Hello, Mamma

During my recovery from anorexia I was asked what a full, recovered life would look like. Who I'd be, what I'd be doing, whether I'd get married or be a mother or not. Big life questions, right?

It was something that felt so far-stretched as I sat in my therapist's office, that I couldn't even comprehend having my periods again, let alone meeting someone and having a baby. Who cared? What I cared about was controlling my diet and not gaining weight.

I didn't realise how much I had got used to seven years without menstruating, it was my new norm. Not normal, I get that. But to me, I guess it was some sort of reassurance I wasn't fat.

Fast forward to the end of 2018, a year of connecting to my body, my sacral chakra and of accepting as a 30-something year old woman most definitely should be bleeding every month. I've gradually, through self-care work, have ended up in a place where I celebrate this, I track my cycle, noticing small changes during each season of my cycle and embracing them.

Reflexology has helped too. Not only to work on my connection to me, but also there's research into the benefits of it on fertility, and many use it to bring on labour when they're ready to burst with baby.

Well, that's going to be me in about five months time. Yes. I am pregnant.

Big news huh?

Marc and I found out around the 6/7 week mark, a home pregnancy test. I decided to do one after a couple of weeks of sore boobs and missed bleed. And there is was. A positive.

We weren't NOT trying, but I have believed since 2011 that children would be out of the picture. Something I had traded with the devil (anorexia) for thinness and lightness. But it seems a little bit of self-care and being with someone who's going to be an amazing Daddy can work it's magic.

It's going to be one hell of a journey. I'm 14/15 weeks, it's already been a whirlwind of appointments. Starting with coming off my meds immediately (citalapram isn't recommended when pregnant), stopping drinking, cutting out caffeine, taking folic acid, and most importantly EATING. Eating well, better that I have in a longtime. I have the support of some amazing friends, family and my doula, Tor, and lots of really wonderful members of my tribe too. I am focusing on a 'me' pregancy and birth, with yoga, hynobirthing, affirmations and keeping calm. 

Over dinner a while ago M asked me if I'd be okay when pregnant with the increased need to ALL food types, as well as the vital weight gain to make a baby and carry it for 9 months. Don't get me wrong, I am scared of ending up a bloated whale by Christmas, I am anxious that having a child will make me a chubby mamma forever, but I know these are lies. Everyday I will face new challenges I am sure, but for now, it's all-go for the baby brain. It seems to overide anorexia, I know I need fats and carbs to grow a bubba, and that's what it's going to get. I don't expect to be scoffing cakes and dark chocolate or bowls of chips for the next 25-odd weeks, but I will be increasing my varieties and cooking up balanced meals to grow a little genius as well as I can.

I can't quite believe that come January/February we'll have (all being well) a baby to care for, feed and bring up. A little human we'll help to navigate the world. But we will have. That's my new reality. Something I dreamed of and recovered for.

I will try to share my journey on this blog, because I want it to have an outcome that gives other's hope that aims in recovery can seem so pointless and far-fetched but trust me, those dreams CAN become realities. I am about to find that out over the next few months.

Solid rock or stuck in sinking sand?

Oh, yes, getting stuck in the sands of a 'safe' a common place in recovery, isn't it? But me? Stuck? No, surely not. I'm living on a solid rock aren't I? I am not like other people stuck in a half-way-house form of an eating disorder built on a not-so-solid foundation? I don't define myself as so, at least, so that makes me different. Well, en contraire. 

Before, I get started on the sand it appears I'm stuck living on now, let me take you back a couple of years, when I wrote this in a post about trying to fit life into the 'neat little boxes' of anorexia. 

"I can't fit, and will never be able to fit this stuff, new foods, new people, new experiences in to THIS life. They will never fit in to anorexia’s routine, rules or plan for me." - Me, January 2013

Right, so where have I built my house (or life) and why is it bothering me? Firstly, I'm stuck where I was when I was discharged this time last year I guess. When Dr B. signed me off, I KNEW I had work to do. I'm able to get by in life, I can work, workout, run and play. To an extent. I have lost weight since I left there too, something I'm probably too blase about to be honest. I knew I had physical 'work' to do to finish of weight restoration, it's obvious I haven't done that. But I am not sure why. I also had mental work to do, continuing the work we did in therapy/mindfulness about not believing the negative self-talk and reminding myself that, well, stuck is not safe. I promised myself I'd make plans to move house. 

But that's not going well. Yes, I'm safe-ish, but I'm also stuck on where I started putting the bricks.  I also knocked some of the walls I built with help down and now need to redo that work too. How do I know that? Well, for a couple of reasons, they might sound familiar 

1) The 'don't like/won't eat/want to eat' list 

Who knows what I do, don't or won't eat any more. What I liked pre-anorexia - I probably only eat 10 per cent of now. What I ate during treatment when working with Ms F - I probably only eat half of now. In conversations with C (the other half) over the last seven months, I've tried to justify and tell him there are foods I 'don't' like - when really, deep down, it's not that I don't like them - it's that I don't eat them. Because it freak anorexia the fuck out and I know it. So it's AVOIDANCE and I know it is. This is such an obvious sign on being stuck at a certain point in recovery. My biggest problem here is, that I've been stuck with these food rules for so long, I don't know HOW to move - or believe fully that I can. It IS restrictive and what's worse is, I know it. 

2) The same old routine.

That brings me to routine. Get up, eat the same breakfast, go to work, go home to the house built on sand, eat, bed. That's generally what I do, unless it's one of the days when I run or got to circuit training. Occasionally I do something different, when the boy comes over, or a friend wants to. But I have the daily pull back to my routine. Anything outside of that causes an internal niggling anxiety. I worry about when I will eat, what I will eat, whether I may or may not like doing what is planned. I CRAVE my normal when I'm not in it. 

3) Counting numbers. Worrying about numbers. 

With this I mean two sets of numbers, on a monthly basis, my weight. I still BLAME myself if my weight has gone up - like today - and just accept if it has gone down. But this also ties into the fact that I KNOW I haven't eaten more than standard RDA of calories EVERYDAY or always actively replaced the calories I have burned on runs etc.. So something must be 'wrong' with me to gain weight? So, there are the other numbers. Calories. I know roughly how many I eat a day, and when I know I have gone OVER that, I still feel greedy, glutinous and 'wrong'. 

4) Sitting still guilt

It's not that I run or workout to 'earn' food, but I'd be lying to myself or you if I said that it doesn't make life a little easier when I have. Like I can justify food or doing something for myself. I feel like self-hate or less self concious once I have exercised. It IS a self-esteem boost, so that's where this one gets complicated, because science will tell us that working out raises endorphins in anyone. 

5) Checking myself out

Body checking. Body image. Mirror work. Something we actually never got round to during treatment. Yes, really, they skipped this bit, but I wish thy hadn't. Partly because Mrs W. left before we got on to it, then Dr B's work with me took a different direction which uncovered more issues. But anyway, what this means is I still really don't like my body. I don't like bones, I don't like my 'fat bits' I don't like my bloated stomach and I micro analyse body parts too much. I get frustrated when people say my arms are still too thin, I don't like catching my reflection in the mirror at circuits and I am still very. very self concious when in the buff with C. I sway between NOT wanting to change my current body at all, wishing my imperfections weren't there and also looking fitter, more womanly and getting my boobs back. Like with food, I've forgotten what I ACTUALLY want. 

I haven't built my recovery on a completely unsustainable surface, I was lucky to get the help I did, but that doesn't mean I couldn't be on terra-firma though. I KNOW there is a firmer ground, a more solid place to lay down my roots, a place where other people will want to come to see me in, rather than on the sand. But for some reason I am struggling to move houses, and I am not sure why. Maybe because anorexia has convinced me it's a nicer house on the sand, with sea views? But that ocean is the one I swam not to die from this illness. So, would I ever jump back in fully? Not a chance, so why do I still need to look at it everyday?

When's a habit a behaviour or a decision a deal?

It'll come as no surprise that I've always been a creature of habit. But when a large chunk of your life has been spent with unhealthy habits, sometimes the comfort of said habits is actually doing more harm than help. 

What I still struggle with is the internal debate on where the line is on habits and eating disordered behaviours actually comes. With the routine and habits that on one hand I see as 'just getting on with life' but on the other are maintaining a semi-recovered status quo. 

Remember those 'no big deals' I battled early in recovery? The NDB habits which Ms. F and Mrs W. challenged everyday when I altered, switched or left bits off my meal plan? Well I guess I should have challenged them more back then, because they're so natural to do.

It's not like the behaviours - or habits - cause me distress or upset though. But I wouldn't know if challenging them does, because I don't do it very often. That's the thing. I do just get on with life. But does that life include controlling my diet, avoiding high calorie 'junk' food and having rules around when I am 'allowed' or 'not allowed' to 'treat' myself by eating out or adding a bread roll? Yes. 

So how is that recovered I hear you ask? Easy, it's not, because I am not free to eat what I want, when I fancy it. I am not free from guilt and I feel like I need to 'earn' those treats. Do I feel guilty for eating or bad when people point out how much, or what I eat or if I think people look 'healthier' than me. Yes. 

But on the other hand, do I WANT to include most of the foods I don't have in my diet? No not really. So this is the conundrum I am in. With no 'weight restoration' plan or dietitian setting out 'challenges' to test anorexia, I don't - or feel the urge to - I just have these habits. My diet. 

I do jut get on with life, but life where I eat lots of salads and 'meat' (Quorn) and have the same 400 calorie breakfast, similar lunches and rotated dinners everyday. I have basket loads of fruit a week and pile my plate with veggies. I eat the same suppers, custard or soya yoghurt with dried fruit and granola for supper. Every. Single. Day. Unless of course, I eat out with colleagues or friends. Once or twice a month. There's some calories I don't count, some things I don't even think about anymore, but I wish I had tried harder to erase the mental calorie 'rough guide' I started when I stopped obsessing. Because that's my guide everyday.

Like I've mentioned in previous posts since discharge, I never hit the golden target weight I was first set, I was a kilo or two under (but in a healthy BMI for a year). And since starting life outside the EDU, my weight's not plummeted, but I have not gained over that number either. The thought of the month I get on the scales and I am that target, scares me. I know this is not right, ok?

But then again, are these just all habits I'm stuck with in an 'anorexia hangover' - or are they behaviours that still control my life? This is the debate I still have. The deals I still do? I don't know. I just get on with living with them and try to ignore food thoughts - and don't really tell people HOW I feel anymore. I just fit them in my routine and try to cope. 

Crossfading chapters rather than fanfare

That's how I'd best describe the turning of the page to the next chapter of recovery.  

The chapter of recovery where treatment has come to an end. 

The next page I see is blank, not with a pre-written title in the corner, no one dictating appointments or plans. No weekly dietician, no weigh ins, no blood tests...blank. Just a date in the diary to check in in a couple of months. By then I'll be 30 and we'll have a new Government. 

But treatment being complete doesn't mean recovery is.
(as much as I wish it meant that.) 

It's time for the chapter where it's all down to me. And I've decided that I don't have to have anorexia any more. Although, four years ago, I thought that saying that out loud would come with fanfares and fireworks. But it doesn't. I don't even like telling people I've finished a chapter?

 I've gradually allowed life to cross fade into recovery. 

The part of me that desires tick boxes and clear lines despises the greyness of reality, but that's half the battle, right? In an idealistic world I could draw a bold line under recovery and recovered, but that's not how it works. I get it now. 

And I am okay with that. The blank page of this untitled chapter isn't scary as I thought it would be, it just feels natural. I'm still figuring out food, body and life, but slowly, in my own words.

The bit that doesn't feel natural is trying to explain to other people what this chapter is about or whether I like it, because I don't know yet do I? Plus, no one else has read the previous chapters the way I have. No one else has had their head stuck in my recovery like I have - so how will they ever understand this bit? 

It's not a new book, like I thought it would be. 

It's definitely still the same book, maybe a new volume? 

I've read and reread and learnt a lot in the past four years. I've been to hell and back, I've wanted to throw the book out, rip all the pages from the spine and burn it. But I haven't. I've kept reading, even when it's made no sense at all. 

But writing this next volume is about writing a future. It's about deciding who I am, not trying to understand who I am not. 

Pass the pen. 

Washing off the stains of anorexia

Frustration, anger, entrapment and guilt. The stains of imperfection remain and I wish they'd scrub off and I'd scrub up.

Unless you're also in recovery from anorexia, I'm sure those words don't automatically get linked to your body. They're probably not the feelings heightened during a Sunday morning shower after a lie in either, But for me, they are.

Every lump, bump and bulge was staring me in the face during my shower this morning. Every single imperfection screaming at me as I stood there, trying to wash off the thoughts and feelings. They've stained my skin, even as they fade. They are still there, and expanding. 

But I'm left feeling totally powerless to change my body, because over the past three years in treatment I know losing weight isn't a real solution. But what is? Is there one? 

I can reel off the textbook therapy answers, that fixing my body, addressing my faults, banishing the fat I see everywhere doesn't fix the mind. Won't ever wash the stain on my brain. 

But when the mind is still looking for a fix. It's hard to not feel frustrated, especially when my bare skin is staring back at me. I'm angry at being in this skin.

Frustrated that I can't fix me. Frustrated that I don't exercise. Frustrated that other people with and without anorexia are fitter, thinner and healthier than me. Frustrated that I feel like I am always going to be less than good enough.

That's where feeling trapped comes in. I feel that frustration which feeds the anger and guilt. But I'm also aware of the motivation, the reality, what other people would say to me. If I make myself feel better in the short term, by agreeing with anorexia, long term, these four emotions trap me more. They'd kill me. 

But then there is the guilt. The guilt for the gains, the guilt for the greed, the guilt for not dedicating more time and energy into channelling the 'willpower' that anorexia still tries to convince me made it all better. Recalling conversations, meals, calories and cakes. Yes, I can only blame myself. It's my fault I am feeling like this at all.

I know better than that. I know it's lies. I know it isn't a real, long lasting and peaceful solution. But in the shower, alone, naked, it's still so raw and real. I still hate being in this skin. I still want a solution. I still want to be better. I still wish I could control the flesh I now know I can't. 

Same time, same place...different thinking

It's been a normal 'Therapy Friday', the same appointment, same place, a date with the scales. All pretty standard stuff. 

Although this morning I started by not putting on the radio or turning on my music. I started with breakfast reading a chapter of Jenni Schafter's 'awesome book, Goodbye Ed, Hello Me' then picking up my notepad and doing some thinking to get in the recovery zone.

Maybe it's this sequence of events, really taking time to NOT think about things, but try to FEEL my 'truth' that meant when I got on the scales and I'd put on a big-ish chunk of weight, I was sort of okay with it. 

I have spent a week being more honest, not trying to convince myself I can cut corners and make 'no big deal' restrictions and hope that I'm still considered 'in recovery.' Gosh, on some days I've even added extra and felt like it was the right thing to do. This hasn't happened for a while. 

Then I walked to the EDU in the sunshine, read a newspaper article about my shortlisting for a Beat Volunteer award for my campaigning, took off my sunglasses and rocked on in to Dr B's room. 

The session started out like most have recently, me not really feeling the 'Hurrah, go weight gain, go' vibes. Feeling rather numb to it all. Wondering why it's ME who has to gain weight, wondering why it's me that thinks too much...WHY ME? You get my drift....

But then half way through, and after some mental prodding from Dr B. something pinged in my head. (I won't transcribe the entire session, and I can't remember all of it) But something occurred to me, made sense. Just felt right. Suddenly he (we were) right. 

We've been working on thoughts about why gaining weight is the right thing to do, obviously my head usually screams are you MAD, of course it's not. But today, I swallowed hard and had to agree, that gaining weight could actually be right for me, right now. 

There are a zillion reasons why I KNOW I SHOULD believe it's the right thing, I could reel those off to you. But today I felt different, I felt lifted, empowered and I opened my eyes to the possibility that it REALLY is, that I feel like it's the right thing to do. Why? 

Because deep down I know everyone is right. I am right. But I am spending my days arguing with reality. But I am sick of not being at peace. Sick of being tied up trying to suss out a way of not being a healthy weight and being recovered. I want to be an inspiration, but I can't do that when I'm not at peace in my own mind. I realised that Dr B was right.

I have the potential to change so much more in this world than my weight, by changing my thoughts about weight gain. By finding my peace. By putting on my big girl pants and making it happen.

I'm not really sure where to park these thoughts tonight. I want to make it make sense to you all, to the world. I want this to be the most ground breaking post I've written - it's not any of that.  But something felt good today.

Obviously me being me also questions where this blast of positivity and motivation has come from, I'm suspicious and I dread it stopping. Why does this suddenly feel different?

But right now, I'm willing to just go with it. Because maybe, just maybe, he's right.