Beyond the Disorder

My therapist tells me that there are so many people affected by eating disorders but don't ever admit to it or refuse to recognize it. I think there is a bad stigma when it comes to eating disorders that people cannot truly get help because they are ashamed of oblivious to the fact that they have one. I want to show my story in hopes that I can encourage and motivate others to look at the eating disorder right in the face and know that you aren't alone. No, I am not recovered and I have a long road ahead of me. This may be the first and only blog about it or I may continue to share my story as I journey to find self-healing again.

Today was a normal day. I woke up, stayed in bed and thought about how much I was not going to eat today because I wasn't going to do anything today. Well, I got out of bed and I made my coffee with two Splenda and sugar free creamer as it has less calories. I'm what you a call a raccoon eater or snacker. I grabbed some grapes out of the fridge and counted them individually. I usually snack on things but I won't have a full meal. I think my 6 year old eats more than I do. In order for me to get my calories in and trick my brain, I make smoothies. I felt so guilty this morning when I made a smoothie because I told myself I wasn't going to eat today. Sounds ridiculous right? After I made my smoothie and drank it, I popped a diuretic and a pill that decreases my appetite. Yes, if you are wondering, it works but I wouldn't recommend it. Okay, Alexis, that is all you are going to have today and you're now going to go on a three miles run. If I don't go on this run, I will subject myself to heavy laxatives. After breakfast, I went upstairs and took a four hour nap. I woke up and decided that I am going to eat again but now my run has turned into six miles. I decided to have half of cup of cottage cheese and exactly 8 Ritz crackers. Of course, I snacked on some grapes. After every meal, I track my calories in an app but I am not precise. I always over add calories so when my phone says, "You're at 1,200 calories," I'm ideally at 500 for the day. Why do I do that? To trick myself. To make myself feel fat when I go over. You see, an eating disorders is not sick once and then you are better. I was sick before and I managed to get better, I had another kid and I thought I moved beyond it. When things get crazy, it comes back. It scares me because I get so low. Right now, I'm okay. I'm at 107 pounds and that's normal for my 5'2 height. However, if I keep going lower and lower, I will be forced into a rehab and they are already talking about the potential of a feeding tube. But I'm eating, right? They won't tube you if you are eating. I am only eating because I can exercise and take laxatives. If I cannot do either of those things, I quit completely and work out when no one is looking. If you don't have a disorder, you are probably asking why. Let me bring you back to when this all started. My mom has always been obsessed with her weight and my dad will always call her and me fat. My mom isn't a small gal but she's not large either. Everyone would always tell me how big I was and then I would hear my mom talk about it negatively when she speaking about herself. I was over at my grandma's friends house and she had a scale. This was my first real relationship with the scale and it was sickening. I was 8 years old at the time of maybe younger and I stepped on that scale. The next day, I went to school and asked everyone else what they weighed and I was bigger than all the girls I looked as skinny. From then on, me and that scale were meant to be together for better and for worse. I started to not eat but I also didn't lose weight until about Junior high. I couldn't track my calories then so I guess it wasn't fully bad until after got out of high school. Moving forward, I got out of a bad relationship and met a metaphorical man named "gym" and it was love at first site. I worked out really hard and I didn't eat. I lost a bunch of weight. I had people coming up telling me how sick I looked and I felt accomplished. Then, I met my now ex-husband. He helped pull me out and I was doing better. It was still there but I was eating and I wasn't tracking. After I decided to leave, this beast came back. It's only getting worse now. Back to the question as to why... For just a second, I want you to close your eyes. Of course, read all this first and then follow. I want you to picture a moment in your life where you had no control and you desperately needed it. Now picture the person that you love the most and they are hanging off the ledge of a building but you have no choice but to let them fall. That feeling you feel is what I feel everyday. I have Anorexia and just because I'm not under weight, doesn't mean it's not there. I may continue to write my journey on here depending on demand I suppose. It does help me to write but this laying my life out there for the world and the thought of this being seen by my family or my co-workers, it makes me sick. However, the first step to recovery is to admit you have a problem.