Gaining Insight in Austin

For my work I was flown down to Austin, Texas.

I really had no idea what to expect. Austin is Arkansas's Little Rock and Washington's Seattle...but still very different. I love Austin.

This weekend I spent with young priests (WHICH WAS AWESOME!) and they took me out and we ate and hung out and I'm going to be honest...I've never felt more normal then when I was sitting there drinking with a priest, a teacher, and a sports fan.

I havent felt so, gawh I dont know how to say this...I felt like all these things that are weighing down on me were lifted if only momentarily. I got to have Austin just to myself, not to all the other things that I constantly think about.

I am going to selfishly claim Austin! It is MINE! haha Finding God in Texas...what a hoot.

For the past few days before coming to Austin I have been so incredibly critical of my body. This morning I looked in the mirror and laughed, yeah I'm curvy now. haha how cool is that. No added comment! no ugh I'm curvy which means I'm fat! ugh no little girls or boys body UGH....there was none of that! NONE OF IT!

I dont know what any of it means, but I'm not going to try to figure it out. I'm just taking it now and relishing in it.

I felt like a woman and I liked it. It was beautiful.

Thank you God for my life, for my woman's body, for friends, and for Austin!

Rock Bottom

I'm in a bitch'y mood.

Why?

Background: I told my therapist and my sponsor that I was going to trust them and do everything they ask me to do. I'm pissed off because its been two weeks without using behaviors and every night its like the bloodiest fucking battle you'll ever see in my head. I'm angry because I can't replace my brain. I'm angry because when I finally decide to trust them to do what is right...it seems even harder. I hit my rock bottom...or did I?

In 12 step you hit your bottom. I understand that to be when THE SHIT HAS HIT THE FAN...and you have seen it and recognized it for what it is. People have different bottoms. For some passing out is enough for a big smack of a wake up call. For some being held down while someone puts a tube down your nose should be enough. For some its simply the willingness to see how fucked up your life and relationships have become b/c of your insane thinking and behaviors towards food etc.

Sometimes I wonder...on nights like these, where the eating disorder thinking is on high I think that perhaps I havent reached my bottom...perhaps I should go back to the anorexia and bulimia so that I could go farther and farther down that road.

But what would be enough? Was being hospitalized six times enough? no. Was being in residential treatment two times enough? no. Was the passing out enough. no no no. the tube? no. being tackled by security guards at the children's hospital for refusing to get back in bed enough? NO. The heart problems? you guessed it NO. My body eating itself NO NO NO. none of this was enough. Even my mother's death wasnt enough to wake me up to how crazy my thinking was.

So what is it that is keeping me from going back to the eating disorder tonight?

I dont know haha. I know that there is something there...something that is holding on to the last bit to see if I can get through it.

I had a choice tonight, I could have skipped dinner but I didnt...but why? When the eating disorder is screaming so loudly in my ear that I truly feel as if I am going to explode...why did I eat dinner? The eating disorder was louder then "healthy Hannah" so WHY did I eat dinner?

A few things come to mind but dont seem to fit all together:

*I told my sponsor and therapist that I would follow their directions, that I would trust them. (in the past this wouldnt have meant shit. So why does it now?)
*the conversation I had with someone I made amends to.
*perhaps that there at this point is no turning back......

There are moments where I decide fuck this recovery shit, I"m gonna go straight back to the safety of the eating disorder....heres the thing....I'm not sure I can bear it. This is what makes this moment in my life so unbearable.

Its a struggle to be in recovery and its also a struggle to be in my eating disorder. As much as I cringe at the thought of trusting other people I also cringe at the action of vomiting again....or missing a meal.

Food is medicine.

My body and brain have PTSD because of all the years I abused it. So when I skip a meal its like no time has passed at all and they react to it...meaning for me that I become anxious, depressed, exhausted, angry, moody etc. etc. etc. at the snap of a finger when I have missed fueling time.

Right now I feel unsure about where I'm going with my life...and that is frustrating...b/c if I don't have a point then why the hell am I trying to recover...?! I have no idea who I am...that scares me.

God help me.

-Hannah

Theres no place like home.

Due to having shit for money...

I'm having to move into the grove house (which is one of my dad's houses he left behind when he moved away.) It sounds great right? WRONG!
this house is not the best environment for me in terms of my emotional health. When my dad left, he left me living all alone in that house. I got sick, really sick. I lost weight, fast...I wasnt really functioning.

Heres the thing. I'm not moving in the house on my own this time. My older brother and older sister live there. I love my family...I also recognize that I am a bit of a control freak with OCD.

I have two days to move in. I don't know how this is going to go.

This house is dark and dank. It's falling apart. Its depressing.

Groan, also my therapist wants to weigh me tomorrow. I dont want her to weigh me. I dont want anyone to weigh me.

I've moved six times in the last year. I've lived in my car. I've couch surfed like no other. I've driven around in my car for a few months with my entire life packed up in the back. I don't really have a place thats mine...I guess a home; I haven't in a long time. Thats so sad and sometimes makes me angry. Sometimes I pity myself...but I'm trying not to. I at least have a car. I have good people in my life. I have my life. I'm sober from my eating disorder. I have a great dog.

You know a lot of the time I dont have a place to stay b/c I find it very difficult to stay anywhere too long. You see...I'm really used to people leaving me, I guess. I guess when I start to relax is the time I start to not relax...if that makes any sense. I'm not familiar with stability ha.

I was born to a middle class family. To parents, both who were priests, and both loved each other and their children so much. We were THE family. We sat down for dinner every night. We went to siblings soccer games and plays. We supported each other. Sure we had our fights, but we were still THE family that all the troubled people came to in their time of desperation.

WTF happend! Well...a lot...AND THEN my mother died. We were "normal". And now I'm 22 years old, living on my own, trying to pay for school, therapy, meds, old doctor bills, etc. etc. etc. I'm 22 and I dont have a home base. I dont have these things I thought would and could never be taken away from me.

My Dad married some other lady...her family welcomed him in with open arms. He was hurt, he was broken and they took him in and helped him I think. Thing is...he left us. He left us for them. I know that my Dad loves me. I know that my Dad loves my siblings. I think he had to leave...I dont think he had a choice. I love my father. I want him to be happy. I want him to be healthy, and right now he is. He loves me, he left me...but I'm okay with that now.

I don't feel too connected with my family...I hope that by moving into the grove house I will be able to reconnect with my older siblings. maybe...maybe not (shrug).

-Hannah

Fuck you Peter Pan!

ugh,

I'm feelin' blue.

Probably b/c I'm tired.

I'm feeling really anxious, I have work tomorrow and last tuesday I had a sit down with my boss where she told me last sunday was a complete failure on my part, (which is very true). But man being told that you fucked up SUCKS. Now I feel sick and anxious because I want everything to go well. I work with teenagers. And it is the most terrifying work I could ever do!

Growing up is so hard. It is such an emotional pain in the ass. I feel like I am 12 years old. How in the world did I get to be 22? How did I get here?

Some days I want my eating disorder to take "control" again, b/c then I wouldnt have to be responsible for anything or anyone. But then I remember that I dont want that anymore. That even though growing up is one of the hardest things I've had to do, its worth the tears and anger and work then to be stuck disappointing everyone, disappointing myself. I'd rather be crying about how hard this shit is then be locked up in the hospital with a tube shoved down my nose...then to have people telling me when to eat, how to eat, when to go to the bathroom, when to move etc.

BUT WHY DOES IT HAVE TO BE SO FREAKIN' SCARY!

Is everyone as afraid as I am of growing up? Does everyone go through this? Because I feel like I'm crazy for how afraid I am.

IN CONCLUSION: Fuck you Peter Pan and your Neverland and your fucking youth for life with no responsibilities! fuck you.

Expecto Patronum

EXPECTO PATRONUMMMMMM!

Hey all,

I'm a Harry Potter fan through and through.

Last night my mind went into overload! Let me set the scene.

I'm having to move out of my apartment b/c its become too expensive...right. I dont have a place to go yet. right. I have a puppy who is driving everyone crazy. right. I told everyone that getting rid of puppy was not an option. right. People are mad. right.

So I'm over at my Fake Parents house (my parents dont live with me anymore, my dad in seattle and my mom in the world beyond or whatever. so I have fake parents who are there for me.) So I'm over at my fake parents house and for some reason or another my insane thinking crept up on me and latched its legs around my brain. It said...

"Yo gurl, you need yo anorexia and bulimia back!"

okay maybe not like that. But It was so out of the blue that I really almost started to cry! I'm totally serious! I was tearing up! So I'm starting to panic here, 'cause that voice is so convincing.

I'm in a 12 step fellowship, so my new knee jerk response is to call my sponsor. NEW knee jerk response. I couldnt get a hold of her. I thought the whole world was about to fall in on me! GOD WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME...that kind of stuff.

I'm driving home having decided that I am just not gonna be able to eat dinner...as I reach the apartment I make an abrupt U-Turn and head to the nearest store to pick up a new scale, on my way I tried calling my sponsor again.

AND THE LORD SAID: YOU SHALL NOT BUY THE SCALE! she picked up.

sponsor: whats up?
me: AHHHH
sponsor and me (long good conversation, me parked in an empty parking lot)

conclusion: I am learning how to be a grown up, I'm learning that even though those insane thinking moments are there they are there not b/c I'm not working the program but b/c I have an eating disorder and it happens. I went home (without buying a scale) and ate dinner, then put myself to bed.

My expecto patronum resembles my sponsor saying to my eating disorder, "sit down, and shut the fuck up."

Thank you C.

-Hannah-

Skinny bitches

Hey all,

I hate the idea of writing a blog...of being a blogger....but then here I am blogging my blogger ways. I dunno why...perhaps b/c my older sister told me she hated blogs. anywho...

I'm enjoying a cup of soup at Panera/scratch that I ENJOYED past tense totally just finished it, and I started thinkin' grrrrroooooaaaan, ITS THEM!

It's the middle age women who have ripped bodies even as they carry their newly vaginally ejected babies. They come bouncing in here in their short tennis skirts after their lesson with Rufus the six foot tall male model tennis instructor.

I do not hate these women...but they do make me feel this extreme amount of..."THE WORLD IS SO UNFAIR!"

I'm 22, I'm in recovery for an eating disorder...I've put on weight...and these 40 something girlie women giggle on in, in their size XYZ pants and little girl bodies. I am sure they are lovely women who probably save starving babies in their spare time.

BUT COME ON!

I get this way sometimes. This NO NO NO! I OBJECT! stamp feet!

Its when I am feeling particularly body sensitive. ME! SENSITIVE! SHEW!

I'm going to kickboxing tonight! My roommate is this major athlete-ish bad ass.

I spent so many years starving/bingeing/purging rinse and repeat...that my body attacked itself...yes indeed my body was EATING itself! gross I know. But because of this my muscle mass has deteriorated...So I'm working on building my muscle back up again.

ah I'm sorry I am so scattered. LONG DAY.

-Hannah

The Way of the Wolf:Greetings fellow earthlings!

I hate starting new blogs...mostly because I never know how to begin them.

Hi, I'm Hannah and I am living in a life of stumbling recovery. I mean to say I am...hmmm. When I was 17years old I was diagnosed with anorexia/bulimia. I always try to do this blog thing about my recovery...then I feel shy about it. I have other blogs...one is about my dog Mollie. It is so much easier to write about a puppy eating your things then to write about recovery from an eating disorder. People don't look at you like your crazy because your dog ate your Game of Thrones book (just sayin')...

I'm 22 years old now. I've been in and out of treatments. Right now I am seeing my therapist who costs a pretty penny. She is out of network. I'm financially independent...which just means I got shit for money but I am not supported by my Dad's income.

I withdrew from college to focus on figuring life out...or just how to stay sober in my eating disorder.

I went to Carolina House for eating disorders twice, and have done the hospital thing six times. I've gained weight, I've lost weight, and done it all over again. I've been fat, thin, skinny, blimp all in one sitting.

I've done all the therapies and programs out there...at least it feels that way: animals, art, dance, shake your soul, DBT, one on one, family, fear foods, food and feelings, Celebrate Recovery, 12 step, OA, EDA, screaming, crying, laughing, running, hitting, etc. etc. etc. SO I guess I've been around the block.


I've been told the way to a happy life is:

*lose weight
*gain weight
*laugh more
*cry more
*cry less
*more grains
*less grains
*more veggies
*an apple a day keeps the doc away.
*God
*prayer
*support
*lose weight
*gain weight
*ensure
*boost
*lose weight
*gain weight

I use to do art. I was pretty damn good too. But after my mother died when I was 19 I lost all desire to paint...instead I put all my thoughts into self destruction.

Now here we are....I am 22 years old. I am financially independent. I am in a stumbling recovery of an addiction to self destruct.

I texted my therapist (yes indeed I texted her! you get a few extra bonuses when your therapist costs an arm and a leg), and asked her if she could help me make an appt. with an old nutritionist I saw like twice. This marks a very scary time in my life...that I am willing to go see a nutritionist in the state I'm in. Let me explain.

I am no longer that anorexic girl...I am not being asked to gain weight (which in my insane thinking is very validating, that is being asked to gain) instead this past year after I discovered the effects of alcohol and bread and butter...I have put on weight that to my horror quickly went past the maintenance weight suggested. I am not obese...but I am uncomfortable. I am willing to go to a nutritionist to hear what she has to say...but me being me I have already decided that she will call me a fatty and how much of a disgrace I am....okay maybe thats the insane thinking...perhaps she will not say that...

I am afraid of people telling me how to be happy...I am afraid that they are wrong. I am afraid that they are angry with me.

God give us strength to do the work we know we gotta do.

thanks,
-Hannah-