A downward spiral

So lets talk downward spirals. 

I can always feel them coming, a lot of times they are inevitable. 

Its filled with a lot of depression, anxiety, and bloat. 

I am not a person who deals with stress and anxiety very well. My coping mechanisms involve a lot of Taco Bell and sweet tea. 

I dig a small hole, and then just keep going. 

"It puts the lotion on the skin." 

Except theres no creepy man in a woman robe yelling at me. 

Just me, myself and I. 

Trying to dig my way out, but the walls keep crumbling down. 

I know, thats a super dramatic representation, maybe I was made for the theater. 

When I get like this, I am lost. 

I know what to do, but its like I cant grasp it. Almost like becoming immobile. Its arms length in front of me, but someone cut off my arms. 

The bad thing about downward spirals, is I always hit rock bottom. 

Which is usually 20 steps behind the 10 steps I took before. 

I don't like feeling weak. Feeling weak makes me feel helpless. 

I know that I can do it, Ive done it before. 

At what point do you become stronger than your doubts and fears. I find failure to be inevitable. I allow myself to fail. Which really doesn't make sense, because obviously I want to succeed. Everyone WANTS to succeed. I guess failing is familiar. I know the routine. I know how to fail. But I don't know how to succeed, or at least keep succeeding. Familiarity is not scary. 

If I could learn to punch my inner self in the face or possibly tie her up, I gladly would. But what is so scary about succeeding? What is so scary about being happy in your own skin or liking what you see in the mirror? The obvious answer is nothing. Maybe its not so obvious? If anyone has any insight, I'm all ears. 

Complacency is comfortable. Freedom is comfortable. 

By freedom I mean doing what you want, eating what you want, not having to work out. 

However, having clothes that don't fit, not being able to do a sit up because your belly gets in the way, is NOT comfortable. 

So wheres the line? Whats the magic number? At what point does it click, or at least stay clicked. Struggling is a part of life, I want to defeat the struggle. I don't want it to define me any more. I want to prove MYSELF wrong. 

I'm being cliche and staring over, tomorrow. On the New Year. 

I have plans in my head, they aren't laid out, but they are there. 

The thought of being healthy and doing what I need to do, gives me extreme anxiety. 

Its so easy to just be lazy. Its not easy being fat. It also sucks, HARD. 

I'm ready, but not ready to start again. My kids deserve to have a mom that has energy and can keep up with them running in the yard. Most importantly, they deserve to have a mommy be around as long as possible. 

A letter.

So, lately I have been feeling down. 

And as we all know, I write when I am down. 

Now, its probably repetitive, but, it's my blog; my rules. 

Last week, I was watching a show on HBO called Meth Storm(?). 

I have a fascination with drug addicts, especially meth. Its usually all the same story, but I like the psychology behind it.

Anyways, there was a child on there whose father was the chief of police, and apparently the town was a big meth cesspool. The kid was maybe twelve years old, he was going over the times when he was a child and could point out meth heads in the grocery store, or wherever. And it got me thinking, obviously this child knew what to look for because of his father. But, there are many children who know from personal experience. And that to me, breaks my heart. 

I knew what a crack pipe looked like at the age of fourteen. I know what the smell of meth smells like, I know the little signs that are strung out throughout the house that it was used earlier that day. I know that BIC pens are the perfect tool to get high. That rolled up dollar bills on the table, aren't just rolled up dollar bills. I have been around crackheads, alcoholics, and even someone who MURDERED a person. Someone who actually took another persons life. 

No one should have to be subjected to those things, let alone a CHILD. 

The older I get, the more I remember. 

I have had so much stolen from me, my innocence being the most important thing. 

As children, we grow up idolizing our parents. They do no wrong, and if they do, its okay because you love them and they love you. 

People only show you what they want you to see. 

I never talked about my fathers drug use, or abuse to anyone. 

Who wants to admit that their father is a piece of shit drug addict who abuses them? 

The answer is no one. 

Shame is what we would call that. 

And that is what I have felt my entire teenage/adult life. 

Shame that my father could/would do those things. Shame that I didn't report it. 

Shame that it happened to me. 

As I get older, I recognize more and more how fucked up it all was. I look at my children and think how in the world would someone want to hurt their children? They are so pure and innocent, I want to shield them from all of the bad and evil from this world, not invite it through the front door. 

I have felt a lot a pain lately, doubt, unworthiness, and a tremendous amount of weakness. Years have passed, but every so often I let the pain and anger take over me. 

I have gone back and forth with myself a million times on writing my father. Telling him I forgive him, filling him in on my life. But, why in the world would I do that? Why would I invite someone into a piece of my life when they so openly and blatantly didn't give a shit about it in the first place? 

So instead of writing him a letter and mailing it, I am going to write it here. 

This is my safe place, I come here to let everything out and to express all of my feelings. 

I dont know how this 'letter' will turn out, so I guess we will find out together. 

I can remember you being my best friend. The person I would look up to and laugh with. The person who would tell me I could eat as many nutty bars as I wanted to. The person who would let me get away with anything. I remember all of our favorite movies and tv shows, and the quotes that we would say to each other daily. I remember the rides you would take me on in the 'big truck', and the random truck stops we would go to and get all of the junk foods.I remember when I was 8 years old, you stole all of the change out of my piggy banks and then lied about it. I remember when mom left you, and I felt like my whole world was ending. I remember coming to stay with you and skipping school the next day because we were too lazy to get up and drive the 30 minutes. I remember mom having to bring groceries with me because you didn't have a job and couldn't feed me. I remember the time you were homeless and we had to pick you up from under the bridge. I remember the first time you laid your hands on me and how I didn't see you for six months after. I remember telling mom that nothing happened and that I just didn't want to go to your house. I remember making excuses in my head for you, that I was all you had, and if I left, you'd have nothing. I remember the times you left me at your friends houses because you were out 'partying', and wouldn't answer your phone when I called wondering where you were. I remember making excuses when my friend found naked pictures of children on your phone. I remember the broken crack pipes in the bath room drawer, the mirrors on the table with crushed up powder residue. I remember the stale smell of smoke and odd smell of meth that filled your house. I remember you trying to manipulate me when I was busy with friends and you were all alone. I remember bringing you subway when I got off work because you yet again didn't have money or a job. I remember the Christmas eve we got pulled over because you thought it was a good idea to take your car a mile down the road to the gas station to get cigarettes, even though the inspection had been out for 10 years. I remember sitting in the car, scared out of my mind not knowing what was happening, and having no way to call anyone. I remember riding home in the back of the cop car because they took you to jail for whatever reason. I remember visiting you in jail months later. I remember the day that I was taken to the court house because and questioned about you. I remember sitting in front of a camera and telling a complete stranger where, when and how you hurt me. I remember the last conversation I ever had with you, calling you on the phone and asking you why, and if you had hurt anyone else. I remember every ounce of pain and emptiness I felt that day and the following year. I felt confused, hurt, angry, lost... I didn't know what to do. I didn't realize that what you had been doing was 'wrong', you had manipulated me into thinking that our life was normal, and that it wasn't hurting me. And now I realize how wrong I was. The pain I felt absolutely consumed me. I could not function, there wasn't a day of my junior year that I didn't cry. I felt more shame than any child should EVER have to feel. You took away my innocence, my right to be a child, my trust, and my ability to know what love was, or if it even existed. You hurt MY family, and that is more unforgivable that hurting me. Everyone says that you should forgive the ones who wronged you, I do not forgive you. As an adult I still struggle with the pain. I find it impossible for someone to love me, and question it daily. I see only my flaws, and when I see a glimpse of something good, I quickly find a reason to dismiss it. You were one big disappointment, and thats all I expect from myself. I find things to fill the holes that I feel inside. And 9 times out of 10, they are extremely unhealthy. I battle with my own addiction. I question everyones intentions and expect the worst in people. You didn't love me enough to protect me from evil. You helped take the innocence of countless other children, and subjected them to a life similar to mine. I wish that I could take their pain, knowing that you hurt others is more heart breaking than you just hurting me. You made me feel unworthy of anything more than the life you led. You broke me in more ways than I'll ever be able to put back together. I will always have to fight myself to see more than what you showed me. But, I will always fight. I will fight for my children, their peace, happiness, safety and innocence. I will show them a life that every child deserves. I will teach them to learn from the things around them, and that no matter who breaks them down, how bad their day is, or how inadequate they feel, they will ALWAYS be worthy of love. As long as I am living, I will make sure that they never have to question their worth. I want you to know that I am where I belong. And you are exactly where you belong. I refuse to feel sorry for you any more. I refuse to let the sadness creep in when I see my son playing with his grandpas, because you do not deserve to know his love. I have a daughter that I would walk through hell to make sure she never feels the pain that you can inflict. I will not fail them like you failed me. I don't think you will ever be able fathom the pain that you have caused to so many people, and I don't believe you could ever feel remorse for your mistakes. I hope that you can find forgiveness in yourself and with God. Because I can't give it to you. You're gone, and I've spent too long letting you control me. I want my control back. I want to feel worthy and strong in my own skin. You've stolen my peace for too long. I want it back. 

Well theres that. I didn't really know how to end it. Maybe its a cliffhanger for another time. 

Either way, that I feel slightly better. I want more than anything to be able to be strong. 

"Do not be ashamed of the wars your soul has fought to save itself."

And on that note, I bid you adieu.

Sometimes, I'm super cliche.

I have written this blog at least five times.
And that has been my opener, at least five times.
I don't ever know what to say, I will wake up thinking about writing, and planning about what I am going to talk about, and then mom brain. Most of the time I'm either holding a hand while I type, or keeping one from slapping the keyboard while getting yelled at.

Also, would like to add that I have now started to write this 6 times.. but what can ya do?

Okay, so I have struggled with what subjects to talk about, and I think I am just going to hit a few points that have scrambling around in my head.

I am still going strong, CGstrong that is. I have stuck with Camp Gladiator for three months now. It is still the best decision that I have ever made. I have found strength in myself that I didn't know that I had. Being apart of something where everyone is out there kicking ass and trying to be the best version of themselves is extremely inspiring. I am NOT a group activity kind of person, but I have found that being in CG, a group experience is exactly what I needed. The encouragement and motivation is infectious. I have also fallen in absolute love with my trainers and their passion with helping others. It takes an extremely special kind of person to build people up and to keep encouraging others, all with smiles on their faces. I will FOREVER be grateful for finding CG, and if you haven't found it yet, you need to, like yesterday.

Which leads me to my next topic. 

Excuses. Which we all know are like buttholes.... Everyone has them. And I am of course, calling the kettle black. The difference is, being stronger than your excuses at least 85% of the time. I do not want to work out more than half of the time that I go. But, I suck it up, and I do it. I will sit there and rack my brain of which excuse could be good enough to not go, and I haven't found one yet. These past couple of weeks have been hard emotionally, and well as physically due to my 'Stones'. I cried last Wednesday to myself while I was working out, I didn't want to be there. I was weak, tired, and not feeling myself. But, in order to see change, you have to make the change. Do something you have never done before. If I don't work out, the only person it effects is myself. If I don't do a full rep, it effects only myself. A lot of what I love about CG is the accountability it gives you. There are times when you work at your own pace, and then there are times that you work with a team. Most of the time, the teams are built of people you barely know. I find it way harder to let someone down that I don't know than to let someone down that I do know. It pushes you to work harder. 

I want to say I have touched on this subject, at least a million times, but why not add one more. 

Self sabotage. 

As a human being, disappointment is always a fear. Failure is always a fear. And most of the time they go hand in hand. 

When you go into things with the mind set that you will fail, YOU WILL FAIL. Expecting to fail, and sabotaging yourself takes the mystery out of succeeding. 

Changing my mindset has been one of the hardest things to do. I am not always on board, and I fight with myself daily, more than 12 times a day. I battle with why am I doing this? What is the point? I'm still not where I want to be, and I don't know that I will ever be where I want to be. I am pushing through, trying to keep patience. Frustration is something I struggle with every single day, especially with every workout. I think a lot of what pushes us to fail, at least with me, is that we look at how far we have to go, not at how far we have come. Since high school I have stuck to one quote that I have really held onto. 

"Surround yourself with those who only lift you higher." 

Pushing yourself is hard. Being self motivating is hard. 

Having people who want you to succeed even MORE than you want to succeed is key. 

I have been extremely blessed beyond measure to have that, ten fold. 

It is so incredibly easy to criticize and over analyze yourself and your faults. 

I am lucky enough to have found people who are blind to my faults, and love me because of my imperfections. 

I beat myself up daily, but I also have my Mr. Miyagis in the corner slapping me out of it. 

All with tough love. 

Being 'stuck' especially for a 'long' period of time, SUCKKKKSSSSSSSSSSSS.. 

Complacency sucks. Settling sucks. 

But, the point is, you keep going. 

Like you're the damn little engine that could. 

Chugga. Chugga. Choo. Choo.

I know, super cliché. Get over it.



"You've circled this mountain long enough, now turn north."

                                        - Deuteronomy 2:3




And on that note, I bid you adieu.

Self Love.

I have made extreme progress these past few weeks, eating wise. 

I eat half of what I used to and I stop when I am full. Usually, if I put something on my plate, or go through the drive thru, I almost feel deprived if I don't eat the whole thing. It has nothing to do with wasting the food, or wasting the money that was spent on food. Its just the simple fact that food runs my life, and if I don't eat it all, I feel like something will be missing from me. 

I can't tell you how many times I re-read my blogs. My thoughts are always, "Is this girl serious? IT'S JUST FOOD." I can only imagine the thoughts that some people have. I know how ridiculous it is. Believe me, I live it every single day. 

I am my absolute own worst enemy. I criticize everything I do. 

I self sabotage. Why? 

Since I was young, I have felt that I was unworthy of love. I would like someone so much, and of course they wouldn't like me because of my weight. I remember in fourth grade I was absolutely in "love" with one of my best friends. We hung out constantly at school. We went on a field trip to a water park, and we were floating next to each other, 'flirting' of course. And I remember his sister and her friends saying how cute of a couple we would make, and right after they said that, he pushed my float away. (the me now would have throat punched him). I felt like he liked me, it was kinda obvious. So, I got one of our mutual friends to ask him. His response? "Yeah, but I would never go out with her because she's fat". Uhmmmmm well okayyyy. Dick. 

This happened with literally every guy I liked. And hey, I get it. You're attracted to what you're attracted to. I'm not hating on people who don't want to date 'fat' people. But, jokes on you because fat people are hilarious. 

In all seriousness, theres so many things that led to my "demise". Rejection after rejection and the abuse I endured slowly diminished my self esteem. No one wanted me any way, so why not just comfort myself with all the foods. It was almost like I was building a shield around myself. This person doesn't love me, but that Chicken Express sure does. In hind sight, its almost like I welcomed the rejection. Like I needed to constantly remind myself that I was 'unlovable'. 

Life is so backwards. Why are we GLUTTONS for punishment? (see what I did there?)

When I met my husband, I couldn't believe that someone could love me that much. I still question it. It has absolutely nothing to do with him. He shows me every single day how much he loves me. 

The issues is with me. I fight with myself every day. It is still so hard for me to except that someone could love me. 

Now, if I were reading this from someone other than myself, I would slap them. 

I can build my friends up when they are down. I can see the absolute good in them, even when they can't. When I try to see the good in myself, I always let the bad outweigh the good. 

I have been holding onto so much for so long, I thought that I had learned to live with it. 

This past month has taught me otherwise. 

I had never talked about what happened to me because I felt complete shame. I felt that people would judge me because I "allowed" this to happen. I didn't want to burden anyone with my pain, or make it awkward for them. I felt sorry for other people. 

I was the victim, and then became my own victim. Yes, I was abused. But no amount of pain that someone else can inflict on me, can amount to the pain I can inflict on myself. 

I have felt every single emotion this past month. Going from completely fine to completely broken all within a months time is so confusing. The only thing I can think is that everything I have kept inside of me for all the years has been building and building, and finally it just exploded. 

I am trying to be more open and honest, not only with myself but with everyone around me. 

I am trying to understand that I am not a burden to those who love me. 

That asking for help is okay.

That talking about it is okay. 

That my abuse was not my fault, and I should let go of all this shame. 

That I can love myself. 

Finding self love is one of the most beneficial things you can do for yourself. 

Its easy to love others, its the hardest to love yourself.

I didn't realize how free I could be. I still hold onto so much hurt, but I am learning to deal with It in healthier ways than binging on any and everything. 

Like everything, it is going to take time. And like I have said before, when I want something I want it now. This can't and wont be the case. I am trying to accept that. I can give up like I always do, but look where that has gotten me. 

I am more than a victim. 

I am more than my weight. 

I am more than my pain.

And I am more than worthy of love. 

"It's not your fault and you aren't less than enough. You aren't what they did to you. You aren't the person that grew in all crooked and bent under the pressure of what happened to you. You aren't the awkwardness that came from being stepped on and over-pruned. You are the spirit that survived. You are the deep roots that continued to grow beneath the surface even when you were outwardly rejected. You are the life that went on despite being mowed over time and time again. You are the beauty that remained, waiting patiently for the right time to bloom. And now, because you held on even when the world turned away, your strength and compassion are the kind that know no end. You, my dear, are so much more than enough. You are exceptional-because you survived, because you beat the odds, because you are a warrior, a self-taught healer, and because now you have become a beacon of hope for others who suffered like you." Cristen Rodgers

And on that note, I must bid you adieu.

Small Goals

As you can see, I have made a few changes to my design layout. 

I still plan on working on my weight of course, because that will always be a huge topic. 

But, now that I have two littles and a husband, its not all about me any more. 

So, Happily Holland it is. 

I like a quick fix. Instant gratification. 

Hence why I have had two weight loss surgeries. 

I have zero patience, when I want something, I want it like yesterday. 

And this is about 85% of the reason that I give up after about one day of trying to lose weight. 

Another reason would be that I am constantly hungry. A hour after eating I already feel like I am withering away.
I think one of my biggest issues is fear.
Fear of failure, mostly. Or maybe fear of succeeding and then failing again?
I was talking to a friend today about why we can't just get our stuff together and do what needs to be done. What deep seeded issues are we holding onto? I am trying to get to the root of mine. Obviously I have experienced my fair share of 'trauma', and clearly have issues. Retraining your brain to do something that you have done almost every day of your whole life seems impossible. The whole line "You can't teach an old dog new tricks", rains true in this situation. I can wake up thinking I am 100% going to eat healthy today, and then literally five seconds later I am in the drive thru to get donuts. Like I forgot that I was supposed to be eating egg whites and turkey bacon. Then I realize what I have done after I have stuffed myself with donut holes and pigs in a blanket. By this point of course, its wayyy too late to start eating healthy. I mean my whole day is ruined, it won't count. And the only day to start is on a Monday, so Ill just restart next Monday. Do you know how many times "I'll start Monday" has come out of my mouth? Because I don't.
 I feel like that is so relatable to so many people.

^ I mean they've made memes about it.
What I am slowly starting to learn is that, you really don't have to start on a Monday.
I know, blasphemy.
I can hardly believe it myself.
But, this time, I "started" on a Wednesday.
I am not going to lie, I am taking Phentermine. It had never worked for me in the past, but I thought why not give it another go. And let me tell you my experience so far.
I get hungry, but never to the point of I want to eat the whole house.
And when I do eat, I don't really eat a lot. I stay full for a little longer than usual. I don't constantly think about food, I have had one or two cravings, but they go away. Before these past couple of weeks, I would think about whatever it was that I was craving, it would literally engulf my mind. And I HAD to have it.
Now I don't know if this is the medicine working, or if its the relief that I have felt of finally admitting out loud how I truly felt about my past. Or, it could be both.
Food has been my absolute crutch for everything. There have been so many times where I have had a bad day at work, or just at home that I tell my husband I don't care what you eat tonight, but I NEED to have blah blah blah. Food is literally my Xanax.
Nothing makes me feel better than food, and nothing makes me feel worse. I am strong person, I have dealt with and been through some shit that no person should ever have to deal with, especially at such a young age. I think I turned to food because I could control it in a sense. Like it wouldn't let me down. I mean when does cheese fries EVER let anyone down? I now realize that food controls me. I see so many people out there who judge people for being bigger, "just stop eating all the fatty foods, work out, blah blah blah." When you have an addiction, its not that easy to just quiet it. There are so many drug addicts and alcoholics that relapse, most more than once or twice. You can sit there and say that food is no comparison to a drug addiction, but you obviously don't have an eating addiction.
You don't need drugs and alcohol to survive, but you do need food.
Currently, I am living in constant fear that I will cave and forget that I am trying to make changes for the better. TERRIFIED.
I am terrified of myself. I am terrified of every single fast food restaurant I pass, of every piece of junk food in this house.
I went to get my hair cut today in Fort Worth, which we all know has way better eating options than Cleburne or Joshua. I had to just keep my eyes straight.
My amazing counselor said that it is okay to have certain things. That I should be able to eat whatever I want, just in moderation. And I agree, but my mind doesn't know moderation. And if I try moderation, I just end up going down hill.
Now, don't let me fool you. I'm not eating baked chicken and broccoli. I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with Cheetos for lunch today, which is a heck of a lot better than a buttery jack and a large curly fry. I still have not binged. I think that is what my main focus is right now. I have to take it one step at a time. Jumping in all at once just sets me up for failure. The two steps that I take forward, will turn into 20 steps back. It seems when I make progress and lose about 5 pounds, I will turn around and gain about 15 within a month. A MONTH. No part of that is healthy.
Trying to find a balance when you're a mother is extremely hard. My childrens needs ALWAYS come before mine. I make sure they are taken care of before I do anything with myself. I look like a homeless person 90% of the time. Finding "me" time as a mother is almost impossible. I feel guilty when I do something for myself. After my counseling appointment this week, I went to get some new clothes with a gift card that I have been holding onto since Christmas, and the whole time I was gone, I was thinking about the kids and hoping that they weren't fussing or being bad for Dayton. I take five minute showers because I hear phantom cries and think something is wrong with one of them, or because Hudson tries open the shower curtain and get water every where.
And I know thats pretty much every mother out there. I know that its okay to put myself first sometimes. It is just easier said than done.

I am going to set small goals for myself. And right now, none of them are going to be weight loss goals. I want to set 'healthy mind goals'. I need to start at the top and work my way down to the mid section. If I lose weight in the process, then thats obviously welcomed. It is literally going to have to be one step at a time with me. Going all in hasn't worked for me in the past, it only sets me up for failure.

I know it will take time, and time is our biggest enemy. But, I can do or do not, the time will pass either way.

And on that note, I bid you adieu.

Emotions and stuff.

I don't know why I keep saying "I'm back" and then... I'm not. 

Blogging is something I used to really enjoy. But, with two kids under three, everything gets pushed under the rug. So, I will say that I MIGHT be back, pending if my children let me or not. 

A little update: 

I had my sweet baby girl. Her name is Ava Reece. She is now 10 months old, she is a little chunk, poor thing gets that from her mama. Hudson is the best big brother. He is so gentle with her and loves to make her laugh. Ava thinks he hung the moon, I am going to cherish these days; I know that one day it will be completely different. 

Now down to the nitty gritty. 

Over the past month, I have been emotionally exhausted. 

If you have followed my blog, you know a little bit about my past, but if you haven't I will give you a brief history. 

When I was twelve years old I was sexually abused by my father. It went on for several years until he was arrested and convicted. 

Following these events, I crawled into a dark hole. Depression doesn't even describe how I was feeling. You never think that something bad could happen to you, until it does. And you never believe someone who is supposed to be your protector and safe haven would be the one to hurt you the most. 

I was confused and in a tremendous amount of pain. 

The pain lasted for a long time. 

To say I didn't deal with it in a healthy way is an extreme understatement.

I was lost and tried to do anything and everything I could to find myself and fill the hole I had in my chest. I seeked companionship form all the wrong people. I lowered myself because I felt that I wasn't worthy of anything special. My self esteem was non existent. 

And now, almost ten years later, I am a better person. 

That sounds off. "I am a better person because of this horrible thing the that happened to me". 

I wouldn't say that I am thankful for the situation. But I am thankful for the things that have come out of it. 

Over the past few months, the pain has slowly crept back in. I have let it effect me in more ways than I would like to admit. I slowly felt myself crawling back into the dark hole. And if you have ever been in a dark hole, you know the fear I felt. The fear of complete darkness. When I wasn't crying, I was completely numb. I can't really explain why, because I don't know why. 

My anxiety was and still is running extremely high. 

I have two beautiful children, and an amazing husband. So why was I feeling this way? 

I immediately called my doctor to up my depression medications. I didn't want my depression to effect me being a good mother, or a good wife. 

I contemplated getting weight loss surgery AGAIN. For the THIRD time. 

And then I ask myself "What is so wrong in your head that you have failed two, what is supposed to be life changing surgeries?" I can't find the answer. The emotional connection that I have with food is indescribable. I love food more than I love myself. How is that okay? I am supposed to love myself more than anything (besides my children). Every thought process that I have in my head revolves around food. I think about it from the moment I wake up, until the moment I go to sleep. I can seriously eat my weight in Nutty Bars, and I think I've made that a challenge for myself. I will get a whole box, like the jumbo box, and eat them all within a day to two days. I don't even want to know how many calories are in those things. While eating, I get the absolute biggest high. And then after, I go back to hating myself. And thinking of how disgusting and weak I am. Which resorts to eating again, it is a never. ending. cycle. 

I know what I need to do to correct it, at least I think I do. 

I know what I NEED to eat. But eating healthy, makes me just as depressed as being fat. 

And I know I know, choose your hard. 

But its not that simple. And let me tell you why. 

Last week I chose to do something that I brushed off so many times in the past, because I thought that I didn't need it, or that it wouldn't help me. 

I went to counselor. 

I felt that maybe if I go talk to someone, someone who didn't know me. Who didn't have any bias against me, who wouldn't judge what I was feeling or had been through because chances are they have heard way worse. 

I told her my whole story. I told her things I have NEVER said out loud before. 

After hearing my story and my thoughts about my weight, and weight loss surgery. 

She said to me that no amount of weight loss surgery will help me because I have a binge eating disorder. 

I knew what I was doing was eating a lot, all the time. I knew that I was unhealthy both physically and mentally. And I knew that no matter how hard I tried I couldn't sort through my feelings by myself any more.  But, a binge eating disorder never crossed my mind. 

After voicing my thoughts that I have held onto for almost ten years, I feel relief. 

Like this heavy burden has been lifted off of me, I can breathe. 

Can you imagine feeling like your drowning for years? 

I can never get those years back. 

But, I can learn from them. 

On my very first session I felt change. 

I haven't binged as much, it feels like barely at all. 

(I did eat a whole box of nutty bars the other day, but we won't talk about that.)

Every day I am feeling like food is just food. 

My usual go to foods, don't sound good to me any more. 

All I can do from here is move forward. 

I can't let what someone did to me effect me in an unhealthy way any more. 

I live with it every day, its not going to go away. 

But I need to learn to live with it in a different way, because this way isn't doing me any favors. 

Sometimes the shame that I feel is so overwhelming. 

Shame about myself, about my past, and about what has happened to me that I had ZERO control over.

I feel like part of letting go of my shame is to talk about it. (Or write)

Because I can't be ashamed any more. 

This is my story, and I get to decide how the rest is written.

And on that note, I must bid you adieu.