Panic, anorexia, and motherhood.

This post has been swirling around my mind in fractals for the past few months. Snippets of things that I had wanted to write down, just for the sake of getting them out of me- but didn't, because I was afraid of what others might think, or say, or feel... What I, myself, would think, or say, or feel, after reading the things I'd just let pour from my head. 

"Crazy" is the word that most often wins the race to the forefront of my mind, and somehow, putting that onto paper (virtual or otherwise) makes it seem much more real, and much more overwhelming. What would I do with the mess I'm afraid I'll read I've become? Will I believe i'm more hopeless if I read the words rather than just thinking them? And my mind swirls, and my chest tightens, and I realize I'm forgetting how to breathe like a "normal" person. Because that's the goal, isn't it? To fall into the "average". To be just like the 3 or 4 people seated nearest to you on any given occasion. To not stand out. To not be the red dot on the statistical analysis chart that falls off of the line and gets chalked up to be systematic error... The one they show us in the programs they send us to, in effort to "fix" what's "broken" within us. 

It all sounds so exhausting when you aren't like any of those people. When you are the off point on the graph. So, I feel like I need to know who decided this. Because I'm willing to wager that they've never tried to fit a mind, or a heart, or a set of fears of their own into someone else's version of the world. 

How can I be taught to find myself- be myself- love myself.. When I'm simultaneously being told that once I'm more like everyone else, I'll be in a safer place. The world will feel easier. 

I just can't find the sense in that... And so yes. Hell yes. That makes me a little anxious. I have a thing with clarity- and that just isn't clear. 

For the last 2+ years, I have been on a mission to mend. Be it my heart, mind, body, or otherwise. I am now 31 years old. I've struggled with Anorexia Nervosa off and on since the age of 12. It developed as a coping mechanism for the death of my father, and a handful of years of childhood sexual abuse at the hands of my mothers physically abusive & severely alcoholic boyfriend. I was 12, and they don't teach you how to deal with these sorts of things in elementary school. Anxiety and starvation came easily, and so I followed their lead, because they swallowed the guilt, and shame, and fear I felt about both of these things. I wasn't a worry to anyone- I was just a mousey girl, desperate to please, who grew to be a "picky eater". 

At age 16, I began to self-harm. 

I came out as a lesbian to my friends, and certain family members at the age of 17. After my first heartbreak, and my homophobic-Christian mother questioning my sexuality, I turned back to "straight" dating, and it pushed me into a hole of despair that I wasn't able to crawl out of until age 20, when I met my now wife, and came out to my mother (who, btw, came around to things rather quickly. She attended our wedding and cried tears of joy when she stopped my walk down the aisle to hug me and tell me that she loved me). 

We'll fast forward a few years, and a few life dramas, to 2011, when my wife and I began visiting a fertility clinic in hopes of getting me pregnant. The one thing I was sure of all my life was that I was put on this planet to be a mother. Motherhood was what I had dreamed of since age 4, and I couldn't wait. 

After an incredible pregnancy, and a complicated delivery, I took to my daughter like she had been here all along. She felt familiar and safe and right. 

Scarlet was just under a year old when my weight, once again, began to plummet. I was wearing, loosely, a size 0, and weighed 88lbs. At 10 months postpartum, I weighed nearly nothing. As a result, my panic attacks were frequent and growing in intensity. I couldn't make heads or tales of it- i worshipped my daughter. I was a good mother. A great mother. I had everything I had dreamed of having. What was wrong with me?! I researched postpartum anxiety, desperate to find the reason for my feelings- for the reasons I had ended up being taken away by ambulance for a possible stroke- but it was "just a panic attack". One that left me without control of fluid speech for 3 weeks. One that caused me to stutter, and forget everyday words. One that caused me to lose control of my balance, and the feeling in my right arm and both legs. It had never occurred to me that my weight could be the reason. I believed, to my core, that my falling hormone levels were at fault. I saw that I was a busy mother to a newborn, and that that meant I had missed some meals and ate less than I should. I knew a lot of new mothers and this seemed par for the course. I didn't realize my anorexia was creeping back into charge, because I didn't want to...

And because I wasn't eating anyway, out of a simple lack of time and sleep. I was waiting for it to pass. Like all new mothers. Like everyone else I had spoken to. I was "normal". I told myself over and over and over- I. Am. Normal. I didn't know. Not until it hit me like a ton of bricks. 

During my last visit to the emergency room, a psychiatrist came to speak with me, carrying a set of papers. They were for consideration of entry to their eating disorders program. My family doctor was to examine them and get the ball rolling. I had avoided recovery all my life, but this time it was different. 

I had a miracle depending on me to teach her what life is supposed to be- and I would not pass this along to her. I wouldnt let her down. I wouldn't damage her. I was terrified, but I was onboard...

And that was when I realized that we were doing this for one another. I was going to heal for her, and she was going to be my every reason for doing it. 

It's two years on now. I am just over a month out of my programs, and yes- I've had a few slips, but this time I feel differently about them. I feel as though they serve me rather than define me. They remind me that I still have work to do, and that I am strong enough and wise enough to do it. 

I've lost 10 lbs since my "discharge", and I have to admit that I am of two minds with respect to that fact. I feel a sense of relief- a certain comfort, if you will, because I simply felt out of place at my higher weight. I felt so lost inside of a body that took up too much space too quickly. 

I am also terrified- of relapse, of shrinking, of undoing to good I've done. The latter statement fills me with a sense of accomplishment and of pride. I am learning to fear my eating disordered thoughts- even the ones that bring me a veiled sense of peace... And for now, in this very moment, that is enough. 

I am enough. 

7 crows a secret is never to be told.

The ocean & night sky

Are both dark & deep,

Give them your secrets 

& trust them to keep. 

Cry

Cry child,

Because as someone who loves me once told me,

Before I could understand,

Crying let's your insides dry. 

Water the people who look up to you,

Even when you fear their heads are damp with your unnecessary perspirations. 

You see, in the pit of your mind,

That one day...

You will be bigger than all of this. 

Cry while you can-

Before you grow too old,

Or too lost...

Before your hands become too wrinkled to catch the rivers of your heart. 

Let your mouth hang

With the screams your soul has been restraining. 

Let the sound reverberate against the shrinking flesh that cages you in. 

Let your sobs run down your face,

Streaking stains onto your skin

The headache

The heartache

The life-ache 

...it let's you live.

Cry,

So that others can cry with you. 

Cry, 

So that your heart can sing. 

Surviving toddlerhood

As a first time mom, I've discovered that there seems to be an over abundance of information regarding the "right" ways to raise a well adjusted child; 

Helpful tips and tricks lists, encyclopedia thick pseudo text books, interactive websites , sleep trainers, parenting coaches, rescue nannies, and everything in between. 

Now, I'm no expert in this field- Like my sweet little girl, I'm experiencing this toddlerhood deal for the very first time. I think recognizing this as common ground is one of the most important things we can do for ourselves, AND for our littles. We are united in our uncertainty- trying & succeeding & failing, then picking ourselves up, dusting off, and trying all over again. 

At various points, I will add posts of a more specific nature; dealing with tantrums, picky eaters, sleeping, using a routine, and other various topics that we all seem to struggle with. 

None of these will be meant to use as a "how-to" manual, nor will they work for every child. They simply reflect our experience, and what has been successful along our journey. 

The most important part of *this* post is to call attention to one important fact- there are a MILLION ways to be a great parent, and YOU are the only one who gets to make the decision of what works best for you, your child, and your family. 

Whether you choose to read, research, and routine train, or take it as it comes and do things "on demand", you are doing it right. Whether you co sleep or crib train, cloth diaper or disposable diaper, breast feed or formula feed, you are doing it right. Whether you vaccinate or opt out of doing so, baby led wean or purée feed, medicate for teething pain or buy a raw, unpolished Baltic amber necklace and anklet set- YOU ARE DOING IT RIGHT. 

Are we noticing a trend here? 

It doesn't matter if you had a natural birth, or chose to use medical interventions. It doesn't matter if you are a working parent or a stay at home parent. It doesn't matter if you rock your baby to sleep for 6 months or for two years. It just doesn't matter. 

What matters is that you love your child, and that you do your best to keep them healthy, happy, and safe. That you go to bed every night exhausted, but grateful for the little person in your care, and the joy they bring into your life every day. That you are gentle with not only your child, but YOURSELF along this journey of firsts- because no one is perfect at anything without first having the opportunity to make mistakes, and grow from that experience. 

Often times, we get dragged into believing that one way of doing things is right, and another wrong. That our own way must be the only way. In this, we not only alienate other tactics- but other parents, and let's face it- being a parent (first time or otherwise) is overwhelming enough without being made to feel like a felon for using strategies that you have put more thought, emotion, and energy into developing than you've ever had to put into anything you've ever done in your life (convincing your own parents to give you boundless freedom at the tender age 16 included!) 

So here's what I propose;

Let's just slow down and go a little easier- on our children, on one another, and on ourselves. 

This game we're playing isn't easy.. It isn't even hard.. Sometimes it's downright impossible, but it doesn't have to be. Not so long as we can remember that we're all in this together. 

There's strength in numbers, and it takes a village to raise a child. So here's to cooperation, positive reinforcement, supportive friends, and ears never too tired to listen. 

Keep your chins up, mama bears & papa bears. It's going to be a beautiful life. 

An intro to red letters

Id like to begin this where my life truly began- with her. 

The first letter written to my darling daughter, Scarlet-Jeane, when she was just 5 months old. 

You are the meaning to my words, the beat of my heart, & the sunshine in my every day. 

Everything I know of love, I've learned from you. 

My darling Scarlet,

     I want you to remember to always use your words. Express yourself, and get them onto paper. They are beautiful, and powerful, and deep. Use them to find yourself. Get lost in them. Use them to paint your story.  

Allow them to take you back, whenever you may need, to a place where you feel safe, and warm, and loved. 

Empower them with meaning. Saturate them with feeling, and pour them from your heart with everything you have. Let them save you. Let them define you. Let them lead you to a part of yourself you never knew. 

Do not be silent when you feel something. Allow your words to help you fight for what you believe in ...for what you know. If you let them, they will show you your truth; nothing in this life is more important. 

Stand with them; On them, as your solid ground. Believe in the words that find their way to you. Let them flow from you by hand and mouth. Speak beautifully, choose words that dance from your tongue and feel rich. 

Never hide what you have to say, not for anyone or anything. Tell of what you believe in, even if you tremble. Your thoughts and your morals will be the foundation of your character, use your words to project them. 

Read literature and poetry often. It will soothe your soul. Listen to songs with meaningful lyrics. Let people tell you their stories; your own will grow vast with them. Remember to feel what you say, empty words are useless and ugly; always avoid them. 

Be bold and daring and confident in your writing, you will gain strength from your history. You were born with beauty inside of you;  let it out. 

Ask questions about the past. Wonder. Dream. Believe. 

But most importantly, my beautiful, precious girl;  use them to help connect you to both others, and yourself. They should never pull you away, but always toward what you love in your truest of hearts. They will only speak truthfully, and you can trust them if they're pure. 

I love you with the deepest places of my heart. You are my every reason for being, and I am humbled every day, by the blessing that you are in my life. 

Never let the world rob you of your words, my sweet girl, rather enrich the world with them. 

Xoxx -Mama