Disconnected from my reflection

I had a huge PBA (Pseuobulbar affect) moment followed by a seizure.
I know what you are thinking-

She is so fucing lucky!

I know, right?
Seizures,  PBA?! I'M LIVING THE FUCKING HIGH LIFE!

Yeah,  OK , back to "reality" or whatever people call it nowadays.

I went to wash my face and BAM!
that's when it happened.
I looked in the mirror-
And had absolutely no clue what or  who  this reflection was.

Let me repeat- None!  No clue whatsoever!
I freaked out.
I knew it was a mirror.
But that wasn't me.
It couldn't be!
Who the fuck was that?
What happened?
Is this a trick?
How was I replaced with this. .this. .THING? !

I started touching my short dark brown hair,  that I had last remembered being dreadlocks,  my body was so much bigger, I looked older,  I looked bland. Pale.
No color.
No animation

This thing was me? ????
Couldn't be!
Can't be! !
Where am I? !
I want to be me again!
This isn't funny! !!!
What happened?!
Why why why

I tried to explain this to my family,  but no one understood,  or still understands.
It happened yesterday, you see?
And everyone thinks this will just go away and fix itself.
But it won't

I can't stand my reflection.
Because it isn't me.
This caging . This casing is A MISTAKE.

And I can't fix me.

Facing my demons

Some days are a LOT harder than others.  Posting selfies is a lot harder than  it looks for people like me. Especially during certain dark times.
This #selflovebootcamp is kicking my assand has become a huge trigger for me and all my insecurities, my hurt and past traumas.
  I know though this is actually something I NEED TO FACE AND GO THROUGH its just extremely difficult. I admit I was starving myself again.  It was doing nothing to change my weight really,  since I have hashimotos disease, and am going through menopause ( due to a full hysterectomy and hormones not working), and medication, the list goes on, I'm mostly in a wheelchair.

I'm FORCING myself to EAT an apple right now and oatmeal this morning literally forced it down my throat.
Every time I think I've got this recovery thing down, it's tricked me.
And then I have to take a good hard look at myself and say is this what I want my kids to see???
And go through themselves? ??
I want them to be confident, strong, never doubt how beautiful  they are INSIDE and OUTSIDE!
Yet here I am, the hypocrite.
I'm crying several times a day.
Facing many of my demons-
Bipolar disorder
Body dysmorphia
Eating disorder
depression
anxiety
chronic illnesses
autism
adhd
mom
On and on

Trying to be the BEST MOMMY I CAN BE!
Pouring FROM THE MOST EMPTY CUP EVER!

I am facing my fears head  on and I am terrified.
But So glad I am doing this.
I am glad I'm forcing myself to eat.
And facing my "demons".

Are you going through something similar?

Getting Sicker and Sicker.

Lately I've been so ill. We're pretty sure it's my thyroid, but we're not positive.I've been dizzy, nauseous, and near fainting and extremely tired all day long. I even napped on the weekend- which if you know me- I hate doing. It totally throws off my day.

I hate this. It gets in the way of things I need to be doing. I feel imprisoned by my own body. I haven't been able to work out or anything. This sucks!

Violet's been ill, and crying all night long for the past few nights. She's on a new medication to help her sleep- but it's done the opposite of that- we're going to stop giving it to her. I feel so bad for my baby girl.

Everything's going to shit here- and I'm trying to stay on top of everything. Plus I'm cutting down on my medications because one of them- that I've been on for seven years- might be causing some of my heart problems! I'm so nervous- my body doesn't know how to survive without this medication anymore- I'm trying to train it to do so- but it's difficult.

Dave went to the doctor yesterday and was put on blood pressure medication, because his blood pressure has been consistently high. I'm worried about him. Plus he has to lose weight AND lower his blood pressure in the next few weeks- to show the doctor he can control his blood pressure by losing weight. Dieting is very stressful, I know- I mean I've been to several eating disorder clinics in my lifetime, and was near killing myself several times due to starvation- so dieting is not my specialty to say the least. It's difficult watching Dave not take care of himself. I know he's trying, but it's so hard. I make healthy dinners, but I cannot be in control of everything he eats all the time. I don't want that job, I don't want to be the "bad guy" or the "food police" all the time. Dave has been lifting weights at night, which I'm very proud of. He even tried to do a work out video with me one night- he lasted five minutes- but those five minutes were rigorous! He has to take little baby steps when excercising so he doesn't give himself a heart attack! Eventually I want to trying running. It's something I've wanted to do for a long time. But obviously can't right now- Dave is so worried about me- he won't let me do any physical activity as of late. I hope my luck will change for the better really soon.

Love you all!

Kisses my darling Bitches!

2 fucking pounds.

Today I went to the doctor, and emergency appointment. It's a personal matter. Yes I actually don't share everything here, not even half of everything here.
And I'm going to yet another doctor tomorrow.
Did I mention I hate hospitals?!
They are the dirtiest places on the planet. Totally gross. I always get sick from there. And I've been there a lot lately, sad to say.
So I got weighed today. I haven't been affected by being weighed in a long time.
I used to go into doctor's offices guessing I'd be at least 30 lbs overweight- so that no matter what I'd be pleasantly surprised. I know it's crazy, but that was my thing.
This brings me back to when I was in the hospital for my eating disorders, definitely a time I cannot ever forget. Every morning we would be woken up at 5:30 A.M. to get weighed. Actually correction, first they would make us go pee, check our urine ( the color), then weigh us. While we were still in our PJs. We'd never be allowed to see the number- only the nurses could. Then we would go back to sleep for an hour and a half- and go force ourselves to eat breakfast, within the given 45 minute time slot they gave us. The walls were covered in rules. Eating rules all eating disorder patients have created for themselves. These rules were the opposite of those, and all we HAD to obey. We could not cut our food into ridiculously tiny bits, we had to finish our plate, no matter what, there were hundreds of rules. All meant to make us better, not worse like we had been doing.
Anyways- this humiliation, was startling at first, but I got used to it quick. And picked on the newcomers when they pissed me off by bitching about the rules. I ran the joint when I was there. Me and my girl, Julia.
one night we went into the only boy patients room. He was a teenager ( turns out he didn't have anorexia, he had crohn's disease and that's why he couldn't gain ANY weigh no matter what)- back to the point, we went into the room and taught him about sex.
No we didn't demonstrate we just made it seem as gross as fucking possible. And just watched his face go white than green, priceless! Julia and I were trouble makers for sure. I miss her so much. Bipolar E.D. (eating disorder) sisters. She was my sister from another mother, for sure.
So here I was, today being weighed. Ten months after giving birth by C-section to my son Levi. I got on the scale and it said ...132 lbs.
It didn't affect me at first but while in the waiting room for a crazy long time. I heard "the voice". E.D. chicks know "the voice". It's the voice that tells you all the bad things about yourself. You're FAT! You're disgusting! And on and on.
This wasn't that extreme, it used to be that's for sure.
In my old journal that I kept during my hospitalizations there were pages of FAT written over them and just that.
The voice was telling me "You gained two pounds"
The response- in my head was then "132 lbs is nothing. Calm down."
"You gained two pounds!" it'd answer back
"But I thought you wanted to gain weight, you know for the modeling gig???"
To which it replied " You can't handle this. 2 pounds can't turn into more, you can't let that happen!"
So the end of this story. I'm broken. And I hate that. Being broken. I have so much baggage, so much crazy inside of me. I hate knowing I'm broken.
I can't stand broken BITCHES!
I got to fix me.
It has to do with the lack of control I have with all the fucking horse shit that's happening to my family.
I feel helpless. I don't like that feeling. I need to control something,right?
I don't believe ever that EVERYTHING is out of my control. I won't believe it.
I just won't.
I need to take back the control that's been taken from me, by doctors, by my landlord. Everyone that's making feel this pain.
I wonder what'll happen when a broken doll gets fixed. It might get angry.
In this case VERY angry.


To all my E.D. sisters out there. Being hospitalized, although it didn't CURE me, nothing ever does, it was one of the best decisions I ever made for myself. I only wish I would have stayed longer. When I came home, that's when everything fell a part again ( a whole other story). But if I had stuck to the plan and MADE my family stick to the plan for me, things might have been different for while. Just maybe.
If you are suffering from an E.D., know that I've experienced most of them- for over half my lifetime. I'm willing to listen, if you're willing to talk.
There is help out there, but of course it all starts with a decision made by you to change, finally, for the better, and fix yourself, ya dig?

Amen.

Kisses to all my different shapes and sizes bitches! I love you!