And I just kept moving

It's days like today where it's really freaking hard to be an addict. Recovered or not, half-recovered, half-not, half who knows what the heck is going on in life; sometimes life just grabs you and swallows you up. 

And it usually comes without warning, in my opinion. I've done a lot of self-research into why some days I wake up and the world just seems off. Is it a hormonal thing? Are there certain triggers about this specific day that would make me subconsciously be thinking about certain things? Did I not get enough sleep? Are my kids pushing my buttons extra hard? Am I just bored? There has to be a reason behind these kinds of things.

I guess that's something that I have learned about this tricky business of addiction, anxiety, and everything that comes along with being pre-wired to have this kind of lifestyle. There really seems to be no set thing that makes me feel the way that I feel sometimes. 

I woke up this morning in a good mood. Good enough for it being a normal Thursday morning. Maybe a little over-whelmed, but nothing out of the ordinary. But for some reason I woke up thinking about my dad, and I just couldn't stop thinking about him. I set out to work on the yard about mid-morning and I just kept thinking. And thinking, and thinking. About how much I missed him. How much it wasn't fair. How much all the things that I think about him when I think about him were on my mind. 

And when this happens, I get stuck. 

I get stuck in these thoughts and these emotions and it seems that I can't figure out how to get out of them...

I truly believe there is no recovery for an addict. My dad died 5 1/2 years ago, and I still get stuck in these emotions that I have about it all. The pain that I can't seem to get past. 

But I guess that's where we grow. 

To realize there is NO getting past it. Just getting through it to the other side, and then to just keep moving.

5 1/2 years ago, when I would start to feel stuck like I do today, I would drink. No matter the time of day or the obligation. I would have a drink, and that's how I would get through to the other side of it. To avoid it.

That's how I know I've grown.

Today has been hard. I can't figure out for the life of me why, which is why it doesn't seem to help confronting it or dealing with it in any way. But I seem to have made it through the worst of it without a drink. 

How? 

Well first and foremost I prayed and I asked God to give me the strength to make it through the other side. 

And second... I took it one foot at a time. Right foot, left foot. I talked myself through each moment and said, just get through the next task. Just go do one more thing. Now let's get through the next thing. And one foot, and the next. And then I got dressed, and then I brushed my teeth, and then I just kept moving. 

And when I needed to stop and process I did. And when I needed to sit down for a minute I did. And when I felt overwhelmed again and again I prayed. And I just kept moving. And I gave myself a goal. To make it through till I could go for a run. 

And when I told myself I felt like writing this, I knew I was ok and that I would make it through. 

There's no secret to life. And I think that's ok too. 

Just a lot of prayer, and a lot of faith. 

And if all else fails; get your butt out for a run. 

The first lb of pregnancy weight gain

8 1/2 weeks pregnant

So, I have gained a lb. One big fat pound into my journey of many more pounds to be gained. Have you ever played hearts on your computer and you can't play the hearts until they have been broken, and once they do break there is this noise of glass shattering? That is how I felt this morning when I stepped on the scale. I weigh myself once per day, at the same time everyday. You can read about why I weigh every day in my post HERE! My weight fluctuates, a pound up, a pound down, always returning back to normal in a day or two. But today was the third day of normal eating, and the scale stayed up. As the numbers flashed 126.6 in front of eyes I stepped off and had to take some time to evaluate how I felt about it.

Gaining weight is inevitable during pregnancy. It can also be a tricky game of whats too much and what is enough. For a normal weight woman, which is the category I fall into, you should gain between 25-35 lbs. For an underweight woman, more, and an overweight woman, less. Most women gain way too much weight when they are pregnant. With my son, who is 5 1/2 now, I believe I gained about 50 lbs. Gaining weight doesn't ever seem to be a big deal when you are pregnant, but it sure does hit you hard after the baby comes out and for some reason your still holding onto 40 extra pounds! Wait? I thought that was BABY weight!! No my friend, that was ice cream weight, and that kind of weight doesn't leave when the baby does.

Determined to be as healthy as possible during this pregnancy, as well as a much larger fear of weight gain then I ever remember having with my son, I am watching my weight gain this time around. This desire, accompanied with a lot of time on my hands has aloud me to do a lot of reading about weight gain and pregnancy. I have found articles from woman who recommend a large amount of weight gain to women who run marathons and train for figure competitions while pregnant. I think this all aids in my anxiety even more (as most medical research done on the internet does.) So who is right? Should I not worry about it and just eat whatever I want, should I go hard core and train for that half marathon I've been longing to train for? What do I do? Who do I listen to!!!

As a woman who has grown very found of working out hard, pushing myself to the limits, eating light and healthy and making darn sure my weight doesn't inch up the scale it has been very hard to let the walls down. Normally I wouldn't eat late, even if I was starving. Normally I would never go back for seconds. Normally I would limit my carbs and never add cheese. Normally I would make sure I got in at least 2 hours of working out every day. But normal is normal anymore, and every time I indulge into a little extra food if I feel I need it, or out of a workout because, frankly, I'm exhausted. It hurts. I know it shouldn't hurt, and I know I am making all the right decisions, but it doesn't mean the feelings are not there.  As someone recovered from a serious eating disorder, you find out it doesn't matter how recovered you are, your still just that little addict girl when it comes down to it. So, what do I do?

Well, I haven't figured that out yet, and I think that is the most important lesson that I have learned in dealing with addiction, anxiety, and fear of the unknown. There are no set answers and there are no proper ways to do things. I don't know how much I am going to gain or how my body is going to look afterwards. I don't know how I'm going to feel with each tick tock of the scale, much less how my body feels as I wake up day in and day out. I may get my energy back tomorrow and start running every day again, or something may happen to me in a month and I could be bed ridden for the rest of my pregnancy. (uuuuugggghhhh!) But no matter what it is, it is out of my control.

This is the moment in our decision making ways where it's most important to learn to give it all to God. The more I want to tighten the reigns, the more I know I should pass them along. Because life happens no matter what, and we get REALLY stressed out with or without God by our sides. But without Him, who knows what stupid decisions I would make, because that's what man kind does. But with Him, everything becomes a little less of a big deal, and a little easier to handle.

Relapse of thoughts and anxiety

Not loving that thing that I love so much today...

I have been super antsy about food all day today and it has been driving me nuts! I used to be antsy about food all of the time when I had my eating disorder, which was probably one of the main reasons for it. I used to have really bad anxiety, for more things other then food of course, it was more of an anxiety of life. But a lot of it generated into food because I could make myself feel better after my bout of anxiousness, by throwing it all up. Many people that have ever had issues with bulimia will tell you that purging is such a release, almost as if it were a drug, where the pressure would build and build until at last I threw up. And as with any other drug, there is a love hate relationship with it. You hate it every day of your life. But it is a part of you that you can't get away from, something that you hold so close to you that if you were to leave it it would be just like leaving your closest friend who knows all of your deep dark secrets. Scared that if it goes away all of your deep dark secrets will be let out.

But that is no way to live. No addiction is worth all of the pain and the pressure and the heartache that it forces you to go through. The loss of you life, from hiding something that is the essence of who you are, and the loss of health, from destroying your body day in and day out, for the sake of doing something you feel that you cant control. The cycle is vicious and all consuming, its amazing how anyone ever makes it out alive. 

Although I am not an addict anymore, I will always be an addict. I will always have the feelings inside of me, and the desires, and most importantly, the memories of the life that I used to live when I was an addict. It sits inside you, like a ball of tears that is stuck in your throat fighting you. You suppress it and suppress it, but it sits there, silent and un noticed to everyone except to you, the person who is having a battle inside themselves to keep it suppressed. And although I have been suppressing the ball of tears for so long now,  sometimes it unknowingly and unwantingly comes to surface. (I can say that a few months is a long time, when a few hours used to be a long time. One day a few years will be a long time)

Today I woke up feeling off wack about my body and myself. I felt strong, but I looked in the mirror way too much. I felt fat in everything I wore that I usually feel good in. I had gained a lb on the scale, and I over analyzed everything that went onto my plate. There are signs of a healthy habit, and signs of a self destructive habit and these were the signs of a self destructive habit. These are the days that I have to continue to make the choice, no matter how hard it is, to be healthy. These are the days where I used to say, the heck with it, I already feel like crap so I may as well eat whatever I want in the house and just throw it up. Then ill feel better. But who does that! 

So I fought with myself today. Its a fine line with food for me on days like this, between eating too much and then hating myself, or eating too little, resulting in the negative compensation for bulimia, which I have vowed to never do. I cant eat too little anyways, cause it kills my performance in running. Its hard to be a runner, cause you know you need to eat a lot in order to maintain performance, and be a person that has obsessive tendencies about food. Its a constant internal battle that I have to deal with. A lot of fine lines with eating too much, too little, running too much, too little, and on and on and on. 

How do I deal with it? One day at a time my friend, and on the days where that is not enough, I take it one step at a time. Most days I am fine with myself, my body, and my actions. But there are many days where I am not, and all I want to do is compensate through addictive behaviors. Sometimes when I am battling an anxious "episode" I literally pace around my kitchen, opening the fridge door, closing it, walking back to the couch, walking to my bedroom, back to the fridge. Opening it, closing it. And if I can mentally handle it for long enough the feelings pass, and I can move on with my day. When I was going through the really hard times, I would force myself to put on my running clothes and lace up my shoes, all while opening and closing the fridge door, and force myself to walk out the door and it was always one step at a time for me. One conscious choice after another to choose the life I wanted, not the life I had.  Maybe that is why I love running so much, cause the only way to get to where you want to be is one step at a time. 

An addict is an addict for the rest of their life. Its is a burden that we bare long after the worst times are over, and maybe it is the burden that is the worst. But always remember that it is your choice... whatever you choose your life to be.