Why I Decided To Share My Story

     I took that leap. The leap of faith that got me through the day. I knew I was not alone; I couldn't be. I knew that this could not be an internal struggle inside myself anymore. Despite the thoughts inside my head, I believed I was not alone. I hoped that sharing my story would help me and others too. 

     One of the most significant leaps in life was starting this blog and sharing my story. The more I became honest with myself, the more I realized I was not the only one struggling in life. Being alone and in deep despair can destroy one's soul. I began my blog in December of 2012, scared and alone, not knowing where to begin. As I began to type, my thoughts poured out onto the computer. I tried not to cast judgment on my entries, keeping the audience in mind. I began to believe I was not alone the more and more I shared my thoughts and struggles. Being honest about my battle with an eating disorder has helped me decrease my shame and guilt. The racing thoughts of self-destruction became less and less inside my mind.

     One of my passions in life is to try to find purpose and make it as meaningful as possible. I believe I am capable of becoming the person of being in life. While writing blog entries helps me on my road to recovery, I hope to make a difference in someone's life through my recovery process from an eating disorder. My blog relates to many internal struggles that anyone could be coping with in life. I try not to focus on the unhealthy coping mechanism of an Eating disorder. I try to focus on the emotions and the struggles of everyday life that I may encounter in the past, present, or future. 

     Sharing my story has helped me along my road of recovery and made me a healthier, braver woman. Thanks to all who support me during this process in life. I hope that sharing my story may help you or a loved one while helping myself. May we all find ourselves along the journey of life?!

- A.N.T.

Blaming Culture and Society?!?!

     Does the everyday life of a supermodel or a celebrity cause an eating disorder? What are your thoughts? Does society influence a certain person whose is susceptible to developing an eating disorder (E.D.) to progress into one? I once asked myself the same question, "Is an eating disorder the urge to be perfect or influenced by the media to develop?" As a person who struggles with everyday life and with an eating disorder, I say, "no!" So what does then cause an eating disorder you may ask? With each individual, it varies. There are several factors and not just one cause and event that causes an E.D.

    First, I digress on some facts that fit me. I don't find leisurely reading supermodel or paparazzi-type magazines such as, US or YM as a trigger for me. I do find solace in reading magazines like National Geographic and such. I embrace my body and my life for what it is. I don't look for reassurance in my size through certain magazines nor society. I understand that the younger youth may be influenced by their peers or their role models but I don't blame that ultimately. I tend to feel it has to do with emotional regulation and freedom of expression.

     An E.D. isn't about a certain size of a person. For me, it's about the lack of emotional freedom of expression. E.D. is an unrealistic sense of control in a life that's actually out of control. It's the delusional sense of control that leads to numbness and dissociative thoughts that 'feeds' an Eating disorder. I think that there were specific events that led to my eating disorder. I affirm that the major role in my life with an E.D., was the lack of emotional freedom and feeling of emotions. Those factors ultimately led to my eating disorder. Surprisingly, I felt validation and a sense of control when in the thralls of my eating disorder. An eating disorder made me feel numbed out to everyday life. It was an unconscious place to turn when things were disarray in my life.

    

     I have an urge to blame someone, something, an event, or a certain person that caused my E.D. I get angry and upset at times. But I just remind myself that I have the tools that I have learned throughout the years to not carry forth the deadly cycle. I have the tools to decide to survive or die. I have the tools to regret, remorse, or be free from it all. I have the power to live my everyday life free from E.D.

Sadness Flies Away on the Wings of Time:

     Nothing can explain the pain that is carried forth when faced with loss. Yes, death is ultimate. There is nothing left but the memories that we all hold onto. But what happens when a person is part of your life and no longer is in it? That person is gone. They are only a part of the past but still walks the streets of everyday life? How can that be? Why does life become so painful with a loss in life? I know that the worse feelings I feel now, shall pass too. However, in the moment it sucks.

     I feel so devastated to have learned that when I was faced with so many changes and medical scares in 2014, that it got worse. I learned that my therapist was leaving the practice and field forever. I thought I could hold it together. I thought it was all just part of the process in recovery. Then I said "NO! NO! NO! NO! It's not fair!" Yes, I even stomped my feet and pulled a temper tantrum at the age of thirty-four years old. At the time, I was amongst the silent four walls of my home. In the moment, there was nothing in the world that could have helped me mourn the loss of someone that had helped me through so much in my life.

     I met Martha over two years ago. I sat in her office with a chip on my shoulder, thinking this was just another person that wanted to "fix me." I was stubborn. I held my ground, but little did I know at the time that she was trying to help me. She genuinely cared about my past, present, and future; my well-being. I wasn't just a client nor a job to her. I felt. In the past, I have "opened-up" to one other therapist in all of the twelve years of recovery with an eating disorder. I struggled for a long time to trust Martha. I struggled to understand her "motive." I did not understand nor respect the fact that she genuinely cared about my well-being. I only had one other therapist that treated me with such respect and compassion. I am thankful for our work together. Martha has helped me get through so much in these past couple of years. She saw me through one of my darkest of times through the brightest of times. I have got nothing but honesty and trust in all our sessions. Every Friday, I dreaded every session. After every session, I would walk out of her office yelling to my partner "I'm cured." Martha always had a way with me. A way that made things so more manageable and understandable. The pain felt less and less every day.

     Now, I am faced with the reality that she is leaving. Suddenly, our time has come to an end. I am faced with a new future with a new therapist. Hopefully, the same chip that lingered on my shoulder at first with Martha, doesn't carry forth with tomorrow's future. I am sure that this will all pass too. I am sure that this too shall be yet another test of my strength in life; a learning experience. Maybe this is all an old chapter finished; a new chapter begun. Whatever this be a test of strength, give me the strength to get thru this gently.

     Gently, I wish for and hope that one can relate. I know I am not alone. I know I am not the only person that has lost someone in their life dear and near. Yes, it's part of treatment. Yes it's something that comes with the practice. But no matter what, this loss is one of my hardest. I know that I am not alone in this struggle. I reach out to fellow readers to recognize and possibly resonate with me. Thank you to all my readers and supporters during this transition.

Yours truly,
A.N.T.

From this day forward

 I will always ask myself:

"What would Martha say or do in this situation?"

Weight Standards

I'm 34 years old. I started my recovery from an Eating Disorder (E.D.) in the year of 2002. Practically 14 years later that same monster, called a scale, still affects me. No matter what number I am, I always feel triggered by getting on that "monster." It's an evil vortex in my mind.

Recently, I went to my Primary Care Provider (PCP) to get an annual physical. I always "face out" when I get one the scale so, I never know "the number." Despite "facing out." I never feel the same for the week. There are so many times I dictate my self-worth by a number. "Am I too fat? Am I not 'anorexic' enough? Maybe I'm not sick enough?" The mental demons succumb my mind and consume my everyday life. It's a cycle that is not easily broken.

I have to step back and ask myself, is there a magical number that I would be happy with at all? When I was my lowest of weight, I was not thin enough. When I am at my healthiest of weights, I am too fat. The answer is no! There is never a perfect number on the scale to E.D.!!! So, why is it that I self-consume myself around a number on a scale? Why is it that I dedicate my everyday thoughts for the week around the number I am? Maybe it's easier to focus on a number than to focus on the realities of everyday life. It's the struggle between reality and a number on the scale that keeps me feeling secure. I find solace in focusing on "how fat I am" rather than facing the woes of everyday life. I can wish to change my thoughts or do something about it such as reality checks. One technique I find helpful to me is:

STOP AND STEP BACK

DON'T ACT IMMEDIATELY or AUTOMATICALLY

PAUSE...

TAKE A BREATH
NOTICE YOUR BREATHE AS YOU BREATHE IN AND OUT

PICTURE THE STOP SIGN!

May we all find solace in our own bodies today!

-A.N.T.

Overwhelming feelings

If life was only this easy:

Happy Thanksgiving Everybody :)

-A.N.T.

Addiction

     Beads of sweat drip down my face. My blood is pumping a mile a minute. The adrenaline is flooding my veins while the wind is flying through my strands of hair. My legs are flying practically off the ground as the sound of the gun lurks in the distance. I speed around the white-striped, black tar as I finish the race in first place. As always, I feel I could have done better; gone faster. In the end, it was that drive that kept me pushing through life.

     It became my drug, running. The surge of adrenaline I felt, the utter numbness through life morphed my teenage life. Nothing can explain the feeling of control I felt when I ran. The emotions in life that I encountered, the faster I ran. I adapted to expressing my emotions through the ability to run. I felt untouchable. The fastest rocket through the streets of my youth. The utter high I felt when I raced through the streets and around the track was seductively deadly. I had felt like I was in control of my life. Running became my inner journal, as my mind whirled with thoughts as I ran.

     I can remember in the darker days of running that it became my drug. Every waking hour was spent wondering when I could get my next fix, run that is. I became self-consumed with being faster and better. I was at the peak of my running and wanted to go to college to run. My educational dreams fell at the waste side as I sought out the ability to continue to run in college. I was slowly killing myself to my dismay. A "healthy" outlet for me developed into a dangerous, deadly web of deceit.

     Food and running became an unhealthy relationship. The less I ate, the faster I thought I could run. Food was fat not fuel to me. The sheer terror of eating became stronger and stronger. I did not allow myself nourishment. In order to justify eating, I had to make sure and run that day. It became a deadly cycle to my mind, body, and soul. I was an exception to all the rules. I felt I did not deserve food, nor could justify eating without some sort of reward, such as running. I felt even in more control when I was barely eating and running. I was "high on life" during the beginning years of my seductive cycle. I felt more in control than ever, despite the reality that I was slowly killing myself. All I wanted to do was run and feel free. The false sense of control I felt, was in reality, out of control.

     The cycle continued into my twenties. I was "fooling" everyone, so I thought. I felt untouchable. All I thought about was running and "how fat I was." I did not let anything bother me. I was numbed out to reality. I was running from my past, zooming though my present, and seductively destroying my future life. In the beginning, I felt on top of the world. As I continued living this seductive cycle, I became more brittle and fragile, the opposite effect I was trying to achieve. I was addicted to running and restricting food. I became more and more tired. I was weak. The opposite effect I was trying to achieve in life.

     My downward spiral was out of control, but I was hooked. When I entered that revolving door in 2002 with my struggle with an eating disorder, I never thought that running would play a role with my eating disorder. What I thought was a "healthy outlet" was actually a deadly drug in my life. Despite all the professionals' advice, it took several self-realizations to hang-up my running shoes, but I finally did.

     Now, I realize that running was like a drug to me. I can't just dabble in running just a little bit. I find that a leisure jog, turns into a seductive cycle within my innerself. I realize that I don't need to run to justify eating. I find other pleasures that are healthy to help me cope in life.  I enjoy the simple pleasures in life more than ever. I cherish, respect, and nourish my body. It's that same drive that I used for running, I apply to my everyday life.

"Every day I tell myself that I am worthy of food to fuel and nourish my body."

Yours Truly,
A.N.T.

   

   

Suicide Prevention

     I remember it like it was only yesterday. I hit my alarm on my night stand. I prepare for a new day but the dark cloud lurks over me. I'm in a state of shock where my limbs seem to not want to move. The pit in my stomach has developed into a deep despair. My mind has spun out of control and now I am numbed out to reality. I feel like a helpless fly stuck in a spider's web. I am struggling to survive. I just want it all to end. I want the pain and suffering to go away. I want to wake up tomorrow, and feel like I was given the choice to live my present day life not my past. I search for the light, I reach for the phone but the strength to dial for help slips my fingers. I am left with a choice; a choice to live or to die?

     I have struggled endless times with not just an eating disorder but also depression. It feels like a deep despair lurking in my inner soul. In recent news, the media has covered the success of a recent actor, Robin Williams. To my dismay, we lost a great person to mental illness. I want to celebrate his life, but I feel the urge to do differently. I want to bring awareness to the severity, the pain, the ultimate loss of life among others and oneself to any form of mental illness, especially depression.

     Suicide holds a certain stigma and several different reactions arise among society. Sometimes it's anger we feel. Sometimes it's the thought of utter selfishness that lingers over our head. Either way, the fact of the matter is suicide and depression are real, serious issues. On one side, I want to mourn a death of a great person that gave the world such joy and humor. On the other side, I also want to bring awareness to mental illness. You or someone you may know, may struggle with great despair and a sense of hopelessness. I can only offer how and what worked for me in times of hopelessness.

     An important piece of depression, is sometimes there are blatant signs that one is struggling in life. However, more times than none, suicide can be a silent killer within oneself. I am the type that is the silent killer; the clown with the tears falling down one's cheeks. Silently, I struggled with deep despair and a sense of loss of hope throughout life. However, I learned how to seek help when I was in my darkest of dark days. I often found helpfulness in a consistent medication regimen, having a treatment team, and knowing where to turn for help. I knew my local hospital had a "safe zone" to go too where I could sit and just be. I wouldn't have to answer any questions. I had a list of five numbers of people that served as my emergency contacts... friends, family, therapist, etc. I knew local anonymous hotlines to call when I was struggling. I found that I was not alone and had to trust those dear to me.

     Don't get me wrong, it took courage and hope to get help. In the darkest of moments you can feel so alone when you truly are not alone. Once, I started to be true to my struggles, I realized I was not alone. Yes, it took plenty of admissions into hospitals. I often felt like it was all a never-ending "revolving door" at times. I often asked myself when would it all end, the struggle. Yes. It took several ups and down and lots of treatment, but I just always remembered that I would not lose HOPE in myself.

Whether you are a public figure or a private person, we all can bring awareness to the struggle.

If you or a loved one needs an anonymous hotline, Please Call:

National Suicide Prevention Hotline:
1-800-273-8255

-A.N.T.