Sunday, June 26, 2011

June 25th in retrospect... Whoa! I still can't believe I survived it!

So… It has been a very long and draining day…

I went home to talk with my parents today… I was so nervous about how to talk to them and how to share with them what I needed to… I have been praying about it for days… I prayed the whole way home and then covered the conversation in prayer yet again right before I opened my mouth… WHOA! It was a very long conversation! Four hours!

Honestly, facing the conversation with them was possibly the hardest thing I have ever done! Seriously! I never imagined I would make it through! I definitely never imagined I would be as vulnerable and honest as I was today… Never! It was intense! I have spent my whole life constructing a perfectly tailored glass house around me when I am with them… Protected by its walls… Hidden beneath myriad masks… More with them than with anyone else… I have always tried to protect them and shield them from harm and from worry or concern for me… I have always tried to be strong… However, I have realized that the walls of my glass house and my many masks have never really protected anyone… Today, that glass house shattered into many pieces... Things came out of me that I had no idea were still in me or were in me at all! My parents saw the very imperfect and broken side of their daughter who has always portrayed the image of being well-composed and put together... There was much bad and ugly shared today... There were many hard words spoken and received today...

I started off by telling my parents that I had gone to the ER yesterday to get fluids and some potassium and that my counselor and I had been looking at the option of me going IP (inpatient) for a little while… I remained rather calm as I mentioned this to them…

However, as we began talking about the financial side of all of this, the conversation heated up… I mean really! It heated up! So much came out… After my mom said that she was willing to do whatever she needed to do in order to try and take over a bulk of the expense, Tim said something that triggered some very unpleasant stuff that was not pretty… He said that he (they) would be willing to help pay this time, but that it better work this time! That it better be the last time! Immense rage built up within me, and all I wanted to do was storm out of the room, get in my car and drive away! However, I tried to sit in the feeling for a moment, and then I spoke up… I told him that I would be more than happy to deny his help and take out a loan from the bank if it was going to come with such a condition! I told him that I would love more than anything to promise him that I would never need this kind of help again, but that I couldn’t. I told him that I hoped that I would be able to fight well enough to never have to be at this place again, but that I couldn’t promise him that and that what he had just told me only put the standard of perfection on me to a higher degree! As I was saying all of this, a great analogy came to me… I asked him that if I were diagnosed with leukemia or some strain of cancer and needed a bone marrow transplant, if he would look at me and tell me that he would help to cover the expenses of the bone marrow transplant I needed this time, but if the cancer came back, he would not be willing to help out? He said no! Little did I know what was about to come out…

He then said something that lit the fire even more… I mean I thought that I was fired up… He said that I knew what I was doing! That I had chosen this! That there was an obvious goal that did not lead to a good end! But mainly that I had chosen to be anorexic/bulimic – that I had chosen to have an eating disorder! Oh dear! I still can’t believe what happened next! The feelings and rage and pressure that rose up in me was what I usually feel when I am seeking the ultimate release… All I could think about in that moment was cutting… All I could think of was clenching my fists and punching something… My teeth were clenched tight, and I had such internal discord… I had an empty coffee mug in my hand, and I almost threw it, but I tried to resist… Tim said, “Don’t you dare!” I tried to resist it, but I couldn’t I stood up from my chair and the mug flew across the room… Then began the greatest human explosion I have ever had and possibly ever witnessed… I looked at him and I was soooooooooo angry and so hurt... I tried to speak, but all I could get out was, “I didn’t choose… I didn’t choose… I didn’t choose…” He said, “Just say it!” I had so much going on in my head and so many feelings rising up within me… I literally thought I was going to lose it entirely and run out of the room and just escape it all! However, I tried to put some set of thoughts together in my mind in oder to express what I needed to say… Somehow I managed to get out, “I didn’t choose to live in this constant torment and daily hell… I didn’t choose to be so plagued by this voice that constantly bosses me around and beats me up and torments my mind… I didn’t choose to be controlled by this… I didn’t choose to have this illness, this disease, that has taken over my life… No one just decides to get an eating disorder just like no one decides to get cancer…” I was enraged… I continued, “You don’t understand… You just don’t get it…” He was enraged too… He looked at me and still was convinced that it was my choice to have an eating disorder, that one day I woke up and said that I want to be anorexic/bulimic and then ran after it with everything in me… He said, “And don’t tell me that I don’t understand… I see you and I see that you have a goal… I don’t know what it is... But the end is not a good one…” I couldn’t take it anymore! I was losing it!

I never imagined that what came out of me next would have ever come out of me… I just started to spill my guts… This is when the glass house really started to shatter, when the masks all fell by the waste side. I began by saying once more that no one chooses to have an eating disorder but that it is a progressive disease that takes over little by little and that ED’s voice takes over more and more… As I was saying that, he asked, “What would make someone have this? Especially someone like you who has love and support around you?” It was then that things came out of me that I never imagined I would share with them… I began to call out different root issues that have been coming up during counseling… I talked about how over the years I have taken on the responsibility to be the strong one and to have it altogether, to never show my sadness or feelings, to always cover everything up with a smile because so many people look to me to be strong and perfect… I told him that I took on this role more than ever when my dad killed himself… I told him that I remember when he had to come to find my mom and me and tell us that my dad had tried to kill himself… I told him that I was so angry when my dad killed himself… I told him that I was so angry that he chose alcohol over me, that I was so upset when he decided that I he didn’t want to see me any more… I told him that I was so mad that he got to die and I had to live and suffer the torment of all of the hell that he had put me through… I didn’t even cry when he died and refused to go to his funeral because he didn’t deserve me to honor him… I was screaming most of this at the top of my lungs… I told him that I endured so much during my younger years and was so afraid of how my dad would react that I tried never to cause any problems, that I just tried to be the perfect little angel and goody two shoes so I could try and steer clear from his rage…

I continued by calling my mom out on something that I’m sure she never realized I had hung onto… I said that she probably didn’t remember that she had said to my best friend’s mom when I was in elementary school that she had always dreamed of having a little and petite, blonde girl… I surely wasn’t that… I was the overweight, big-boned, brown, curly-headed girl… I then said that my dad didn’t want to see me anymore and that mom wanted a petite, blonde girl, and somehow it translated into so much self-hate and self-rejection and believing that all I wanted to do was disappear and not have to deal with it all anymore…

I continued to point out several other things that have affected me and fostered such self-disgust and believing that I wasn’t ever good enough like I was… I told him that I grew up watching my mom tear herself to shreds in front of the mirror, constantly condemning herself… I said that there were many seasons when I was around her same size… That what she said about herself only confirmed that I was fat and that I wasn’t acceptable as I was… That it only reinforced the stuff kids said to me at school and the inferiority I felt when I couldn’t share clothes with my friends… I told him that I had believed that I wasn’t good enough like I was… I told him that not feeling good enough or okay how I was had only been reinforced further when mom put me on Weight Watchers with her… I told him that at that time, it became more about a number and more about my weight and my appearance… More than ever before…

I also chose to let myself confront something that he had threatened me with throughout my high school years. I told him that one reason I haven’t washed my car as much as I should since I have been on my own is because I never felt like I did it good enough anyway… I told him that when he would continually threaten to mess up the wires of my car so it wouldn’t start if I didn’t wash my car often enough was something that I let convince me that I wasn’t good enough or perfect enough.

I told him that the feeling to be the strong one got even stronger when granny died… That for many years she had been more of a mom to me than my mom was able to be… I told him that felt like I had to take over the role that granny had played in the family because everyone always came to me for support… I didn’t even let myself cry when she died because I just put on a joyful face to help to protect others… To be strong for everyone else… I told him that I especially felt like I had to be strong for my mom over the years and that I always wanted to make sure she was ok…

I also started to tell him that somehow over the years, starting from an age before I could even really remember, I learned that my needs were not going to be met… I told him about a time that my dad threatened to kill my mom and himself and leave me behind until someone came to find me… I told him that even though this happened when I was very young that I was convinced that my needs didn’t matter, that I didn’t matter, that my life didn’t matter… I told him about a memory that came up the other day as I was processing why I don’t need… Why I hate to need people or to need help or to need anything for that matter… I told him about a time when I was a little girl, when I sitting on the floor in my bedroom with the door closed, playing with my barbies, that while I was in there, I heard my parents fighting outside of the door, and that somehow subconsciously I realized that I didn’t matter and that my needs didn’t matter, that I was always overlooked… Somehow I realized that there was not time for my needs to be tended to. I told him that from an early age somehow I learned to deny my needs and suppress them and negate that I had any because I knew there was no one who would meet them… I told him that I somehow became focused on recognizing the needs of everyone around me and trying to do whatever I could to meet them and to be whatever they needed me to be, yet all the while never recognizing that I had needs too… I told him that there was also some tie to an invincibility factor and of feeling super-human, something that convinced me that “said” things would never affect me, that I was somehow different than the norm and that I didn’t require what others did… That I would just have to be strong and trudge along the road alone!

As I told him all of this, he and my mom were both in tears and balling on the couch… As I continued to spill my guts and be more transparent and real than I have ever been before, Tim got up and rushed over to me and held me in his arms… I was overwhelmed with more emotion as he did that… I knew that it had taken so much out of him to do that… All he could get out was, “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry!” It wouldn’t have mattered if he hadn’t been able to get out even those few words because I could feel the sincerity of love in his hug… I could feel that he was sorry and that he regretted saying what he had said…

As he sat back down and as I continued to tell them that I have been fighting with every ounce of me to try and conquer my eating disorder over the past eight weeks, that this has been the hardest and most intense fight of my life. I told them that I have been trying to let my treatment team and support system try and help me work through the process… I told them that I had started to make some progress initially, but then my body started having a harder time putting up with what I was trying to put in it, and that it became harder to keep fighting… I told them that I was mentally, emotionally, and physically drained… I told them that I also needed to try and trust the judgment of my counselor because I wasn’t able to think that rationally and clearly right now… I told them that I had been given an ultimatum of sorts over the past week to try and get in the minimum level of my intake or that we would look at going IP… I told him that I had tried, that I had been trying to let God’s strength rise up on the inside of me and fight the battle for me… I told him that I was just so tired and that I was realizing that I needed a little help… I was realizing that as I tried to bulldog through the past few days and get nutrients in me, I really did need a little extra help right now, that my responses and reactions were not rational ones and that I need to let someone else help take over for a little while… I told him that I was realizing that this is what I needed in order to make it over this hump in my journey to recovery.

I told him that I had passion and zeal for life… That I was optimistic about the future… That I knew my life had a purpose… That I was excited about the teaching position I got… I told him that I wouldn’t make it to those things though if I didn’t stop and let someone intervene for a little while… I told him that what my counselor and I had talked about was going IP for a week or so to have nutrients given to me, so my mind and body could be restored some and built up, so I could keep fighting and be able press on… I told him that I was having to battle the lies that were convincing me that I really don’t need the extra help right now… I told him what one of my friends told me, one of my friends who has walked through a very similar place in her own life, that it is our pride that oftentimes keeps us sick… That it is when we can’t admit that we really need help, that pride wins and keeps us sicker for a longer period of time… I told him that I was having to try and believe that going IP wasn’t punishment, that it didn’t mean that I have failed, that it didn’t mean that I was weak… But, on the contrary, that it means that I am strong, courageous, and brave… That I am willing to admit that I recognize the value of my life and that it isn’t that I want to give up fighting or give up on the fight for my life, but rather, that I need a little help trying to fight for it and save it right now… I told him that I was trying to believe that going IP right now doesn’t shame me, but rather that it humbles me as I have to admit that I can’t do it ALL alone… I told him that I am trying to believe that what I heard in a conference earlier this year is true… That going back to treatment isn’t a setback but rather a tool that can be used as a catalyst to propel onward on my journey to recovery… I told him that I was trying to believe that what my friend told me was true, that this was what I have to do in order to save my life right now…

As I told them that it was what I needed to do in order to save my life right now, I confessed that I still never have believed that my eating disorder would take my life… I told them that I have never been able to comprehend that it would ever get the best of me… I told them that I believe that I am invincible, that nothing will ever happen to me… As I told them this, I told them that I had lost one of my friends to her eating disorder while I was in Guatemala, and that for a solid week and a half, I couldn’t lose the image of seeing her in a casket… I told them that it had been the first time I had been faced with the reality of my disease and my illness…

As I started to calm down after getting all of this stuff out of me, I shared more about my struggle to perform and build up such a perfect image… I told him about all of the things I have felt were expected from me over the years, how others have such an image of me that makes me feel like I have no room for error or mistake or weakness… I told him that I had spent my whole life trying to construct a perfectly tailored façade so that others wouldn’t see what was really going on in me… I told him that as I convinced everyone around me that I was always fine and okay that I had also subconsciously deceived myself and blinded myself to the reality of my illness… I told him that this was the first time that I have ever been willing to really stand up and put up a fight, that it is the first time that I have been willing to go this deep… I told him that the journey ahead of me was long and that it wasn’t certain… I told him that every eating disorder needs slightly different treatment because each one is individually caused based upon myriad factors…

I told my parents that I was willing to press on, that there have been many times and will still be many times that I just want to throw in the towel and escape it all, but that I know deep down there is too much at stake for me to do that… I told them that I know how it feels when someone takes that option and makes that choice… I told them that I had been deceived into taking blame for my own dad’s suicide too… That if I had been better, that if I would have tried harder, that if had been prettier, he wouldn’t have killed himself… I told them I knew that checking out on life was NOT an option! I told them that I know right now God is saving my life and teaching me how to take care of me, how to recognize my own needs, teaching me who I am, giving me my voice back, teaching me how to be, so that one day I will be able to minister to other girls and women who are fighting the same battle for their own lives… I told them that over the past several weeks, the only reason I had been able to press on and show up each day was because of the Lord… That He was my ONLY HOPE! I told them that my heart was breaking for all of the girls and women who don’t know Him and are trying to fight this disease… I told them that even with knowing God and having Jesus as my Lord and Savior, I still tried to take my life at one time about five years ago, that I had many plans to end my life, but that somehow God always spared me… I told them that my counselor told me that she saw a fighter in me… I told them that I wasn’t giving up on the fight but that I needed someone else to take the reigns for a little while, so I can be strengthened enough mentally, emotionally, and physically to press on…

As I stopped talking, and as we all started drying our tears after some very intense and heavy discussion, Tim looked at me, and he said, “Girl, that took guts! Girl, that took courage! What you just did, saying that you need some extra help and admitting all of that, it took some major guts! I am proud of you!” Wow! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing… My mom then looked at me, and with tears in her eyes, she said that she wanted to try and do whatever they could financially to help me get through this point on my journey, that she would have to see what they could do, that they would have to discuss it, but that I didn’t have to let the financial side of it all overtake me right now… That somehow God would make a way for them to help and even for me to trust Him financially to provide… My mom also told me that Tim needed to see me fall apart like that because he has only ever seen me hide beneath a happy face… She told me that it was good for them to see what was really going on in me… She told me that I didn’t need to feel like I couldn’t come to them and be real with them. She told me that the door was always open, and that their love for me was no different. They told me that we would get through this – as a family… They said that they supported my decision and were proud of me…

I told them that my mentor already told me that she would take me to the hospital in Dallas and it wasn’t that I wanted to cut them out or push them away, but that it was the best decision for right now… They were open-minded about that, and they actually said they were relieved to know that she would take me…

As we finished our conversation, seriously, like four hours later, I felt relief. I know they did too! I will admit that the way the conversation took shape and how it came forth was not how I had imagined or rehearsed in my head. I never in a million years would have thought I would have become so vulnerable – so real and honest, so unmasked – especially with them! I couldn’t believe what all I had just shared with them… I couldn’t believe how honest I had been… I don’t think I have ever been that vulnerable and real ever! No, I know so! I never have let my guard down like I did when I was talking to them! Never! Never thought I would either! Like I said, I was surprised by what all came out of me… I had no idea all of that was in me! I know there is more in me that will have to come out too, but whoa! I am still processing all that went down! I think I will be processing it for a while! I will admit that I believe what I stood up to and faced today in the conversation with my parents was possibly the biggest positive step I could have taken on my road to recovery! I never imagined I would have done it, but I honestly feel so relieved that I did! Phew! I made it! I survived it!

As I said before, the way the conversation took shape was not what I had thought, but in the end the result was a feeling of relief. The feeling of relief was not just felt by me, but by all of us!

I do believe that the prayers that were prayed on behalf of me and on behalf of this conversation were honored! Still many unknowns await, but I am glad this step is over!

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