WYSM – Own your own CRAZY.
WYSM – stands for whats’s your story Monday
Sometimes you just have to own it, you have to acknowledge who you are and where you have come from to ever have a hope of moving forward,
So in the spirit of owning my own crazy I will share it! But first I need to rewind my life 4 years and introduce you to a couple of old friends, allies and enemies and it all started with a little conversation
‘I DONT HAVE A PROBLEM I HAVE A PURPOSE’
this was my response I spat at when Timmy asked me why I was doing this to myself, having just walked in the door from a 10km run that turned into a 30km run without any supplies or water or phone.
I think it was the first time he was properly introduced to my new best friend ED – (short for eating disorder) and the first time he realised that his wife had been taken over by some kind of alien, and it was no friend to him or to our family
In that simple sentence I broke my husband, after he laughed he cried
But to his credit and enormous strength he decided to fight harder than I could ever imagine for me. He and a small group of beautiful friends initiated a war against ED that went along the lines of an intervention, weekly appointments with specialists, doctors and dieticians and psychologists .He continued to fight for me each and every meal, each and every day for about 540 days until I learnt to fight for me, for him or my kids…
To each appointment over that 18 months I was accompanied by one of these earth bound angels and dragged pretty much kicking and screaming where they placed me in the farthest end of room away from the door with Julie and timmy/sandy guarding the door because I am pretty sure they knew I was hatching a plan of leap frogging them and getting the hell out of there, I could run the 35kms home easy… they had the problem not me.
You see I had wings…. but I didn’t see they were broken.
ED had been slowly creeping up in the background….
we had always been friends, before I was 9, I can remember hiding my sandwiches in the dark corners of my wardrobe or in the garden. At 15, I can remember putting a few cornflakes and a splash of milk to convince mum I had had breakfast and fed my lunch to the horse or the dogs on the way up the driveway to hide the evidence. By 21, I had found the joys of bulimia and laxatives, At 38 he helped me negate the calories of a one egg white omelette by exercise, laxatives and bulimia…
I am the classic yoyo dieter. My weight went way up and then way down. REPEAT. It can be likened to most of my life, a constant roller coaster of ups and downs due to the all in all out kind of nature I have… but the one thing that I have always had is ED and his constant support in my battle of self loathing. I can only talk of my battle with an eating disorder when I say I used to joke that I had it in reverse when I was at my largest I thought I was skinnier than I was, and when I was at my skinniest I thought I was at my fattest….
Ed had been with me most of my life, and I think he resides in most of us… he just sometimes reserves the drivers seat in some of our lives
He is that little voice that begs you to step on the scales and then berates you when the number is not what you expected, he is that little voice celebrating the attitude of ‘who cares – eat that whole block of chocolate’ but once you are finished he is reminding you that is why you are fat so you may as well eat everything in the cupboard.
He is that little voice reminding cheering you on when you have 3200kjs to burn off today to make doubly sure you burn off that 1200kjs you have eaten today ‘so go girl you good thing go.’…
He is the little voice telling you you are disgustingly fat and cant have your photo taken today. He is that little voice telling you to lose just a couple more kilograms and you will be happy, just a couple more promise.
He is that voice of reason that can tell you the calorie content of the average meal like a genius and equate eating that with exactly how long and what intensity of workout is required to negate the grilled chicken salad with no dressing, because today is balancing out yesterdays spoonful of yoghurt
Ed is the most obsessed ex boyfriend you will ever met! and he is the kind you need to fight daily because the memory and battle scars of them lingers well after they disappear..
He can be your greatest friend, your best ally and your worst enemy and for some of us he is not a whisper you can ignore and disregard as stupid he yells so loud you actually believe that you cant live without him… and for the longest time I believed that and I fought for him and protect him from the constant barge of people telling me I was quite literally killing myself in the pursuit of happiness, of thinness of being skinny enough to matter, to be present, to be photographed, to be loved.
This year ed visited another family and he had devastating effects that rippled into our own lives.. One of our boys beautiful friends was struggling with his own Ed an unfortunately it proved to be a battle too hard, too soul destroying. For Fletch it was his first real brush with a death of a loved one… and his fall out was rapid and hard and he was sad and angry and devastated and he couldn’t quite understand how and why it could be such a hard battle…and at the ripe old age of 14 he shouldn’t have to understand that kind of darkness and sadness
But for me I understood, and to this day I am still heartbroken
I understood all too well the oh so consuming nature of this vicious little Ed.. how it doesn’t listen to common sense or reason. That family friends and their opinions are of little importance. Because the purpose,the quest ultimately will make us happy, content and whole..
but it doesn’t…
It took a long time and a lot of tears and a lot of hours of hard f*#King work to realise that –
Happiness is not a number on the scales, nor can it be achieved by running 42kms in under 4 hours.
Happiness comes from living a full life with a kind forgiving heart and from loving yourself and accepting that you are worth so much more than you could ever imagine…
Happiness means hugging, being present, sinking my feet into a new mud puddle… happiness means loving cake when it is shared with a gaggle of girlfriends.
Happiness takes work daily for me. Happiness means accepting my faults and moving forward. Happiness comes from owning my story so my girls will learn the importance of loving your body in whatever shape or form it takes…and that happiness has nothing to do with how you look
Happiness means owning my story, all of my story the good the bad and the ugly..