Peak: …and then one day, my whole life changed!

In August, I decided to seek change. While life will always be a series of peaks and valleys, it was time for me to invest in myself in a way I never had before. In my last post, I talked about the infamous Last Weekend of August. At the time, I had started to build my floating meditation deck and also registered for Yoga Teacher Training. Here is a bit of what has happened since:

I started to build my meditation deck with essentially none of the needed skills and no real plan, yet somehow….I built it! Me! Myself! Oh sure, some of the boards are slightly misaligned. Not all of the screws are flush with the boards. It does not exactly float (yet). However, I carried almost every piece of wood to the Down Below myself. I spent nearly every spare minute I had for 4 weeks constructing (sometimes deconstructing and reconstructing) my deck. I measured. I used power tools. I leveled. I stained. I bruised. I failed. I cursed. I learned. I grew. I did it ALL! One thing I never did was stop. No matter how frustrating things became or how tired I was, I wanted to see this through! I refused to quit on this project or myself!

Although I did not realize it at the time, the process of building this deck was my first step to changing my life. It had been so long (if ever) since I believed in myself or gave myself encouragement. I do not know when the last time was that I looked at something I had done with a sense of pride and achievement. Throughout this project, rather than the usual negative self-talk that is the soundtrack of my mind, I heard myself forgiving the mistakes. I felt compassion on the tough days. I saw beauty in the work I completed. I found strength in every hurdle. As I stood back and looked across my (mostly) finished project, I felt no judgement at my perfectly imperfect project. I found myself in uncharted waters. Literally found myself in a place I never recall being. A place where I could see myself and my efforts in a positive light! A place where love might grow for a person I have never particularly liked.

I built my meditation deck and what began as a project became the beginning of a journey that would leave me changed forever. Here is the (mostly) finished project:

Valley: The worst weekend of my life…

I have never been a gloom and doom kind of person, but there is a tradition in my life (and I hate to call it that), that I did not choose and do not want. For no reason I can explain, the first weekend of August, every time it comes around, for that last 7 years brings a new (practically) unbearable tragedy to my life. I don’t mean tragedy, like the the heel of my shoe broke off or my favorite plant died. I mean tragedies that forever alter the course of your life. FOREVER ALTER. Year after year, one blow after another. The first weekend of August is so terrifying to me because I never have any idea what is coming my way, and it has never brought anything that could have been predicted.

In the midst of last years devastation, I was so distraught trying to understand what it was about this particular weekend and how it was possible that over and over again tragedy rears it’s head at such a specific time. Was I a serial killer in a past life? Did I enact my worst massacre on the first weekend in August? What did I do to cause this recurring nightmare the first weekend of August EVERY YEAR????? While I have no answer to the why, I know that I cannot live with this fear and anxiety every year. I can’t do it anymore. I won’t do it anymore.

During a particularly soothing session of Yoga some years ago, the Yoga teacher said this: “…if you are uncomfortable in your current position, change your mind or change your body, but do not sit in discomfort…” Those words rang through my ears and straight to my heart. I decided this year, in my year of change, that I would no longer sit in discomfort. Very decisively, I was determined to change the history of the first weekend of August. Not only change the history but cast some positive light over the weekend to shine through the darkness the encompasses it.

For sometime now, I have felt a draw towards Yoga and the lifestyle that comes with the practice. Over the last year, I have not been able to maintain my normal practice, but I did what I could, when I could and tried to live the life. Also, I wanted to create a place of peace, for myself ,to find solace on days where life is so overwhelming that I want to bury my head in the sand and hide (a.k.a The First Weekend of August). This year, in order to forever banish the curse of The First Weekend of August, I registered for Yoga Teacher Training with my second favorite Yoga teacher on the planet. (My number one is irreplaceable but does not do training) Also, I began to build a floating mediation platform that will be placed in my beloved Down Below.

I have never built anything nor have a ever used a saw. But change sometimes means taking a leap into the unknown and seeing where it will lead. With an open heart and an open mind, I began to build a structure with no real plan. In much the same way, I enrolled in YTT with no real plan for where I wanted to go. I feel a calling to deepen my practice. I feel a calling to create serenity in my life. I will not be a victim to whatever circumstance gave birth to the tragic First Weekend of August.

This year, for the first time in 7 years, the First Weekend of August came and went. The only thing that happened is that I changed it’s meaning forever. I began to build my meditation platform and I invested in myself (for the first time in my life) by committing to deepen the practice I love so much.

Will I teach when I am done? I do not know. Will my platform actually float? I do not know. And the answers don’t matter much in this story. What matters is that I was uncomfortable and so I changed my mind. I will not sit in discomfort….

Side note: My platform is not quite done, but here is the progress! Stay tuned for updates!

Build a strong foundation…
and then make it even stronger…
…when you don’t think it can get any stronger, give it another layer of support!

Rant: Is ADHD real?

Is ADHD a real condition? I have participated in this debate a number of times throughout the years. Here are some common points I hear from those who do not “believe” in ADHD:

“…people need to raise their kids, instead of medicate them”
“…whenever kids can’t sit still, we just give them a label”
“…ADHD isn’t a condition, it’s lazy parenting”
“…it’s made up as an excuse for kids who don’t behave”

In general, I agreed with some of the statements above. Many years ago, there was a child in my elementary class who had ADHD (maybe ADD back then?) and so I knew it existed but comparing that child to other children with the same diagnoses, I decided that maybe it was lazy parenting and not a condition. It’s easy to pass judgement on mental health because it is a gray space. These conditions are not visible and are not necessarily measurable, therefore, diagnosing feels subjective.

Growing up, I suspected that one of my kids might have ADHD, but because I was an advocate against medication (NOT against vaccination!), I believed that with the right parenting, self-control could be taught. After all, this “ADHD” thing is all about a person being able to control themselves, sit still, listen, etc. Right? No chance I am medicating my kid into being a zombie just so I can avoid teaching self-control and discipline! NO CHANCE! As it turns out, I was not wrong in my assessment, but quite wrong about my decision to avoid seeking proper treatment!

While it is true, to some extent, that the physical actions are considered in the diagnosing of ADHD, the real core of the issue is the ability to focus and concentrate. When someone has ADHD, they have a diminished ability to stay on task and to see that task through to completion, to put it simply. This turns into frustration that manifests itself in a variety of behaviors including anger, being antsy, hitting, etc.

At the age of 42, I was diagnosed as severely ADHD. Me?!?! ADHD?!?! But my parents weren’t lazy? I can sit still, always could! (ask teenage me, who had no issues with sitting for long periods of time at all!) Self-control? Sure, maybe I take things a little far from time to time with my tomfoolery and shenanigans, but in general, I think I am able to control myself pretty well. How can I have ADHD? That, now, infamous evaluation I completed, returned “off-the-chart” for ADHD. I had questions! Thankfully, my clearly, very patient psychiatrist answered all of my questions and really connected the dots for me.

While still not sure I was a firm believer, I figured I would try the proposed medication and see what happens. Here is what happened: MY LIFE HAS BEEN CHANGED! Almost instantly, I felt a clarity I had never in my life felt. I began to wonder if this is how other people feel all the time, all of their lives? For the first time, I realized that maybe I was wired differently. I was a great student throughout high school, but I joked about how I never did the big projects. My grades were so high, that it never mattered much. I avoided the big projects because I could not think my way through them or focus long enough to actually complete them. At work, I used to say: I am a project starter, not a project finisher! All clues pointing in the same direction. That has all changed. Suddenly, I am a project finishing MASTER! Tasks begin, tasks are finished. My days are organized. I am not spending my days staring off, blankly, wondering where to start.

How did I make it to 42 without anyone noticing? Here is how: I do not fit the generalized profile of ADHD. Even the psychiatrist, who had a stack of 100 pages mapping out my brain in front of her, could not believe the result. What I have learned is that ADHD is real. Do I believe it is over diagnosed? Sure, I imagine like anything else, it can be diagnosed incorrectly. I have also learned that generalizing symptoms off of physical attributes is dangerous in that people will slip through the cracks…as in my case.

Looking back, I have so much regret about not verbalizing my struggles. I preferred to make jokes about it because that was less embarrassing. You know what is not less embarrassing? Telling my kids that I dropped out of Community College because I could not hack it. College requires focus, concentration, and long-term planning. Skills that I could not perform. I wasn’t lazy. I didn’t need more discipline. Simply put, my brain does not function like the brain of others. The best explanation I heard to describe the treatment of ADHD is this: The brain is like an orchestra. If the orchestra is in harmony and you add an instrument (medication) it will disrupt the orchestra. However, if the orchestra is missing a sound and you add it, it creates harmony. This is the difference between abusing ADHD meds and needing them. My brain is in harmony and my life has changed.

Before jumping to conclusions on mental illness/conditions or prejudging behavior, take time to understand, to really understand that the brain is gray matter, not black and white matter. To say that a condition does not exist because it’s a battle you have not fought is a narrow perspective.

I will leave you with this: ADHD is real and it doesn’t just impact kids. It may not look the same for each person, but the mental struggle is very real and can alter the course of an individuals life if not properly treated. As we look at those around us, remember that we can not always see illness or conditions. That does not mean that these conditions do not exist or that someone isn’t in an invisible battle. If you suspect that you or someone you know may be ADHD, I promise it’s worth the evaluation! I find myself wondering about the possibilities of earlier detection. It’s not that things didn’t turn out “just fine” with my life…but is that enough?

One final thought, in case you were wondering, yes, this is the last piece of the “weight loss” puzzle. The medication I take addresses the ADHD but has a little something to help with my Bulimia. Naturally, introducing a stimulant to my body revved up that metabolism that was very sluggish after years of abuse. Now my mind and body are in sync!

Peak: The Climb

We are living in a time where labeling seems to be a priority over support. Is it a disorder or a condition? Living with or surviving? Committing or dying by? In my opinion, there should be less focus on the labels and more support on coping and treating. Here’s one reason why: Bulimia presents as a disorder. It presents as a condition. It can be survived. It can be committed. I could go on and on. Particularly when it comes to the mind, symptoms and recovery are highly individualized and dependent on the individual being impacted.

In my previous post, I shared that I am bulimic and I am in recovery. I chose the word “recovery” purposely. That day that I sat down with my psychiatrist and made my admission was one of the hardest and worst days of my life. That statement speaks volumes because I have seen some tough days! (Haven’t we all?) After my disclosure/admission, she casually mentions the course of treatment we are going to begin immediately. At that point, I had sat across from this person on a number of occasions and had never shed a tear, until that day. As I listened, knowing this was exactly what I needed but did not want, I felt something rising up inside me. Something I cannot describe. Something I could not control. She was talking and all I could hear was my mind saying: “I told you so! I told you so! Don’t talk about it or they will take it away!” That’s exactly what was happening. She was taking away my binky! My wubbie! My lovie! The only method of soothing and comfort I knew and used. I started sobbing. My mind was racing. I was making a list of all the current stressors in my life and trying to think through coping without my binge…purge…calm ritual. She stopped (obviously) and asked what was happening. I was hysterical and terrified, but honest. Through my tears, I heard this tiny voice say: I have no other way to survive my life on a daily basis. If you take this away, I will not survive.

That was the moment we both realized that I did not have a disorder, I had an addiction.

There are many ways to treat any condition. Depending on the underlying cause, the root of the issue, Bulimia can be a disorder, an illness, a condition and as I have learned, an addiction.

I’ll spare you the details of the amount of energy this poor doctor had to put into convincing me that we were going to treat my addiction. To this point in my life, I could not really say I had been addicted to anything. I would even say, I had an opinion on addiction. Basically, if someone wanted badly enough, they could stop doing anything. Mind over Matter! Well the Universe has a way of teaching us things that we need to learn and I learned that my mind did NOT matter in this case! Or maybe it mattered entirely too much. The things going on in my head were wildly out of character, even for me to believe, and I was living in the same mind where this chaos was taking place! Who was this person? I was visibly shaking and internally frantic, filled with panic.

I was given Naltrexone. Naltrexone is typically used for treating heroine addicts and alcoholics. It works by suppressing and reducing cravings (usually for opiates and alcohol, but apparently sometimes food?!?) and binding the receptors in the brain that seek pleasure from the cravings. I was an addict. More accurately, I am an addict.

In addition to Naltrexone, I was referred to a therapist to address the root cause and to learn how to live under this New World Order. The following days, weeks, months were brutal, to say the least!

I was very sick from the medication. I was distraught trying to find positive outlets for my stress. While not easy, I was making progress! Each day, I felt a little better. Each day the compulsion weakened. Heck, I can recall a few days where my “dirty little secret” didn’t even cross my mind. Then it was weeks! Then a month! I was climbing out of the well! My energy was coming back! Food was a source of nutrition and not a binky/wubbie/lovie! Pounds were falling off. Brick by brick, I was climbing! I told myself: I can do it! Keep going! This time you finally WIN!

….and then, as life does, I was dealt an unexpected and crushing blow! It came through the mail. That very moment everything I knew was shattered and destroyed. No dosage of Naltrexone, no therapist, no coping mechanism and no self-control was going to stop the absolute flat tale spin that followed that piece of mail. Life placed it’s big ugly foot on my face and shoved me right back to the bottom of that well. Again, something new! Rage…binge…guilt…purge… no calm. Thanks to the Naltrexone, which I continued to take, NO CALM. Rage…binge…guilt…purge…no calm. Shame. Failure. Desperation. I clawed at the wall, I needed to climb. Rage…binge…purge…fail!

However, something had changed. I knew what it was like to feel better. My desire to get back on track was strong. I just didn’t know how to cope. I spent time with my therapist. I began meditation. Not the kind where you find a corner, light a candle and sit cross-legged in silence. The kind where in the middle of the work day or the grocery store parking lot, wherever you are in that moment where the addictive tendencies and cravings start to creep in, you stop and close your eyes. You breathe. You count. You quiet your mind until the urge passes. What you don’t do is walk into the kitchen and open the cupboard…

I started coloring. I started DIY projects. I fell in love with folding laundry (hilarious, I know), something I always liked but didn’t realize could be soothing. I now had a tool box of coping mechanisms. Life is not going to cut me any slack and I know that I am certainly not alone, sadly. My life is filled with people struggling to cope with something or another. There is strength in numbers. There is strength in community, even if that community is a giant ball of disorders and suffering.

I started to climb. I backslid. I climbed. I backslid. BUT, the backslide no longer sent me to the bottom of the well, just down a few bricks. As of today, I am two months clean? Sober? Compliant? What is the label for this type of addiction? That’s why labels do not work. I like to say I am two months healthy. Not a day goes by where I don’t miss that feeling. The calm. The release. However, my body is proof of the price I was paying. Last February (2018), I weighed in at 206 lbs. By October, my weight stabilized at 140 lbs. There is still another piece to the weight loss puzzle because that evaluation revealed more than my “dirty little secret.” But you already know, that’s a post for another day! It’s not just about the weight, my mind is more clear. At my most recent physical, my results were the best they have ever been. I am happier, even when life continues to throw curve balls at me! I have outlets for my stress. I am working out again, but for the right reasons!

Why did I choose the word recovery? Addiction is a road with no end. An infinite journey of recovery. I am careful not to over eat. A full belly is a trigger for the purge compulsion. I avoid the scale. It triggers the self-loathing which triggers the hate and you know the rest of the routine. Will I ever be able to stuff myself and not feel the desires? I do not know. But right now, it’s a risk I am not willing to take. Life is a series of peaks and valleys, but I never want to find myself at the bottom of the well. I never want to lie and hide. I never want to be an Imposter in my own life. I am an addict and I am in recovery.

Valley: I am Bulimic

Publicly, I have never admitted that I am bulimic. I would even say that most people I know, don’t know I am bulimic. I used to say (when I said it at all): I WAS bulimic in high school. And I was. Last year, I finally admitted that I AM bulimic.

The erosion of my self-image and self-esteem began from a young age. Without spending too much time on that piece, I will say that I was bullied, repeatedly told I was fat, not good enough, less than, not working hard enough, not as good as such and such, etc. People who I loved, people I respected didn’t think I was enough. How can I be if they don’t think so? I must not be. Additionally, I was shy (yes, it’s true) and awkward, traits that don’t play well in school. As a result, I spent most of my adolescence suffering from depression. I did not know that then, but hindsight….

By high school, I had spiraled into a deep dark place. Expectations were high. There was so much at stake. How would I measure up? I was stressed trying to out run a mind that told me I was worthless while working tirelessly to find success. Where things started (continued?) to go wrong is that I loved food, food was always sooooo good to me! After a bad day, I would sit to find comfort, in food, but then the guilt would set in because I saw myself as fat, ugly, stupid, worthless. Me to me: You just ate WHAT?? You are already fat, what did you DO???? My solution was to undo what made me feel guilty, the surrogate for my emotions…the food. I started vomiting to remove the guilt. I liked it, that feeling. Feeling so full and then having a release. There was a calm that would set in. Over time, it became a routine and a habit. Bad day….binge…purge….calm. Because I prefer to wear loose clothing, it took time for anyone to realize that I was losing weight. But, it was high school and eventually I got “caught.” I made promises to stop. I had it under control. It’s over. I used to be bulimic.

But it didn’t. I hid. I was sneaky. I was guilty. The cycle continued. Guilt…binge…purge…calm. I was lying. I was fake. I was everything nobody thought I was, an Imposter. Guilt…binge…purge….calm. What if they find out? They will think I am weak. I am supposed to be strong. Guilt…binge…purge…calm. Something new began…hate. I hated myself for not being able to find another way. I hated myself for the way I looked. I hated myself for not being like everyone else who seemed so confident. I hated myself for not being a shining example for my kids. I hated myself for walking around with this “dirty little secret.” I hated myself for hating myself. The cycle evolved: Hate…binge…guilt…purge…calm.

There is a misconception when a condition is labeled as an eating disorder. For me, it had nothing to do with the eating. It had everything to do with the disorder, the guilt, self-loathing and seeking comfort. A cycle. A part of my routine. I knew there was something wrong in what I was doing, otherwise there would be no reason to hide. I needed a way to comfort myself and if anyone found out, my comfort could be taken away. For that reason, if I talked about it I talked about it only in the past tense. Then, it didn’t really exist. Did it?

As life went on, the medical issues began. Acid reflux, high blood pressure, low electrolytes, weight gain. Doctors were running tests and treating conditions but could never find the source. “….maybe you need a lifestyle adjustment, more exercise, better eating habits….”. I started to workout like mad. No results. More workouts! New workouts! Cycle. CrossFit. No results. Back to the doctors! How can I work out this much and still be obese? (denial is amazing!) They said: “….it gets harder as you get older….”. “….metabolism slows down with age…”. “….just keep at it…” I heard: …”Your body is a mess. You still can’t do anything right. You failed, again! If you just tried harder, maybe you could accomplish something!” Okay. I started working harder, eating smarter. I joined challenges. Signed up for gyms. The harder I worked without seeing results, the more I hated myself. The cycle continues. Hate…binge…guilt…purge…calm. I found new ways to be self-destructive to cover the guilt and shame. I denied that the lack of results could be related to my “dirty little secret”. That was a thing of the past, high school, right?

After my hormones were balanced (previous post). Mentally, I still wasn’t whole and I wanted to be. Something was stopping me from feeling like myself and it went beyond my hormonal imbalance. I was referred to a psychiatrist for evaluation. The testing was tricky. In general, on these tests, I can figure out what the question is assessing, navigating my way safely through without revealing too much. On this test, I could not. I gave honest answers. For the first time in my life, I WANTED to get better and to understand how I became so broken, why was I so tired and what was happening with my weight! I went in for my results. I was not prepared for what came next.

I sat down. The very first question I was asked was: Do you have an eating disorder? I felt flushed and looked at my feet. Does she ask everyone this? How could she possibly know? I let out a little quiet no. She told me that I scored off the charts for an eating disorder and reminded me that if I wanted to feel better, I needed to be honest with her and more importantly with myself. I broke down and for the first time, I said: Yes, I am bulimic and have been for decades. I found myself at the bottom of a well. It was a low point, a deep valley.

To quell any concern, I am in recovery. If you are one of the people who wanted to know how I lost weight, here is another piece of the puzzle. I am bulimic and I am getting help. (Aren’t you glad you asked?) My road to recovery has been long and deserves it’s own post, so stayed tuned! Falling into the valley is an important part of climbing to the peak.

Why am I sharing this today? Mental health is important! Beyond important! Yet we hide symptoms and pretend we are fine because that is more acceptable than admitting we need help. I am sharing this very personal information, because I have healed enough to know that I am not the only person walking around with a “dirty little secret.” (And believe me, this is one of many) If you need help, get it! If you need a friend, contact me! I have wonderful resources and would love to support anyone who needs it because I would not be where I am without the help and support of others. I am thankful for those who have been serving as my light while I navigate through darkness! Whether you have an issue or issues and even if you don’t, know that you are not alone, at the very least, you have me!