Keeping Ya'll Informed

Okay, I’ve decided, my friends, that you are a Godsend. Let’s get real and say that my life has kinda been the _pits lately, but writing my blog – especially lately, and then reading all your comments, have not only entertained me endlessly, but actually given me a reason to smile – and get this – laugh, even. I truly truly adore each and every one of you. We should have a Blog Buddy convention and do a ‘lil meet ‘n greet. How cool/creepy would that be? [happy emoticon]

I also realized to myself that I haven’t given anyone an actual treatment update (i.e. how my beast of burden aka eating disorder) recovery is going. I’ve done this knowingly, of course, because while recovering from anorexia is a big okay huge part of my life currently, it’s not the only thing I am or do, and I wanted to explore other sides of me and get to know them and have ya’ll meet them, too. (OMG I sound like I have DID haha!) At any rate, here’s a little about what’s been going on lately:

My dietician, E, went on maternity leave, so I got to have the mortifying experience of having W, my T, weigh me 2x/week. For almost all of November and December, I was very nearly put in the hospital on more than one occasion due to my low body weight. I have now gained x lbs, and yes I know what that x really is, because yesterday in frustration W actually told me the real number (an omg shriek “No she di-n’t!” in ED recovery land) and said that I have to gain by next week or my butt will once again be threatened with either going to the hospital or some lame IP facility in Ogden, because apparently maintaining and not gaining for 2 weeks in a row means I’m “digressing.” Um, no. Lame. This of course I am not okay with, and thus; I have stuffed a banana and a Hot Pocket in my face just now (not at the same time, mind you. Eew!)

So mostly we’ve been doing damage control since Kendall’s death. I kiiiiiiinda stopped eating when I found out she was gone. I am definitely picking things back up though, but as my husband says, “It takes a lot longer to fix a car than it takes to break it. Rawhr I'm manly and use masculine metaphors to get across to my wife." Ho hum dee dum. It’s amazing what 4 weeks of restricting has (once again) done to my body. It’s sad and tired. I’m trying to make amends (both physically and emotionally) with the little bugger.

But things are looking up, right? I start guitar on Wednesday, I have several people who would probably email me a cleavage shot, (guffaw!) I’ve got a great treatment team who, admittedly, a lot of the time feel like the proverbial thorn in my ass but really care A LOT and only want me on the road to recovery a little more, errrrr, stably. (Wait. Is there a proverb about a thorn in one’s ass? Hrrrm. Must. Google.) And even though my daughter is no longer living, I do have an incredible son and husband who are, and for that I am blessed.

So now I just need to start that recovery band, and life will be complete! Court’s in for drums, I’ll do guitar, so we need like a bass and a keyboard and a singer? I’ve already decided we’ll call ourselves the Almighty Bitch (in reference to how much Ana sucks) and we will be amazing and healthy and millions of recoverees and wannabes will come to our concerts and swoon.

I’ve got Francesca and my black fingernails waiting…