Body Image

I was in the shower this morning when my son walked in for whatever reason, and something occurred to me.  I have never been self-conscious around him.  I don't run around in the nude, of course, but since it's always been just the two of us, we pretty much have an open door policy.

My body image is skewed, to say the least. Regardless of my weight, heavy or not, when I look in the mirror I always see the same me and I don't like what I see. (which is why the mirrors over the bathroom sinks are the only two in our house.)

Anyway, Andy doesn't know what it is to be ashamed of one's body.  All his life I've told him, every single day, that he's the most perfect, the smartest and the most handsome guy in the world.  Because he is. No one has ever told him anything different, so why should he think otherwise?  But here's what I thought about this morning.  Andy doesn't care what I look like either.

When he walks in on me in the shower, he doesn't look at my stomach and say, "Whoa, Mom! What the hell happened there?"  He doesn't look at my breasts and say, "Better roll those things up before you trip over them."  He just sees me.  His Mom. And he loves me.

I could learn a lot from my son.

My trainer tells me I look different now than I did 20 some pounds ago. Common sense tells me this must be true, but I don't see it and I don't really feel any different either. Maybe it will come with the next 20...or the 20 after that. One thing that's different, though, is that I'm feeling a little better about myself every day. That's a good thing. What will be a great thing? When feeling good about myself is no longer contingent upon a number on a scale.

Now THAT will be a great day.

Dealing With ED

I feel like a fraud.

I finished my memoir about my meth addiction and recovery. I signed with an agent. I've worked with two editors and am beginning the final draft of the book. And I feel like it's all bullshit. All I've done is trade one addiction for another.

I've struggled with bulimia and compulsive overeating all my life. This is my eating disorder. My ED. It started when I was twelve years old. The only time I've been free from it is when I've been on drugs. It's amazing what cocaine, prescription diet pills and/or meth will do for and eating disorder. Why, the ED just disappears! But take away the drugs and here we go again.

So I'm a fraud.

It's all the same thing - numbing out. Things or ways to distract me from whatever demons I'm still running from. I thought I was fixed. I thought I was all better. I thought that being drug and alcohol free meant everything was okay. But it's not. I'm not.

So I put myself in Fat Chick Rehab at my parent's house a few weeks ago, and it's helped. (My parents are truly wonderful people. They're the ones who made it possible for me to go to drug rehab.)  I've lost weight - the healthy way - and started exercising every day. Being with Mom and Dad has helped get me on the right track.  It's also been a reminder of the origin of my eating disorder. So I'm moving back home this weekend.

My parents aren't the cause of my bulimia any more than they're the cause of my drug addiction. They didn't cause it, and they can't fix it. I have to do that. So I'm going back to a therapist I saw ten years ago who specializes in eating disorders. I quit seeing her because my ED disappeared.

I didn't tell her I'd started doing cocaine and prescription diet pills. This time I will.

A Hiatus That Really Wasn't....

...it was more like a giant slump. Actually, speaking of it in the past tense isn't honest. I've been hosting a battle in my head,(okay, battles,)not the least of which concern the following questions:

1) Would it be in my best interest to use this blog to talk about other addictions I suffer from?

2) Would baring even more of my ragged soul help others who might be afflicted themselves?

I'm not sure of the answers yet, but I'm leaning toward full disclosure. In the meantime, know that THIS is how I feel most of the time.
** Disclaimer: My current issues have nothing to do with drugs or alcohol, but Gary Busey just kills me.