Anti-Depressants

I closed the comments option on my blog a few months ago. I don’t have an exact reason for doing it, but I guess I just didn’t want to rely on those comments to motivate me to blog. I always said I would write eventually, even if only 1 person read what I had to say. Thankfully, more than 1 person will read this, but I still felt the need to close the comments option.

However, today I am re-opening it for a little while. It’s because I want to throw something out there that is really controversial and scary: Anti-depressants. I have never taken them personally. Have they been suggested to me? Yes, and on more than one occasion, too. And I have considered them in the past, especially in my early 20’s. It’s not that I am suicidal or manically depressed or anything...it’s just that a few times a year I DO get feelings of depression. I am sad and irritable, exhausted and unmotivated. I feel like that these days. Okay, so I’m smiling on the outside, but I am dragging my feet and fighting tears. I get clingy and needy, and start grasping onto those around me for comfort and attention and...I dunno...salvation almost. It’s not good.

I feel really fat these days. I think I actually am gaining weight. Nothing seems to fit. I am snacking and snacking and nothing seems to satisfy my hunger. I try to get enough sleep and yet I could curl into a ball at 2pm and sleep for 24 hours. My hair doesn’t do what I want it to do. I look in the mirror and sigh. Who is this girl??

Hello honesty... I told you I would be real with you, and I think this is as real as it gets.

Why am I spilling my guts?? It’s because I think some of you out there might actually relate to this. Maybe not everyone, but I know that I am not alone here. I know we all go through seasons of drought and sadness. I know that bawling in my car listening to sad songs on purpose is not something I invented. I’m not the first girl to put on 10 different outfits in the morning trying to decide which one best hides the muffin-top. Right? Right guys? If I could stay in my yoga pants and hoodie all day and hide I would be happy.

Remember when I went to the doctor last month and was scared to tell her about my struggle with bulimia? Well, it’s kind of like that for me again. I understand that for some people anti-depressants really do the trick. They are kinder to others, they accomplish more work, they enjoy life more thoroughly, they cope better with the bumps, they feel healthier and stronger. Those are all things I strive for. I am just scared to be labelled forevermore as “depressed”. Because I actually do really enjoy life. I do. It’s just that I need a leg up right now. After the Big Move and all my struggles at the moment (finances at the top of the list) I just need a boost. But once again, what if one day I actually finish my degree and go into a field where it is all about dealing with depressed people, and I get turned down from the job of my dreams because I took/take anti-depressants? Or are these little pills actually just like candy out there? Does everyone take them at some point in their lives? Once you start, are you able to stop?

Can I just throw something out there for you guys? I said I go through this a few times a year, right? Well, this is the first time these feelings have hit since I stopped throwing up. Can you even for a second imagine how much worse it was when I was throwing up every single day? Oh my word...what a gong show. I can’t believe that was once my life. I would be feeling so, so, so fat and ugly, and then to make matters worse, I would eat anything possible, even stale bread or cereal I didn’t even like, and then I would wait an hour and puke it all up. And that was how I dealt with these feelings. Did I feel better? Um, no. Maybe for 20 or 30 minutes or so after the fact. Then it all got bad again. I am so thankful that that part of my life is behind me. I guess I am still learning how to cope with my sad feelings in a healthy way. I don’t know what that looks like yet.

In my last post I wrote a list of things we could do to feel better. Hmm..well, I have taken my vitamins but I haven’t gone for a walk yet. Maybe I will do that now as I contemplate all I just wrote.

Am I considering anti-depressants? Not seriously, not yet. But the reason I allowed the comments option for this post is because I would like to hear your opinion, if you have one. Have you ever taken them? Do you know someone who has? Did it help? Did it make things worse? Do you think I would be wasting my time, since chances are I will come out of this fog eventually? Do you think that all the rain has brought this on and not some chronic illness?

The Big Move kind of messed things up, I think. But actually, if I hear back from you that this sadness is just part of life, I might be able to look past it. And going back to the post on perfection, well, life just isn’t perfect, is it? It certainly isn’t right now, but I can still be filled with joy.

I am going to embrace this state I am in. It’s not fun, and it hurts like hell and is uncomfortable. But maybe somewhere down the road all this hurt I am feeling will manifest itself as great compassion and empathy.

After all, my friends, as those wonderful Weepies say...

The world spins madly on...

~C~

Moving Is HIGHLY Overrated!

Hi all! Before I get to the heart of this post, I would like to apologize for the lack of writing lately. I'm maxed out time wise, but trust me, my mind is bursting with things to share; anecdotes about the past few days, thoughts surrounding bulimia and high-stress situations, family matters, work stuff. But for now I am doing the best I can...I am breathing in and out (um, kind of) and I am trying to take care of business. His Heart, My Song, has NOT taken a backseat to everything else that has been going on in my life, but I want to give my posts the time and attention they deserve. I don't want to waste your time with fluff, especially because so many of you out there are fantastically loyal. So thanks for hangin' in there. Just give me another week or so!

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Alrighty, first of all, let me just be super honest here: I. Am. Stressed. I'm really not a huge fan of whiners and complainers, but seriously people, I feel like I could burst into tears at any moment. My back feels like it will snap in half should I pick up even a pencil. I stare at castle-like towers of boxes (what the heck is in them, anyways?!) and cringe at the thought of moving them to a new house. My thigh muscles are pulsing with tension. If my arms could get up and walk away, they would. I don't want to see another paint roller or stand in another line at Walmart laden down with un-fun "necessities" like Magic Erasers and picture hangers...Only 1 more week.

Thanks for letting me whine...now onto the lessons. Oh yes, there is always a lesson...

I was hanging out on the website of a very beautiful lady who faces challenges each day, not unlike the ones you and I face. She has SUCH a good attitude and outlook on life, and often inspires me to get that chin of mine back up. Her post today hit the spot, and something she said totally resounded with me. If not for this little piece of wisdom today, I would not have been brave enough to share this falling-apartness with you guys. I would have probably told you that everything is great and I have got it all together!

I find it refreshing in this day and age that women are talking about their short-comings, their fears, their insecurities and maybe, just by doing so, we are empowering each other a little more. Accepting that we all do these things, feel these things, say these things and moving on together to overcome them.

We are not perfect. We are messy and complicated and creative and good and we try our best at so many different endeavors. And its this brew of wonderfulness that is indeed what makes us perfect.

Hmm...We are messy and complicated. Ain't that the truth. Last year I would never, ever have been able to admit that. I would have hid behind walls, put on a smiley face, sucked it up. But not anymore.

Last night I spent a few precious hours with my best friend in the world. Those moments are heartbreakingly few and far between. I had McDonalds bags strewn about my car, Tim Hortons cups galore. My hair looked like tiny little birdies had taken up residence in my grade-8-style 'messy bun'. My eyes were sunken in, my clothes dirty, my spirits low. But as she came in for the embrace, she totally, completely looked past that. She loves me unconditionally. And I let her in. Literally, into my far from completed new place, and figuratively into my soul. She told me that she feels like the only way she can tell lately what is going on in my life is by reading this blog, which is totally crazy. I really need to live what I preach. Hard as I try, I have realized I need to step it up once again and start living for these amazing relationships in my life. I have been blessed with friends who are family. And that is so great.

You girls know 100% who you are, and I want to thank you SO much for being my family. You are my world. I'm sorry I don't tell you that more.

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Moving update (sans whining and complaining!): This week has been a combination of deep cleaning, packing, painting, and moving boxes. The new house was dirty, dirty, dirty, and my lovely lung infection has returned with a vengeance. Friends have been over there this week painstakingly cleaning with me and for me, and I could not have handled that on my own. Painting is another story. Priming is never, ever fun, but painting hasn't been so bad. My hallways are Monica Geller inspired Arcadian Blue, and the living room and kitchen are a warm and cozy Urban Natural. Love. It. It's all starting to come together now. I have 6 nights left in Rockhill Place. Hannah asked me if I was sad about that. Honestly, haven't even thought about it. I'm sure I will be, yes, but right now it's the last thing on my mind.

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Some of you have been asking about my sleeping this past week. To my knowledge I have not left my bed once. They say that darkness fears the light, and I am so thankful that I shared with you what was going on. I feel like I exposed something that can't hide anymore. For you out there who have been praying, thank you. Really.

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Lastly, I want to share with you something that the most precious little girl said to me today. She was shining one of those obnoxious flashy light-stick things that you get at Playland at me for the longest time while I smiled at her politely and waited for her to move on. She slowly lowered it, came up right into my face and said, "Misses Sina...you're so, so beautiful". Oh heart of all hearts...she just knew what I needed to hear to instill enough confidence in me to complete this day. Thank you, little girl.

And now I say to you, my friend...You're so, so beautiful.

Happy Friday, everyone.

~C~

Somebody To Love

It doesn’t seem to matter what kind of mood I am in. Happy or sad, tired or energetic...there is just something about the song Somebody To Love (by Queen) that makes me want to sing and dance.

The lyrics are very interesting. "Can anybody find me somebody to love?" I know that love is a many splendid thing, and love lifts us up where we belong, and all we need is love. But I think sometimes we spend too much time and energy focusing on a certain kind of love that we miss out on other ways to love.

Maybe this sounds generic and too simple, but I miss the feeling of loving people just for the sake of loving them. I want to dance with babies and hug my best friend. I want to listen to the tales of old folks and draw on the sidewalk with the neighbourhood kids. I want to make eye contact with and greet every person I walk past at Mill Lake. I want to be kinder to the people who work at Starbucks. I want to volunteer somewhere and I want to write a letter to an old friend. I want to bake cookies for someone who is feeling down and hand out more encouragement cards. I want to be more generous with my love and less selfish with my time. I want to be known as a lover. As a giver. As a friend.

Can anybody find me somebody to love...

As you can see, friends, love is all around. Love is all you need.

Love IS a many splendid thing.

Je t'aime, mon ami...je t'aime.

~C~

Honesty

I am super inspired right now. Usually I think of myself as fairly honest, especially in the past few years. Sometimes I make up some really good tall tales, though...I smile to myself as I remember the day I convinced my coworkers that one of the Russian figure skaters was mowed down in the ARC parking lot by the other pre-school teacher and couldn't compete in the winter games. Sometimes, just sometimes, you really can't believe what I say. But when it comes to real lying, life becomes really, really tricky. I have had my share of complicated lies surrounding my eating disorder, but part of giving that up has involved me learning to be honest in all areas of my life. But this week I was totally caught off guard by a friend of mine and have learned a valuable lesson about the truth.

(as usual, names have been changed)

I went out for coffee with Mariah and her cute little kids this week. We met at McDonald's and let the little ones play while we visited and caught up. It was great to see her. Once the kids started to wind down, she packed them up and we said goodbye and went our own ways. The next morning I got an early phone call. Mariah was on the other end and sounded very upset. Naturally my first thought was that one of the kids was sick or hurt or that there was an emergency. So my heart started pounding. But once she started talking I started to smile...She was apologizing from the bottom of her heart for something she had said the day before that wasn't quite honest. To me it wasn't a big deal what she had said. It doesn't even matter what it was exactly. But I was totally, 100% touched by her apology and the fact that she was asking forgiveness from me for the sake of moral and good conscience. It reminded me of a time when we didn't know what lying was. We were only 1 or 2 years old at the time, but we only knew how to tell the truth. How refreshing, relieving, and simple life must have been, hey? It seems so pure to me.

For the record, Mariah was beyond "forgiven". I put that word in quotation marks because it wasn't necessary in my opinion, but for her, saying sorry was something she just needed to do in order to sleep well. She isn't a child, but she has the heart of one; she wants to be pure and real and would never want to hurt somebody. That is beautiful. Totally inspiring and challenging.

I know I have already committed to you guys to always be honest when you ask me how I am, but I am going to take it a step further and be as honest as possible as a new challenge. And I challenge you to do the same. It will be hard work, but maybe one day it will come naturally. I can't promise to stop telling tall tales though. You guys like it, anyways. Keeps things interesting, right?! ; )

Have a wonderful week everybody. Hope you're feeling cozy warm amongst the pouring rain that has drenched BC today.

~C~

Lean On Me

I would like to recognize some incredible women in my life who have shown great courage, bravery, and strength in the months since I have opened this blog. Women who, in their own words and their own ways, have opened up about their struggles with bulimia or other related eating disorders. It doesn’t matter what details are encased in each story; the struggle they face, and have faced, is enough to bring me to tears. I am broken for each one, although I feel hope and excitement for the road ahead. For all of us.

It’s no secret that eating disorders are fairly taboo in our society, which is crazy considering how many people struggle to have a healthy relationship with food. Sure, there are other things that no one wants to talk about, but I would sure like to see the veil lifted and people more open to talk about bulimia and anorexia. I have had some recent conversations with people who start out brave and are able to use the word ‘bulimic’, but as soon as it comes to the throwing up part, it is usually referred to as “that”. As in, “Yeah, I knew someone who did that”. I don’t know why this is, but I really, really hope it changes. At least in the circles I run in. Let’s just be open!

Anyways, back to these women. If I was gonna pay individual tribute to each one of them, I would change their names (for privacy sake!) to Brave, Adored, Cherished, Beautiful, Lovely, and Wonderful. It has been amazing to realize this support system exists; one where I can be honest and have someone be equally (or even more so) honest back. It’s not to discredit my family and friends who talk to me about my struggles at all, but there is something so sincere about talking to others who know the ins and outs of having an eating disorder who really, truly “get” what you are going through. I am so grateful. And for the record, I don’t just appreciate the stories about eating disorders. Many of you have shared stories about other struggles you have faced, and each one has humbled me and been locked away in my heart. I often draw on the strength of you guys; you faithful readers who have blessed my socks off.

So I say, keep the stories coming, you guys! If you’re on facebook, feel free to email. And if not, we can connect through the ‘comments’ page. This is an incredibly cheesy way to wrap up a post, but since you know me so well, I am going to go for it anyways. Cheese should have been my middle name!

Sometimes in our lives we all have pain

We all have sorrow

But if we are wise

We know that there's always tomorrow

Lean on me, when you're not strong

And I'll be your friend

I'll help you carry on

For it won't be long

'Til I'm gonna need

Somebody to lean on

~C~

"Yes, I'm Fine"

I have thrown embarrassment, discretion, shame, and fear to the wind. I have decided to be blunt, frank, and honest here, which is why I want to talk about what it is like to hide such a huge secret from the world. What do you say when you emerge from the ladies room of your favorite restaurant with blood-shot eyes, struggling to catch your breath? How do you explain teeth marks in your hands? How do you face a dentist and cry to him/her about your eroding molars? I suppose there is no easy answer, is there? My answer? Pretty freaking universal...it goes something like this:

F (for Friend): Chris, are you okay?

C: Oh yeah, totally. I'm just not feeling very well these days.

F: Really? What's wrong?

C: Oh, you know. Whatever's going around, I suppose.

F: You sure you're okay?

C: I'm fine.

I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.

What's up with this culture anyways? Who invented the word 'fine'? Because at what point is that word actually applicable? Your dog just died, and yet you are fine. You just lost your job, but, thank goodness, you're fine. You're sick, you're tired, you're dying, you're injured, you're broke, but you are telling me you're fine. What a lie! What an acceptable, common, overused, overplayed, huge, big fat lie. I had tears streaming down my face, bent over a toilet bowl, and came out of that bathroom and told you I am fine. I cried myself to sleep and convinced myself I was not good enough, and I told you I am fine. That isn't fine. That is wrong. And I am sorry. I am so sorry. I'm sorry for lying. I wont tell you anymore that I am fine. If you ask, I will tell you the truth.

Anyways, back to the business of hiding big secrets. It's easier than you think, and it is harder than it looks. It's a contradiction, yes. But it's true. I cant believe I got away with what I did for so long. I had 3 or 4 different jobs over those years, lived in 2 different countries, engaged in deep and meaningful relationships with family and friends, all the while hiding my secret. On the other hand, it was hard to lie to people. It was hard to hurt and have no outlet, especially those years where I refused to even journal about my struggles. It was hard to feel so incomplete.

Of course, now that the shoe is on the other foot and I am learning what recovery looks like, things are not automatically easier. It is still hard, because I am trying very hard to love myself with the same acceptance that I love others. It is hard to make bad choices and not have a way to so convieniently "get rid of" the problem. But you know what? It is all a small price to pay for freedom. Life isnt easy, but it is easier. Eating a meal without feeling guilt? Amazing! Going 6 months without the lies and shame and guilt? So relieving. I could easily end this post by saying, "Yes, people, I'm fine". But I wont. Instead, I will tell you, "I'm free".

~C~

The Wonder Years

It would be far too easy to say that adolescence is complicated, would it not? So instead I will say that MY adolescence was rather...confusing. You could probably have called me naive to a lot of things going on around me, but I really feel as though that wasnt exactly true: Just because I wasnt engaging in certain stereotypical behaviors didnt mean I didnt 'get it'. I have always been the mother; the one taking care of intoxicated friends, the one keeping people company in the smoke pit, the one passing out tissues to poor girls who got dumped by their lame boyfriends. All that to say, I played that mother role to a very, very dear friend of mine who we shall call Samantha. She was (IS) so beautiful, and as cliche as this sounds, her beauty always came from within and radiated to everyone she met. When we were in our mid-teens (heaven help that age group!) Samantha began to change...she stopped talking as much and starting acting as though she had a secret. It wasnt long before Samantha began to lose weight...rapidly. And people, I am telling you: She did not need to. Sam would eat what she liked and laugh along with the rest of us at the movies while holding her popcorn and candy, and she seemed hungry a lot. It wasnt long before Samantha came to me with her secret. She was bulimic. Sure, I was in that peer mentoring club thingy and should have seen the signs, but this was pretty big news for me. I was scared. I thought that she was going to die. She agreed to see a school counselor as long as I came along, but that didnt seem to help. One day we were hanging out at my house and for whatever reason we were in the bathroom together and I actually stood there and watched her make herself throw up. I will come back to this moment shortly.

Samantha eventually seemed to 'grow out' of this phase in her life, and she moved on after highschool to pursue some pretty awesome adventures. We have had far too few follow-up talks her (our) struggle.

So while all this was going on in Sam's life, I think I was kind of the opposite about my body image...I couldnt care less what I ate, what I wore, and what I looked like. I specifically remember being lectured about the nutritional value of slushies after years of believing that since they were liquid, they were calorie-free. Oh, one could only hope! I went to McDonalds as often as possible. I was Oriville Redenbachers #1 fan, keeping the microwave popcorn industry alive. It never really occured to me to be anything but carefree. YES, I had those freak-out-in-Mariposa moments when I couldnt find clothes that I liked. I was your average teen with braces and social problems. But once I graduated from highschool and moved into my late teens and early twenties, I truly felt as though I had made it through, scotch-free, on the whole eating-disorder front.

It was September, 2004. That is my earliest memory of this disease. I dont remember the first time. I dont remember why. I just know that I stuck my fingers down my throat and...well, you know. What I wouldnt give for a record of my statistics of that moment: what was my emotional stance? what were the surrounding circumstances? did I cry? where was I? did I grasp the concept that I would battle for many years to come? I dont want this information as a way to torture myself. I want it because for years I have been searching for answers. And there is STILL a missing link to this puzzel that I have yet to find. All I know is that one day I was fairly confident in who I was, and the next I was not. Can anybody else relate to that?

Coming back to Samantha and watching her throw up...I can tell you that I was absolutely broken in that moment. I felt helpless. I felt weak. I felt sad. I felt scared. I would have given anything to have her stop. To have her be whole again.

August 18th, 2009. Remember this date. That was the last day I will ever, ever, EVER force myself to throw up again for the rest of my life. Because in that moment I had a vision of standing there watching Samantha break...only this time it was me. I am not helpless. I am not weak. I am not sad. I am not scared. And I HAVE given anything to have ME stop. And I am on my way to being whole again.

~C~