Ask Aly: Reaching Out

What advice would you give those who suspect a friend/loved one has an eating disorder?  What is the best way to approach the subject and/or help them and give them the support they need?  What kind of actions/reactions/support do you -or did you- wish your family would have done to help you in the many different phases?

Sorry!  I see you addressed most of my questions in a previous post I had somehow missed.  So that just leaves the first question - what to do if they don't approach you or tell you?

Hi there!

One thing that I've learned since recovering from my disorders, is that once you've had an eating disorder, you can spot the telltale signs of one from a mile away.  However, even though I can spot people who may have disorders or disorder tendencies on a daily basis, it's something that I can't and won't directly confront them about (even if they are friends or family) until they have personally told me themselves what they are going through.

So, what can you do if you've heard that someone you know might have a disorder or if you strongly believe that they might have one?

Nothing.
And by that, I don't mean you should actually do nothing.

If you are worried about someone, you definitely should take action, but it's all in how you take that action. If they haven't approached or told you about what they're going through, the best thing that you can do is to take action behind the scenes and leave breadcrumbs for them to follow when they're ready to start the recovery process. If they are ready for help and have told you personally, then you can go full-force and help them find treatment etc.

The trick with approaching someone that you either think or know has an eating disorder is all within how you word things. One thing that's important to remember is that no one wants to be accused of being something they aren't or think they aren't. If you're concerned about someone and they haven't approached you about it yet, there's no harm in asking if they're doing okay. However, it's important to remember that they have the right to heal according to their own timeline (unless they are in immediate danger--you could probably directly address the fact that they have an eating disorder in a situation like this, but again, you would have to be delicate in how you approach that topic) and to keep their own secrets until they're ready to share them.

Here are a couple of sample conversations:

1. You: "Are you doing okay?"
    Them: "Yes, why?"
    You: "I've noticed that you've lost/gained a lot of weight lately and I was worried about you."

2. You: "Are you doing okay? I've noticed that you haven't been eating lately."
    Them: "Yeah, I'm doing fine--I've just been stressed out with school (could be a lie); thanks for asking though!"
    You (knowing that it could be a lie): You're welcome! I was worried about you. Let me know if can do anything to    help with your stress!"

3. You: "Are you okay? You spent a lot of time in the bathroom after dinner."
    Them: "I'm fine."
    You: "Good! I was worried about you!"

4. You: "Hey, I've noticed that you've been going into the kitchen late at night to eat, are doing okay?"
    Them: "...no."
    You: "What can I do to help you?"

In all of these sample conversations, the person asking the questions (you) never once straight out said that or asked if the other person had an eating disorder--which is probably the most important thing that you can do in situations like this. I remember when I was anorexic, my mom told me that I had taken my dieting too far and I was being reckless with my health. Although she was right, her comment made me incredibly defensive and caused me to shut myself off from her help. I also started to do more things behind her back as well.

Additionally, it's important to start conversations like this in private and not in a group setting. No one wants to be embarrassed or feel like its them against everyone else. Also, if they say that they are okay, don't press them for the answer that you want or the truth that you think they are hiding. Accept it and make sure to let them know that you're there to help if they need anything.

One of the best things about approaching someone with a disorder in this way is that if they're in denial, your words can plant a seed in their head and cause them to reexamine what they're doing. If they aren't in denial, it lets them know that someone has caught on to what's going on and that you're there to help if they need it.

Again, it's important not to accuse or call them out on their behaviors if you want them to genuinely recover. It has to be a decision that they make, not that they're resentfully forced in to. I found that I was able to fully recover from my binge eating disorder because I was the one to notice it and I was the one to take the initiative. By starting the recovery process through myself, I was able to take full responsibility for my recovery because my disorder was something that I fully acknowledged and wanted to end.

One way that I like to think of an eating disorder is to liken it to a house with a door that only has one handle which is on the inside where the eating disorder victim lives. People can knock on the door and try to get the victim to open it and come out, but ultimately it's up to the person inside of the house to open the door. They get to choose when to let you in and then they choose when they're ready to walk out of the house. You can't just break down the door on them and expect things to be okay.

Aside from talking with them, there also other things that you can do to help:

• Compliment them on their non-physical traits, build up their self-esteem
• Don't compliment them on their weight loss
• Don't let them talk negatively about themselves or their bodies
• Don't talk negatively about yourself or your body around them
• Help them not feel bad about the food that they've eaten
• Don't count calories, criticize the food that you've eaten, or talk about diets around them.
• Keep in contact with them so that they can feel comfortable talking with you when they're ready; check up on them after talking to them too
• Keep them company while they eat and after they eat so that they can be distracted from the thoughts of the disorder and purging methods
• Serve them, let them know that they are loved 

Before I finish this, I have one last thought to add. When I was going through my disorders, hardly anyone noticed that anything was wrong or that I was struggling--especially during the binge eating. It hurt. I was so frustrated that no one was reaching out to me and that I had no one to talk to. That no one realized how miserable I was. Although I didn't necessarily want to talk about my disorder, I just wanted someone to notice what was going on. Someone to reach out to. Someone to be there to catch me. Someone to care.

I think that the fact that you want to help and are aware of what this person is going through is a great first step. I can't guarantee that things will go smoothly even if you're incredibly careful with how you help them, but just make sure that you use good judgement while trying to help them.


Good luck!

*To submit a question, you can either use the submission app on the sidebar of the blog or email me at: tomyfullestblog@gmail.com*

Ask Aly: Accepting Help

How can people with eating disorders reach out for and accept help from others? Eating has always been very personal for me. I don't know how I can include loved ones in my recovery journey when I can't even be honest with myself about my eating habits.

Hi there!

Accepting help from others and being honest with yourself are two of the hardest--but also most important, steps that anyone can take when trying to overcome an eating disorder. Personally, I really struggled with both throughout all three of my disorders; however, I realize now that being honest with myself enabled me to reach out and accept help from others when I was ready.

When I was anorexic, I was in complete denial about what I was doing. I thought that because I was the smallest I had ever been in my life, I was also my healthiest (which is definitely not true for anyone). Whenever friends or family tried to reach out to me, I would push them away and justify my actions. Not only did I make myself miserable, but I made them miserable as well.

My relationship with my family--especially my mom, became really strained when I became a binge eater. However, it was during this time that I was finally able to start accepting that my previous "diet" was an eating disorder and that turning to food for comfort (I would eat uncontrollably for hours in order to forget my depression, how much I hated myself, or to forget how I was treated at school) was a disorder as well. Despite realizing this, I had a lot of emotions trapped inside of me. My family didn't really know how to handle me, my depression, or my disorder; no matter what they did or said to help, it was wrong. I hated them for not understanding what I was going through or for not understanding in the way that I needed them to. Because of this, everyone tip-toed around me like  I was a bomb that was waiting to go off...which only made things worse.

Eventually, I went to a therapist and she helped me gain more control of my emotions and my relationship with my family.

Like you said, eating is a personal thing and I think eating disorders are even more so. I think that's one reason why connecting with others throughout recovery is so hard. Eating disorders are unique to each individual who experiences them--but they aren't something that you can overcome on your own. Just like it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a strong (and diverse) support group to heal an eating disorder victim.

Looking back, I think that the most important step that I took towards being honest with myself was telling my mom that I thought I had a binge eating disorder and then looking for medical help. From there, I was able to find professionals who gave me the tools and support that I needed to heal--and with this, Elaine Cheung, my therapist, was a godsend. I sincerely believe that having an unbiased, third-party to talk to was one of the best resources that I could have had--especially at the beginning of my recovery. Talking to family members--or even friends, about eating disorders or other emotional experiences, will always have strong emotional consequences on both sides...there can be a lot of unintended misunderstanding. My therapist looked at me objectively which allowed me to say things to her that I couldn't have said to others--she allowed me to talk about my relationships at home without offending anyone at home. By doing this, I was slowly able to release a lot of emotional pressure within myself and get to a state of relative calm where I could then move forward and take bigger strides towards recovery.

Another thing that I came to realize is that you have to give those around you some slack. I think a lot of my fear and frustration towards my family came from me expecting them to perfectly understand what I was going through--which they never could have done; not because they didn't want to, but rather because they couldn't. Well-meant sympathy is never the same as empathy. They also weren't eating disorder specialists. I expected them to save me when they were just as lost with how to help me as I was. I was so focused on myself drowning, that it was hard to see them drowning beside me.

I don't know if this answered your question, but I think you already hit the nail on the head. The first step towards including those around you is to be honest with yourself which then enables your to be honest with them. I remember that after meeting with Elaine for a while, she suggested that I sit with my family and officially tell them what I was going through--put it all out in the open so that everyone was on the same page. It was terrifying and embarrassing, but it helped. It's a wall that I would have eventually climbed at one point or another, but as soon as I did, I was able to move on to the next hurdle in front of me.

So, the sooner you do in your road to recovery, the better.

I can't guarantee how your family will react to something like this, but it's important to remember that whatever they do, it will be out of love and concern (even if it's sometimes misguided).

So make sure that you're not only patient with yourself, but patient with them too.

You can overcome your disorder, I believe in you.

You can do this!







*To submit a question, you can either use the submission app on the sidebar of the blog or email me at: tomyfullestblog@gmail.com*

Dots

During the last week of July, my family and I went to Bryce Canyon as our summer vacation. While I was packing for the trip, I grabbed my "I am beautiful" t-shirt thinking that this would be a great opportunity to promote the blog and to wear the shirt out in the real-world for photos that I could use in a future blog post.

However, when we got to the park my plan went totally out the window.

Why?

Reason 1-I wore the shirt once and immediately took it off (I'll explain later--also, light grey is super unforgiving when it comes to sweat marks).
Reason 2-Most of the tourists at Bryce Canyon that weekend were native French-speakers.

Oops.

Anyways, at the entrance to Bryce Canyon, there's a huge sign that has the park's name on it and as tradition dictates, a lot of visitors (including my family) stop to take photos of themselves in front of the sign before entering the park itself (there's even a column a few feet in front of the sign that was made to put cameras on for optimal photo-taking).

I had brought the shirt with me in my backpack so I could change into it for pictures since I would look like a sweaty mess if I chose to wear it for both pictures and hiking in hot weather (I found this out the hard way after wearing the shirt while sitting through a two hour "rodeo" the day before). So, I decided that the most practical spot to take a picture in the shirt would be in front of the sign rather than inside the actual park itself, so once we got out of our car I asked my sister to take a couple of pictures of me.

Long story short, although I felt great while taking the pictures, I hated how I looked in all of them afterwards.

My stomach showed.
My arms looked too big.
My thighs were touching.
My body looked wider than normal.

I obsessed over how I could have made myself look better or how I could have hid myself more.

I shouldn't have tucked in my shirt.
I should have put my arm on my other hip.
I should have angled myself differently.
I should have worn longer pants.

When I realized that those thoughts wouldn't change what happened, I tried to find ways to "salvage" the photos--and my self-esteem.

So,

I deleted.
I cropped.
I filtered.

No matter what I did, I still hated how I looked.
(Which was ironic, given the shirt that I was wearing)

I allowed negative thoughts and embarrassment about my appearance to consume the rest of my day.

Despite the eating disorders that I've been through and the steps towards self-acceptance that I've made, I'm always surprised by how easily and how often I fall back into old habits of criticizing my body.

During one of my first visits to my eating disorder doctor, Michael Spigarelli, he showed me a piece of paper that looked like this:

What do you see?

When he asked me this question, I responded that I saw a dot. He then asked me if I saw anything else and I told him that I didn't. Dr. Spigarelli went on to explain to me that by only focusing on the dot, I had forgotten to notice the rest of the paper.

How often do we allow ourselves to lose sight of the whole picture by only focusing on the "dots" that are in our lives?

And concerning my situation, how often do we allow ourselves to lose sight of our personal worth by only focusing on the "dots" or "flaws" (which really aren't flaws, but just warped personal opinions) that occur on our bodies?

We all have "dots" on us, but I think it's time for us to embrace our bodies holistically instead of obsessing over what we deem to be our "trouble areas".

Just like there was more to that piece of paper than the dot, there is more to each of us than what we perceive to be our flaws.

Our bodies aren't something to hide, crop, angle, or filter, they are perfect the way they are.

We are the sum of our parts, not the parts themselves.

It's taken me a month to figure out what I've wanted to say in this post. Since the trip to Bryce Canyon, there have been other instances where I've second-guessed my self-esteem or complained about my body. I've had the photos taken at Bryce Canyon hidden in my phone and I've avoided looking at them out of fear.

Luckily, I realize now that how I appear on film or even how I appear in general are the least important things about who I am as a person.

We all struggle with insecurities, but we need to remind ourselves that they are just a small aspect of our lives. And in my case, there was more to that trip than the photos of me that were taken there and there is more to me than those photos.

After all, a piece of paper is more than the dots that are drawn on it.

You know, I actually don't have a problem with 
this picture anymore, I love how happy I look! 

We are Beautiful

A couple of weeks ago, I announced that I was officially going to start selling the t-shirt I designed for this blog online. Thanks to all of your support, we've been able to spread body positivity one shirt at a time!

They all look different, but you can't deny how beautiful each of
these ladies are. 

I've said this before, but I firmly believe that beauty is intrinsic in all of us. Additionally, we tend to interchangeably associate attraction and beauty when they're really two totally different things.  

Beauty standards are ridiculous. They basically try to apply a "one-size-fits-all" approach to how all women see themselves. In reality, we come in different sizes, shapes, and colors. The way we look is like a genetic raffle--a once in a lifetime chance occurrence (well, technically each person is supposed have like 7 doppelgangers in the world--but even in that case, they probably wouldn't have the same mole that you have on your right foot or the same crease between your eyebrows that shows up when you sneeze...but this is beside the point.). It's also important to note that with all the possible combinations of genes in the world, it's physically impossible for all of us to naturally be what we see on the cover of magazines. 

So, why is it that we feel like all women have to look the same when diversity is in our very nature?

Why do we gamble so much of our self-worth on looking a certain way?

Theodore Roosevelt once said that, "Comparison is the thief of joy".

And I completely agree.

I don't know about anyone else, but in the past (especially during my eating disorders), I caught myself comparing my body to those of my sisters, my friends, my peers, and even strangers. For years, I not only hated myself for not matching up to them, but I also hated them based solely on the fact that they met standards I couldn't. 

I found validation for my own feelings of self-worth and beauty when I looked better than or just as good as those around me; and when I didn't, I felt worthless. In a sense, it felt like in order to gain the title of "beautiful", I had to either strip it away from someone else or risk having it taken from me. 

I think in order to feel better about ourselves, we need to think better of those around us. We need to actively stop our own thoughts of judgement (which later affect how we judge ourselves) that cross our minds when we see someone's body. Judgement, beauty standards, and body shame create a toxic environment where no one wins.

Womanhood should not be competition.

Every body is a good body.

Society teaches women that their worth and beauty are directly derived from their physical appearance. Not from who they are as living, thinking, and feeling individuals. 

Beauty has nothing to do with appearance and it doesn't have prerequisites.

You don't have to look like Cara Delevigne, Beyonce, your best friend, your cousin, or your sister to be beautiful.

Just be you.
Because you are enough.

And you are beautiful.

(~If you're interested in buying a shirt, click the shop link on the top or side navigation bar~)

Free

My sister, Holly, was a good sport and took some pictures
 of me for an employee board at work. I was surprised by
how  much I actually liked how I looked in each one.
Definitely a new experience. 

Lately I've started to realize that the older I've gotten, the more prioritized and selective my free-time has become. Thanks to this, February came and went with no blog posts. 

Last month I had an appointment with Dr. Spigarelli and heard some great news.

Guess what? 

I am officially eating disorder free. 

It took me six years of battling my thoughts, my habits, and my body, but I did it. 

If you asked me six years ago if I ever thought that I would like my body at any size, I would have said no. 
If you asked me five years ago if I ever thought that I would have a healthy relationship with food, I would have said no. 
If you asked me four years ago if I ever thought that I would ever have a normal life, I would have said no. 
If you asked me three years ago if I would be alive right now, I would have said no. 

If you asked me three years ago if I wanted to be alive right then, I would have said no. 

It's amazing what time can do. 
Actually, scratch that. It's amazing what the influence of selfless people can do. 

My mom. 
Dr. Spigarelli. 
Dr. Cheung. 

Without them (and countless others) I don't know where, or who, I would be right now. 
They were my friends, my mentors, and ultimately, my saviors. 

Dr. Spigarelli mentioned during our last appointment that he had just been my cheerleader, and that I was the only person to credit for my success. 

Obviously he's right in the sense that it was up to me to find the desire to change and act upon that desire, but in all honesty, what I needed most was a cheerleader; someone who unconditionally believed in me more than I believed in myself. No one is ever "just" something. We all play roles in the lives of the people around us, whether we realize it or not. Who you are or what you do may be exactly what someone needs. 

Looking back on the past six years I spent fighting either an eating disorder mentality, or an eating disorder itself, I can't say that I regret anything that happened...which must sound crazy given all that I went through.

I was miserable, I was suicidal, and even at my lowest weight during my first eating disorder (restrictive eating/ anorexia), I loathed myself. The smaller dress-sizes, lower calories, and increased exercising didn't make me happier, they made me paranoid.

I sold my childhood to see a lower weight on a scale, only to have it stolen from me when my body said "enough" and my growing appetite became an addiction (bingeing/ bulimia).

As I gained weight at the rate of 20 lbs. per month, my world shattered around me. I had an identity crisis, and broke down. I remember thinking that if I wasn't thin or "beautiful", all I did was take up space. I felt like the "real me" was hidden under layers of fat. I thought that it was my bigger body size that kept people from I asking me to dances or going on dates.

I sincerely believed that because I weighed more, my value was less.

I realize now that it wasn't my weight that held me back, but myself.

Why is it that we tend to think that we need to change or "improve" ourselves in order to be loved or accepted by others when the only person we're really trying to earn acceptance from is ourselves?

I've been told before that God gives us trials to make us better people, and I completely agree. My experiences have opened my eyes and caused me to see the world differently. I'm more compassionate towards others, especially myself.

The lessons I've been taught through my eating disorders weren't easy, but they were worth every ounce of weight gained or lost. I know now that there's more to life than calories counted, clothing sizes worn, miles run, or weight placed on a scale; life is about living.

Even though I'm no longer medically diagnosed with an eating disorder, I still fight my past every day.
Sometimes I wish I was smaller, and sometimes I eat when I'm not hungry.
But that's okay.

Because I like who I am, regardless of body size or what anyone says I should or shouldn't be.
I am a survivor, the hero of my story.

I am free. 

Sample

A few weeks ago, I was invited to write a sample blog post in order to be considered for an opportunity to write on a volunteer basis for the LDS blog, Sugardoodle.

With this in mind, I thought that I could share with all of you what I submitted:


Eating disorders, like a lot of things in life, aren't exactly predictable.

During my sophomore year of high school, I decided that I was done with feeling embarrassed by my body and the extra pounds it carried. As a result, I started a strict diet that only allowed me to eat about 1,700 calories a day. Within two months I had lost 40 pounds and reached, what I thought to be, my ideal body weight. For the first time in my life I felt comfortable in my own skin. No matter how much weight I lost, I wasn’t satisfied; I could always lose five more pounds. Eventually, I reached a point where the compliments I had been receiving from friends and family became tinged with worry; but no one could stop me. I realize now that I had become a victim of an eating disorder due to my own warped perceptions of beauty and self-worth. My “diet” controlled every action, thought, and emotion I had; it consumed me, and became my identity.

Pre-eating disorders.

 I still can't believe I thought this was fat.



 A few months later, I became depressed due some drama at school within my circle of friends. Almost immediately I turned to food as my medication of choice, and shortly thereafter, I developed what would become another eating disorder. The sadder I became, the more I ate. The weight that I had worked so hard to lose (plus a little extra), came back within a month’s time and the depression that followed resulted in even more eating. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t stop myself--food was my escape from reality.

For the longest time I felt that it was my fault that I couldn’t control my eating because I was weak and too miserable to change. Luckily, I met with a doctor who helped me realize that an eating disorder is a mental disease with physical implications. It isn’t just a matter of not eating or eating more; it’s an addiction, a state of being.  He once compared an eating disorder to a person with Diabetes (which I have) by explaining that just as you can’t tell a Diabetic to make insulin on their own, you can’t talk someone out of an eating disorder. It takes time, therapy, medication, meditation, and patience for change to occur.



Over the years, I’ve thought a lot about how and why I came to have an eating disorder in the first place. I've come to the conclusion that it didn’t come from a single source, but many. In both instances, I felt inadequate. I was angry that no matter what I did, I would never be good enough. I guess I believed what society told me: that my value lay in the number on a scale, the calories on a box, or the size on a clothing tag.  Even though it’s been two years since my last relapse, I know that my eating disorder is an intrinsic part of who I am, shaping my thoughts, opinions of myself and, at times, how I interact with others. However, through the support of my loved ones, the blessings of the Atonement, and the love of my Father in Heaven, I know that we're never really alone during the trials placed before us.

Back.

After spending  months away from reliable WiFi while at Aspen Grove, I'm finally back at home for the remainder of the summer.

Some of my friends from camp! Love them to pieces!

Which means consistent blog posts again, yay! 

A few nights ago, I made a trip to Target to return some shirts that were bought for me. Although the trip was intended to be a short one, I ended up being sucked into the black hole that we know as the women's clothing section. While I was there I noticed two families with their daughters looking at and trying on clothes. (Before I go any further into this story, you should note that I'm a habitual eavesdropper.)

As I was checking out the clearance racks, I noticed the first family outside of the store dressing rooms. They were waiting for a girl to come out and show them the various outfits they had chosen out. From what I could tell, she came out in a maxi skirt first. Immediately her uncle started loudly saying how bad it looked on her and that she should find something else instead. He said this several times, without caring who could hear or how it made her feel (because his opinion obviously mattered over hers, or anyone else for the matter). As he continued talking, I started to make comments under my breath, hoping he would hear (sadly, he didn't). 

*Side Speel*

Can I just point out the double standard that society has set up for women and men. Women are expected fit an ideal of perfection, while men can look however they want. For example, this girl's uncle was overweight, sloppily dressed, and despite all of that, he felt that he had the right to criticize his niece for a skirt she was wearing. 

Eventually, I walked away and encountered another family. It was a father with a distraught daughter. She was upset because she didn't fit into the size that she wanted to be. After a few minutes of this, her father (exasperated) told her: "Don't worry about the size, worry about the fit. That's all that matters."

To put it mildly, I was impressed by his words.

For the rest of the night I juxtaposed the situations of those two girls in my mind and imagined how the conversations that they had with their family members would shape their body image for years to come. 

My friend, Alayna sent me a link to one of her recent blog posts (<---- click this link to check it out) and I've thought a lot about it while writing this one of my own. 

As women, we tend to separate the world into "right" and "wrong" body types. Often times, we also tend to see ourselves on the "wrong" side of the spectrum, rather than the "right". We see our bodies as a project, rather than the gift that they are. Personally, I think I first started to become acutely aware of my body around the same age as Melissa (see link). Middle school seems to be the time when your life is placed under a magnifying glass of social pressures. We become more aware of those around us and our standing among them. We feel the desire to conform and be liked more than ever. It's instinctive and universal. It's life. As a result, we look towards those closest to us for advice and sources of imitation. 

The other day I was talking with my mom about my own personal issues with my body and self-esteem. Ultimately, we concluded that how we see ourselves is often shaped by those around us for better or worse and that it's up to us to shape how the next generation sees themselves. I think this is why I feel the need to emphasize that we need to  watch what we say about ourselves around those younger than us...this particularly applies to mothers. As humans, we learn by example and it is my belief that negative body image is passed down from mother to daughter and sister to sister. 

Over the past few months I've been asking myself how we, as a society, can ever end this terrible plague of negative body image, and I think I've found my answer. 

In order to change our society, we need to change our homes, our parenting, and ourselves. 

Emily Dickinson

I had grand plans of writing a super inspiring post, but the ideas I had for that have disappeared with the day (I blame the two year olds I watched for 8 hours straight today).

Have I ever mentioned how much I adore the works of Emily Dickinson?

About a year ago I went to a library sale and bought a huge book of her "Collected Poems" and since then, it's been my constant companion through times both good, and bad.

This morning I woke up at 5:00am with a stuffy nose, a cough, high blood sugar, and the inability to fall back asleep. Deciding to make the best of my time, I ran out to my car and dug through my trunk to find Emily among the remnants of my freshman year of college.

For two hours I sat in my bed reading poem after poem and scribbling illegible notes in the margins of the pages. This is probably going to sound super dramatic, but I found myself in her words. She captures the human experience so well and with a clarity that is hard to find even in one's own thoughts.

As I re-read over the poems that once influenced me so deeply during the epoch of my eating disorders, I realized that their meanings were temporary and pliable--as all good literature should be.

One poem in particular keeps running through my head:

Pain has an element of blank;

it cannot recollect

when it began, or if there were

A day when it was not.

It has no future but itself,

Its infinite realms contain

Its past, enlightened to perceive

New periods of pain.

Isn't it interesting how we tend to get tunnel vision during times of trial, or as Emily puts it, pain? I can specifically remember reading this poem and nodding my head in agreement as I read each stanza with tears running down my face. During those times I couldn't see a future without my life being ruled by eating or a past when I was free from the dictates of those disorders.

But now I am as you see me, no harm done.

Our share of night to bear,

Our share of morning,

Our blank in bliss to fill,

Our blank in scorning.

Here a star, and there a star,

Some lose their way.

Here a mist, and there a mist,

Afterwards--Day!

I've learned that change comes slowly, and we usually only receive brief glimpses of the progress that has taken place.

For instance, a few weeks ago I ordered a size Medium top online with the hope that it would fit. When the package arrived today, I rushed to try it on (And in my excitement I dropped the shirt in the toilet...). As I held the shirt in my hands, I knew that it was too small for me--despite the fact that it was the "right" size (One thing that I've learned--while having my self-esteem tested during clothing shopping, is that different stores have different measurements for general sizes...you could be a 10 at one store and a 14 at another...it's definitely a marketing conspiracy...). Although I was disappointed, I wasn't hurt by the fact that I was larger than what I thought I should be.

I even gave the shirt to my older sister (who is much smaller than I am...it was a definite sensitive topic a few years back) and I wasn't upset by that either.

As usual, I think I've lost myself in my thought process....definitely took a detour with that story....

Anyways, I guess what I'm trying to say is that after reading 100+ pages of poetry this morning, I've realized that I'm different from the individual that read those same pages only a few short years ago.

Read, sweet, how others strove,

Till we are stouter;

What they renounced,

Till we are less afraid;

Side note:

I just noticed that there's a quote above the computer here at Aspen Grove that I've been staring at for the past few blog posts. 

It says, "It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves."

Food for thought.

Also, it goes well with my "Aspen Grove" post a few weeks back.

2013: A Year in Review

A new year symbolizes a new start and a rebirth. It can be used as a marker of progress made and motivation to continue on in various endeavors.

A year ago today I was suicidal and depressed. I had lost all hope for recovery and my future seemed bleak. My relationship with my parents was strained and I was a living lie to all of my friends. I was constantly masking my feelings and trials, hoping for a better day that I feared would never come. I was isolated and alone, my soul shrouded in constant, endless night.

I had to see a therapist every week in order to better grab hold of the reality surrounding me. Every appointment was primed by tears and filled with sorrow. I would talk about the hatred I held for my sisters and the loathing of my mother. I would cry over the fate I had been given and the misunderstandings of the world. I would empty my heart to a complete stranger.

I would constantly check out of school or be late to classes with the excuse that, "I didn't feel well". I was telling the truth, but my sickness was caused by chemical imbalances, actions taken, and overwhelming insecurities--not physical illness or Diabetes. I stopped participating in activities that once brought me joy. I purged in secret at home and in public; as a result, my eyes became bloodshot and my skin sallow.  I wore baggy clothes and pretended not to care about my appearance. In reality, I was trying to hide my body from my own scrutiny and that of others.

I went to San Francisco, had some fun. I binged on my roommates foods while they were gone. I cried on the hotel balcony for what seemed like hours. Slowly I gave up on my schooling, friends, and life. Since I didn't trust myself, I wouldn't trust anyone else.

Through my therapist, I was able to meet a doctor who specialized in eating disorders. He gave me hope, medication and valuable advice. Since then, my problems have been far from gone, but at least they're diminishing slowly, one by one. I began my first semester of college in June and the impossible started to become a possibility. The control held by my eating disorder started to dissolve, food became less of a burden and I could finally stand tall. Despite progress made, my insecurities remained (and I'm sure they'll never completely go away). I avoided pictures and mirrors;  I restrained from being myself. I did meet a dear friend though, and because of her I started to live again.

In 365 days I have become a person that I never thought I would ever be. I still get sad, I still slip up, but at least now I love who I am and appreciate where I've been.

I've learned that life should measured by the trials we have endured and risen above. I could look back at this past year and see myself as a victim, but rather, I choose to see how I became empowered by my experiences.

I am strong, but not unbreakable.

Here's to the end 2013, and the dawn of 2014.
It's a new year "with no mistakes in it yet".

A Grateful Heart

As I was walking from class today a thought crossed my mind; someone at this moment could be wishing to have my life in order to escape theirs. What right do I have to complain about a healthy, functional body when there are some who cannot walk or move. What right do I have to complain about seeing myself in the mirror when there are those who cannot see. Who am I to put my trials above those of an abused or orphaned child? 

Much like Christ we all have our crosses to bear. No individual goes throughout life without becoming chipped or broken a few times...some more than others. 

During the beginning of my disorder, I was able to serve as a mentor in a Special Needs Mutual group. This experience helped me look outside of myself and my trials. My friend, Jenae, taught me that happiness is essential to endurance and that love should always be given freely. No trial is too large and no burden is too heavy. Despite her physical situation, she was always concerned about those around her. She loved to smiling, chocolate and country music. She lived her life and made sure that everyone else enjoyed theirs. Surely she must have seen her fair share of sadness in life, but she didn't let it dictate her existence. I can't begin to say how much her hugs and smiles held me together during that time. Her strength strengthened me. 

I owe my outlook on life to my mother. 

From when I was diagnosed with Diabetes, didn't make the cut for my high school soccer team, and when I felt like I didn't have a friend in the world, she was always there. Although annoying at times, she was always quick to remind me that "life could be worse". As I've grown up, I now appreciate her words and understand them; after all, she hasn't lived a perfect life either.

Life really isn't what we make it, but what we make of it. 

Prayers

Yesterday I talked to girls from my church young women's group about my eating disorder. I tried to emphasize just how grateful I was for this trial in my life. Of course, during the middle of this disorder I couldn't find anything to be grateful for in my life; afterall,  I hated myself, my parents, and my God. I realize now that I was able to survive this ordeal because I tried to focus on the future, rather than the present. Nothing lasts forever and a bright morning will always follow our darkest nights.

I remember during this time I said some of my strongest and most powerful prayers. Despite my anger towards God, I never wanted to turn my back on Him. I knew He was my salvation. I can remember instances when I would cry myself to sleep and feel a physical hand upon my shoulder. The warmth that came from that hand was beyond expression, I knew someone was there.

I used to go to the temples in my hometown and cry to God for help. I felt him the strongest there, and as a result, I often found myself in earnest conversations with the Lord. At times, I could feel His direct responses to my questions and worries. While I was there, I never felt alone or misunderstood. 

 

Although no specific instance caused me to turn from this disorder, or immediately become healed, I felt as if they were my stepping stones to recovery and resurrection of testimony.

I can testify that my prayers were answered throughout this trial. The answers, of course, came in the Lord's time not my own, but answers did come. God always gave me options and inspiration. I knew that He wanted me to heal more so than I wanted to become healed myself. 

I guess the big idea that I'm trying to share is that during our time on earth, we feel abandoned and alone at many moments throughout our lives. Sometimes our trials seem too heavy to carry and often misunderstood by those around us. I want to bear my testimony that we never walk alone and that no human has ever walked alone upon the face of this earth. 

Jesus Christ and our Father in Heaven are always walking beside us.

Christ had to walk alone during his tenure on earth, and personally, I don't think he wants anyone to feel as alone as He did while walking the hill to Calvary with a cross upon His back. 

He loves us, He knows us, and He is more than willing to save us. 

Support

Gosh, I can't believe how much love I've been able to feel today. For years I was scared to tell anyone about what I was going through, I was ashamed of myself and embarrassed at who I had let myself become.

I guess I just didn't want people to see me as an eating disorder, rather than a person.  I didn't want to become a rumor or a charity case.

I've decided that my high school years were an almost impossible time to be myself, it's almost like a social prison. I didn't want my past to be stamped on my forehead until I graduated and I didn't want to become a prisoner to my peers.

 College is seriously the best, its a fresh start, a clean slate.

I want to take the time to thank my high school friends for all that they've done for me. Most of them probably had no idea how much they raised me up and gave me a reason to keep living. All of them reminded me that I wasn't alone.

My dad once told me the successful in life surround themselves with the best people. I know the main reason I was able to heal was because I was truly surrounded by the best people during one of the hardest times in my life.

I know my trial is far from over, but at least now I know that my eating disorder doesn't define who I am.

However, my friends do.

Bumps

Today was another hard day.

This morning I attended Stake Conference and really felt inspired by something a speaker said. It was somewhere along the lines of reading your scriptures and praying daily better protects you from sin or temptation.

I tried it, and my afternoon initially went fairly well. I started to fall apart as I became stressed out about studying for a big test I'm taking in a few days. I had forgotten what I had just barely learned.

I binged big time. I took food from my storage room like peanut butter, jam and cookie mix. I ate them. I feel sick.

I think I can handle tomorrow now though. I know what to look out for. Plus, I'm going to be really busy with work, studying, and helping my brother with his homework.

I know I can do this. I stopped bingeing and having pop for an entire two weeks before falling back into a slump. I think exercising and drawing help me manage my depression, while chewing gum and staying downstairs helps me resist cravings.

I think I'm going to set a time limit on how long I have to chew a piece of gum or stay downstairs. That might help me manage my mealtimes and snacks.

I just wish my family was around more for meals. I think it would help me a lot to have people to eat with and to peer pressure me out of overeating.

I also think that I need to stop holding on to the past. The past three days I've struggled with depression, and bitter feelings towards my mom.

As corny as this must sound, I've been finding inspiration in all sorts of things lately. Tonight, for example, I watched The Lion King on ABC Family. One part really stuck out to me:

Simba: I know what I have to do. But going back means I'll have to face my past. I've been running from it for so long.
[Rafiki hits Simba on the head with his stick]
Simba: Ow! Jeez, what was that for?
Rafiki: It doesn't matter. It's in the past.
Simba: Yeah, but it still hurts.
Rafiki: Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the from way I see it, you can either run from it, or... learn from it.
[swings his stick again at Simba, who ducks out of the way]
Rafiki: Ha. You see? So what are you going to do?

What am I going to do?

Try to follow these wise words, from a wise monkey.

Like Simba said:

I finally got some sense knocked into me. And I've got the bump to prove it.

Alyson Wonderland

I'm not really sure what happened today.

I guess part of my problem was that I stayed upstairs to help my brother with his homework when I should have gone to my room.

I definitely ate more than I should have. I ate a ton from 4:00pm-5:00pm. Then snacked on cheese until I had dinner at 6:00pm. Then I went to a church activity, came home, and ate more. Now I'm about to go to bed and I feel disgusting.

I know I'll just have to pick myself back up tomorrow, but I can't believe I let myself fall back into old habits. I also had two diet sodas today too.

Another broken goal.

I think I just gave up after I realized what I had done. I don't feel very well so I'm not going to exercise tonight either.

I feel fatter. Not just from the food, but I can tell I'm gaining weight.

My skin feels like the red snowsuit from "The Christmas Story".
Instead of padding, I have thick layers of fat.

I can't move very well, and I feel claustrophobic.
I waddle everywhere.
I'm truly uncomfortable in my own skin.

When I was younger, a girl in my neighborhood bullied me for some reason I can't remember. In reality,  she probably was trying to find some justice on behalf of her brother, but childish remarks are always thought the cruelest during childhood.

She would call me, "Alyson-Wonderland" every time she saw me. For years after, I hated Alice and her "wonder"land.

I've been reading "The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland" by Lewis Carroll for the past couple of days. I actually really like it. I love that Carroll was able to mock the false rationalism that makes up personal thought processes and find humor in the absurdity that we call musings. In a sense, he expresses the fact that we always believe ourselves to sound rather respectable when talking within heads, but in reality, our sense is often not very sensible. It's a book that makes you think about how you think.

A quote from the book reminds me of my situation.

" 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!"

"...I'll stay down here! It'll be no use their putting their heads down and saying 'Come up again, dear!' I shall only look up and say 'Who am I, then? Tell me that first, and if I like being that person, I'll come up: if not, I'll stay down here until I'm somebody else'--but oh dear!" cried Alice, with a sudden burst of tears, "I do wish they would put their heads down! I am so very tired of being all alone here!"

I used to think that I knew who I was, but this eating disorder has changed me.

Family and friends have tried to pull me out of my own "rabbit hole", but staying trapped with my thoughts is almost easier than facing reality. 

I wish I was my old self. I liked her, a lot. 

She was thin, fit, smart and witty. 

Fashionable, outgoing, confident, and flirty.

Boys liked her, and she liked herself.

But, I guess I'm going to stay down here with Alice until I become that somebody else again. 

I wish those around me would try and put their heads down too. 

It's always nice to have your struggles acknowledged.
To be asked if you're okay.

To have someone hear your silent tears. 

I am so tired of being all alone. 

 

Evil

Normally I wouldn't expect going to the temple to be a stressful event.

Boy was I sure proven wrong.

I can't help but wonder if my temptations to binge, and stress were magnified because I was going to finish up some family names...and someone didn't want me to go.

Either way, I did binge.

But, why?

Teen Troubles

I was flipping through the channels today and came across a show on Lifetime called, "Teen Trouble". On the show, Josh Shipp, a teen behavior expert, tries to help teens overcome their drug addictions, or harmful behaviors. The episode I happened to watch was about a girl in California named Ashley, and she was addicted to meth, heroine, and other substances.

When Josh met with her, he said that we all know that addictive behaviors are destructive, but at least they feel familiar to us. Change is scary. He then went on to say when Ashley changes, she is the hero. It's her life at stake, and when she turns it around, she is the one to be celebrated. She was fighting the hardest battle of her life.

As I heard Ashley talk about her experience with addiction, I couldn't help but hear myself in her voice. Although our addictions are totally different, the emotions, and motions are similar. She said that once she started using, she felt like her soul just left and everything just kept getting worse. She felt worthless, and that made her use more. Josh went on to say that once she realized her value she would naturally want to protect herself. From drugs, abuse, and self-defeating thoughts. 

From the moment I started watching the show, I couldn't help but think back to my first visit to the FUN clinic with my mom. Ashley's mom acted almost exactly as my mom did. I guess I've resented my mom for the longest time for how she has treated me, and thought of me since learning of my addiction. She was never adequate enough for what I thought were my needs, and ignorant of how she talked of me to others. She didn't understand anything. She always turned the conversation back to her needs rather than mine at clinic visits, it seemed selfish to me. Just like a few weeks ago when she told my therapist that the reason why I still binged was because individually I didn't follow through on things. I hated her for how she acted. 

After watching Ashley's mom, I realized now that my mom felt just as much a victim as I did. I also realize though why my mom upset me so much. Josh told her that because she felt like a victim she couldn't resist fighting back when Ashley "attacked", but she was just putting gas on a fire, making things worse. She needed to spend less time arguing with her, and more time helping her. To not rage, but to disengage. I can't tell you how many times I wished my mom would have done this.  I felt disappointed if she wasn't calm or collected when I had a mental breakdown, which often angered me even more. I was emotionally raw, why couldn't she realize that?

 I'm not trying to pin myself as her victim, but I think that my addiction victimized both of us. She felt like she was trying to save herself from drowning, but forgot that I was drowning next her (and vice-versa). Ashley's mom went on to say that she felt betrayed by her daughter, and was hurt. 

It's funny to watch Ashley as she reacted to the consequences of her actions, she went from enraged to humble in thirty minutes. The same would happen to me. But she did need space when she was "flipping out", and Josh said it perfectly, "the best thing you can do...is give them space". Heck, I can't tell you how many times I wished that my mom would just let me calm down on my own, let me get back to a rational level of thinking. 

Ashley said that she should be able to do anything to get her life back, herself back. I've thought the same thing so many times throughout the past two years. I guess I lost faith in myself and those around me. She also said that she used to try and keep her past life "private", she didn't want anyone to see what she had been doing, she would put up a wall so that no one could hurt her.  I've felt the exact same way. She struggled with the fact that her dad was distance physically, and I guess I've always struggled with my dad being distant emotionally. 

Ashley also relapsed, but she didn't give up. For a period of my life, I had given up after my first relapse. I still feel defeated whenever I fall back into old habits. I've relapsed four times, and each time is just as hard as the last. 

I'm not going to give up though...I hope.

Setbacks.

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.

Emotional.

"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.

Sugars.

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. 

Faith...

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.