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.

I’ve Lost Everything…So I Thought

Last night, or I should say very early this morning, I woke up to some chick screaming and cussing outside my window. Then the fire alarm in the apartment complex across from mine went off.

PC woke up and questioned the sound.

“OH probably some bitter university girl because I heard her scream profanity especially before it went off. She probably pulled it because she’s a brat.” -me

Yes. My complex is filled with entitled Millennials. They’ve done stupid shit before. This nice expensive area has recently gone down hill thanks to these entitled children. Their parents pay for them to have a 4 bedroom apartment to themselves. Must be nice! I’ve never had the option. Ever.

Aren’t able to follow the rules either.

Then the police show up. My curiosity gets me and I want to see the brat getting arrested. I stick my head through the blinds and see him yelling at everyone to get out of the building.

Wait. What? Why?

I look over and there is smoke billowing out of the building.

OH. This is real. That’s a legit fire. Not even 25 yards away. With trees in between our buildings it could leap and we would be next.

And yet with all that smoke, some people refused to evacuate. And others kept harassing the emergency workers.

Insert mind blown wtf faces here. I wanted to go down and backhand them. As a Healthcare provider who has dealt with traumatic situations, I have never EVER understood why people refuse to help when it is needed but love to make emergencies and traumas more difficult.

Please let the emergency crews do their jobs!!!

Get out of the way and stay back. They will come to you! And if they do–do as they ask!

Here of late I have felt that I have lost everything these last few months. And I mean everything. Like all I have is PC. No money. No real job. Nothing.

But in that moment. That moment where you see smoke billowing out and 10 firefighters running in–I realized how much I could lose:

• All my pictures
• All my picture books
• My nice jewelry that I have worked hard on my own to buy
• My nice purses, same thing, which I can replace, but still something to lose
• My clothes
• My brand new items from my bridal shower
• My kitchenaid mixer
• All my documents
• All my books
• All my therapy work
• Everything for my wedding

And I had to think like I’ve done as a kid [I used to live in a high prone fire area growing up], what can you grab and where is it so you can evacuate immediately for your safety. The things that can’t be replaced but are needed.

That’s when I realized I did have things to lose.

Another reminder, I don’t want to die….I’m not ready to die.

Anorexia Isn’t Pretty: Long Term Effects

People make it seem so glamorous. Eating disorders are so marvelous. You lose weight and get attention. That’s how it works right? That’s what the media shows.

I am still that lifer. I still actively fight every. Damn. Day.

But here is what they never tell you.

Anorexia destroys your teeth.

You always here about how bulimia destroys teeth. How the purging and that acid decays the teeth. No one mentions the anorexia.

I’ll tell you. Settle in.

Six years.

That’s how long since I’ve been to the dentist. Because I was so agitated that they kept finding cavities. I stopped.

Well that and because I had full blown lost it and was drowning in a massive anorexia battle in 2013.

If I brush my teeth, that means I ate something. If I ate something, I will gain weight. I am fearful of fat. Therefore, I don’t eat and don’t have to brush my teeth.

And since I’m not eating, I can’t get cavities so I don’t need to go to the dentist. [Ed’s voice: or she will see it and bust you]. Done.

Six years pass. Time flies when you are anorexic.

But guess what? I still have cavities. Why?

Well my enamel is weak. Because of malnutrition. And because of malnutrition, my gums and teeth are not so hot. I’m on a medication for treatment that has a side effect of dry mouth [and it’s baaaad]. This leaves my mouth cracked and susceptible to infection and more decay.

I have horrible reflux from all the time I starve and restrict. That acid goes somewhere folks!!! Yup bulimia may have more acknowledged vomiting destruction but GERD and reflux has it too.

And the anxiety and stress from anorexia [as well as my toxic job] causes even more reflux and periods of vomiting sooo there’s that.

Add in my lack of brushing thanks to the lovely Ed’s voice and here are my consequences.

I was brutally honest with my dentist because I have been seeing her since I was a kid. I told her how I was in care for anorexia for the past 6 years and my string of toxic jobs.

She was amazing and supportive. She was just as surprised as I was that my mouth and teeth didn’t sustain more damage. Only 6 cavities?! I mean that’s actually great!

She’s creating a treatment plan for me. I’m coming back every other week for some more hygiene and the fillings. I hate it but maybe I can get back into good health again.

No one talks about eating disorders and oral care. Or anxiety!

I had severe anxiety while there but thanks to alllllll my therapy I was able to get there, stay there, and go through the 1.5 hour cleaning. Yesssss that long.

I hate not being perfect. I hate not being in control.

I hate even more that my teeth now hurt and I am on a liquid diet because the pain is bad. I hear Ed’s voice creeping in telling me to not eat. I remember the days where I didn’t eat for 2 days after the dentist because I loved that clean feeling.

Battling this is so tiring. Fighting my own thoughts. People don’t get it. They don’t get the stress. How easy it is to slip back into not eating again. Into counting calories and restriction. Any excuse to segway back in.

It’s scary. It’s frightening.

For now I stick with my sea salt rinses and liquid diet praying I can overcome this. Not slip. I’m already slipping. It’s been a long long few months.

And to think, anorexia is supposedly without any issues and is soooo wonderful! At least, that’s what the movies say.

Too Much for One Title

I have kept myself alive.

This has been huge considering the events of the past few weeks.

I have not sabotaged. I have not succumbed to Ed’s voice let alone what I feel like the universe keeps trying to tell me.

I am struggling with the whole eating thing but I am doing some of it. There are days when I feel I have no purpose in life but I find purpose in the day.

I always thought I was at the lowest point in a career. I thought that it could not get worse because I never thought people could behave any worse than what I experienced.

My previous job was horrid. When I left it I thought, phew it could never be this bad anywhere else.

Universe was like: challenge accepted!

So the past few years, this lady, one who has never let anyone/anyplace/anything change who she is; changed by a department.

It literally ate at my soul.

Yes. They do exist.

Outside of this blog world, I am a very happy and positive person. I never want people to experience anything I ever had nor do I think that people deserve my “wrath” unless they truly do something morally injust or ethically wrong to get it. This place is the inside of my head.

My workplace? They thrived on trying to bring me down. For several years, I was bullied and harassed on a daily basis. Sometimes by staff who came and went, but always by these 2 people old enough to be my mothers. I always tried to understand what could drive someone to be so cruel; to do what they do. A psychopathic person has more rationale than these two. At least it’s in their head.

They thrived on making my life miserable from stealing my things to actually deleting my work [in Healthcare that’s baaaaad] and falsifying claims saying I did not do it. Mainly because I made them look bad.

I ignored it. But it got to a head.

We got a new manager. Because yes our entire department in the few years I’ve been there has gone through several FULL staff turnovers and 6 managers. Say something?

I stupidly stuck through it. I tried to leave multiple times but the patients begged me to stay. And there was something more complicated but my concern had me stay a bit longer at one point.

Well this new manager decided they hated me for who knows what. They made no effort to actually know me. Considering I kept their department afloat, started two committees, and was head of several massive board projects you think I’d be one to know.

They publicly threatened several times over my job.

For several months I cried every day.

Why was I not good enough? I work my ass off. I sacrifice myself. I follow all the rules. I am opening a new sub department for them.

I. Am. A. Good. Person.

But that doesn’t mean good things will happen to you. That is not reality.

This manager threatened to terminate me on falsified information by one of the older ladies who bullied me. While this manager was part of the constant bullying and harassing, they kept making me look like a fool even to our patients whom in return despised this new manager.

I quit.

It was the hardest decision, by far, I have ever made in my life.

I walked away.

I left patients in harms way. But I, too, was being threatened and harmed.

In trauma, we are taught to do what’s best for the greater good. If I can’t even take care of myself…how am I to take care of the greater good?!

My constant self sacrifice was taken advantage of and abused to the max.

No more.

My family and friends begged me to quit. One cried on the phone with me to quit. And so I did.

A week later, and more trauma from the event later, I realized why it’s been so hard.

I have been in abusive relationships: dating, family, friends. I have also grown up in a world of invalidation. This job was just that. It was an extremely abusive relationship. Until I was out, I could not see it. I tried to leave but it did not work. The cold cut quit is what did it.

Given my history of PTSD, this has been a rough few weeks. A TON of nightmares and terrors. I am barely sleeping.

The trauma exposure only recently ended 3 days ago…. And frankly it’s probably not over yet. I couldn’t even get a clean fucking cut.

But I am still alive. I am keeping myself alive. Fuck am I a survivor.

It would be nice to have some control over my life at some point in time, for once. I’m tired of having to be hopeless and let whatever happen to me happen.

For now, baby steps.

Don’t Sabotage Yourself

You know that moment when you’re blindsided and everything falls apart?

Literally everything. You think you have a shaky grasp on certain aspects of your life. The things you should be able to control.

Poof it’s gone.

How did it happen? How did you get here?

No. Really. It’s about what will you do.

Now.

Sabotage.

Sabotage.

Sabotage. My natural instinct. Well fuck everything else has shattered. It’s only time till those last shards fall. Why not just sweep them away on my terms.

I should be able to control something.

Sabotage and its seductive voice. Calling to me.

They say good things come to those who wait. The tortoise beats the hare. The good always prosper. Good trumps evil. Every other cliche.

Well what the fyzk. I’m here waiting.

Because having anorexia wasn’t horrible enough. And anxiety. Several kinds. OCD behaviors. Oh PTSD. Invalidating environments throughout life [including now]. Chronic pain.

Suffering from those alone is enough to make some people kill themselves.

So why, why does life or G-d or insert deity of choice keep throwing shit my way?

The one thing I have left is PC and our wedding. The wedding [date] I had planned was just taken away from me today by today’s events.

Because working in my hostile environment with a bullying and harassing boss wasn’t enough I’m being forced to quit. I need insurance so marriage is not going to be when I wanted it. Loss. This equals me questioning my life and existence.

How could someone be allowed to exist like that? And why targeting me?

Clearly I’m not worthy. Of life or existence. Because I keep getting up and the shot trying to knock me down keeps getting worse.

I can’t have control over even one aspect of my life like my own. fucking. Wedding.

Let’s sabotage what’s left: PC.

Don’t. Sabotage.

They have won with everything else. They got your wedding. Job. Money. Soul. Health.

But they can’t have PC and your love.

For One Night…

… Let’s pretend to be normal.

Anything but what we are.

OK life keeps happening and faster than I can turn out past posts to update.

Quick back story: please note this is not how I wanted to tell yall.

I am engaged.

Yes you read that right. Cassie is fucking engaged. For real life. MTV TRUE LIFE: I Am an Anorexic Who is Engaged.

Very mindfucking surreal. Derealization big time.

Anyways. The one thing of two I have dread the most about this whole wedding process is Ed’s voice and the combat that would ensue.

And when would it come up?

Two times to be exact: 1) wedding dress shopping and 2) walking down the aisle.

I do not….not want all eyes on me. People judging me. The dress makes me look fatter. Oh you see her juggling arms? She looks like a whore because I can see cleavage. Omg double chin?!

Honestly going naked sounds so much more appealing than the whole dress trying on.

My hand was forced and before I knew it there I was on 2.5mg of a benzodiazepam totally experiencing derealization.

Everyone else cries and is ecstatic and is pumped for this day. I’ve put it off for months. I cried going in. There is no “real dress moment” for me because none will make me feel pretty enough to be a bride. Ed and Edie are already on that.

I feel so unworthy. I watch as a skinny ass butch near me tries on the exact same dress I had on and of course she looks good. She has no books or hips. It fits perfect. She’s just having a joyous occasion. I’m trying to not cry.

Bridal gown shopping is not meant for girls/women with body image disorders. Period. And this needs to be fixed Stat.

I left exhausted and hating myself. I can’t deal with the world.

Of course I’m pmsing at the same time.

Fuck being a bride. Can I go toga?