Martin Family Adventure

Part 12 - You know it's time to lose weight when you break the toilet seat

This is the twelth part in a series, CLICK HERE to start at Part 1.

 

If you remember, I started on my medication for acute depression and anxiety on July 25, 2009. I didn't share any of this with David because I didn't need the stress of listening to how he felt about it. While I didn't tell him about taking the meds, I also didn't hide the fact that I was taking them. The bottle of meds was right in the front of the medicine cabinet and right next to his bottle of vitamins, so he could see them at any time. I figured this was the easiest way to go about it for the time being. If he happened to see them and ask me about it, that would be the best timing. I decided that the opportunity would present itself when the timing was right. 

That timing came at the end of September. A dear friend of mine was moving back to Vermont from the Philadelphia area and she needed help with packing and driving the moving truck. I made myself available to be her helper and headed to PA via Amtrak train. It was a long trip down (around 11 hours), but a pleasant one as I had brought a book to read and my daughter's iPod with great music to listen to. On one part of the trip, I was privileged to sit next to a fascinating older woman that had great stories to tell. For the rest of the trip, I was happy to have the seat to myself so I could get lost in reading the biography of Rita Marley and her life with Bob Marley. 

Just 5 minutes before pulling into the Philadelphia train station, I got a call from David on my cell phone. He said that he was cleaning off the desk in our room and found a paper from the pharmacy for Celexa and read that it was an anti-depressant. He wanted to know who it was for and I told him it was mine. 

David: They're yours? You're on anti-depressants? How long have you been on them?

Me: Yes, they're mine and I've been on them since July. 

David: Why didn't you tell me?

Me: And what would you have said if I told you?

David: I know....you're right. 

Me: You said yourself that you've noticed a big change in me and that I've really blossomed. Why do you think that change happened so quickly? If I had told you that I was on meds, you would have argued with me about it and discouraged me. I needed to take care of ME and get myself better for the sake of all of us. I didn't need the negativity. 

David: I know. I'm so sorry. Is your depression because of me? Is it my fault? I try to be a good husband and father. I'm so sorry if I've fallen short. I love you so much and I'm so sorry. 

Me: It's no one's fault, it's just how my reality has been and I needed to get better so that we could ALL be better. 

 

And with that, he began to cry on the other end of the phone and I had some tears in my own eyes, though I smiled through the whole thing. This was a definite breakthrough and one that we both needed badly. 

 

David: I'm so sorry. I'll try to be better and different. I love you. 

Me: I know you do. You're a great huband and father, but I need you to be supportive of this decision. I never hid any of this from you, it was there in plain sight. The paper on the desk, the bottle next to your vitamins....but you needed to know in the right timing and apparently, this is it. I hope this isn't a life-long thing, but if it is, then you need to support that, too. 

David: I will be. I hate that you're so far away from me right now. We have so much to talk about. I know you'll be home tomorrow, but I wish you were home right now. 

Me: We'll talk all about it when I get home. In the meantime, my train is pulling into the station, so I need to get going. We can talk on the phone later. I love you!

David: I love you, too. So much!

 

I hung up and got off the phone and met up with my friend, Anna (not the one that I was helping to move), and we headed off to a little restaurant to chat and get a bite to eat. As we were walking there, I told Anna about the phone call I'd just gotten. Anna knew that I had started taking the meds and how David had felt about it. It was so nice to connect with someone that knew what I was going through and who could give me some encouragement.

While we were sitting outside on the restaurant patio, my phone rang again. It was nearing 11 pm and it was David. He said he was heading off to bed and that he wanted to tell me again that he loved me and that he was so sorry if he was the cause of any of my depression. I assured him that everything was okay and that I loved him, too. He was all choked up again on the phone and told me that he couldn't wait until I got home. We said goodnight and hung up.

This was a discussion that I had been dreading with him since the day I popped that first pill. I didn't even tell him I had gone to the doctor for a diagnosis. I was convinced then more than ever that the way he found out was truly meant to happen that way. I'm glad I was gone when he discovered everything. I feel that it gave him the opportunity to process it all before I got home and allowed us both to have some distance. I was able to go home knowing that the subject had been approached and we'd each have had time to think about what we were going to say to each other. This was a great opportunity for us to talk about it with the right intentions. I wouldn't be on the defensive and he would have time to think about my reasons for doing this. 

Part 11 - You know it's time to lose weight when you break the toilet seat

This is the eleventh part in a series, CLICK HERE to start at Part 1.

Instead of writing a bunch of stuff from memory, I figured it was easier to post an entry I made in my online journal. 

August 23, 2009

I look forward to my walks every night with the dog and if I don't get one in, I miss it. 

One of the things I am trying to watch is making this into a new obsession for myself. I've been there once before and it was devastating on my body. I practically starved myself. I over exercised. I watched everything I ate. I was insane about it. I'm 5'7" and by the time David and I got married, I weighed in at 115 pounds. I hid the contour of my ribs under baggier clothes. My cheeks and eyes were sunken. My arms and wrists were like sticks. I can easily take it to a whole new obsession and I don't want to have it control me like it once did. 

One bit of confirmation that I've gotten that makes me realize anew that it was a good decision to not tell David about the meds is that he's noticed a difference in me. 

We also had a conversation when we were camping last weekend. He said that if anything were to happen to him mentally, he would want me to promise that I wouldn't put him on medication but to get him alternative help and he thinks anti-depressants are poison. I tried to explain to him that even though people can make healthy changes with their diet, which does affect the rest of them, there are times when you just can't wait for the time that it takes to make a difference with diet when it comes to mental instability or depression. You need to take out the big guns first and get yourself help RIGHT AWAY and then work on the diet changes over time. 

That's when I realized that I made the right decision (not that I doubted it before...but this just solidified it for me) in not telling him that I'm taking the Celexa. I really don't have the stress level or patience level to deal with him telling me that I'm doing something wrong according to him...especially when I'm finally thinking clearer, I finally can laugh again without abandon, I can handle my life better this way. I finally have motivation to do the things that need to be done. I feel amazing and I've been craving this normal feeling for a while now. Amazing IS normal for me and I haven't felt that way in a long time. 

I've got a new garden project that I'm working on. I feel energized by it and have big plans for it. I put a couple of "wanted" posts on Freecycle and was able to score a bunch of free stuff for the garden. They were all a bit far from us, but it worked out that they were on our way to David's dental appointment last Friday, so I made plans to pick everything up while we were out. Usually David HATES making a ton of stops. He was also getting a molar pulled out, so I knew he wasn't going to be in the best of conditions to put up with having the kids with us, along with making stops. Surprisingly, he was okay with it. I thanked him on the way down for not bitching about making the extra stops and that it meant a lot to me. He said that he knew this was something I was excited about and that it made me happy and so he didn't want to take that away from me. He said that he's noticed that over the past few weeks, I've really blossomed and that I'm losing weight and he's so proud of me. That really DID mean a lot to me that he's noticed a good change and that my positive changes have also made positive changes in him, as well. 

Last night, we were talking as we were laying in bed and he told me how glad he was that I was his wife and that he wouldn't have chosen anyone else. He said that he's so happy I'm making good choices in my life and he's noticed that I've really come alive lately. He said that it makes him happy that I'm taking care of myself. 

And THAT'S what I wanted to hear from him. It confirms to me that if something isn't broke, not to fix it. In other words, he's noticed the positive changes that have come from me taking meds and if this works and I don't have the stress of him telling me to go off of them and how horrible they are for me, then why bother say anything. We both love that I've gotten my life back and that I'm doing things for myself - taking care of myself and doing things that are fulfilling and making me happy and everyone is benefitting from these changes. 

I'm not letting go of this. 

And just to prove how sickly I looked when we got engaged:

Answers...

I really appreciate all the feedback I get when I post here. It means a lot to me. I also appreciate when people ask the hard questions because it gives me the opportunity to think about my journey and my intents for the things that I do and the choices I make. This blog is here to share my story but to also learn from each other. I'm very open and honest and I don't mind when people ask questions. Sometimes I write things here that I realize aren't quite as clear as I would like them to be so when you ask questions, it gives me the chance to clarify and explain things further. 

I've had a few people off the blog ask some of the same things that have been asked in comments so I'll try to answer them as best as I can in this post. I hope that those of you that have commented don't mind if I quote some parts of the comments so as to put my answers in the proper context.

"I fear that the surgery is a band-aid, and though I think it could be a valuable tool for you, until you can cope with your BED I wonder how this will help."

"I think it might be better to take some time to work on the issues in therapy, and maybe have the surgery at a later date when you know you're in a good position to be able to follow the food restrictions afterwards without going overboard."

"I'm a bit concerned about how the lap band and the eating disorder will interact."

These are really great points to bring up. The Bariatric Surgery Clinic in my area has a lot of pre-op requirements that have to be met before surgery can take place. There is typically a 6-7 month wait from the time you start with the program until the surgery takes place. During this time, there are meetings with support groups, the dietician, testing outside of the clinic, meetings with the surgeon and nurses, a full psych evaluation, therapy, and counseling. There is also a minimum of 5% of body weight that has to be lost (sometimes more, depending on the procedure and your starting weight) pre-op. 

I have actually been in therapy for a year and a half with one therapist and for 6 months now with a psychologist that specializes in eating disorders. Both of them are working with me on different aspects of learning to cope with BED and to make behavior modifications. One of the things that my psychologist (the one that specializes in eating disorders) said, as well as my primary physician, is that therapy is going to be key in any behavioral modification program, even more so than the part a surgery plays into modification. All three feel that with where I'm at now, the Lap-band will be used in conjuction with a LOT of therapy, dietary changes, and a behavioral modification plan as a tool to achieve success not only in weight loss, but primarily in learning to manage and overcome my BED. 

One of the requirements for being able to have the Lap-band surgery is that I would need to follow nutritional guidlines and undergo therapy. One of the reasons the clinic requires a full psych evaluation and behavioral modifcation to be put into place before the surgery is to make sure that their patients are mentally able to handle the surgery and the life-style changes reguired for it to be successful. The paperwork from the clinic makes it very clear that acceptance into the bariatric surgery program is not a guarantee of surgery. There is a lot that has to come together in order to get the green light for surgery. If I'm clearly not ready to handle the commitments of the procedure and the psychologist at the clinic doesn't feel that I'm ready, I won't get the go-ahead. 

There are many different types of therapy, aversion therapy being one of them. Traditionally, aversion therapy was quite brutal with its electrical shock therapy and such. Today, though, there are different ways to use this therapy while still being ethical. In fact, aversion therapy is a commonly used therapy in treating OCD and other compulsive disorders. Think of the Lap-band as a modern version of aversion therapy. When the Lap-band is first put into place, bingeing is pretty near impossible and trying to binge becomes painful and unpleasant with vomiting, etc. 

"I believe that in a previous post you said that you would not treat cancer with radiation or surgery, so I am wondering what the difference is for you here."

Another great point to bring up. I don't put the Lap-band and chemo/radiation on the same level. For me, using chemo/radiation would be too high of a risk with introducing something into my system that has the potential to kill off not only cancerous cells but also the good cells. My personal opinion, from watching friends and loved ones go through these processes, is that they have great potential to do harm. I know there are many sides to the chemo/radiation do-or-don't-do argument, but this is where I stand on it. I watched my grandfather die a slow and painful death while going through two years of chemo and radiation and I have watched it unfold in other people, as well. That's just not something I'm willing to do to my body. Surgery, however, I see a little differently. If there is a highly positive prognosis of surgery being able to remove cancer without harming the rest of the body further, I would be in favor of it. In other words, if I had breast cancer and the doctor told me that it would be easy to remove and with very few complications, I would most likely consider it. If the doctor told me that the surgery had a lot of complications and health risks, as well as the possibility that removing the cancer could potentially spread it if something went wrong, that I would rather find alternative routes to combat the cancer. These thought processes will probably not make sense to some, but they are something I've felt passionate about for many years. When it comes to the Lap-band, the complications and risks are very low. There are no chemicals being spread through my body to kill cancer cells. It is something that can be removed (unlike the chemo and radiation once it enters your body). These are where the differences lie for me. 

"From an outside perspective, which you can take or leave with no offense to me, it seems that the overwhelming problem you face is the compulsive disorder... not your weight."

I think it's very difficult to separate these two issues. Binge Eating Disoder (BED), which is a compulsive disorder, often causes obesity (there are some cases in which it doesn't because of other factors). Those with BED not only struggle with complusion, but they also struggle with the weight caused by it. Compulsive disorders have their own set of issues, but BED also usually carries with it depression, guilt, frustration, and anger due to the weight issues. The obesity that often happens as a result of BED causes a lack of energy, self-esteem, and mobility. From helpguide.org:

The binge eating cycle

Binge eating may be comforting for a brief moment, but then reality sets back in, along with regret and self-loathing. Binge eating often leads to weight gain and obesity, which only reinforces compulsive eating. The worse a binge eater feels about themself and their appearance, the more they use food to cope. It becomes a vicious cycle: eating to feel better, feeling even worse, and then turning back to food for relief.

It's also important to know that people with BED don't always binge eat due to stress or for comfort. They may eat simply because that is what they find the compulsion to do. Many bingers don't want to eat when they binge. 

"Because from an outside perspective, you seem like an incredibly healthy woman- in mind, body and spirit."

I like to think of myself in this way, but the reality of it is that there is a part of me that doesn't feel any of that at times. There are parts of me that I'm just beginning to be comfortable in sharing and those are the parts that totally contradict being that "incredibly healthy woman- in mind, body and spirit." Just like everyone, I have those days that are hit-or-miss when it comes to feeling this way. For a long time, I've been quiet about my struggles and come across as that woman described above so I think it takes people by surprise when they see a part of me they're not used to. 

"Also (I would be saying this on an earlier post, but I don't know if you see new comments on older posts), I really, really hope that you're bringing David along for some therapy sessions, or that you do so in the future."

As a heads up, I see every comment that's posted no matter when the blog post was made as they come to my email when you post them. 

I really do want to take David to some of the therapy sessions provided by the bariatric surgery clinic. The psychologist that I see that specializes in eating disorders also wants to do some family therapy because we all, as a family, contribute to each others successes and shortfalls. There are many ways that I think David would benefit from going to my therapy sessions and I also feel that my kids would benefit, as well. 

Wow.....I didn't realize that I was going to end up writing so much. Thanks, again, for the feedback and questions. I always welcome them. 

The Lap-band isn't a cure-all, but sometimes people need a helping 'band'

I sent off the paperwork for the Lap-band procedure yesterday. It took me 3 months to finally put it all together and get it in the mail. I was surprised to get a call today to set me up for my first group consult. July 11th is the day. I dreamed last night that I forgot important information on my application and it was sent back and I was put at the back of the waiting list. That phone call was a reassurance that I was only dreaming. DAMN, that phone call was quick! It was only yesterday that it went into the mail!

With all the hesitation that I had with filling out my food diary, now that it's in the bariatric surgery office and I have an appointment for the group consult, my mind is a lot more at peace. I'm looking forward to hearing more about the program and deciding where the next part of my journey takes me. 

When I was at my therapist appointment last month, we were talking about why I was holding back with sending in my paperwork. Why was I stuck on the food diary? I told her that I wasn't sure what to write in it. The instructions were very clear as to what to put in it, but I had this feeling that if I was honest with it, the people at the surgery center would tell me that I just need to cut back and that I didn't need the surgery. I also had the feeling that if I put down that I was eating healthy, they would tell me I didn't need the surgery. I felt like I was doomed to be rejected right from the start. My therapist told me that I needed to be honest with the food diary and that the surgery center was used to seeing the diaries of people with Binge Eating Disorder. The center wouldn't exist if it weren't for people being honest with their food diaries. Still, though, I held off. I would start my days out good and feel like I couldn't write in the diary because it wasn't a true representation of what my eating patterns are like. Then, the end of the day would be shot to hell and by then, I was so discouraged that I didn't even think about writing in the diary. 

I'm sure that it's normal for people to be contemplating bariatric surgery to go back and forth in their decision making process. There were times over the past three months that I told myself that a Lap-band was just a cop-out. Then I would tell myself that my doctor has been seeing me for 13 years and he never would have made the referral if he didn't think it would help me in any way.  As soon as I felt like that, I would get discouraged about the food diary and the vicious cycle would continue once again. My therapist asked me some hard questions. What if this IS just a cop-out? Is that so bad? After all, it's not an easy process to get the Lap-band and I'm going to have to make hard choices and tough habit changes so in the long run, it really isn't a cop-out. It's hard work. Even if I decide that I don't want to do the procedure, what's it going to hurt to go to the consult and listen to what my options are. I'm under no obligation either way. She told me this last month and it's taken me this long to let it sink it and finally do the paperwork and get started, but that's not a bad thing when I look back at it. I try not to jump into things head first and I usually have to go through a processing of sorts when I make the big decisions. Sure, it may have taken three months to get to this point, but here I am and I'm cool with it. 

I understand that the Lap-band isn't a cure all. There's a lot of counseling, behavioral modification, diet changes and exercise habits, and so much more that go along with the Lap-band. I know that and I'm ready to look into it further. 

Some of those rides are NOT "fat-kid friendly"

This past Friday, David and I helped to chaperone a trip to The Great Escape in NY with our church's youth group. 29 kids in total (grades 5-10) with six adults. It was a beautiful day for it - 80 degrees, no humidity, hardly a cloud in the sky, and a slight breeze. The day went off wonderfully, even though there's always a few challenges with that many kids. 

It's been a couple years since I've been there but things have changed with my body over these past two years. Let me tell you....some of those rides are NOT fat-kid friendly. I wanted so badly to go on The Sasquatch and the girls in my group were all excited to watch me ride it. The girl that was running the ride tried to get me buckled in and eventually told me, "I'm sorry, you're too big for this ride." This was said within ear shot of about 25 other people waiting in line for a spot on the ride. She opened the gate, let me out, and let someone else take my spot. In the meantime, I saw a few people on the same ride that I know were bigger than I was, but their ride conductor had loosened the buckle to help them fit. I was too discouraged and embarrassed to even ask her to try again. 

The Comet is my favorite ride of all at The Great Escape. It's an old wooden coaster that is one of the most thrilling coaster rides you'll ever take. Forget those loop-de-loop coasters and all their new fangled bells and whistles. Those wooden coasters are where it's at. 

I got into line and when it was my turn for a ride, I was glad the line was small so I sat alone. Those seats seem a lot smaller and tighter than they used to be.  I was determined to make myself fit and squeezed myself in as best I could. There was no way that I was popping out of that seat during the coaster ride. In fact, I wasn't even worrying about losing my cell phone or the money in my pocket because I was wedged in there so tight. I was actually concerned that I wouldn't be able to get myself OUT of the seat when the ride stopped. One of the guys taking care of the ride asked me a couple times if I was alright when the ride stopped because he said that I was sweating profusely and my face was really red. 

I didn't really do too many rides. I think I only did 3 roller coasters the whole day and that was it. It was too mentally exhausting to think about trying to fit into the seats for different rides and as I was getting dehydrated throughout the day from the sun beating on me and having to walk uphill everywhere (I've never been to another park that is SO hilly!), I knew that my stomach wasn't going to be able to handle any other rides. While I had a great time watching all the kids laugh, get along well, and have an awesome experience, I was a  bit heartbroken for myself. 

This morning, I finished filling out the food diary for the Lap-band procedure that I got a referral from way back in March. It's been such a mental block to get that food diary done and it was only for 3 day's worth. I just put it in the mailbox and now it's just waiting for the mail carrier to pick it up and it'll be on its way. I wish I had done it sooner, but I don't think I was emotionally and mentally ready for it. Having the experience of being told I was too big for one of the rides was what prodded me to get it done and send it off. 

There are very few in my circle of friends and acquaintances who truly understand Binge Eating Disorder (BED). It's an eating disorder that's left off the list when talking about them. Most people are familiar with bulimia and anorexia, but they have never heard of BED or just assume that those that have it have no self control and could lose weight if only they started eating better or controlled their portions. If it were that easy, BED wouldn't exist. The same goes for anorexia and bulimia. BED is just as valid of a disorder as anorexia and bulimia and it's my hope that it will become more acknowledged so that people that suffer from it, like myself, could find help and understanding rather than judgment and misunderstanding. 

One of the things that people need to realize about BED is that it is a "compulsive" disorder. It's not a matter of wanting to eat something and being able to make a choice to stop. There is a lot of behavioral and mental reconditioning therapy that goes into being able to make the conscious decision to stop. One of the most discouraging things that people with BED can hear from people is. "Just stop bingeing, make the decision to stop. You don't have to keep eating if you don't want to." What many people don't realize is that compulsive disorders, without therapy and help, make it so overwhelmingly hard to stop doing something if you don't want to do it. Another pet peeve statement that people give is, "Now that you know what you're dealing with, you can make the decision to stop." Tell that same thing to a heroine adict, a coke user, or a meth user. For people with BED, food IS our drug. To take this even further, try telling someone with clinical OCD to stop washing their hands every 30 seconds, or to stop blinking their eyes incessently. Stopping these kinds of behaviors sound so easy to those that don't battle them every day. For those of us that do battle with compulsive disorders, it's not so clear cut. 

If you want to read more about BED, here's a great link: Binge Eating Disorder

Part 10 - You know it's time to lose weight when you break the toilet seat

This is the tenth part in a series, CLICK HERE to start at Part 1

On July 30, 2009, I wrote the following entry in my journal to keep updated with how I was doing on the Celexa:

 

Day 6 of meds

I'm having an amazing day. I don't think I could have a bad day even if I wanted to. I don't feel any more side effects. No jittery feelings any more. I haven't felt like I do right now in a very long time. 

I've been making changes to my eating habits and I'm already seeing the results. I've lost 3 pounds so far in a little over a week's time. I haven't been too careful with the way I eat since winter time. I'm at the heaviest I've ever been, but even still, it's not all that heavy. I'm completely comfortable with my own skin, but for the sake of my heath, I know I needed to make some changes. I can feel the effect it's taken on me, especially with my knees. Before, I felt like I couldn't make the change. I didn't have the motivation. The doctor told me that I should be careful with the medication and to keep an eye on my weight, as it could go either way. It could make me put weight on or it could suppress my appetite. I'm finding that it's been suppressing my appetite, which definitely helps. 

I used to walk a lot but got to the point that I didn't want to go out of the house much except to take the dog out and play with her in the backyard. I've been getting out a lot more and taking walks, going to the library, reading books in the park, going cricket hunting in the field with Zach. It's been good for the soul. 

I'm doing some of my favorite creative projects for my work right now. It really helps that going into this medication thing that I had work that feeds my creative senses. 

 

As I look back on that journal entry, I honestly did feel comfortable in my skin at the time and I chalk that up to being on the medication. It was one of those really good days. Nothing anyone said could bring me down that day. Feeling comfortable in my skin was hit or miss depending on the day. 

It was so encouraging to actually feel good again. The first two weeks of taking my Celexa was so tough to get through. I had to keep reminding myself that things would even out eventually and I need to push through it. I remember sitting in my desk chair in my studio and spinning around, rocking back and forth, and wiggling around uncontrollably. I couldn't sit still and my mind was spinning. The feeling was so scary to me because I'd never experienced anything like it. I felt like I was going crazy, as if I were losing my mind. I tried my hardest to hide this from David (as the journal entry below explains why). At one point, he saw me fidgeting in my studio and asked what was going on. I told him that I was thinking about creative things and what project I was going to work on next. It was the only thing I could think of that would keep him from asking any more questions. 

Here is my journal post from August 2, 2009

Day 9 of meds

I was really hesitant to step up from 20 mg to 40 mg last night. I did the first 8 days on half a pill. My doctor wanted me to go up to a whole pill after a week. I almost cut the pill in half last night and just stayed with that, but I took a leap of faith and took the whole pill. I'm bracing myself for the side effects today. I finally got over the jittery feeling last week and I really don't want to feel that way again, but I have a feeling I will with the full dose. I'm hoping it won't be as intense as when I first went on it. I'm trying not to make myself anxious thinking about it.

We were going to go to church today, but David is feeling jittery from not smoking since Thursday and is having trouble concentrating. I'm worried about feeling jittery right about that time of the day, so with Zach not being able to sit still in church on a regular basis, we'd be a mess. It's not like the church is big to begin with, so it would be a huge distraction and make David and I even more anxious.

I want you all to know that I'm really grateful for your support in all of this. One of the biggest reasons I'm grateful is that David doesn't know that I'm taking the Celexa. While that may seem weird to so many of you to keep this from him, I have my reasons. First off, he's anti-meds. Secondly, he believes that any depression can be taken care of with dietary measures. While it's true that we are what we eat and that I could make changes that would benefit me with my eating habits, I can't keep feeling like I was feeling. It was no longer good for me or my family. David has Candida. He was diagnosed with it as a teenager. He tends to feel that what I've been going through is the same thing. He can control his Candida if he chooses his foods wisely. Just because he has Candida, though, doesn't mean that I do. I've never shown any signs of it. I can eat things he can't and still function normally, which leads me to believe that I'm not dealing with the same thing he is. 

He's very supportive in allowing me to take time to myself, to keep the kids under control if I'm feeling fragile, he's been great about letting me nap or sleep in on the weekends, he does a lot around the house, but when it comes to meds, he would be completely unsupportive. 

This is why I haven't told him. I really need to think about myself and do something to get myself better for the sake of him and the kids...and for myself. I don't need the added stress of him being upset about me taking them, trying to convince me otherwise and trying to pressure me to go off them or do things his way. I can't handle that on top of all the rest of it. Believe it or not, but not telling him doesn't bother me at all. Sure, I wish he could be supportive about it but knowing how he would be if he knew, it's so much easier for me. I'm just glad he's supportive in other ways and that's why I'm cool with it all. And I also have all of you...which makes up the support for the meds that I don't have with him. 

This was a huge leap of faith for me because I didn't want to take the meds. It's hard for me to take meds in the first place. I have to get to the point where I'm beyond any alternative help to take meds. A few of you, and a couple friends off of LJ that I trust, have said that if another part of my body were sick, I would take meds so to think of it the same way. Here's the thing...I tend to lean toward a holistic and alternative route so chances are, if my blood pressure were high, I WOULDN'T take meds for it. If I had cancer, I WOULDN'T go with chemo or radiation. If I had arthritis, I WOULDN'T take meds for it. That's not my first thought. It's not my first course of action. It's a last resort for me and that's why I was so hesitant to do it. I've had to look at this as something I've tried to do on my own for a while now and I just can't anymore. It's time for the "big guns." That's the only way I've been able to reconcile this for myself. 

Part 9 - You know it's time to lose weight when you break the toilet seat

This is the eighth part in a series, CLICK HERE to start at Part 1

I was so naive to think that something so intense could go away so quickly on its own. The overwhelming despair that I felt was so frightening to me. I would be overcome with sadness and lose all motivation. Noises and chaos that were every day life to me with a husband and two kids all of the sudden became too much for me to take in. My head felt like it was in a vice when things became too noisy. I felt like I was going crazy. It was in those moments when I knew I had to get away. I would leave the kids with David and drive away with the dog or I would go for a long walk in the field across the street. I needed solitude and to be alone. I would sometimes park the truck and take a nap to sleep off the confusion and tension that I felt. I would sob while walking through the field, not even understanding the reason for crying. 

Near the end of July, I knew that I had to do something about how I felt. I honestly don't even remember what my eating habits were during this time. It all seems like a blur to me, though some of it sticks out so well to me. I do remember that I had become someone that I no longer recognized. I had anxiety building up in me to the point that I didn't know what would happen if it boiled over. I scared myself. 

In my journal, I wrote:

July 24, 2009

My business coach, who also happens to be a friend, pushed me to finally call my doc and make an appointment. I called yesterday and got an 11 am appointment. I had the neighbor keep an eye on Girly and had some blood drawn to check my thyroid. Then I sat in front of my doctor and tried to hold it together and went through about 4 tissues. I told myself that I wasn't going to let anyone see me as vulnerable as I feel, but that didn't last long. As soon as I started talking, that was it. I was a mess.

He spent more time than he probably should have talking with me....I feel bad for the people that had to wait for him to see them. 

I'm going to call the counseling service and get an appointment. He also put me on Celexa. I didn't want to go the medication route. I really didn't. I'd much rather make a diet change, do some therapy and go alternative, but after my doc knowing me for 10 years and knowing this isn't the "normal Erika" that he's used to seeing, he recommended going on a low dose and seeing where I'm at in 3 weeks.

He diagnosed "acute depression with anxiety." Yes, it's gotten pretty bad. I haven't written to much about it here and I find that I usually only write when I'm actually feeling on a high. 

There are times when I feel like myself and then there are times when I hardly recognize who I am. I've been living off of ibuprofen for the past week as the headaches have gotten worse and made me feel sick. I leave the house when I think I'm going to explode. I'm too scared to stay. I don't want my kids to see me fall apart. I have intense moments of feeling like everything is good and happy and then I crash so suddenly that it's frightening to me. 

The bottle of medication sits in my medicine cabinet, untouched. I'm working up the courage to actually take one and get started. I have always considered myself to be a strong person. The thought of taking one of those pills makes me feel like I'm a failure, like I'm weak and it makes me feel embarrassed for not being able to rise above this on my own. To work my way through it on my own. I don't feel like this about other people that have depression and need to be taking something for it. I just feel this way about myself.  I know this is bullshit thinking. I know I'm not weak. The fact that I've made it this long feeling the way I have without going insane and the fact that I actually reached out this time to get help shows some strength, but I have a hard time convincing myself of that. 

My goal is to have half a pill down the hatch before I hit the sack tonight.

I took the meds, but I didn't call the counseling agency. Something held me back from doing that. Part of it was that I had been brought up to not put much trust in the field of psychology. The other part was that I still had this thought that I could make it through on my own. I think I was too scared to take the unbelievable amount of time it would require to start digging through all of the past with a therapist. The mere thought of taking all of that on made me feel like shutting down. I decided to take the first step, though, in finding some way to cope and heal. 

June 26, 2009

Day 2 of meds

I feel wired, keyed up and jittery. I can't say I like this feeling.

 

July 28, 2009

Day 4 of meds

(I'm keeping this all written down so that if I need to go back later to find symptoms and stuff to tell the doc, I have it in one place)

The jittery, keyed up and wired feeling was there yesterday, as well, but near as bad as it was on Sunday. I'm expecting the next bout in an hour or so...as that's when it seems to hit. Somewhere in mid day. When I get that feeling, it's scary. My heart feels like it's racing a little bit....like I'm hopped up on caffeine overdose or something. I feel anxious and panicky...but it's getting less and less. When I come down off of that, I feel normal. I want to sleep during those times, just so that I don't have to feel that way. It's almost like I feel nauseous, but I don't. Not sure how to describe it. 

I had a nasty head ache when I went to bed. Took some ibuprofen and it seemed to help. Woke up feeling like I had a hangover. Every time I bent over, my head hurt when I got up. Took some more ibuprofen. Seems to be better now. 

I can't stop yawning and when I do yawn, my jaw has this weird sensation like my mouth doesn't want to shut. That's been going on since I started taking the meds. It's not as bad as when it I first started, though, so hopefully things are evening out. 

I'm actually finding motivation to do what needs to be done around the house and in my work, which is something I haven't felt in a while.

Click HERE for Part 10

Part 8 - You know it's time to lose weight when you break the toilet seat

This is the eighth part in a series, CLICK HERE to start at Part 1

I was anxious for my body to start healing after all of the things it went through during the summer of 2008. At the beginning of 2009, the staph came back, but I knew what it was and the doctor and I were able to catch it right away.

It wasn't long into 2009 that I started reading stories of people online that had come out of the same strict and legalistic lifestyle that I did. I related to so many of their stories and reading them triggered emotions that I wasn't expecting.  I found myself dealing with a lot of memories that I had repressed and thought I'd put to rest. They all started bubbling back up to the surface. There was so much that I hadn't worked through and it all hit me head on. That summer, I started writing out my story bit by bit and my friend, Vyckie, started publishing my installments on her blog, No Longer Quivering. My story there is unfinished, but eventually it will be. 

When I went to look at my online journal, I found some entries that explain better how things starting falling apart for me mentally. I honestly feel, in hindsight, that dealing with all of my upbringing is what triggered my massive bout of depression. 

Here's an entry from June 23, 2009.

"Today is just one of those days where I'm finding myself feeling "meh" about being social. I'm tired of arguing points that really don't matter in the grand scheme of things. I'm tired of discussing things that are none of my business. I'm tired of being put on the defensive. I'm tired of people wanting me to explain myself. I'm just plain tired. Maybe some would label me a cynic right now, but the truth of the matter is....I'm just plain tired. 

Not having a van is not necessarily a bad thing. I'm forced to stay home and to be honest, I'm totally fine with that. I've been out of the loop here on LJ and other online forums for the past almost 3 weeks. I'm okay with that, too. Part of me wanted to dive right back in, but I'm finding myself in that place of craving self-preservation again. I'm burnt out on a lot of things and I'm good right now with hanging back."

When I wrote the above post in my journal, I was just beginning to see that things were becoming unglued in a way that they never had before. Shortly after that post, I wrote another entry in my journal:

 

June 26, 2009

"I'll be honest with you. I'm not in a good place mentally right now. I try to be both optomistic, but I'm also in touch with reality. I'm barely holding my head above the water for the time being. 

In my heart of hearts, I have every reason to be thankful, grateful and blessed. And I do feel those things. But at the same time, I'm so far down mentally that I don't know which way is up. 

I feel cynical, short tempered, worn out, used up, emotionally battered and quickly heading for a descent into "crash and burn" mode. I'm trying to tough this out but I don't know how much more I can take. At one moment, I feel elated and joyful, but those are very fleeting moments that last only a mere few seconds and I'm under the water again, struggling to breathe. It scares me when I get to the place where I'd rather lay down, go to sleep and not wake up. 

I have things that need to be done and I feel like I'm just going through the motions....but it takes me longer to get them done because I become interrupted, distracted and unfocused at times.

I came home from a workshop on Tuesday night with the migraine from hell. I ended up on the floor, puking into the trash can because the pain was so unbearable. I took 4 ibuprofen, praying it would take the edge off, but I eventually succumbed to the pain and cried myself to sleep. 

I want to be what I really feel like on the inside, but I know that would scare people. I usually am exactly on the outside what I feel like on the inside but I know that it would frighten people if I didn't hide some of what's going on inside. And that pisses me off....because I can't stand when people hide and mask things. Some things are best left hidden from those it would frighten, though. 

My head feels like it's going to explode. Not from a migraine anymore but from everything going on inside. The conflicting emotions, the confusion, the short circuits that keep hitting over and over again. Sometimes I wonder if I'm actually going crazy because that's exactly how I feel. I look for something to break to release the tension and realize that the only thing left is myself. I'm coming apart at the seams. 

I feel so extremely hurt and wounded and I don't know what to do about it. When I'm wounded by someone I love, it's like a knife being thrust into the gut and twisted about and then rammed down my throat. I feel like I'm being suffocated. I feel like my heart is being burned alive. I feel like I'm being disemboweled. Yes, it hurts that much. 

I felt like staying away from LJ for a while, but writing is a release for me. Even the last week has felt like torture without some place to use as an outlet. I may make entries private, I might disable comments, I might screen comments. I make no promises. I might comment on your entries, I might not. I do read, though, because I can't disengage myself from being a part of your lives, as I strangely crave connection even during a time when I am feeling like withdrawing. 

I'm still trying to figure out how someone like me could get so far down where I am.....I'm thinking it's because I just wasn't paying attention....or I thought I could handle it all. I've been here before and gotten myself out of the hole, so I'm sure I can do it again. This is one of the few places where I can be brutally honest, so bear with me.  My faith and my God are the things I cling to tightest right now."

I had never felt anything quite like this before. I had gone through a period of time when I felt that I wanted to die and contemplated ending it all just for relief (when I was 19 and denied the choice to leave home), but this time was different. I wasn't suicidal but instead, I was so unhappy, confused, and miserable. The despair I felt was so real and palpable that I actually felt the pain take over my body. 

On July 1st, I wrote: "I feel like I'm slowly, but surely, finding my way out of this dark hole."

Looking back, that day just happened to be one of my good days. I didn't realize then that it wasn't going to be so easy to find my way out of that dark hole. 

Click HERE for Part 9

Part 7 - You know it's time to lose weight when you break the toilet seat

This is the seventh part in a series, CLICK HERE to start at Part 1

2007 and the beginning of 2008 kind of blur together for me. My love/hate relationship with food still continued but my new-found confidence seemed to help with the guilt and remorse when I would binge. David had his moments of over-regulating what I would eat and it was those moments that would set me back for a while. It seemed that we revisited how I felt about his intrusion every few months. Having to talk about my boundaries again would be a tough conversation for both of us that would usually end in tears - mine and his. He would vow anew to mellow out and not nag and I would vow to try harder to take control of my health and my eating habits. I really did want to be healthy and to lose weight, but anything that set me off emotionally would cause me to fall back on what made me happiest for a moment, but in the end, it made me feel guilty, embarrassed, and ashamed. No one would see me in these moments because I did them in secret so the only person that judged me was myself. I had become one of my worst enemies. 

The road house had burnt down in June of 2007 and I decided not to look for another part-time job outside the home. Instead, I focused on my own business and tried to grow different aspects of it. Being away from the food industry helped but only for a short while. I took to baking a lot when I felt down and blue. For the most part, I felt happy and confident, but there were times when I would feel discouraged, empty, and completely unattached to what was going on around me. These were my moments of weakness and they confused me. I didn't understand how I could be so happy and confident one moment and then feel so incredibly despondent. These feelings weren't a daily thing. It came and went at different times and as I said, for the most part, my self-esteem and confidence had been growing and so my days were usually content, creative, and joyful. 

In June of 2008, David and I paid off the last bit of debt (other than our vehicle payment) that we had. We had incurred business and tax debt over the years that we had our catering business and had worked very hard to get rid of it. The interest was killing us even though we were making regular payments every month so we consolidated everything and paid off almost $25K in four and a half years. It was tight and tough for those years. We had never been materialistic and in fact, many people that know us could tell you that we're quite minimalistic. We weren't the type of eat out, go to movies, splurge, etc. We scaled back every where we could, but since we were already living a simple life, there weren't a lot of other places where we could cut back. We were very creative with our resources and never missed a payment when we were paying off our debt. We had gone "cash only" a couple years before we consolidated so we were used to only being able to buy what we had the money for. Being able to make that last payment and being debt free was a huge accomplishment for us. 

We had told ourselves for years that we would look into buying our own house when we were finally debt free and that time had come. We weren't looking to purchase right away but I was anxious to find out what the housing market looked like and what we could potentially afford. I called one of the best realtors in the area, who also happened to be my brother's landlord at his place of business, and asked what we should be looking for considering our income and the fact that our debt to income ration was in the best place it had ever been in. This was only three days after we had made our last debt payment. She mentioned that there was a house she thought we would like and the price had just recently come down and asked if we would like to look at it. I went to the bank that day and got us pre-approved and the next day, we checked out the house and put an offer on it. The next afternoon, our offer was accepted and we were on our way to purchasing our first home. It seemed surreal. We hadn't expected to buy so quickly and we had said that we weren't going to put an offer on the first house we saw, but everything was perfect and it made no sense for us to keep looking if we'd found just what we were looking for and it was in our price range. The closing took place a month and a half later and we were in our new home. 

During the month and a half between putting the offer on the house and moving in, we were busy packing up our belongings to make the one and a half mile move (interestingly, it's just as much work to move a mile and a half away than it is to move hundreds of miles away). During a hot and sweltering July afternoon, David and I went through and cleaned out quite a bit of stuff in the shed out behind the apartment we lived in. We found a few bird nests and dead baby mice. I thought nothing of scratching at some sweat that had run down my shoulder and into my armpit. I was wearing a tank top and was really uncomfortable in the heat. A few days later, my armpit itched and so I scratched it. A week or so went by and my armpit was red and irritated and itched unbelievably. I put some cortisone cream on it and hoped it would go away. My grandmother happened to be staying with us for a few weeks and she insisted that I try one of her anti-itch creams. The next day, the rash had spread and was starting to be very painful along with being itchy. I would scratch in my sleep and dig it open. Eventually, the rash showed up in my other armpit, probably from scratching both in my sleep. By the time we moved into our new house, both of my armpits were raw, bleeding, and driving me mad. 

I made an appointment to see my doctor and she told me it was just a heat rash. I was given Nystatin and sent home. A couple of days on the Nystatin and everything had gotten worse. I started breaking out in little bumps on my shoulders and I went back to the doctor. I was apparently allergic to Nystatin and was put on another cream. A few days later, I showed back up at my doctor's office and showed her how bad everything had gotten and how it had spread to my stomach. After being on an anti-fungal medication that didn't seem to do anything, it was determined that I had a staph infection. The culprit was probably the dead mice and bird nests that I had touched and then scratched my armpit directly after. I was put on Keflex for 21 days. In the meantime, I had tripped and fallen in the middle of a crosswalk in town and skinned open both of my knees. I put band-aids all over them only to find out a day later that I was allergic to latex. 

If you've ever been on anti-biotics for a long stretch, you know that you're susceptible to a yeast infection and with my luck, that's exactly what happened to me. My immune system was so shot from the staph infection and allergic reaction to the latex that the yeast took over my whole body. It searched for the least resistant way out of my body and that was through the stretch-marks I had gotten from my pregnancies. All along my stomach, my stretch-marks started popping open. It looked like someone had taken a knife and sliced each of them down the middle. I had never felt such pain before. I'd also never experienced a skin-surface yeast infection before. There were times that I cried for hours before I fell asleep, wishing I could go to sleep and not wake up until it was all over. 

I felt absolutely miserable. The heat of the summer combined with having allergic reactions all over my body was enough to drive me crazy. I would lay on the couch completely naked and with a towel under me, all alone in the house. The ceiling fan was directly overhead and turned on top speed. I had Domeboro compresses on me to dry out my stretch-marks and cold compresses on my head to help cool me down. The itching was maddening and I tried every way I could to suppress the urge to itch. I prayed, I cried, I tried to sleep. David and I even tried raw garlic on my wounds to combat the fungal infection but all that did was cause me to experience a pain unlike anything I ever felt in my life. I remember laying on our bed and having David rub the garlic onto my stomach, bracing myself for the stinging feeling. Instead, it felt like someone had pointed a flame thrower at my body at point blank range and I pulled a pillow over my head to scream and cry into it, while writhing around on the bed and trying to stand the intensity of pain for as long as I could. My daughter came to the door of our room and started to cry because she thought I was dying. I yelled at David to turn our shower on and I ran inside of it and washed off the garlic, sobbing, gasping, and shaking as the water ran over me and slowly took the pain away. 

One of the upsides to being so sick was that I couldn't think past my pain to think of food. The "sick diet" is never a pleasant one, but it does have its benefits. Even though I was miserable and this would usually make me turn to food, I couldn't stand the thought of eating much of anything. I lost some weight because of this. My doctor had put me on Prednisone and I felt like I could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.

About a week later, we adopted a puppy. I know what you're thinking...what on earth would possess us to adopt a puppy while I was in so much pain and agony? This puppy, though, brought me so much joy. The kids had just started back to school and David was at work all day. This meant that I was home alone with with a puppy that needed house training and love and attention. In many ways, Tovah was my saving grace. I was forced to take care of something other than myself and instead of laying on the couch all day, wallowing in my misery, I was forced to go outside and wait for the puppy to pee and poop. Having something to keep my mind off how I was feeling all the time was something I was so grateful for. Tovah gave me something to laugh at and adore when all I wanted to do was cry all day until David got home to help take care of me. It was a good thing I had Tovah to look after because my condition got worse a week after she came into our lives. 

It was Labor Day weekend (2008) and we had planned a trip to visit my parents in Rhode Island. I felt miserable and was looking forward to getting away. My period had arrived and, because my body had gone through so much over the past 6 weeks, I had the worst menstrual cramps I'd ever had. We were out of Advil so I took a quick trip to the drug store to get some more. I saw that aspirin was on sale and bought it. I had taken an aspirin since I was a wee child and didn't even entertain the possibility that I could be allergic to it. Twenty minutes after downing two aspirin, my back started to itch uncontrollably. I pulled up the back of my shirt and asked David to take a look to find out what was itching so much. He told me that my entire back was covered in hives.  It wasn't long before my stomach started to itch and then my thighs. There was no choice but to cancel our trip to Rhode Island. I was in no state to sit in a car for five hours and then spend a weekend on a sailboat that made me seasick anyway. This disappointed me because what I really wanted at that moment was my mom. 

Just when I thought things were starting to get better with the Prednisone kicking in, I was covered in hives. I felt so defeated. Those hives lasted six very long weeks. The heat from the summer, the discomfort, the humidity - everything came crashing down on me. We made compresses of jewelweed and a friend brought over goldenseal powder that I rubbed onto the worst spots. By week five of the hives, all of the skin that was affected had broken open. By week six, the hives were drying out and my skin was healing. The staph had subsided and the skin-surface yeast infection was on its way out due to a round of Diflucan pills. 

My body had started to go back to normal, but after not eating much for twelve weeks, I was so hungry. I hadn't been able to do much in the way of work those weeks because I couldn't focus and was so uncomfortable. It had all taken such an emotional and mental toll on me. Now that I could look at food again, I wanted to eat everything.

Click HERE for Part 8.

Part 6 - You know it's time to lose weight when you break the toilet seat

This is the sixth part in a series, CLICK HERE to start at Part 1

In September of 2006, my mom helped me to dread my hair. This was something that I had wanted to do for a little while but finally found the courage and made the jump to do it. I felt giddy and excited during those long five hours that my mom covered my head with sea water, pulled, twisted, backcombed, and teased. With each dreadlock that she finished, I felt a piece of my confidence coming back. In a weird sort of way, the transformation felt deeply spiritual. 

I covered my head when I went in public for a few days after coming home until a kind soul online encouraged me to own my decision and to be proud of who I was, regardless of what my hair looked like. The first six months of having dreadlocks were trying and exhilarating. I wondered what I had gotten myself into. There were times when I wanted to pull them all out and start over and other times, I was like the mom of a newborn and excited to watch them grow, change, and mature. I didn't realize how much of a committment dreadlocks were going to be. More than the struggle of allowing them to do their own thing, I found that my inner self was going through a change I was unprepared for but needed so desperately.

It's so odd to think that a hair style could change the way someone feels about themselves in such a deep way, but this is exactly what started happening to me. They became an integral part of me and I came to the place that I couldn't imagine myself without them. They gave me the confidence to see myself outside of what everyone else could see. Dreads go through their stages of looking ratty, taking their twists and turns, having people look at you like you've never taken a shower and as if you're the dirtiest person they've ever encountered, and they cause some people to take a fascination in the process right along with you. I had strangers come up to me and ask to touch them and then tell me how beautiful they were. People I didn't know started telling me that they suited me so well. I remember one person telling me that they gave me a natural glow and aura of happiness. I actually teared up a little at that one. It had been such a long time that I had felt proud of who I was and what I looked like. As my locks grew and matured, so did I.

To step outside of my comfort zone, I decided to look at myself for who I really was. I started taking pictures of myself completely naked. I didn't want to limit myself to what I saw staring back at me in the mirror. I wanted to find a strength that I couldn't seem to see.

At first I felt silly and ridiculous taking these pictures, but soon, my emotions gave way and I started to look at myself in a new light. I began to see the raw beauty. I started to see the natural glow that the stranger had mentioned in passing. I began to look forward to these quiet moments of photographing myself. I discovered things that I liked about myself each time I looked at a new photo. The combination of seeing myself differently through pictures and the confidence that I was starting to build through my dreadlock journey gave me the courage to put together a small folder of photos to give to David. I wanted him to see me how I saw myself. I used this oppoprtunity to tell him how much his food policing had been bothering me and that it needed to stop. I expressed that I knew he had good intentions but that his execution was all wrong. I cried and made myself vulnerable and we seemed to find an understanding. After this conversation, I felt a lightness in my shoulders and in my spirit. 

Other than the regular things that couples disagree on, the only big issue that caused contention between us was my weight. Outside of the comments about what I ate, things were very peaceful. I think this peace in other areas is what made the food and weight comments so agonizing. We have always been deeply in love and neither of us could imagine life without each other. Knowing that he could be so clueless about how I felt when he made his comments, I tried my hardest to overlook them. I think it's important for me to convey that David really isn't the douchebag that this series makes him out to be. You're all seeing a side of him that is definitely cringe-worthy, for sure, but other than those comments and food policing, he has always been a loving husband and best friend to me. He is an amazing father and a hard worker. He provides for us, always comes home to us at the end of his work shift, has never been drunk, and isn't a spender. He truly is an amazing man, with flaws of his own, just like we all have. It just happened that this particular flaw of perserverating on my weight and eating habits struck a very sensitive part of me that I have battled with for a very long time, well intentioned as he tried to be. 

This confidendent and strong person that I was quickly becoming is the one that most everyone saw on the outside. This is the person I wanted to see in myself and so it's also the one that I wanted everyone else to see. This is the side that has forced me to be so vulnerable in sharing my struggles here because not everything you see on the outside of me is the same as what's going on inside.

CLICK HERE for Part 7.