Animal instinct

In order for a species to survive, they must reproduce. Male birds often have beautifully colored feathers to find their mate. Gibbons mate for life. Chimpanzee’s will mate as often as they can and sometimes, it’s a bit rough. Male sea otters are very aggressive and will rape, bite, and hold the face of a female sea otter. All of it is so innate and so different for all species but people, well we are a little different. We are one species but at the same time, have the mating habits of many other species. Some consensual, some not, sometimes sensual and takes time, sometimes, rushed and rough, sometimes with the same gender, other times not, sometimes alone, or with one, or more than one. it’s all based on one’s desire. A ridiculous strong desire to create life and continue our species.

Sometimes, sex is kind of like with sea otters. And sometimes, like the female otters, it’s too hard or too frightening to fight back. Or in some cases, such as mine, too young. Too young to really understand that need, too young to make sense of their feelings, their fears. Leaving someone who is confused and hurt. Someone who is scared to trust. Someone who starts to lose sight of who truly owns the body that you are in.

Someone told me once that when someone is sexually abused, it alters their understanding of love and sex. You’re confused on who to love, who to trust, and who to touch. They say someone might become more permiscuse and sexual while another might fear it and avoids it. I think I’m been on this sexual see saw my whole life.

Now, and for most of my life I’ve been on the end of the spectrum of I don’t want it and don’t care about. Don’t get me wrong, my body itself reacts the way it should. It’s innate, it’s what my body was made to do and that is why I feel a constant struggle between mind and body. 

If asked, I would just say it doesn’t interest me too much. That I’m too anxious about  my body size. But there is so much more to this. The whole act of sex makes me feel ill, uncomfortable, self conscious, embarrassed, so many emotions that I can’t seem to name just one. It’s like a swamp of emotions that end with me questioning what’s wrong with me. For this post I’ll use the word disgusted because that can be anything we see, smell, or taste. It’s an uncomfortable feeling that you want to avoid.  

We are SURROUNDED by the ideas and acts of sex. Each time I see it or if it’s mentioned I cringe with disgust. I can’t watch sex scenes on TV without feeling disgusted and embarrassed. When people talk about it, I shut down and avoid the conversation. When I see men drooling over a woman I’m disgusted and feel ill. An older man following every young bikini clad girl on TikTok makes me wonder if I’m sitting next to a pediphile. The way we look at others, what we wear, the things we will do to attract someone else makes me feel weird and uncomfortable. If I was to check out a male younger than myself I feel dirty and ashamed. I’m not comfortable looking at a naked body. It’s everywhere from the ads on TV to the songs on the radio. The way teens dance and the songs they all love to sing are often about sex. The TV shows that most popular with teens are also about teens, who are having sex.  We base our first thoughts about someone based on how  attractive they might be. Sex sells is what people say. 

I get it, without sex we would cease to exist. Without the pleasure we feel we would cease to exist. The problem is me. 110% ME. I’m not the normal one. I’m leaving in a sea of normalcy and drowning because I can’t stop judging people who stare at twenty year old girls in bikinis. I can’t just watch a movie or enjoy a song. I question why a sex scene is important. I’m not normal and I hate it. And lately, the feelings of hating myself get stronger every day. I want to be normal but how. It’s like having a color you hate and trying to avoid that color every second of the day but you can’t. But how, how the hell do you go from hating that color, that pea soup greenish yellow color that disgusts you. Do you submerge yourself in it? Do you paint every wall you have that color? Will that really work?

All that I know is that I’m tired of living this life like this. I’m tired of trying to avoid it

Ball and chain

The theme for me this summer is, think about all the things you want to do but don’t do because of the people around you who love you. Now, I know this is a crock of shit, ridiculously irrational but, 90% of my thoughts are.

For example, my hair is long and it’s 89 degrees out. Yes, I could put it up into a cute bun or pony tail, or even better, the so called ‘messy bun’ that only looks good on girls under twenty five. Why is that anyway? Ted likes my hair long which means, I can’t cut it. What if I do, is Ted going to be irritated? No. Probably a little disappointed but mad, no. It’s not like I’m going to shave my head. I just down have the head for it, a bit too bumpy I think. But in my head, I let it fester that I CAN’T get my haircut because Ted WON’T LET ME. Ridiculous. Irrational. 

Tattoos. I have 6 and only one is hidden from view. I have one on each wrist, on my forearm, both ankles, and my hip. My hip one is technically a clover but it depends on where I am with my eating disorder. It can look like a tree at times or a scrawny wilting clover. Ted hates tattoos, especially on the face and the legs. Now, I’m not interested in a face tattoo, except maybe one on my forehead that says, DON’T FEED ME. The tattoo on my right forearm matches one of my daughters, the other forearm is waiting for me to make an appointment to have a daisy tattooed on it. This daisy will be about 4 inches long. Nothing huge, nothing that people are going to look at and think, did she just get out of prison. Nope. Like I said, Ted doesn’t like tattoos. I had them when I met them so it’s not like some big surprise. In fact from day one I told him that I was going to get a tattoo that matches my youngest. So does the fact that he doesn’t like tattoos prevent me from getting on. Yes, but it shouldn’t. Again, so irrational. He wouldn’t do a thing. He probably wouldn’t even say anything, but again, in my fucked up brain I think, he’s going to hate it and it will piss him off.

Vaping, most people don’t like it, so why would Ted. I like vaping, usually bum a drag off people but I want my own. Apparently Ted thought they would smell like cigarettes but they don’t. He finally said, what ever, if that’s what I wanted to do, go ahead and do it. Sooo, I’ve got the permission. It will be great for my appetite. Yes, I know, there is tons of research on why I shouldn’t. Many of those reasons are it might someday kill me. If you’ve read any of my blog, you know this doesn’t bother me at all. I’m on the fence about this one, a decision I need to make myself but I’m leaning towards getting one. I know one of my readers thinks it’s a bad idea, especially using it to help with my appetite, but oh well. We can talk about it again next week. 

And the most irrational, binging and purging. I say that I can’t binge and purge because I’m never alone. My therapist calles bullshit on that. If I really wanted to do it, I would find a way. I thought about it a little and I’m not totally in agreement. He will notice if all of a sudden I’m eating tons more. I would have to hide the trash somewhere. Throwing up is easy but when I’m done, it often looks like I was punched in the face, which is extremely noticeable. I could throw up before I get in the shower, but again, he’s going to notice that the gallon of icecream and half the oreos are gone. He notices, believe me. As far as when, I’m home with him all day in the summer. He doesn’t leave unless it’s the two of us. 

I did take the time the other day and told him about these things that I feel I can’t do. He reminded me it was all my choice. I asked him if there was something he doesn’t do because of me, and he said nothing. 

I’ve just been crazy lately feeling the summer is flying by, I have work I want to do, and writing I want to get done. My eating disorder is loud, but right now, more of a suggestion. Don’t get Dunkin Donuts, eat yogurt, have some cherries, ditch the gold fish…. This type of stuff. Also, throwing every insult it can at me about being fat and lazy. Ohh… how much fun it is in my little mind. All roses and unicorns. Dead ones. 

BUT there is a little tiny bit of my mind that recognizes what I’m doing. I’m looking for an out. If I do all these things than Ted might be made enough to just kick me out. Without his support, a roof over my head, and more, I would spiral into a bottomless abyss. Why would I want that? I don’t. I think I don’t. I’m just trying to make sense of it all. 

I’ll just blame it all on Ted.

Driving them away

It’s been so long since I’ve written a blog or anything else just for fun. Blogging, as much as I use it to share my feelings which sometimes can be upsetting, it’s still more of a pleasure thing. Lately it’s been all about grad classes and creating lesson plans and blah blah blah. (Creating lessons can be fun too but I’m an over thinker and an over planner.) Other things that I’ve put to the side are my free writing, learning the guitar, and getting out to walk. Lately it’s been sit on my ass, fighting with my feelings about food. 

So today I write. (My therapist thought I should too) 

The thing that is on my mind a lot lately are my girls. They’ve decided to move with their boyfriends and their father, 1300 miles away. They are on their way there now, I’m tracking them on their phones, with their permission. I send texts and get texts in return. If I don’t think too deeply about it, I let myself believe that it’s just a vacation. People keep telling me that they will be back, as if they can predict the future and I want to remind them, all kids are different. You don’t know and I’m allowed to be upset about it. Knowing that they “might come back” does nothing for my feelings right now. It doesn’t make it better.

My oldest wrote me a three page letter that had me in tears. She described her love for me, the things she remembers most, and made me cry. So in return, I sent them both letters as well. I did the same thing, wrote about the good memories, what I will miss, how much I love them, and how excited I am for them and that they have my full support. 

Two letters that were unfinished because I couldn’t tell them really how I feel. First, they are my life line. I breathe this air because they expect me to. I get up and go to work because it’s what they want me to do. I’m supposed to be okay while they are gone. What I didn’t add was how I feel responsible for them moving. How every decision I’ve made since my divorce in 2012 led up to this move.

Happy holidays!

Five days until Christmas. Five days until I kick myself in the ass and get back onto that treadmill, scale, and count the calories. Yes, it’s maybe early for a “New Year’s Resolution” but if I give myself permission to wait that long, I’m letting  my eating disorder down. It has been working over time the last few months to convince me that I need to get my fat fucking ass in gear and I’ve been unwillingly, ignoring it. Basically, as much as I want to be thirty pounds lighter, my will power is lacking. So on Christmas morning, after I text the family the traditional, Merry Christmas with a bitmoji, I’ll stand on that scale and take the plunge.

Now, the end game is to lose weight but I’ve decided to award myself along the way. I’m in need of new sweaters, which I will award myself at the -5 pound mark. I’ve started horseback riding again and would like a pair of britches but not until I hit the -10 pound mark. -15 pounds, maybe some new pants. -20 pounds… who knows, but I have to make it good.

Last year I was in Miami for Christmas, it was one of the best Christmas ever. wasn’t about the food because the food was controlled by someone else. If I felt overwhelmed, there were recovery coaches to lean on. I was surrounded by people I loved, people I got, and people who got me. I miss those people. I miss Miami, I know this Christmas will be different and it’s supposed to be. I also know that going back today does not mean I will have the same Christmas as last year. Different people, different experiences.

What will my Christmas look like? Well, I moved in with Ted, yes, I know, but I did. He loves me and I do love him, most of the time. I’ll call my girls to wish them a Merry Christmas. I’ll see them on the 2nd to celebrate with them. It should be fun. Each breath I take is for them. My friends and family don’t understand it. I’ll give Ted his presents and he will give me his, and that’s it. I didn’t decorate, there’s no point. I’m not a real festive person. My dad remembers it differently, he remembers my smile, I do remember too, but I remember the tears as well. I’m not sure why I have such sad memories or why I was so sad. Maybe, psychologically, it was because of the trauma that I endured as a kid. Maybe it was Christmas let down. You are excited for days, looking forward to Santa, the presents, the tree and all, and within a couple of hours, it’s all over. 

I would also like to take this moment to complain about my job. I teach seventy five 8th graders who have not had a normal school year since 5th grade. Basically, I have a bunch of kids who act like 5th graders but have the hormones of 8th graders. Tik Tok trends are happening. We’ve replaced soap dispensers, bathroom doors, and paper towel dispensers. We had one teacher recorded while getting hit with a ball to the back. And Friday, the threats came in and the police jumped on everyone but still, only 60% of the students in the school actually showed up. It’s ridiculous at the pressure we are under and we have virtually no support. Since school began, I may have seen my principal a dozen times outside of his office. Four of those times, he was on the way or way back from the bathroom. Students know that whatever they do in the classroom will have no real consequences. To contact parents is a waste of time. The students who have support at home are not the parents we need to contact. Don’t even get me going about the lack of support we get from downtown. We do not pay enough for subs like other districts. Our bus drivers are quitting to work in districts that pay more. We’ve had to cancel three bus runs all together. When teachers are out we lean on the teachers aides which we are already seven short. Students who have IEPs and 504’s are not getting the true support they should be getting.

What I do know, when stressed, I look for order. I look for something I can focus my attention on. Something to ground me. Latching on to my eating disorder is one of those ways I find most helpful.

Have a happy holiday people!

Goal for the week, DONE

My therapist’s goal for me last week was to post on my blog. Which I didn’t do. This week she again set the same goal. Apparently she thinks writing my blog can be therapeutic, and I guess, in a way, she’s right. I can just write and write about whatever the hell I want. I used to love writing my blog. Ideas used to come to me all the time, lately, my ideas or thoughts are just blahh.  Maybe it’s a sign that everything is going really well or maybe it’s not. I guess I’m a little depressed, which is not a surprise. But come on, if you look at my posts from last year at this time, compared to that, I’m doing incredible. Or I’m not doing incredible and should be where I was this time last year but I haven’t tried to take my life for them to send me there.

The suicidal ideations are still there, kinda. They are more passive, you know, please please someone run me off the road, type of thoughts. Are they dangerous thoughts, I absolutely don’t think so. 

I guess the big thing going on with me now is that Ted’s dog passed and now I have no real excuse not to move in with him. Do I love him, I do. Do I enjoy being around him, I do. Does he drive me insane sometimes with his narcissistic behaviors, oh yes. In fact, sometimes, my opinion goes unheard because if I disagree while he’s venting, it must be because I just want to make him mad. Actually, it’s the opposite. It’s my way of trying to smooth things over so he’s not so mad. It’s that whole devil advocates thing. He’ll complain about someone and all I point out is maybe why a person did or didn’t do something. This might get old after a while.

Not having a place to run to when I’m pissed off will also be challenging. And let’s point out the obvious, it’s hard to have a binge/purge ED when you are living with someone. I can be sneaky, but not that sneaky.

You know how in the movies they show the clip of a bathroom with the sound of someone wretching from behind a stall door. Then they come out, their eyes are slightly watery but they just dab their mouth and move on. That is not me. My face gets red and puffy and might stay like that for an hour. If I walked out of the bathroom looking like that, people would ask questions. 

So… I’m slowly moving my shit. What I’m looking forward to most is being able to spend more time with my cat. Also, this whole going back and forth is getting old too. 

Unfortunately, well maybe unfortunately isn’t the word to use, but because I’m overwhelmed, hesitant, and anxious, to make myself feel better, I remind myself that I have 9 different medications at my disposal. All the worries will go away.

So there’s my blog post for this week. Is it insightful, I don’t think so. Ahhh well

Happy anniversary

Usually I get this great idea or need to complain about something and then sit down and write a post. This is the first time I’ve got nothing planned. But it is a special day. A year ago, tonight, I OD’ed. I know I’m supposed to be celebrating my life. I should be proud of all the obstacles that I’ve cleared to get to this point. But really, that’s not the case. 

You see, last year I was 15 pounds lighter. Last year, even though I hated myself, just like I do now, there was a part of me that I did like. I liked my eating disorder. I liked it better than myself. And I want that feeling again. I want to give up myself to my eating disorder. 

I only have one regret about that night and this is the only place I can say it, I should have waited longer. I shouldn’t have worried about who would find my body. 

Of course, since then, I’ve been living. I’ve been living for my girls. They insist that they need me, even though they are 21 and 18. In fact, they actually were very convincing for a while. I’m not really convinced anymore. 

You see, they’ve decided to move thousands of miles away with their dad. I’ve offered to buy a house closer to where they are now. I could commute and they would have a place to live but they like the idea of moving. And I get it. It’s exciting to move to a new place.

How am I supposed to feel like they need me when they just up and move away? Two things are going on right now. 1. I’m feeling horribly depressed and lonely that they are abandoning me. Or 2. I’m horribly depressed and sad and are looking at this as a breach in contract and now I’m free to do what I want. This includes all my eating disorder behaviors plus other self destructive behaviors. Drink too much, eat too much, puke too much, not eat enough, cut, and if I want, end it all. 

I know that Ted loves me and wants me around for a long time. I know my siblings feel the same and a few of my friends but in the end, it doesn’t matter what they think or feel. It’s my decision. 

For now, I’ll keep living one day at a time. My girls aren’t moving for months. I have time to contemplate life. Even if it’s with a pint of ice cream in my hands with the clear expectations to throw it up after.

Let’s go!!!!!!

Wow, it’s been a long while. My last post was in August. It doesn’t seem like that long ago. What have I been up to? Well, thank you for asking. Just teaching, coaching, and going for my masters. All things that are stressful to me. A healthier me would have said, “No way am I going to take on all that. Why don’t you decline the coaching position for this year and focus on teaching and your masters work.” But the pushy unhealthy me who could care less if things went completely to shit said, “Fuck that! Don’t give up that money making coaching position. You can do it all! Suck it up buttercup.” So I took it all on. To watch me everyday, going through the motions, I look like I’m handling it all. Fine and dandy. But if you could sit in my head for a little while, you know, like that little alien that sits in the head of the guy on MIB, you would be fearing for your life. At least your own sanity. With all the craziness, I did come to my senses the other day and decided to postpone this next grad class until after the holidays. 

I know, TONS OF PEOPLE can handle the responsibilities of what I do. But for me, it’s really challenging. By the way, a side note, I  hate when people compare someone to someone else. You know, “if you can do it then I can do it” shit. Maybe I wasn’t born with the get up and go like many people have. 

This time of year sucks. It’s the prettiest time of year and I do ohhh and ahhh at all the beautiful colors but my brain also is weeping for each leaf as the tree stops producing what that little leaf needs to survive and cuts him off to fall to the ground to be stomped on by people. 

I guess I have the seasonal affective disorder, at least that’s what I tell everyone. Actually, I just have an eating disorder and depression. The two of them are battling it out ninja style. My eating disorder wants to starve me. Make me crazy about weight loss and calories. But my depression is encouraging me to stuff food down my throat, drink more calorie engorged booze, and get high, which causes me to stuff more food into my face hole. 

On a scale of 1 to 10, 10 being I’m just peachy and 1 being I’m barely holding on, well I’m about a 3. Does that bother me? Not as much as it does my therapist and my boyfriend, Ted. And if you have been reading my blog for a while, then you know what was going on with me last year at this time. The anniversary of the “event” which is what Ted has named it, is just around the corner. I don’t want to say it’s not on my mind but the only reason why it is on my mind is because it’s on theirs. 

This year, I’m in a different place. Not better but not worse. It’s more of a lateral move. Suicide is off the table. Remember, I have two girls who finally got through to me and I’ve promised them that I will rise from my comfy bed daily, take a shower, and live my life. I think the concern is, when I’m not in my right mind because of my little bad habits, I tend to do stupid impulsive things. Like OD.

I’m not concerned about it at all. I’ve thought about it ALOT. I can not deny that a huge part of me wants to get in a fancy time machine and go back to that night and do things right. If I had, I wouldn’t be here a year later regretting it. Does that mean, I’ll try it again. No. I had my chance and fucked it up. I played life or death too many times and I’m not allowed to play anymore. I guess you could say I got a red card and was kicked off the team, and it was the losing team.

BUTTTT there is one thing that did come to my attention the other day. Apparently by living this dumb life I’m expected to go to a wedding in August. Far away yes, but I’m really annoyed and freaking out about it already. I hate dressing up. I hate going to weddings of people that I don’t know well. I have months to lose the weight and the time to begin is now. So follow me on my journey of self hatred, self sabotage, self harm, all the way until August!

When we send our kids to school, we want them to be surrounded by people who care. Who loves life. Who looks for the best in everyone (even my little terror with a heart beat) Who is a law abiding citizen. Who, if seen out of school, is always on their best behavior. I know, you may think, well that is not really all true, but seriously, wouldn’t that be the ideal person who is teaching your wide eyed curious nerdy little boy? 

I’ve had friends who were incredible teachers but lost their job for reasons that other lines of work would not. One to many drinks at a party and an OUI can get you fired. Oh wait, I didn’t mean to use the word ‘fired’ I meant, bullied until he resigned. You hear about it on the news. The teacher who was let go after a picture on Facebook showed her with a glass of wine in each hand. There are many parents out there that want to believe that their kiddos are being taught by…….Mrs. Perfect who is also married to Mr. Perfect that I have 2 ½ kids. They are in bed by 8. They live a sober honest lifestyle and do volunteer work every weekend. They are polite and kind and live in a little house with a white picket fence. When you see them at the store, they are buying organic fruits and vegetables and pass by the liquor aisle without even a glance. They are not too fat or too thin. They are nice looking, a face that everyone would love. Always using inside voices and never swearing. In fact, they never truly get angry because they are always so understanding. 

Now we all know that person doesn’t exist. But everyone wants their kids’ teacher to have some of those qualities. A few would do. And it does depend on the setting. I think in an urban school district like the one I teach in, the expectations might be a little lower. But those schools full of kids whose houses look over the ocean, well that family might want more. 

Okay, where am I going with this. Well, I’m not that teacher. I do my best to look the part. I try to talk the part. And it varies from student to student. I can tell the difference from the stories they share. Once I sat back and watched a student whose father has been hit with narcan twice and whose mother was unemployed and they lived in low income housing talk to a student who lives in a two story colonial on the outskirts of town with a few acres of land. With a mom who was an insurance agent and a dad who was an engineer. They were comparing their worlds. The one who had it ‘good’ was in awe that someone could live like that, and in their city. The other, with a shoulder shrug, claimed it was no big deal. 

I’m missing my point here. I’m not one of those teachers. I’m divorced, financially unstable, emotionally unstable, constantly doing my best to make sure not to drop the F bomb. I do care for them. I am kind to them, sometimes a little sarcastic, but most of the time, I’ve got their backs. I live in an apartment which could be pulled out from under my nose if the 86 year old woman downstairs passes away and becomes the angel she truly is. I turn my back on students when I’m carrying a bottle of wine down the aisle. Or hide the front of my favorite shirt because it’s just an advertisement for some liquor. But the material is so so soft.  My shopping cart is full of junk food with the occasional vegetable. 

I try to hide it all. From everyone. Even my boss. Which by the way, is impossible to do because no matter what I say or do, I walk around feeling like there is a big sign on the back of my shirt that says, I’M A LOOSE CANNON! I’VE TRIED TO KILL MYSELF AND I HAVE AN EATING DISORDER AND ON THE VERGE OF A MENTAL BREAKDOWN EVERY SECOND. Of course, people that know me at work keep telling me that they don’t think that way. That’s what happened in the past. That the four months I had to be on medical leave to go to treatment, wasn’t a pain in the ass for everyone involved. It was hard to come back as it is and harder for me to try to fit in and be a normal person. 

What is the point of this blog you wonder? It’s my reason why I’m going to tell my therapist ‘NO’. She convinced me to be part of this small group online with people with eating issues. It’s only been a few weeks and yes, I like it. I like listening to, talking to, and supporting people my age. But the kicker is, it’s 9 in the morning. When I’ll be walking a classroom explaining the difference between a molecule and an atom, and probably doing something silly to keep their attention, they will be having a meeting. My therapist, who is always full of great ideas but unfortunately, ideas I often ignore, wants me to ask my principal if once a week, I can just give up my responsibility as a teacher, to continue working with the group. Just asking exposes me to more judgement. I’m trying to convince everyone that I’m good to go. Asking for someone else to cover me so I can talk about my problems is not a good idea. Yes, she’s told me that it’s really important and that they HAVE to allow me to take the time, I’m saying, Nope, it’s not going to happen. No way no how. I don’t care who you are, you will be judged, you will lose respect, you will be labeled someone who is difficult. No one wants to be the employee that they don’t trust! And worse, what happens if it gets out. What happens if a parent, from one of my students, finds out somehow what’s going on, or what my mental health status really is? I’ll be judged harshly by some. People don’t want their kids’ teacher to be the real me. They want the pretend me and that pretend me, does not do group counseling mid week at 9 AM! ABSOLUTELY NOT.

Hey! Where’s Libby?

So, as you know, I do have a therapist. A wonderful one, may I add. She puts up with my shit. I’m stubborn and annoying. I’m in denial and try very hard to hide my horrible ways but she reads me like an open book. Well anyway, she convinced me to join a group with a few other women who also have an unhealthy relationship with food. FINE I’ll call it what it is, an eating disorder! Are you happy now!

Anyways, as a group we are all reading the book, The Body is Not an Apology: The Power of Radical Self Love by Sonya Renee Taylor.  Yes, in the past I’ve complained about these types of books and refused to read them but hey, I’m trying. 

The book, well it’s not that bad. It points out the things that I refuse to see. The beliefs that I refuse to believe. As well as, it raises the question, who the hell am I and why do I do the things I do?

The most recent thing I read that made me go.. Hmmfff.. Was an inquiry question about what I have denied others because of my “eating disorder”. I’m all about what I’ve missed out in my life because of my food issues. I know what I give up but until the other day, I really just looked at the way these things impacted me. The question asked is directed at others. How has it really impacted my family and friends?

Obviously, they worry about me. That is a given. Yes, believe it or not, I do have a few people who love me. What I forget is, I’m not the only one missing out here. Let’s see….

So you can see. My choices of isolation really do impact others in my life. I guess I was too selfish to see it. Will that make me become this socialite that I know I can be. Haha… nope. But it will make me think about things a little different.

Denial Island

I live on an island, you may have heard of it. The Island of Denial. Some of you have stopped by to visit. Maybe a day trip or two. Some of you have a condo that you might visit more often or a seasonal cottage in the woods. But I, well, I live smackdown in the  middle of the island in a penthouse apartment. I am the mayor of Denial Island!

Right now, I’m in denial that I have a real eating disorder. Notice I put the word “real” in there. DENIAL. I’m eating less calories but I wouldn’t consider it actually restricting. I’m walking a few miles a day but it’s all because I LOVE walking. It’s okay that I skip a meal here or there. It’s really no big deal. And binging and purging once or twice a week really isn’t all that bad! 

Oh man…. I can hear my therapist now… DENIAL!

What has happened, I’ve allowed myself to get very comfortable on this island. Sometimes, so comfortable I’m in such denial that I’m sometimes forgetting my own common sense.  

Example. I’ve been trying to lose weight. Walking more, eating less. You know… being healthy and all. ***INPUT Side eye from therapist here.**

Anyway, the scale hasn’t made much movement. Oh yea, did I mention that my scale is very much needed. Without it I would be so lonely. 

I go out to eat at least 3 times a week, at the same bar, eating the same boiled chicken and broccoli. Along with that meal, I’ve been drinking a few drinks. At first, it was just one or two of those 100 calorie flavored club soda/vodka drinks. 100 calories here, 100 there. No big deal. 

But soon, I stepped out of my penthouse and sat my ass on denial beach and started drinking margaritas, fruity vodka drinks, long island ice teas…. Yummy yummy..

Yesterday, sitting at the bar with a friend, drinking just water, frustrated that the scale wasn’t moving, I decided to look up the calories of my favorite drinks. WOW! It’s common sense, we all know there are calories in alcohol. A lot of calories but I let myself bathe in the waters of denial and forgot about it. Soo.. let’s just say, I’ll allow myself to have one or two Truly’s but the other stuff, I just can’t do it!!

Let me give you another example of how rooted I am to this magic denial land. Today, I was exhausted and really didn’t want to go for a walk. But  you know, I had to because I love walking so much (LIAR). Anyway, I was talking to a friend as I’m huffing and puffing and complaining how tired I was when somewhere above, I heard my therapist’s voice. 

“You can’t walk if you don’t fuel your body.” 

So here I was, complaining of being tired. Not coming up with one reason why I should be so tired. In total denial of what was really going on. 

Oh don’t worry. Living on Denial Island impacts more than just my ED. I think I’ll be able to teach school, take grad classes, and coach soccer no problem. 

The other day when I had to deal with my daughter and her boyfriend, I would rather believe that his picture on Tinder was a mistake. My ex wants to hang the boy. But guess what? On  Denial Island, that all gets brushed under the rug.

And Ted, well you all know, he’s the constable on the island. 

Wait, before I convince you that Denial Island is a bad place, it has its good qualities too. For years I hung out on that island, denying the abuse I was enduring. I walked the trails in the woods, forgetting the marriage that was disintegrating around me. Sometimes, denial has saved my life. Sometimes, denial has given me some peace.

So, if you found yourself on Denial Island, give me a ring. We can meet for zero calorie drinks and zero calorie burgers. Maybe, we can even go for a long enjoyable walk in the 100 degree heat and love every bit of it. 

My number is (464)-633-6425 or I’M IN DENIAL