Next Adventure

I’m honestly not sure how I got here. Or if I can get through it. But I’ll try.

No one ever talks about trying to get pregnant while having an eating disorder. No one talks about being pregnant with one either.

So. Here is to my journey.

My brain is fighting itself. There is fear. There is excitement. There are so many things.

On Monday, I had my IUD removed. First time since I was 19 years old I do not have any birth control. No hormones.

Part of this is exciting because the progesterone has definitely made me gain weight. And keep it on. All while fighting to force myself to eat to lose weight. Fun battle.

But I’m choosing to get fat.

My team has been so great in coaching me through it all.

Stay on the Lexapro. Start therapy a few months before starting to get pregnant. Stay in therapy until a few months after baby is born. Keep in touch with medical team through whole process. Practice all the tools you’ve learned.

Sounds easy enough, right?

If I could I would have put this off even longer. I wanted to lose more weight first. I want to do this and that. Between my age and COVID, I can’t wait any longer. I want to have kids. I don’t want the pregnancy and child birth process. Just….magically appear with my DNA.

What if I don’t get enough nutrients?! What if I fuck this kid up because of my poor eating?!

Everyone keeps saying that it all changes when you’re pregnant. You’re not getting fat….You’re sustaining life. But how do I know?! There’s no other documentation from people who suffer like me. Minimal studies and research–ya I checked.

So I hope I can provide guidance to at least one other person. I hope it’s helpful.

To this next adventure.

Here I Am!

I keep seeing the icon. And I keep thinking to myself, do I even have anything worthy to post related to my anorexia struggle?

Well. Today I do.

I really thought that maybe I was finally at an ok place. I had accepted that I am a lifer with anorexia. My struggle will be constant and never ending. I haven’t been in therapy since it ended several years ago. I have my tool bag of tricks for the hard moments. My relapses were farther apart and if they happened I could catch it soon enough.

So what has happened? How did I get here?

Well. First. I got married. It was not the way I wanted. I FINALLY left the toxic job. It was with a lot of tears and stress induced vomiting and health complications. And with my parents, friends, and fiancé (at that time) begging me to quit. Yea, that bad. I was being bullied and harassed. But I was scared to leave because I was used to those kind of toxic relationships.

Nonetheless, I finally did it. And no joke, within 3 days all my health issues resolved. It showed me how bad that place was for me. I had a secret wedding with just parents because, well, clearly I need health insurance. And PC was so fantastic through the whole thing supporting me.

Then I finally got a job in what I had been trained in. Things were up and up!!

Until they weren’t.

Oh wait, what else is new?

Well that job? I thought I found my fit. Until I realized why my position was open. I was the only licensed personnel and one of my underlings was practicing on my level, illegally. She was threatened by me. Why? Because I wouldn’t let her do illegal shit. I’m clearly a bitch. And she started withholding important information and lying.

So I was out. Again. I finally put to use all those therapy sessions about me having self worth and boundaries.

On to the next job. Where I excelled. And yet another lazy person, in my role on my level, he couldn’t stand it. He comes from a cultural where men dominate women. Women never challenge men. He was uneducated and dangerous to lives. And I refused to play his death game. At one point he was even accused of child abuse. As a licensed professional. No thankssss.

Thankfully I switched to this amazing team. We became a family. I learned. I grew. I thrived.

So obviously it couldn’t last.

As a public service, they lost funding (hint the male coworker was a huge part of it). And my hours were cut. Drastically. I couldn’t survive. Sooo on to the next one.

The new job. It is (was?) an oasis. The staff are cordial and get along. So supportive. Educated (streets and books). Have pride in their jobs. Willing to change for the better. A real dream come true.

And oh what’s that?

COVID19 happened. I was furloughed after a month. Still furloughed.

But earlier this year I also did something that scared me and I’m so proud of. I ran a Disney World 5k.

It was scary as hell.

I trained out here. With a few set backs in training (pretty sure I had COVID in January), I had to battle my obsession.

I was obsessed with having to finish the 5k in 30-45minutes. Like unhealthily so.

And we get to Florida race day and it’s terrential down pour and 40 degrees. SO far out of my comfort zone. I never trained in rain. So I didn’t even run as much as I wanted considering the course was coated in puddles. They had to extend the course due to rerouting for our safety. Needless to say, I ran it and finished it. I ended up running 3.4miles.

And by myself. A total fear. But ✔️ completed.

And during that time I relapsed. Because I was running 2-3 times a week and not losing weight at all. Like seriously?!

Well, more things happened and flash forward to now. The anxiety of not working. The anxiety and agoraphobia. The relapses because of cut off food access.

Yes thank you hoarders. You literally starved me. Be proud of yourselves.

So here I am. Not able to do much exercise except for stretching and indoor free weights. Locked inside due to immunocompromisation from anorexia and asthma. Freaking out often with limited food (and struggling to eat what I need so that I don’t gain weight).

I was hanging in there.

The husband and I talked about planning for pregnancy. Because I have to start at least 6months to a year beforehand. With anorexia, I have to go back into intensive therapy and more frequent doctor appointments before, during, and after pregnancy. Still don’t know how I am choosing to get fat intentionally.

Well I go to my physical for the year. Happy chatters (LOVE my doctor).

“Do you want to do labs? You don’t really need to but insurance covers it.”

Sure why not? I’m concerned about my electrolytes anyways.

Well shit glad I did!

My labs were HORRIBLE!! I know I’m fat (legit like over 250lbs). And I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t lose weight.

Failed my cholesterol panel. Have anemia. And fail my thyroid tests.

What. The. Actual.

For years we kept thinking I had hypothyroidism but tests were fine and chalked it up to the anorexia. Reminder: mine is I stop eating my body stores it all as fat and I gain weight.

I officially have hypothyroidism. Like off the charts so. But it’s bizarre because I don’t have the other symptoms. Just the horrid cholesterol panel, thyroid levels, and the fat.

So naturally I cry. Because just a break, please?!?!

But then a lot more makes sense. Taking the medications will resolve my cholesterol, decrease stress on pancreas, and I will lose weight.

Now there’s my big focus. I will actually lose weight. It turns out I’ve been doing it all right but my body fought me.

Oh and then there’s the because I’m young it could be a tumor on my thyroid or now I’m infertile whole thing.

YAY.

Maybe my original thoughts were right from years ago: I don’t see a life after age 35. Never thought I’d live that long.

I Just Want To

Be young again.

Where it’s OK to drink by yourself and get to that happy place.

Or maybe it’s be at that point in the eating disorder where you’re forgiven for using alcohol to cope: to lower inhibitions to eat but also to feel again. Because anorexia makes you numb.

Finish everything I’ve started because then I havent judged myself out of it.

Be allowed to be sexually carefree again. Because single and anorexic is an excuse to go buck wild.

Be able to drunk text people and have people who appreciated it. Because people don’t appreciate shit anymore anyways.

Not be self conscious.

To not hate myself and my body and how fat I am.

Have people realize I used to be fucking hot and have a rocking bod….even if I thought I was fat then.

Get what I want because my body.

Live in this free and happy state that being tipsy//drunk has. That feeling.

Not be me.

Never In My Life Thought I Would

**eating disorder trigger warning**

Well. We all have those things that we would never ever do. Like maybe never ever eat escargot because it is a snail. Or go skydiving. Whatever your jam us.

Mine is I will never purge via any method except exercise.

I know the medical ramifications of laxatives. And I hate the intestinal cramps and diarrhea. Same with vomiting. I also hate hate hate throwing up. Flu season and I yuck.

Well. So I thought.

Maybe it was the combination of factors. Maybe Ed’s voice is so loud that I can’t distinguish anymore. Maybe stress has gotten to me.

Between starting my new job [which is awesome and super easy and chill], the 24/7 medical care of PC after his surgery a few weeks ago [that has beyond gotten to me], and today’s family drama related to wedding prep added to I am tired…I guess I cracked.

I took my wedding dress in for alterations earlier this week. I was scared to death. Like extremely fearful. I was convinced it would not fit because I was too fat.

I put it on…and it was loose!! I lost weight!! I was utterly shocked!! It goes to show you that my anorexia recovery of actually eating helps me to lose weight. I mean I lost so much weight the dress was a size too big I was startled.

But then she fit it tight on me. And there is Ed popping up telling me to freak out because in a few months I will not fit into it! And Edie is like girl just keep eating and we will lose soooo much weight!

Today I come home from work and I have a ton of To Dos on my list it’s overwhelming. But I always manage to get it done. Not too worried I guess.

PC and I had a fight because well his family is rude and presumptuous. And they yelled at him and he tried to roll over. Uh no.

I ate. Food. It’s probably a normal portion to people. But to me and my stomach it was maaaaassive! It was technically the largest meal I’ve had in a few weeks.

I tried all my CBT and DBT skills. But the stomach pains were too severe. I was nauseated and my heart was besting extremely fast.

There I found myself. Over my bathroom sink.

You can do it, Cassie. A finger down the throat. You know where to go anatomically. You get the urge all the time…that feeling. Maybe PC will hear you and realize you really are not OK. That your eating disorder is bad. But after you evacuate like 20oz [the milkshake and something else].

The milkshake will make it smooth. It won’t burn. You won’t feel it. The acid is neutralized.

All Ed. This was all Ed’s voice I realize now.

I sat there for a few minutes looking down at my porcelain sink while my multicolored night light flashed between colors. Battling.

Then I did what I thought I would never ever do in my life. My right index finger made contact with my throat.

What’s disturbing, to me, is the relief it did bring. It didn’t hurt. Because you literally open the valve it all comes up and your chest muscles are not crunching like in the flu. It was disturbingly a smooth action. Granted I bit myself and the I know the signs are on my hand now.

It relelieved that awful pain I felt in my stomach.

This was not a calorie fear. Or a I’m going to be a fat fear. At least not that I could identify. I truly physically hurt in my stomach.

And that relief from evacuation!

I get it now.

Then after a few more times, I realized the not so pretty side effects. No one tells you that when this happens you pee yourself a little. Thanks for that heads up!!

It was so surreal. Pure derealization. Did not feel real at all. That’s why I had to blog right away. Because I would never believe it if someone told me I did it. I needed proof.

I think I’m still there. I’m watching myself because it’s not me who did it but me. Derealization.

OH fuck I think I just puked up my meds.

I didn’t see them….

Moral here is never say never ever.

For One Night…

… Let’s pretend to be normal.

Anything but what we are.

Where to Start?!

This is my return.

I’m overwhelmed with what to say. Like where to start.

There has been so many changes in my life over the past 7 months. I wanted to write as they happened. It helps me process and feel. Experience the moment as they say in DBT.

Thanks to fear and trying to protect my anonymity, I had to give time in-between some significant events so that I cannot be identified.

I have followed of you and am so proud of you. Your accomplishments and strides you are making. These struggles are so. Real.

I guess the first biggest struggle, which will be my first focus, is I completed, and graduated from the Trauma Therapy.

As in I had no choice they basically told me, in one month we are cutting you free because that’s the end goal. After 4 years of intensive therapy. To nothing.

Oooo plot twist?!

Ed’s Voice in Pictures

Been saving some up so I had a nice little grouping. Just so people might understand the thoughts that slowly kill us.

Hiding for Fear

I have so much to say. Multiple topics. Lyrics to post. Images to relate to. 

But I feel like whatever I am to post will not be good enough. 

Ya. It’s that phase. 

The not worthy. Not good enough. Why can’t I be accepted. Phase.

Leads to:

I am feeling fat. I am fat. 

Why am I not good enough. 

Smile. They will never know.

Seasonal Anxiety

Shoutout to my fellow eating disorder sufferers. Our season is approaching.

The Call Came

I am being transitioned to another doctor.

Ironically, while my therapist filled my spot and cut her hours, she basically needs closure with our relationship.

…..

The fuck?!?!

I needed her. She wasn’t there for me.

I AM THE ONE WITH ABANDONMENT ISSUES!!

I wanted to die.

She left me there.

For months.

Then she turfs me to someone else.

Yea must be hard for her.

Well the sick bitch in me is like –ya I’m SO anorexic I’ve broken two  therapists now!!

Yet I’m still getting fatter.

And earlier this week when I saw my psychiatrist I had to briefly relieve all my trauma of the past few months with no ability for treatment–just a tell her why I was so stressed and wanted to die thing. She had no clue. My therapist didn’t tell her shit.

Good communication team!!

So I’ve gained weight. Because I’m not eating.

I had to talk about that.

I resume treatment immediately because the insurance bullshit is dealt with.

I’ve been deemed acute/critical.

Because I am barely eating. Self harming. OCD high. Anxiety high. And treatment was abruptly cut three months ago when I was at a critical stage.

But the debate is on if I should be just outpatient.

Ha. We will see.

Goodbye old therapist later this week.

Just like waiting for your crush to call after a date, that long awaited call came.

And thankfully I’m still alive to take it. Ed didn’t kill me yet.