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.