I know what I want.

On September 26, 2005 I was 41 years old and I weighed 324 lbs.
I had gastric bypass surgery on that day and I lost 183 pounds over the next 18 months.

For the first whole year, I followed the rules to the letter. I ate NO sugar ever. I ate slowly and didn't drink while I ate. I always ate my protein first. I gave up all carbonated drinks and drank no alcohol. I worked out a minimum of 5 days a week and weighed in at least once a week.

A little over a year post op, when our daughter was about to head off to college, I went back to work in the hospital. That's when I began to flirt with sugar. This would mark the beginning of the end of my extremely strict eating. Someone was always bringing something yummy to work and I resisted as long as I could. The job was so stressful. I was emotionally triggered and slowly, I gave into temptation.

It didn't affect my weight at first. I continued to lose weight and I continued to exercise a minimum of 3 times a week. I leveled off at about 150 lbs. Then I had major surgery; three of them within a year. I had two plastic surgeries on my body and one for a bowel obstruction. I lost even more weight and ended up at 141 lbs. This was too thin really. I’m 5 feet 9 inches and I was wearing a size 4/6. Before my bypass I was in a size 30/32. After I recuperated from my other surgeries, my weight bounced back up and stayed right around 150 lbs. or so for another year.

I became very depressed and my child sexual abuse trauma symptoms really flared up. The job was too stressful, so I left. Once I stopped working I was eating sugar fairly regularly but I still didn't notice much difference in my weight. Soon I was an 8, then a 10. I remember that because I was so sad to be double digits again. Then I was a size 10/12. The depression was in full swing by this time and I was on 5 different psyche meds; none of which were working.

I went back to work at a local nursing home when our son went off to college.
I was wearing size small scrubs at the time. I got put on the night shift and started eating really badly. I began munching all night long on crackers, lifesavers and doughnuts or cookies. I went up to a medium in my scrubs. At first I was still active. I'd fast walk up and down the hallways or go walk around the parking lot.

I started therapy about this time and weaned off the psyche meds. I started doing EMDR and getting into really scary incest and trauma stuff. I left that nursing home in search of 12 hour shifts so that I could have more days off to do therapy. I went to another nursing home to work in their geriatric psyche unit. This was a big mistake. I worked 7 pm to 7 am as the only RN for my unit and often covered another unit on another floor. There were residents there who triggered me so badly, I truly thought I might snap and hurt one of them. I had never experienced this level of anxiety at work before. I was in a constant state of high alert anxiety. To cope, I ate high carb foods NON-STOP for 12 hours 3 to 4 times a week.

Even when I was off duty, I continued this raging carb addiction. I left there after only 3 months because the local nursing home offered me a day shift position if I would come back. I was so stressed working in the psyche unit that I was willing to leave after such a short time and go back to 8 hour shifts.
Within 2 weeks of going back they put me back on nights again. I negotiated a 16 hour shift from 2:30 pm to 7:00 am 2 times a week plus one additional 8 hour shift. This was VERY hard but gave me more days off to focus on therapy. Now I was eating non-stop for a 16 hour shift. I left there about 4 months later wearing X-large scrubs.

I went from a small to an X-large in less than a year.
I have gained another 20 pounds in the last 4 months.
I have now regained 119 pounds.

I would rather have never lost it in the first place, than to feel the shame and agony of such a massive failure. My back hurts again and I have pain in my legs and knees. I have dependent edema with pitting edema of the left ankle and foot. I'm having more migraines too.

About 3 or 4 weeks ago, my niece Rachel called me, out of the blue, to tell me that she had been eating according to the Atkins phase 2 plan and had lost 15 pounds in 2 weeks. We are no strangers to eating disorders and dieting in my family, but they all know that I don't do the "D" word and they are careful never to raise the subject with me. Food, eating, weight and dieting have always been major triggers for me. I'm especially sensitive since I gave in, broke down and had the gastric bypass that I swore I'd never have.I have essentially been in hiding since I regained. This is a VERY delicate subject with me and Rachel respects that. So, it was really unusual for her to make a point of calling me to tell me this. She felt that God put it on her heart to share this with me and I agree that He did.

Last week while on vacation with my family, I ordered two of the Atkins books on my Kindle. I shared this with my husband, who isn't one for the "D" word either.
To my surprise, he immediately agreed to do it with me and essentially gave me "permission" to purge our house of all non-Atkins approved foods. We made an agreement to do it right away.

We got home from vacation yesterday and I went right to work cleaning out the pantry, the fridge and freezer. I was feeling very anxious and guilty over "wasting" so much money and getting rid of perfectly good and expensive food. He was so supportive. Before pitching things like real maple syrup, I asked him, "Are you sure? Even if it's expensive?" His response was so reassuring. He simply replied, "Why not?" He was right and I felt free to go for it.

I bagged up 4 or 5 bags to go back to the dorm with our son's fiance, 4 or 5 bags to go to Manna's food pantry and another 4 or 5 bags of expired or not very good food to go to the dump. I washed out my refrigerator so it sparkles and smells so clean. I worked on that for several hours. Then he and I made a grocery list according to the Atkins guidelines and bought $176.00 of fresh, whole, Atkins-friendly foods. I was tuckered out with very swollen feet by the time I sat down last night, but I feel inspired and ready, albeit a bit anxious.

I am a carbohydrate/food addict. There is no doubt about that. I purposely use food, especially carbs to self soothe and self medicate. I eat to avoid and to numb out. I've been doing this my entire life. The only exception to this was that period of "sobriety" after my gastric bypass. If I was using alcohol instead of food, I would have been a "dry drunk" during this time as my relationship with food and my feelings about it and about myself never really changed. I was essentially forced to eat well by altering my insides. Sort of like forcing a raging alcoholic into rehab and giving them the drug ‘Antabuse’ to make them sick if they drink again. They may be alcohol free but they are far from real sobriety.

At 47, I am finally committed to healing from my child sexual abuse trauma. I believe that if my food addiction is in check and I'm not self medicating and eating to avoid my feelings, the pace and quality of my trauma recovery will be improved. My memories have been very slow to emerge and I have been extremely frustrated by the snails pace. It makes sense that by continuing to use food and weight as a way to avoid feeling and remembering, I am my own worst enemy for remembering, feeling, dealing and ultimately, healing.

I believe that the Lord did put it on Rachel's heart to call me and tell me about this way of eating and because I believe it came from Him; I trust that He will give me the strength to do this thing. I am terrified of being hungry and I feel powerless over my cravings. The thought of restrictions on my eating sets off a chain reaction of negative thoughts and fears inside of me.
I am praying that God will give me His strength to resist temptation and to follow this eating plan. I want there to be no idol before God. I want to turn to Him and not turn to food for comfort. As long as I'm still using food, that can't happen. So, I'm trying to see this as the gift that He intended it to be when He told Rachel to call me.

I know that I want a more intimate relationship with God.
I know that I want a deeper and more loving relationship with my husband.
I know that I want to recover my lost memories and discover all the parts of myself.
I know that I want a lean, healthy body and I know that I want an active lifestyle. Because I have faith in Him, I also know that I will have all of these things and more as I become free from the strongholds of food addiction and eat the way God intended.

“Dear Lord, please carry me through the scary and hard parts of this journey and give me the strength to make good choices. In Jesus' name” ~ Amen.

"Taking the Trigger Train to Crazy Town!"

I woke up this morning feeling good. Hubby has the day off,
the sun is finally shining.
The coffee was already made when I got up...
A great start to this Independence Day!

Last night, our 20 year old son was supposed to have loaded the dishwasher, (with mostly all his own dirty dishes), but instead he fell asleep on the couch. Before I went to bed, I woke him up to send him to bed and tell him to get up early in the morning and get them done.

Today, when I got up, my son was still asleep in his bed.
I came downstairs, got my coffee and came in to see my husband,
when I noticed that he had done the dishes himself.
I was so mad!
My husband is always so nice; he’s a very thoughtful man. Unfortunately,
he enables our son and we fight about that more than anything else.

I went to the landing of the stairs and hollered up to our son to get up.
I scolded him for not getting up early to do the dishes as he had said he would.
He made a wise remark and I reacted by hollering
at him to get out of bed and contribute something to the house.
He made a wise crack and then I really yelled! 


I came out to the sunporch and reamed out my husband.
I began to feel some familiar feelings from my childhood
that have repeated into my adult life.
I felt disregarded and unheard.
I could feel something escalating inside and I fought against it at first,
trying to communicate my feelings in a controlled, adult way.

The next thing I know I'm SCREAMING at my husband to "Do something!"
"Don’t just stand there, do something!" Of course, he just stood there...
I’m sure he was stunned!
It began with one good shove; then I hit him. Then, all hell broke loose.
I started wailing on him as hard as I could with both fists.
I hit him over and over again, screaming
at him. I kept telling him how much I hate him. 

Neither one of us is violent and hardly ever even yell or anything.
He was stunned, teary eyed standing there letting me pound and pummel him.
I don't remember some parts of it but suddenly, I came to the realization
that none of this had anything to do with my husband.
I don't hate him-I adore him.
Although I realized that the rage was misdirected, I still couldn't stop.
I continued the raging and punching and screaming.
I just kept screaming over and over, "Goddamn it! Goddamn it! Goddamn it!" 

Then I turned it on myself and pulled my hair and began to punch myself
in the head. I was like a crazy woman!
Then I just screamed but no words-just screaming and crying.
My husband stopped me, held me by my wrists and hugged me tight to keep me from hurting myself.
I fought until I was exhausted.
He tried to get me to sit down, but I resisted and then came ‘round two’ of the screaming and more crying. I backed away from him and cried some more. He just stood there until I calmed down. I kept saying, "I'm sorry" over and over. He held me for a long time.

By then I wanted to sit down because I was shaking and exhausted.
I sat and put my head on his belly while he stood beside me,
holding me for a long time.
To some, my husband standing there allowing me to unleash on him
might seem like weakness,
but let me tell you, he showed such strength and compassion in that moment.
Don is my rock and my safety.
Almost like he’s magic, Don has a calming affect on me.

Then he said, as if to lighten to mood,
"If I'm ever involved in a brawl, I want you on my team!" 
He always knows what to say to make me feel better.

Other than some tired, achey muscles, a really sore hand, a sore throat
and pulling out some hair, I'm OK now.
I keep sighing. I feel relieved and exhausted.
This feels as if it came out of nowhere
and although, I'm a bit embarrassed, I’m grateful.
I'm grateful for my husband and for getting rid of some of that rage
that I’ve carried around for over forty years.
My husband helped me explain triggers and flashbacks to our son,
so it turned out to be a good opportunity for bonding and healing
and I am also grateful for that!

Triggers and Learning To Do Things Differently.

     Last night I was triggered and ended up feeling helpless and cornered which led me quickly to rage and the familiar feeling of wanting to run away. I felt like I hated everyone and wanted to throw things and scream.  I wanted to run away from home. I became short tempered and it felt like my nerves were raw. Noise bothered me even more than usual and I was seething inside. I snapped at my daughter for making too much noise while doing the dishes and was furious with my son for unplugging the wireless router by mistake. I pushed the dog away from me and wished I could disappear.
     However, I didn't run away from home or scream or throw things and I didn't allow myself to disappear.  I toughed it out and talked about it. The difference for me these days is that I can recognize triggers sooner and talk about it which helps it go away quicker and not to escalate. Last night was a good example of how choosing not to act instinctively on my feelings, but listening to my head is a much better choice.
     My feelings last night were not really rooted in the “here and now” anyway. These feelings had much more to do with the "back there and then." My usual emotional reaction has been to feel cornered, get mad and then to run away either physically or emotionally. If I had listened to that and reacted as I'd always done, I'd still feel badly today and be fighting with my "here and now" family.  In reality, it was really my "back there and then" family that I was mad at.
     Because I did what I knew to be right rather than what I felt like doing, I was able to talk to my husband and even to apologize to my daughter for biting her head off. I decided to post it on Facebook, (which I NEVER would have done before), and got some good support from people I wouldn't have expected it from. I told the truth about how I felt and I didn't die! That might sound silly, but that's really how I used to feel. I was so afraid of letting anyone see the ugliness I had inside that I actually thought it might kill me to do so. In the past, I always pretended I was alright, no matter how bad I felt.     
     Today I am learning to be real with myself and others, so, today is a whole new day and I'm OK just as I am!

Will the Real Me Please Stand Up...

I’m beginning to emerge from my recent hibernation and today, 

I can see that light at the end of the tunnel! 

     I had gone into hiding for a couple of months feeling pretty hopeless. I stopped returning phone calls, stayed home alone as often as I could and I found it difficult to find my words. I was feeling disconnected from my family, friends, my therapist, God and myself. My mind wandered back into thoughts of self loathing and despair. Again, I found myself in that familiar dark place. 

     When I go there it frightens me because crazy things begin to seem rational. In that place, death feels inevitable and welcome. I flirt with the macabre and fantasize about dying. When I’m there I am unable to reach out for help. I don’t even want help when things are that bad. I want only unhealthy things. I don’t sleep enough and I eat too much. I can’t stop worrying about how messy my house is, yet I feel powerless to clean it.

When I’m that bad, I can barely manage to shower or brush my teeth.

    Considering how badly I have been feeling, it seems especially freeing to crawl out from the isolation and sadness into the light of a new day. I have turned another corner and I have hope. So how did this happen exactly? What is different today than last week or last month?

I think there are a few things that may have contributed to this upturn. 

     The days are getting longer and there are signs that spring has indeed “sprung!” Warmer weather and brighter days have always helped to lighten my mood, but there is something more going on here.
    I’ve continued to move forward with the work of healing even when I didn’t feel like it was working because I still have faith that it will. I am blessed with a loving husband, dear friends and an awesome therapist, but mostly with the belief that God has not forgotten me.

These things sustain me even when I feel like I cannot take one more step.

    Even though I can’t always find my words, I still connect through on-line support groups and social media like facebook. Reading what others have written about their struggles, writing about my own; supporting them and being supported by them has helped more than I ever would have imagined.
    All these things have made a difference, but perhaps the biggest change I have made is that I have become more genuine with others, with myself and with God.

I am allowing myself to be real. 

     It’s not that I’ve been a phoney or have pretended, but it has been my practice to try to be what I think others want or expect me to be. I have a real fear of letting people down or disappointing them. I hide my pain, fear and shame. I worry about making others comfortable at my own expense. I stuff my anger and I hide my true self because I’m sure I’m no where near good enough.

I want to please and I want to be acceptable, although I rarely believe that I am.

    Today, however I am choosing to believe that I am God’s girl and that He loves me; therefore I’m lovable. I know that I will have hard times again and I pray that I can remember how I feel right now. I want to remember that today, I feel hopeful. I want to be helpful to my fellow survivors when they too have dark days. I want a better life for myself, my husband, my kids and for God who does indeed have a plan for my life.
     I will end on this positive note and I hope that you, the reader will help yourself to my strength today. God knows, I may need to borrow some of yours someday!

The Courage to Feel the Fear and Do It Anyway

Our youngest daughter got a pair of hermit crabs for Christmas.
As much as I hate the little buggers, I can really relate to them!
If you pick up a hermit crab and wait long enough, it will start to emerge from it’s shell. Slowly, one claw peaks out. Then another begins to show itself. However, the instant you being to touch one of these tiny appendages, the cautious little crab retreats back into the safety of it’s traveling home. In an instant, the crab is gone! All that's left is a shiny red painted shell with a pair of jiggling plastic eyes glued on. Creepy, yet effective!
It reminds me of being a child, eyes closed and hands over my ears, chanting, “I can’t hear you, I can't hear you...”
If I had one, I would have hidden myself away inside the safety of my shell too!
I didn’t have a fancy painted shell Per Se, but I certainly knew how to retreat into my own metaphorical shell! I spent a fair amount of time curled up inside pretending nobody could see me. Hoping that if I were still enough, I could become invisible.
Peeking out of my shell was a risk that I rarely took and I paid a price for it.
Although it may be safe being hidden away in here, it also gets lonely.
As an adult I have found that I am able to take risks,
and in many ways, I know I am brave.
I find it frustrating though, that there are still areas of my life where I am just as fearful as the little hermit crab. There is a part of me deep inside that, like the crab, is small, fragile, tentative and ugly.
I keep a proper looking shell, so nobody knows I’m in here if I don’t want them to. Unfortunately, I’m so accustomed to hiding that sometimes people don’t know I’m here even when I wish they would!
I can imagine that the fear of making myself vulnerable by sharing my real feelings is something like what the crab might experience when it ventures out of it’s shell. These days, it’s the hermit crab’s sudden retreat when threatened that I relate to most.
I catch myself doing an about face when I begin feeling vulnerable.
On Valentine’s Day, I made my husband a card and inside, I wrote a note. It was real, honest and not particularly well written. I felt uncertain and embarrassed about sharing these genuine feelings.
What I had to say seemed childish and I felt stupid. I thought about starting over, but I stopped myself from rewriting it. I had made myself vulnerable and as always, my husband was loving and didn’t judge me at all.
I do enough judging on my own!
We exchanged cards, candy and even stuffed animals and we had a lovely dinner at home with the family. Seems like one of those “Hallmark” moments, right? Not to my scared little parts hiding inside. I took a big risk and even though I am safe and loved, my fear was too much for my little ones to handle and I retreated back into my shell. I got angry with my kids and at my husband. I felt ashamed and exposed and like those ugly little hermit crabs, I was gone! Nothing left but a shell; an angry shell.
I did catch myself and I was able to reel it in before I did any harm or hurt any feelings, but I still felt small and angry. I was scared and defensive, but I was able to recognize it.
I am starting to understand that I am safe and I am slowly learning that it’s OK to be me.
These days the good news is that I am putting myself in the position to feel this terrifying feeling much more often as I continue doing the work of healing.
I know that I am brave because I am choosing to feel the fear and do it anyway.