last month as things have been improving, I've been realizing that I still have fears resonating within myself that I've pushed to the back of my mind. I tried as hard as I could to push them aside and forget about them. But, I found out that no matter how hard we may try to think during the day, our minds really have no restrictions while we sleep. Some nights, I'll have a perfectly normal dream turn into a nightmare that involves bingeing. A few weeks ago I had one so realistic that I woke up crying. In that dream, I began to binge, but I couldn't stop. I had thought that I had started to get a grasp on my disorder (which I had in reality), but in my dream, it was a totally different playing field. In my dream, my family was yelling at me to stop and they were angry with my for being "weak". Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and I woke up sobbing.

The same thing happened last night too. I was dreaming and somehow in my dream, my Dad left a gallon of ice cream on our kitchen table (I've mentioned before the problem I used to have with it). For some reason I ended up in front of it with a spoon. I opened the container to have a taste, but with each taste, somehow I left some trace of my spoon on the surface of the ice cream. So, to cover up my eating I ate more and more of the ice cream with no avail. When I finally gave up, there was less than half of it left. My Dad walked back in the room and saw what I had done. He was upset. I woke up right after that and had a hard time falling asleep again.

I think both instances are a reflection of the doubt I have in myself. My biggest fear is relapse. It was so miserable back when I was in the middle of this disorder and I don't want to find myself back in that situation. No matter how good things continue to get, I know that this disorder never really is quite over. I am my enemy and it's not like I can escape the reality of being me. 

I don't want to end this entry depressed, so I'll share some good news! Yesterday, my friend T. had a surprise birthday party at the park near my house. I got there to find tables filled with all sorts of junk food goodies. I stayed strong and I only had three tootsie rolls, a bite a cookie and two chips. Impressive huh?!

Something else impressive!
 I passed both of my AP tests this year with two solid 5's!

Maybe I'm doing better than I thought. :)


So I know that this isn't the first time I've said this, but I did relapse a little today. BUT, today's near catastrophe wasn't necessarily due to my own choices or desires.

I have had high blood sugar practically all day. It started around 8:00a.m. and it has pretty much lasted throughout the entire day. I've tried to explain this concept before, but high blood sugar influences my appetite and even my mental state at times. Because of this, I usually either binge, have my blood sugar raise and binge more as a result OR I have high blood sugar and binge until I realize I have high blood sugar. However, today I knew I was high (and no, not on drugs) and I really tried to avoid the kitchen all together. Somehow, despite all of my efforts I still ended up eating half a serving of mini wheats, two cups of honey nut cheerios (with honey on top of it), banana bread with peanut butter, milk, cheese with pretzels and some frozen cool whip....so yes, I definitely binged. I did go to the bathroom after and I did try to purge, luckily I didn't get hardly anything out.

I'm not trying to use diabetes or my blood sugar as a passes for my actions (ultimately, I make the final decision to act on my cravings), but depression on top of whacked out sugar levels is almost like asking for a binge to happen.

This is all really hard to explain and probably even harder to understand if you haven't been severely addicted to anything in your life. I know I should just be able to walk away or stop eating, but it just isn't that simple. On top of the plethora of complications that an eating disorder readily provides, having a disease that has such a strong influence over so many aspects of your health makes recovery seem impossible. Gaining weight messed up my insulin ratios and I still haven't gotten a handle on it yet.

I'm hoping that withing the next month after seeing a psychiatrist and my endocrinologist I'll be able to at least attempt to get better control over my mental and physical health so I can finally make even more steps to permanent recovery.

Clinics, Confessions and Trips to the Library (Part 3/3)

Part 3- "Trips to the Library"
Ever since I've gotten a car, I tend to make a library run at least once or twice a week. It's turned into an escape for me from my house and my worries.

A few weeks ago, I was at the library searching for books on the library computer (that happened to have a modem speed of a Granny-wagon). After finding my books, I was became curious to see if the library system had any books on bingeing. Guess what I found?! At least ten and a few of them were at that time checked out. I decided to request to put one of them on hold so I could see if these "help" books really were accurate and helpful.

About a week later I went back to the library to return my old books and see if any of my holds had finally come in. To my surprise I found "The Binge Eating & Compulsive Overeating Workbook" (An Integrated Approach to Overcoming Disordered Eating) waiting for me!

I actually ordered this workbook off of Amazon so that I can
have a copy of my own.

When I got back home I decided to skim through it and see if it was even worth my time. After reading the first page I was seriously amazed! This book was incredibly accurate on just about every aspect of binge eating from the mental aspects to the physical consequences. They separate the disorder into reasonable causes and also give detailed plans on how you (or any individual) can overcome this challenge.

I'll admit that when I originally checked this workbook out I was more than a little skeptical. Now that I've read through most of the book, I can't say that I'm "cured" or that it made a drastic impact on my life, but it gave me tools that I can use to heal.

In the future I really want to write a book (or even publish this blog) to help benefit others with eating disorders. I want to take this negative experience in my life and allow it to become a positive motivator for others.

Eating disorders seem to be socially "taboo", but one day, I hope that through my efforts and those like Carolyn Coker Ross' (the author of the workbook) we can help publicize bingeing so that those who suffer from it not only realize that it is a disorder, but that they also aren't alone.

Proven Facts.

Yesterday seriously sucked.

Growing up, I remember whenever I would see a commercial for any depression medication I would scoff at the actor portrayals. I couldn't (and wouldn't) grasp the concept that an emotion could take over almost every aspect of an individual's life. Up until this last year, I thought that depression was something that could be controlled and those who didn't want to try to overcome their thoughts became "diagnosed" with an imaginary disorder. I still can't believe just how wrong I actually was.

Over the past few weeks my eating has drastically improved; however, my body hasn't. I still have the 30+ pounds that I gained over three months spread all around me. I have stretch marks, cellulite and flab in unwanted places. I've been forbidden from stepping on scales to see my weight.  Even if there have been any changes, I would have no idea if any weight has been lost or (my biggest fear) gained. Lately, my reflection has taken a toll on my self-esteem. I feel like a stranger in my own body. I was thinking about this earlier today and I've decided weight gain is comparable to losing a close friend-or in other words, my old body. Although you have distant memories of that person, you know that you won't ever be able to physically see them again. Instead that void has been filled with someone who will never quite measure up to that late-friend. Along with mirrors, I hate cameras.  I still have the image of who I once was in my head, but when I have to see how the world views me for who I really am, reality sets in and gives my confidence a beating. Facing the truth is always hard, especially when all you want is to believe a lie.

My mom, brother and I ran down to Provo yesterday to watch my niece and nephew while my oldest sister ran some much needed errands. It was fun to play with my nephew (not so much my niece) and we left to go back home after a few hours of  laughing, sleeping and temper tantrums. My mom had bought our family passes to go to Seven Peaks this summer, but we needed to stop at Trafalga to have photos (barf) taken for our identification cards on the way home. I've already touched on how much I hate pictures of myself, but I was already on the verge of a mental breakdown prior to our "Pass of All Passes" photo op.

My friends S. and K. had been planning to make a "Somewhere in Time" parody for week and yesterday was supposed to be the big day we shot it. Even though originally I was really excited to hangout with them, when the time came to leave I couldn't bring myself to going. On the way to Trafalga, I was overwhelmed by the thought of having to see myself in the state I'm in YouTube or Facebook. I began to cry as my mom was asking me about the video and what my plans were for the night. I told her I couldn't handle being filmed, I was extremely self-conscious and even a little embarrassed with the way I look. I guess when I originally agreed to make the parody I was thinking I was still my old, skinny self. I sent them a text saying I was stuck in Provo and wouldn't be able to make it (luckily it had already been cancelled about an hour before I had sent the message).

As I was standing in line waiting for my I.D. to be processed (after they had taken an extremely unattractive head shot of me), I couldn't stop thinking about all of the pictures that had been taken of me recently. Last weekend I had volunteered at Special Olympics through my high school. After the games were over we took group and individual pictures. I seriously looked terrible in each one.

I'm the one on the right. I really hate this picture, but I think it proved my point.
The night Special Olympics ended, I went to a party at a friend's house where, you guessed it, more pictures were taken. I think what made me the most upset about those photos was the fact that I thought I actually looked decent.

Definitely not how I thought I looked.
You can tell I've packed on more than a couple pounds.

Needless to say, yesterday I felt more than overwhelmed. Not only because I had to see how I looked, but that others had to see it too...on social networking websites and in person.

I came home feeling really depressed. I decided to lock myself in my bedroom and fall asleep so I could just forget about my emotions and every negative thought I was having. Eventually I had to wake up for dinner, but I still couldn't get out of the mental "rut" I had put myself in earlier.

I've started to notice that whenever I feel the worst about myself, my cravings to binge become even stronger than usual. It's a self-defeating coping skill. This is exactly what happened last night. I had my dinner and then snacked on anything else I could find for a couple hours after. I guess it wasn't as extreme as some of my past binges, but I definitely overate big time. The same thing happened on Monday of this week for the same reasons. It was brought on by some pictures I had to look through from Special Olympics. I was able to stop after a few minutes and it was around lunch so I counted it as a meal. Afterwards I distracted myself with chores and yard work to avoid getting depressed about bingeing too. Most people only consider certain foods as binge triggers, but I've found that emotions and thoughts hold even more power over me when it comes to eating.

When I realized what I was doing after dinner, I went downstairs to get away from the kitchen. Prior to yesterday and Monday, I had been binge and purge free for about three weeks. Thoughts about both had come and gone, but I didn't act upon them. Last night I felt disgusting, I even went as far as walking into the bathroom downstairs and debating on whether I should pretend to take a shower just so I could purge without anyone hearing me. For some reason or another, I decided to go into my Dad's office instead to check Facebook. Eventually, I ended up on YouTube because of a link one of my friends had posted.

Here's the video it led to:

Watching this led to about two solid hours of watching Julian Smth's videos. After and during, all of my thoughts were shifted. The more I laughed, the less focused I was on how depressed I felt. I know that in the past I've mentioned that "Laughter is the Best Medicine", and what happened yesterday totally supported my belief. I know that depression is going to follow me for the rest of my life, but maybe next time I feel overwhelmed, I can turn to my new best friend Julian to change my mood and my thoughts for the better.

Clinics, Confessions and Trips to the Library (Part 2/3)

Part Two- "Confessions"

Gym is normally the class that I dislike the most. Scratch that, I hate gym. From the noisy locker room, to wearing unflattering uniforms, to team sports (that you always happen to get picked last for), a lack of close friends to hang out with and the smelly body odor that lasts until the end of the school day, gym is definitely not a fun place to be. I guess I could ramble forever about my utter loathing of "physical education", but last week in gym class, I had a life changing experience. Now, I don't want to get ahead of myself, but if there is one lesson that I personally have had to relearn multiple times, it's that you can't judge a book by its cover.

Last year at this time, I was at EFY with my friend Kristen, it was a great
experience, but I haven't had a desire to go back since

It was the last day of gym and quite frankly, no one was there for class (who would want to be?). I happened to be there along with my friend J. and a girl named T.(who was more like an acquaintance than a friend). After doing absolutely nothing for the first half of class, the three of us decided to go to the locker room to get the rest of our things out of there so we wouldn't have to go after school and fight our way out of the crowded back parking lot. Since we were about three days away from being seniors, naturally scholarships, majors and college choices became the topic of discussion. J. asked me where I planned on going for college and I told her I was either going to Brigham Young University or the University of Utah. She asked me why and I went on to tell her about my plans to be an eating disorder specialist or psychologist for teen girls hopefully at Primary Children's Hospital. I had heard that Brigham Young University had a good psychology program, but the University of Utah had the best medical courses and students there often had access to their hospitals(including Primary Children's).

T. had walked up on us and she started to ask me questions about my planned career choice. I began to stumble over my words not wanting to give away the fact that I had an eating disorder and I wanted to help others overcome theirs. Eventually I was able to assemble slipshod responses to her questions, trying to stretch the truth as much as I could. After I was done, she told me that she was really proud of me for wanting to help girls with eating disorders and that she had been bulimic up until a year ago (this month was actually her one year anniversary of her official recovery but prior to that she had been bulimic for 1 1/2 years). I couldn't believe the courage  she must have had to come out and tell someone she barely even knew about her disorder (I think poor J. was a little creeped out), I could barely talk to doctors about my condition without crying! After listening to her, I confessed about why I really wanted to be an eating disorder specialist and that I too had a disorder, but with bingeing (this was the first time I had told anyone about what was going on besides my close family and doctors) I can't begin to explain how amazing it was to not only talk to someone who also had an eating disorder, but someone who had overcome it as well. We talked for a good twenty minutes and then separated for lunch. I was honestly in shock after our conversation. We pretty much had gone through the same motions despite the differences in our disorders. She had told me that it was hard for her family to accept that she did have a serious eating disorder (her Dad didn't even believe that there was anything wrong with her and that it was made up), that it was like a drug addiction, that only people who had gone through a similar experience could understand how she felt and that it seemed impossible to overcome. Eventually her parents found a counselor to help her recover through LDS Family Services and T. went on to tell me that she wouldn't have made it without her.

It was almost like a form of therapy to be able to talk to someone my age who actually understood what I was going through. She really helped strengthen my resolve to change and gave me hope to keep trying. After that discussion in the locker room, T. and I became instant friends. I think it was because we shared something so intimate that we were able to bond through it. I know I can count on her for support and hopefully she knows the same of me. I really admire all that she did and the fact that she overcame something so difficult. I guess in a sense she counts as one of my heroes.

A few days later we found each other at the yearbook stomp. She wrote in my yearbook that she was glad we "'discovered each other'", and I couldn't agree more.

J. pointed out that she would have never guessed either of us had eating disorders and I think that's how it is for most people, even those that are suffering from a disorder themselves. I think this supports the fact that you never know someones full story. Often we only accept what we want to see or what they have caused us to believe. I don't know if T. was inspired to speak up about her past when she did, but a day hasn't gone by that I haven't appreciated her tenacity since.

Clinics, Confessions and Trips to the Library (Part 1/3)

Part One-"Clinics"

I finally feel like my life has finally started to take a few turns for the better.
I guess it all started a few months ago with the end of my AP classes and the conclusion of soccer season. My dad had found a car for me and my friend drama was dying down. My mom also found an eating disorder clinic at Primary Children's Hospital and we were able to set an appointment for last week. I'm getting ahead of myself now, but literally, the past month has been a blur (in a good way).

My sister, Holly, took decided to take me to an LDS Family Services meeting for church members with eating disorders about two weeks ago. After having her check to see who was there, I chose to not attend because there would have been at least a ten year age gap between me and the other victims there; however, this was a huge step in the right direction. Not only did her kindness help me realize that I wasn't as alone as I thought I was, it helped me look at my life in a new light. In a sense, it prepared me for the change that would later take place within that same week. A few days later I attended my first of many clinic visits at Primary Children's.
I can't begin to tell you how wonderful that experience was. After my experience at Dr. Foster's office two months prior to this visit, I have to admit I was beyond skeptical. I guess I just didn't want to be disappointed again or have someone take my disorder lightly when it is something so serious.

We signed in and were immediately taken back to a patient room and was told to get put on a gown so I could be weighed accurately. They had me stand with my back to the digital screen so I couldn't see my weight, it wasn't hard to tell that they specialized in eating disorders after this. They obviously understood the sensitivity that eating disorder victims have towards viewing their weight. After we were met by a doctor, nutritionist and social worker/therapist. They were beyond helpful, they were my saviors. We spent the most time talking to my social worker (apparently we had set a "record" for the longest visit), she was so understanding. It felt nice to talk to someone who was experienced with what you were going through. She helped mediated between me and my mom along with giving excellent advice. Luckily, I was able to be honest with her. I told her about my purging, eating habits, emotions and pretty much anything else I could think of. It felt fantastic except for the moments I would look over at my mom and see the pain that would shoot across her face as she heard about things I had been keeping secret for months (purging, suicide, bingeing while she was gone). I could have never said the things that I said in that doctor's office to my mom alone. I needed someone else's support and expertise to soften the blow.

Later we met with the nutritionist and she definitely helped me adjust the way I viewed food. Now, don't confuse this with recovery, in fact, I'm no where close to that yet. Relapse will always be an all too eminent reality for the rest of my life and even more so in these vital following months. However, because of this changed mentality, my habits and thoughts are slowly starting to shift away from the extremes in which I have been living in. I'm finally gaining ground against the disorder that I allowed to define who I was for far too long.

 A few days ago I was talking to my Mom about the progress I had been able to make that I frankly wasn't capable of even fathoming prior to the clinic visit. After discussing this for a few minutes, I think she hit the reason why right on the head. I finally had hope. (I can't begin to express how liberating hope can be when deprived from its presence for a prolonged period of time.) I guess it felt like I was trapped in a small, uncomfortable concrete box that allowed no light in. Then after going to Primary Children's for the first time, the walls of that prison began to expand outward in every direction. Light broke in through cracks formed in the concrete cell I had built up around myself as its foundation began to crumble. (I'd like to imagine that one day the cracks would become so large as to cause the walls to crash down, never to form again.)I had room to not only stretch my legs, but to see glimpses of the world around me again, ending my self-induced solitary confinement.

Its been two weeks since my last clinic visit and also two weeks since my last binge or purge. Since then, I have been diagnosed with moderate depression and severe anxiety. Both can induce eating disorders to take place. I was advised to officially tell my immediate family about my disorder and that I would need their help to end this vicious cycle. When I decided to, I seriously wanted to cry I felt so relieved. I was terrified at first, but their support overwhelmed me. My therapist said that this is a family problem and that we're going to need everyone to come together in order for me to heal as an individual. After talking to them, I've decided she couldn't have been more right. My disorder is no longer something kept or talked about behind closed doors, but a topic that is openly (but still carefully) discussed. My Mom also has been doing some online researching and we discovered that Diabetics are more likely than "normal" individuals to gain eating disorders due to changing blood sugar levels and mental instabilities that can follow. Insulin (which is a steroid) can also promote weight gain in Diabetics due to excessive usage and the way the body may react to the substance (double-edged sword, anyone?). I guess this disorder wasn't just formed after one event or one flaw in my character. It was ultimately made up of seemingly small factors that ganged up to become one big problem. 

As recommended, my mom arranged an appointment for me to meet with a disorder psychiatrist at the end of July and I have my next clinic visit this Thursday. As much as I wish that medications and doctors could solve this dilemma for me, I know that my future is in my hands and based upon my resolve--not a bottle of anti-depressants. It's such a relief to finally feel like we're going about this the right way and I have educated professionals to support me. I feel alive again. I feel like I am gaining control. I'm starting to feel like myself again. I feel...happy.

My brother and nephew playing around while we were out
celebrating  Dad's 50th birthday, it's nice to finally
look outside of myself and notice moments like this again