After a Long Hiatus…

ImageWell, I haven’t blogged in a long time, I know.  Things have been pretty crazy, but I’m working them out, little by little.  I’m getting better, even though it’s difficult and I sometimes resist the changes.  The thing is, in November, on my senior retreat, I told my whole senior class about my eating disorder.  I’d never told anyone before, except the priest in the confessional, so I don’t entirely know what, if not Jesus, moved me to speak up about it.  So, yeah, my mom found out about my bulimia, which was scary and confusing, but somehow it ended up okay.  My school was understanding and helpful, and they were prepared to be flexible as I received treatment.  On November 20, I started the day program at the #1 eating disorder treatment center in the country.  Twelve hours a day, seven days a week (yes, that meant missing Mass and school).  No mirrors, monitored bathroom breaks, intensive therapy, a whole personal treatment team and a super-strict meal plan.  I spent five weeks there, and yes, it was crazy and stressful and emotionally draining, but I do think it helped.

I think my attitude really did change.  When I got there, I was so consumed with self-loath and guilt.  I couldn’t even think about getting better because I was so damn focused on how horrible a person I was.  If you’ve ever felt absolute despair, you must know what that’s like.  You can’t forgive yourself for your own mistakes, and you certainly can’t bring yourself to ask for God’s forgiveness because you’re soooooo caught up in your own feelings of unworthiness.  I just had this attitude of “I don’t deserve God’s forgiveness”—and it’s interesting because I now realize that I’m not sure whether my shame came from extreme humility or extreme pride that kept me from asking for God’s mercy.  Regardless, I’ve found it.  He came to me while I cried over myself and my own unworthiness.  I’m doing my best to remember that God really, truly does love us at our very best and very worst.  It’s so important that we allow ourselves to be forgiven, that we are open to God’s saving grace and mercy.  Right now, I’m focusing on Psalm 95:

“If today you hear His voice, harden not your hearts.”

No, I can’t think of any situation where this advice wouldn’t help.

– thelightiswhite ♥

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Bulimia

Well, I’m not in any kind of glamorous place right now. I’m sitting on the cold floor tiles in my mom’s bathroom, neck bent over the toilet. I’m not proud of what I do, really, I’m not. I just don’t know how to stop. In the last year and a half, I’ve lost about 25 pounds, and everyone’s constantly telling me, “You look great!” “You’ve gotten so slim.” “You have an excellent figure.”
Recently, I’ve felt prettier and better about myself than I’ve ever felt in my life. Some guys from my middle school have messaged me, told me I’m gorgeous. These are guys who would have never given me the time of day back when I was awkward with braces and glasses and chubby cheeks. It’s flattering, of course.
But then, there are moments like this, when I’m slumped over the toilet, teary-eyed and forcing myself to throw up everything I’ve eaten. In moments like this, I don’t feel so pretty. I feel repulsive and ashamed and sinful and alone.

I need you, Jesus.  So much.  You love me, I know, and You hate to see me doing this to myself.  Lord, please help me to get better.

What to do with myself?

I’m having a day, you guys.  All seventeen-year-old girls want approval, right?  Do most of them need it the way that I do?  I mean, are there other girls who would react the way I did to my mother’s comments about my hair?  I feel a little ridiculous being this upset.  The conversation went like this:

Mom: [looking through my senior pictures] I mean, these are nice. [pause] I think you need to do something with your hair.  It’s not very feminine.

Me: Mom, I’m not straightening it or cutting it short.  I like it the way it is, and you know that.

Mom: [sigh] Katy… You know Ms. Dineyli from church?  You’ve seen her and her sister side by side.  Now, her sister’s obviously the prettier of the two by far.  The thing is, Dineyli actually isn’t unattractive.  It’s just that she has that frizzy hair that makes her look tacky, not very well put together.  I look at her, then I look you and your hair. [grimace]

Me: MOM.  My hair is absolutely fine.  It doesn’t even look like hers.

Mom: Katy, it’s not that much better.

~~~~

Yes, I’m sorry, I get really sensitive about things like this.  She always, always, ALWAYS has something to say about me, the way I look, my personality, my friends…  Literally, I get daily compliments on my hair.  “Your curls are GORGEOUS!” “People pay serious money for hair like that.  Don’t ever cut or straighten it.”  But then there’s my mom!  Other people can say the nicest things about me, that I’m smart, pretty, interesting, funny…she’ll say I’m lazy, stubborn, insensitive, antisocial, and that I need to take my antidepressants/ADD meds before she’ll be willing to talk to me.  She constantly talks about how I’ll never make it in the “real world.”

So, yeah… 😦 I’m crying right now, and I really can’t help it.  I don’t mean to be dramatic, I really don’t!  I’m just not happy with myself, and nobody else sees it.  Here I am, struggling with bulimia and anxiety disorder and depression, and I have to keep quiet about it.  Nobody thinks I’m trying my hardest.  When I have my “days,” everyone in my family thinks I’m fishing for attention.  Just now, my younger sister Lauren said, “Katy, you know you’re fine.  You’re being rude and dramatic, and you’re making a big deal out of nothing, like you always do.”  Lauren’s so no-nonsense.  She doesn’t cry or have panic attacks the way that I do.  I can’t tell her that I’ve been making myself throw up.  I’m afraid she won’t believe me.  Nobody in my house will, and they won’t take me to a therapist.  I don’t know what to do.