You're not a number!!!

Today, I wanted to jump on the scale and see what I was today for a weight; a number (luckily I don't own one)!!! How many times a day do you obsess about your weight? Maybe it is never, but to someone who has a monkey on their back called E.D. (eating disorder) there seems to be no rest for the weary.

The refeeding process can be so overwhelming. You go from a size XX to a size XX in a couple of months. It is not about how healthy you have become, but the number that appears on that scale or a new pair of jeans you have to buy. The constant feeling of bloating and disgust. The feeling that everyone is staring at you in utter hatred. It all seems so overwhelming in the moment, but it is an illusion of the mind.

I have talked about "facing out" at the doctor's office before but I have not explained what it means. Well, it is when you go to your doctor's office and turn your back away from the scale instead of facing it and seeing "the number!" It's letting go of control for me. I may have to cut numbers out of my pants and shorts so, I don't dwell in the morning about my size and shape, but I know I am beautiful just the way I am.

Remember you too are not a number!!!

-A.N.T.

It's not your fault!!!

Waking up every day thinking it's your fault. The thought of, "I must of done something wrong to have provoked people." "What is wrong with me," droning in my head on repeat. A broken record spinning out of control echoing, "you are evil." The thoughts of shame, disgust, guilt, and horror trembling through my veins in a circular motion. The disbelieve in the truth; the hard facts of abuse.

Time and time again, my memory fails me. The events of my past are nothing but a blur, an empty space in time. To feel like a liar, an attention-getter is a lonely feeling. I was so quick to find solitude in anything such as exercising and my eating disorder at a young age. The feelings of being high were intense while engaging in unhealthy coping skills. I never had to think of my past, nor deal with all the pain. I was a perfectionist in all I did. Life was grand, so I thought. Life began to fall apart in my early twenties with ED (eating disorder). I was slowly killing myself with defeat. I was a brittle, frail, vulnerable child stuck in an adult body. My mind was going to incomprehensible extremes of dieting and exercising. I was wasting away rapidly.

I was in California at the time, when I became very sick. I remember stepping off the airplane when I landed in Boston, and seeing my parents face of terror while they looked at the skeleton of their daughter. I was waving to them like strangers, as if they never recognized me. It took me a few more agonizing months to finally seek help. Finally, six months in the hospital, six months at Laurel Hill Inn, and then an intensive out-patient program for months to follow, began my road to recovery. It was at the hospital that I first heard those daunting words, "It's not your fault," but I was to numbed out to even consider it. There had to be reasons that had to do with my character flaws. I felt trapped, alone inside.

Today, a dear friend gave me a book called, "The Courage to Heal: A guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse" by Ellen Bass and Laura Davis. Hesitantly, I reached out my sweaty palms and grasped onto the book. I began to thumb through the pages, turning my attention to the chapter entitled: Understanding That  It Wasn't Your Fault. The headline shattered through my bones and rocked my chair. I was a deer in headlights. There is no way of explaining the sheer terror that one feels when their thought pattern is put to the test. My eyes were filling with tears of disbelief and disgust at the same time. My mind was trying to grasp the idea with hesitance. My instincts went into overdrive. I wanted to exercise, call myself fat, and belittle myself to nothing. I knew this was ED trying to control the situation. I took a deep breath, put the book down, and reflected on the hard facts, "It's not my fault!"

I started questioning everything. If it's not my fault, then who's is it? Why do people do bad things? What did I do wrong? Maybe I deserved all this suffering, but did I? No, no one does is the answer. Feeling trapped inside yourself is a lonely world. Knowing the hard facts can lead to a free soul. Today, WE SHALL NOT BLAME ourselves for our suffering. Hold your head high, and be proud of the person you are!!!

-A.N.T.

Obstacle Courses...

The cones are equally spaced apart, the gun fires, and off I go into the sunlight. My body pivoting between each cone with beads of sweat dripping down my face, as I run towards the finish line. It seems so far away at first. I keep moving at lightening speed (so I think) as I approach the end of another course in life.

Lately, life has been a little rocky with lack of direction. My world has turned upside down onto its side without a gun fired for warning that it has begun to become a muck.  Each cone on my course is representing a decision in life I must make. The unknown to my future at the fingertips of my sweaty palms as I turn around each cone.

In reflection, I realized that my life may seem chaotic presently. I am out of control in the sense that life decisions have emerged into my life's journey. Not for a second, can I say that E.D. has steered me on my course. I can proudly say that my actions and emotions are from within my own heart.

Thank you to all for the extra support and words of wisdom :)

-A.N.T.

Tragedy

When tragedy strikes close to home, people tend to join together to hold each other up. Recently, Boston was devastated by ruthless people who felt the need to destroy an happy event.

I can't understand how people would hurt other people. I was not there at the Boston Marathon. I decided this year to stay home and not go to the finish line like I always do. I was destroyed by the pain the people endured. Everyone worldwide was affected by the events. I felt selfish in a way for feeling so much sorrow because I was not there first hand. It was like I could relate to all the pain of others. I could not imagine that other people could hurt people. I thought I was the only one that deserved pain and suffering.

My past, which I am so numbed out too, came stumbling back to me a week later. Being locked inside my apartment, the news glaring on the tv, and helicopters circling the sky put me on heightened alert. It was as if I was getting retraumatized over and over again. It was like yesterday that I was molested and physically abused. My suffering was unbearable. I was bed bound for four days and could not get off the couch for the life of me. The dark hole was caving in and taking over my life.

Tragedy strikes so many people every day. I must say that if it was not for the support of everyone in my life, I would not of survived this time. Also, if it was not for all the wonderful people around the world that joined together to help the victims of the bombings, would Boston have been able to stay strong. Thank you to all the supporters thats made a difference in a life!

Boston Strong!!!
-A.N.T.

Gas for the engine...

Things were so pitch black that there was no light shining in. My four walls were dark and desolate with  not a glimmer of light. Life was spiraling out of control and there was no hope. I did not trust anyone except the voices of ED (eating disorder) at the time. The life of anorexia was so self-consuming, it was deadly. I often wondered how I was able to untangle myself from the wrath of ED. My gas tank was running on fumes, and some how I made it through the doors of death.

I often ask myself, "what kept me going?" What kept the darkness from the coffin from consuming my soul? I somehow knew deep down that there was more to life than my best friend ED. I was trying to believe that I was a separate person from ED. I needed to believe and trust all the people that were on Ariane's side not ED's side. 

At first, hope and inspiration was so meager and sparse, that it was practically non-existent. It was with all my supports and the little voice of Ariane, that kept things running. ED's life goals did not match up with mine. I did not want to be a lifeless-corpse with a feeding tube down my nose my entire life. I had dreams and aspirations to succeed. 

Ultimately, it was the little voice of Ariane that needed to make the changes in order to live a fruitful, meaningful life. It was not, and still is not, easy to stay a float above the struggle. Once I started believing in myself, I re-learned how to take care of myself. I still struggle to put myself first, but it comes much easier as my voice stays strong. The gas tank runs half full now.

Journey

Journey

A road less walked

a path less taken

a word to talk.

To begin a journey

and to fail at times

but to keep learning.

Failure is being stuck,

learning from mistakes

is much better luck.

A place so sacred and divine

to call your own

and to begin to survive.

The pain and agony

the loss and shame

to learn to enjoy life fully.

To continue the steps

one foot forward

and taking the leaps.

Recovery is a true journey.

Written by:

-A.N.T.

Feeling High

I search for feeling high. I look under rocks and trash to find my fix. I go beyond the depths of earth to find it. I would feel high from my eating disorder and other unhealthy coping skills. The adrenaline would rush through my veins to my head. I would begin to feel numb, high as a kite.

Suddenly, I began to feel high again without my unhealthy coping skills. It was foreign territory. I woke up yesterday listening to the radio, laughing out loud at the conversation that was occurring  I walked into work with my head held high, smiling at every person that walked by me. I started to get report, while I was thinking of my day. I was excited to work; I felt high. I was ecstatic to see my patients and make a difference in their lives. My life got a glimpse of being high on life.

Today, I woke up and felt lost. I was wondering what I could do to fill my empty day. I thought of many things that would not match up with my path to recovery. Suddenly, I thought of something else such as the gym. I was not motivated to go to the gym. All I wanted to do was feel high right now. The struggle to put on my gym clothes was extremely challenging. I began to think of negative thoughts, "I am not in shape. I am not good enough to work out." Despite the negative thinking, I put my stinky shoes on and walked to the gym. I worked up a sweat. I felt amazing. I had that wonderful high in my veins pumping up to my brain. I had come to a point in my recovery that I could work out healthily.  I worked out for a set amount of time, despite wanting to go longer. I was proud of myself.

I was proud! I was at a turning point on my road to recovery. I was starting to enjoy the simple pleasure in my life again. I got glimpses of life on the other side of the darkness. I was able to laugh, play, work, sweat, and be present in reality. Today, I wish everyone a happy, fruitful day.


-A.N.T.

"I invent creative solutions to every problem."
-Amy Zerner and Monte Farber