Time Lost

As a bulimic, we are so “engrossed” in trying to make everything work in our lives. We are perfectionists with a cause. To ensure that we accomplish everything on our list of expectations.

What we don’t really understand, for those of us who stuggled for years, is that if you add up all the time we spent binging and purging, we wasted time that could have been so much more valuable.

Why? Because for us, this was time to ourselves. But the “ourselves” was not at all that.

I look back sometimes and think “I still lived a full life, so why beat myself up over all those hours lost?” Reality is that it WAS time lost. Not gained.

I am grateful that today I can get up and live a full life everyday. NO I LIE. Not every day. There are still times when my productivity is low, when I just want to lie in bed and not get up. But I have more purpose now knowing that I CAN kick my own butt and when I am UP I am not in the fridge, I am not looking for the next binge. I am up creating yet a new beginning… every day. Without having to live a lie.

Don’t let bulimia steal your time… we never know how much of it we have left, and bulimia doesn’t deserve to own what is… YOU do though!!

Reach out… bullimiaddict@gmail.com

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Seriously? My Daugher In The Hospital For A Month And He Doesn’t Tell Me?????

I hate divorces.  They are just full of ugliness.  I divorced because my ex had an affair first with a best friend then with my sister.  Stories here tell these tales and how my eating disorder suffered from the control and the issues.  I am healed now, but my daughter is not.  Not in the eating disorder sense but in the mental health sense in regards to depression.  I get a call today from her and I rarely do so I called her right back after my customer left.  She is crying and asking if her father really did have an affair with my sister.  OMG!! that was like so many years ago and I am so over it and okay with my sister for my parents’ sake.  I have moved one and trying to keep moving on but then my daughter says she wants him to admit to it.  I couldn’t do anything but to text her that he always denied it, but that my sister admitted to it and asked for forgiveness and it is what it is.  Who knows who is telling the truth?  She then texted me he admitted to it.  There was a very uncomfortable closure to this.  He admitted.  He never admitted easily.  His firstish affair with a best friend five years before my sister took me forever to find it out and finally he did because he had no choice.  I had all the proof.  This one I had proof too.  Not as significant but enough for my parents to understand my dilemma and it was good enough for me.  But this was years ago and I don’t want to bring all this shit up into the fan again for it to fly.  My family has been through enough.  So why is my daughter so angry that she tells me she was in hospital (because her father didn’t tell me and I am after all her mother, not the one he is living with who is with him for his money), and why bring up what we have closed the doors on other than her needing closure for him to actually admit to this face to face with her?

I am confused, upset, I can’t say angry, but disappointed and want to take my stick and find that piñata I want to hit, but he has always been good at hiding behind his cold exterior.  Wait… Pinata!! cold, hard… lol.

I don’t what to do.  Dad said to face the devil father face to face and ask how he thinks he is so much more the parent that I am left in the dark like a mushroom.  But I am a whimp.  I cowarded to him my whole life with him of 22 years of knowing him and 15 of married.  So how do I stand up to Galiath?  I don’t feel like a David.  I can imagine going up against him, but actions are different then imagination.  I don’t want to know about his dirty life anymore or why my daughter ends up in a hospital for a month.  I would not have let that happen.  But he took her from me like he did my boys.

I write to make me feel well.  I can’t imagine how my children are trying to deal with that Galiath.  He is formidable and gives and provides with monetary, but he doesn’t know the heart.  Never did.  His needs always came before others.  But when he did give it was to make sure it was reflected on him.  Jewellery, education that HE paid for, home, furniture, beautiful little lady on his side that just shut up for him to speak.

I don’t hate him, I feel sorry for him.

May he learn the lesson… and it is now in my heart to ask… do I let him keep learning the lesson or do I go and fight for my right to be part of his lesson?

I love my children, but he has built a wall… I can sit back and see if my children choose to break it down, or I can storm through it.

Which one?

Sleep over means thinking… and coming back to edit this I have chosen to let things slide.  I have to let things take their course.  Although in my head I can have thoughts of revenge, I can never follow through… thoughts of fighting, but cannot follow through.  I am so happy in my life now I don’t want anymore.  I have had enough.

Maybe one of my sons will be that David that sets Goliath right.  But I am not David.  I am a lamb.  And I like me that way.  And I like who I have become.  That my children miss this part of me because they want to ignore me is okay.  My eldest still is special in that he goes out of his way to see me, but my other ones, it’s their choice.  I now know how my mother felt.  In time you will learn what I went through…. so I will let things take their course and believe God knows best.  Let it be.  In His hands all is best.  Afterall, I still have not gone back to bulimia, and I am feeling stronger every year that I don’t turn to it… but more to Him.  He is perfectly perfect for me.  I love you God.  Thank you.

And believe me I am not a bible thumper, or a religious freak.  I just … believe. 🙂 Mustard seed.

I love friends

It’s been a strange world lately.  Like the stars are misaligned.   Still okay though.  I don’t run to the cupboard or the fridge for solace on this time of frustration and I don’t knows.  New bosses, new colleagues, major firings and not knowing if you are the next on that revolving door list.  My solace is with my dogs, but they must be feeling my stress when it kicks in, because for the first time in two months when I first moved into my new place, baby has been messing daily.  She never did before.  And my car is blowing out gas like there is no tomorrow… so kind of like me.. lol.  Stress bloats and gas.

I miss my blogging.  I have been so busy trying to save my job that I forgot that this place is .. yes.. solace.  Always brought me piece even when I was in the most stressful moments of my life.

I really wish I could share more about my disarray, but if I linked it to any site I would be found out.  I tend not to like that.  I like my followers to find me, but not the people I don’t want to have follow me.  Does this make sense?

Conundrum, frustration, uneasiness in my stomach, but through this, I reached out.. not with food!! But with phone calls to my new front end people.  I have friend who equally wants to share her stories.  They are more about women getting out of the trenches.  She doesn’t like the front line idea.  I do.  I fight front line everyday.  She said that is negative and that we can come to just working smart not fighting.  I agree to disagree.  My lifestyle as a recovered bulimic is one where I have to be at the front line but with a white flag.  Surrender, but do it with pride and dignity.  Front line, I deal with customers.  They are always right so to speak.  When not, and in my head, I just wave the flag and discuss the issue.  I am front line.  I am customer service.  I will love my customers, and even those who cause my blood pressure to rise because they have to involve upper management.  I am a survivor. And in fairness… so many of my customers to me are gold for those 2% that may not be.  It is why I wake up to see them every day.  In this revolving door, I don’t want the exit.

I know what it feels like to fight defeat.  I AM A RECOVERED BULIMIC.  WE KNOW THE FIGHT.  MORE SO THAN ANY NORMAL PERSON.

Amazing, and God sent lesson.

Recover and you will know what true recovery feels like.  Beautiful.  And it’s never too early (better plan)  but better yet to know… never too late!!

 

Do you live in a box? Love this song. I know I don’t anymore. I live life!!

I used to live I a box. Not anymore.  Colours, live, new beginnings not about stuff about life now. Stuff. Not worth a darn…  no hoarding.  I will live in a tiny house but not a box anymore. 🙂 Big difference.  A big house can be a prison and a small home freedom. ;0 Life is so much better with love, support, and family and friends and animals who love you than stuff…..

 

Hey Bartender!

Okay, I love this song.  Seriously love this song.  It’s about letting go.  I wouldn’t advocate a bartender, but I do love the rhythm, which is what I dance to, and well, it’s a song that would maybe hit me when I was younger when I could dress up and go out.  Now I just dance to it at home with my dogs.  They actually dance on their two back legs and seriously dance up a storm.  It makes me laugh and move on from anything that may at one point in my life had made me sad or frustrated and instead makes me laugh… moving on… letting go… like letting go of bulimia.. bad relationships… and learning to love me again.  You really don’t need a bartender… but dancing?  definitely!!  Need to dance. 🙂

 

I’ve Got Better Things To Do

Ah ha… so apparently I emailed my ex boyfriend 90 times last night.  He said this to his friend as I was walking by them working.  Yes, you know it, still living next door and still having fun with this weird life.  So I told him “I’ve got better things to do”.  So it reminded me of one of my favorite singers and this is it.  Someone asked me tonight (the wife of his working partner) if I was happy single.  Seriously?  After seeing their fight tonight over a car not done and trying to stop the fight with a kitten in my hand. I brought her over to my little sad but to me castle home.  She asked why they lie.  LOL.  I’ve been through this too many times to even try to explain to another woman why.  There is no answer.  Why do people lie.  In the Chinese community it is a known fact they do this to people when they don’t want to hurt them.  But seriously?  To North American women it doesn’t work. We are just too damn smart.  I’m okay letting the lies go along with the liars now.  Took years.  But what is really nice is I’m not lying to myself anymore.  I used to eat the hurt of those lies and throw them up.  Don’t anymore.  Five years clean and still relatively decent body at what is approaching 52 year of age.  Friends with my food now.  And for the most part my body.  Kind of a neat idea.  Friends with… what is about me.  Still have many fears of how people see me with my aging body and face, my abilities, and still suffer sometimes of depression which I knows stems from fear.  But for some reason, even with some time of depression seeing one of my dear role models in Hollywood take his life, I kind of knew there was something more than just depression.  I thought it was something that was not curable.  Thought cancer.  But it ended up being Parkinson’s disease.  Hate to say it but I understood.  In the bulimia world I kind of kept my life steady with “control”… but did I?  now though I am much more aware of everything around me.  Spent two weeks in a total paranoid feeling of “what if?”  They included loosing my job, my parents, my animals (one died two weeks ago). All encompassing feelings can overwhelm.  But I didn’t return to bulimia.  I did NOT.  I kept telling myself that I have to do something bigger than just falling into a hole again.  Three friends wrote to me from long time ago in this week.  I am visiting one tomorrow after eight years.  And I am going to be travelling alone on my birthday weekend!! Flight is set.  First time in my life travelling alone to a place I have never been before.  Scared, but it’s a place where I know I will finally remove all fears of my life.  Will share when I get back. 🙂  I did it.  I bought a ticket and got time off from work and I’m leaving for four days!! Ahhhh heavy sigh.  Miss you Robin.

 

One of The Most Awesome Mother’s Day Gifts

One might think a Mother’s Day gift is wrapped in fine paper with a ribbon on top.  Mine is not.  Mine happened tonight when my youngest son spoke to me about my influence on how he wants to treat a woman and his apology for not responding to my texts.  I don’t mind no responses.  I send out I love you’s just because not expecting anything back from a University son.  If I do get response it’s a bonus.  It is just how I have learned to live life as a single rehabilitated bulimic.  I like my solitude, so understand theirs too, but doesn’t mean I can’t reach out now and again to say “hey, I am thinking about you”.  I am sure somewhere in my posts I noted that when I was 16 I wanted to be a successful architect in my future, and with a home by a river, overlooking the lake.  I saw the home I had once wanted to design at one point in my life, safe for the room with mirrors and bars to dance in.  I didn’t ever want to marry or have children, and I owned a Porsche.  It was my dream.  My dream that twisted in circles until I fell in love two years later, married him seven years later and had three children.  To this day I have no regrets.  I am single again living in a tiny barn apartment, with nothing but a paycheck and a beaten up 1995 Honda Civic.  And I thank God for the most beautiful gifts I have.  One is that I am a mother and am celebrating my quarter of a century of being on, albeit he was to be born three months later.  Didn’t matter.  I was a mom and he was six months in my belly.  I am having dinner with my baby tomorrow.  Money meant everything to my children’s father including a certain style of womanhood in front of the big wigs as his climb up the latter kept getting higher.  Remember, stress for a bulimic is not a good thing and that followed me.  But with every pregnancy, I didn’t do it.  Sometimes during those times I wished I could be pregnant my whole life.  But leaving him alieved that issue later in life.  Anyway, it was perhaps some strange futuristic vision that led me to want more than one child.  I had my beautiful daughter.  Then it seemed complete.  I was ready to close off the valves when it was too late and number three, my baby son, was born.  He is the story behind this beginning of the Most Awesome Mother’s Day Gift.  It means all three are what are the most awesome mother’s day gift, but it brought me to this:

Youngest said tonight I was his inspiration in regards to love, and how to treat a woman.

Daughter had said I was the reason for knowing why she struggles with mental health issues.

Eldest son just loves me and figures I am who I am.

Three beautiful thoughts.  I will take them all.  the Most Awesome Mother’s Day Gifts.  But more so, I love their insightfulness.  All three have spoken to appreciating my breakdown, my fears, my self sabotage, and then watching as I grow to be stronger, and love them more than money.  To appreciate each of their emotional baggage as children of divorce, and they too me of being a victim of one.

They all talk differently of their lives to me, and I see all of them in me.  That is being a mother.  To understand all their not only emotional, but intellectual, and investigative needs in this world that has so created a more beautiful next generation.  For everyone who at my age of 51 or older do not have faith in the next generation?  I so do.  I have been blessed with three children who are proving that.  Three completely different, yet bound by their sibling traits, wonderful and beautiful children.

Thank you God.  May you lead them continually on the path of a more balanced life, yet one still filled with the excitement and adventure I lived, even if it left me with not much materialistically.  It left me with a pot of gold in unconditional love.  The kind God, you advocate for us through your love.  Thank you!!

Happy Mother’s Day to all, both mothers and fathers who know what being a carelover and teaching out little ones that grow up how to know that love… unconditional.

It Hurts Not To Hurt…. or ??? Hurts to Hurt? Take Control of Your Life

Some days you feel out of control being treated like a fool. Lied to, used, hurt emotionally. Some days it doesn’t just come from one person. And I mean not just from one person out there… I mean from not just one person of the ones you love. You end up feeling like a punching bag, or a dog being kicked, when all you were doing was your job. Helping them. It hurts not to hurt. That was what it was like when I was bullimic. Now it hurts to hurt. So I have a friend who sent me this post. And I know that this is the way it should be. But on days when your best friend and son and so on bark at you when it’s their own guilt that they are throwing at you… these times are difficult to deal with. But this post I will put on my wall. I am proud that today I didn’t throw up the pain, hurt, anger, sorrow. I called my dad and ranted. And he listened. My Daddy. I know he doesn’t like to hear it, but he listened. My father. I love him so much. He doesn’t judge verbally (well sometimes, but not often) and has been a pinnacle in the life of his four daughters. So too my Mommy. But Daddy is less judgmental which makes it easier to talk to him when I don’t know where else to go. Daddy, I hope I die first because I don’t know what I would do without you!!! And to my readers – yes I am 50 and yes I still feel like child sometimes. And my parents, thank God are still here. They are my biggest blessing in the world, and so too my children.

Here is the post. I believe in myself. I love myself. I feel sad for me when people hurt me. I am my caregiver, along with my few close ones out there (like Dad). But on a daily basis, it’s me who takes care of ME. Josie, thanks for this. But where I will change the wording is I don’t need to “rock the bikini” in a way most people would imagine. I work out at 50 with sagging … ya… and having had three children… so me rocking it is me being who I am… and working out YES awesome… how I look.. if someone doesn’t like it with my aging skin and so on.. too bad… I am who I am. And although I don’t fully love my physical appearance, I accept and love it as much as I can. But I so love myself in every other aspect. I hug myself in times of crying, sadness, grief. I am my best friend. Why? Because I am and because I CAN!.

What is Love?

I always wondered how I would describe love if I had to.  Never really could until I saw this picture tonight…. all the while watching “Shall We Dance”.  Ironic the two came together.  Something I believed in for my whole life, but never was.  I’m 50 now.  Don’t know that it will.  But hope my children do find this kind of love.  The love between the two in Shall We Dance and this picture.  That, my friends, is what I pictured love.  Now, its me with my dogs.