Oh Immune System Where Are You? And Lungs??? Knock it off.

When I was a kid. I was sick almost constantly. Whenever I got anything it would go live in my lungs for a while. It was my normal for my mom or dad to spend the night or take shifts in my room holding me up so I could breathe. It was normal to cough until I vomited. It was normal to take more meds than an elderly person. This was my normal. Staying in when it was too cold. Swallowing pills as a preschooler-- all my normal.

My lungs still suck and whenever I get sick- it goes to my lungs and lives there, for what seems to be forever. I still cough with enough force that I sometimes throw up. But it is not as bad as it was-- by a lot. Now, after I am sick for a few days and coughing my stomach hurts! As a kid my stomach muscles were so strong- all the coughing in the world would not make me sore.

As previously discussed- I have an eating disorder, I am maintaining my weight (sometimes white knuckling it) but there is the aftermath of the time that I was in the midst of it.  My immune system is one thing that was pretty much destroyed.  And it sucks being sick.  My normal is sick. The good thing is my kids have great immune systems and usually act as Typhoid Mary.  I'd much rather be sick than them.

Because, looking back, I cannot imagine the frustration, helplessness, and desperation when I was sick so much that my parents felt. When my kids are sick, I would literally give my left arm to take it for them.  How many times have parents prayed to which ever G-d they choose to please please please let them take whatever is ailing their kids.

And it took me being a parent for me to see how much my parents must have begged for the same.  Let them take the bad tasting medicine. Let them stay up all night coughing. Let them get stuck again. Anything...just make the kid better.

So, thanks Mom and Dad for staying up with me so many nights.  Taking me to endless doctors. Cleaning up when I threw up. Waiting in boring hospitals for another chest x-ray to be read. For teaching me to swallow pills.  For convincing me to take the bad tasting medicine- even the truly awful stuff.

I can't imagine what you went through- but thank you for doing everything you could.

Oh Dear. Utah. Scary. brain dump

This past September was the 15th anniversary of coming back from Utah.  This has been the first year that I have not spent the day curled up in a fetal position waiting for the day to pass.  I actually only realized the date when I had yet another one of my nightmares about Utah.  Yes, I still have them with some regularity.

This morning, I looked at Princess and almost died. She is growing- up, she is not my little girl who chases geese and loves to swing at the park. It dawned on me, when I was her age I was already in the midst of an eating disorder.  A diagnosable eating disorder.

She is such an amazing person, smart, caring, strong, thoughtful, and kind.  I never want her to hurt like that.  I never want her to feel like she is not not enough just as she is.  She is special and unique and fantastic.  How can I protect her from this?  How can I keep her safe from that trip in a fun-house mirror. 

Its the 2 step!

One forward, backwards. sideways, throw in a few front-rolls, maybe some back-rolls for fun....

It is the Eating Disorder Dance. Some days are better than others, some days I feel trapped in my mirror looking at things that are growing in ways I do not want them to grow.

Then I forget to eat. Not hungry. What? Food? Who needs it--- why am I shaking?
Eat. Panic. Sweat. Real anxiety over eating.

Then the culmination. I weigh myself. I never weigh myself. Ever. I consciously avoid knowing my weight. It becomes and obsession. When I obsess over that number I become a mathematician of caloric content.

After a few weeks of backstepping, I am coming out of it again. Remembering. It really is a coping mechanism. Get overwhelmed? Compensate with food.