Since finding recovery and doing it without treatment, which is obviously not for every one, but I had spent most of of my late teens and early twenties in and out of the hospital being force fed. None of those those hospitals worked because I wasn't willing to change my paradigm, I wan't going to stop no matter what they thought they could force me to do. So, for years I went about killing myself while blaming insurance for no coverage for a decent treatment center.The only person that needed the blame was me. Yes, I was sick, very sick at the time and couldn't let my anorexia and bulimia go, so it was my fault for not taking the help while I could. Treatment is a gift that some will never be able to achieve. The only thing I had going for me was a great doctor who made sure to safe me from myself on many occasions by force feeding me with a tube down my nose because I needed it. He would come to the hospital everyday and check on me and his other patients often sitting down and just talking with me helped me through the hard stuff.
     When he moved to Florida I thought my whole live was devastated because I couldn't trust any other doctor to take care of me besides him.Just before he left he had discovered the gastroparesis and immediately put me on Vivonex in the hospital. I remember seeing my new doc and knowing that I could never trust them like I did my old doctor. They the surgery came where they took all but three percent of my stomach and put another J tube in and still ED had a hold on me. Purging became my only solace which meant more and more trips to the ER for dehydration. Mind you I wasn't severely underweight at that t time  but I sure woke up in the intensive care unit. And, even then i refused tube feeds being hooked up...They weren't going to control me...I controlled me....LIES!
     The thing about having an eating disorder is that all year hear are the lies screaming in your ears, how if only I reached my goal wt I just might be good enough. I did this for months before I met Josh and he noticed I wasn't okay. He helped me take baby steps for eating, mind you there were some knock down drag out fights about this. But little by little i began that slow climb to recovery. I didn't have money for treatment and I was deemed too sick anyway so I had do to it alone. Scales were bashed, diet pills tossed, laxatives gone, and all of my lowest wt clothes. It was difficult and reminded me of the night me and my best friend Mark burned all my anorexic contraband, he said Elle burned green because it is evil : )
       I don''t know how many times I can say it but eating disorders are not about weight and going to a treatment center does not give you a guarantee recovery, that falls on you. And, waiting until you reach critical weight makes recovery that much harder, I know this for certain. Everyone thinks that it is okay, they have it under control, but before you know all you are is a walking talking ED. The only conversations you know how to have are about food and body image. The person you use to be isn't even there anymore, you are an empty shell. It isn't worth it because before you know it, the person you use to be is locked deep in your mind while the demons (anorexia, bulimia and self harm) are screaming at the forefront of your mind and it can seem no matter ho'w  hard you try you cannot  escape and I promise that you can.
     There is nothing easy about recovery, you will want to give up, but it will save your life and give you happiness you never thought possible. And, if you don't have the money for treatment then start on your own, find an accountability partner or a cheap therapist who works on a sliding scale. To quote Confucius, It is not about never falling, but having the courage to g  

fighting as hard as I can

     So, I'm really getting tired of hearing how Damien shouldn't be exposed to all of this medical stuff such as seeing the IV lines and poles and everything else let us not forget visiting mommy at the hospital. Mind you a lot of this criticism is coming form his grandparents who have no idea or willingness to understand the severity of our situation. Josh and I have help only from people who aren't even our family and it looks like we might have to move to Nebraska or Indiana if the transplant gets approved because we can't afford both houses and we certainly have no help when it comes to family. I know that is my fault, I ran my mouth in the first trimester of my pregnancy and said things I never should have said and honestly I didn't even know it was hormonal at that point. I've always felt like some sort of  black sheep, like they look at me like I'm some kind of freak and it hurts my feelings. To be honest, I want nothing more than to be accepted and I don't think I ever will be. 

     My son is exposed to all this medical stuff and has been since the day he was born and doesn't know any different. I feel like in some way he is learning compassion, he will play with a kid with a feeding tube and leave it alone and not ask why they have it, it is normal for him. He was born to a very sick mommy, in fact he was never suppose to be born. Those docs spent a long time telling me that I should terminate the pregnancy like it was some kind of parasite and I refused. They told us he would most likely make me sicker and it has, but that miracle was from God and I love him more and more everyday. I can't help but think that Damien was my piece of heart to leave on this earth if I don't happen to survive it.

     My son was named for Father Damien the Patron Saint of Outcast, who went to work on a leper colony when no one else would knowing it would be a death sentence. I pray that Damien has learned that compassion. Do you think I enjoy him coming to see me in a hospital bed...not even in the slightest, but he is my son and needs me. Would he rather see the tubes or hospitals or have to visit mommy's grave? I pray everyday for more time with him, more and more bipolar prayers going from begging and pleading for more time and thanking Him for my gift and then yelling that He won't take me without one hell of a fight. I think He is okay with that though.

     I've tried to protect Damien from the reality of it all for so long, but the disease has progressed so I am honest with him in an age appropriate manner. I'm hoping to get him a tubie pal so he can have a stuffed bear so I can explain what is going on with mommy. He is my world and my  heart and the last thing I want is to cause him pain. I fight everyday because of him, I wake up in pain, i don't sleep and I carry him even when the pain seems like I might burst because I love him.I will never give this battle up and I won't hide it either. 

     I understand that some people in my life are in denial and no matter how much I show them paperwork and teaching materials they will never understand. I'm just tired of being judged, I'm fighting for my life here and all I get is judgment and that shouldn't be how it is. My feelings are hurt, and I deserve it, but why when I'm severely sick and on my way to ICU my family doesn't come running? Is it because of some words that I have apologized for years ago already? I'm scared and alone. One line infection could kill me, this transplant could kill me rather than save me but we are out of options. The only reason I have stable wt is because of all the fluid I'm constantly pumping into me. I'm scared to close my eyes at night because I can barely breathe and I fear I won't wake up the next morning to the "momma" calls that I love more than anything. 

     IS it wrong that I crave that family, that I want someone to visit me when I'm alone at the hospital scared out of my mind, crying and scared I will never see my baby again. So, when Josh has the money to bring him to me I will never refuse. I pretty up and smile the best I can for that lil man so the only thing he sees is an IV pole. I'm so tired of being alone, I want a family, I want people to stand up for me, I want them to care if i live or die. Whether or not they want to believe it my situation is life or death and I could lose at any moment. They can't feed me which is a very big deal. i'm looking at surgery and needing to get back to the hospital tomorrow because of how sick I am now. I just want support, I want to be able to call my family and I can't. The only one who is there when she can be is Grandma Linda who spent twenty minutes hugging me the other day telling me if I die I will be taking her with me. There is nothing better than hearing that. I feel like I somehow never measured up to what they wanted of me and I'm sorry for that, but I am not sorry for the fact that I love my son and I don't hide this from him. He will grow to be compassionate to others and hopefully use that compassion for something good. 

       To those who disagree, I do protect him from the scary stuff. He does't know how much pain I'm truly in and he doesn't know the outcome without transplant. All he knows is mommy has some ouchies that sometimes the doctors have to take care of in the hospital. He is love by so many and yet I question other's devotion to him. Am I jealous of another child...no...I'm pissed off that my son is not as important, that it is okay to drop everything for one daughter to get to work, but another who needs the hospital it isn't. I'm so tired of being alone and it isn't fair that Josh handle all of this on his own. I feel myself slipping away and there is nothing I can do about it. I know I won't live to be thirty without transplant or much longer without TPN and that is dangerous enough. What am I suppose to do? I want to be loved now while i'm still alive, not have a group of family show up at my funeral and act like they gave a crap about me yet never answered any of my messages pleading with apology. 

      I am scared and I still smile every day when I walk in t hat room to pick up my son no matter how much pain I am in. How do I make people understand? I'm the best mommy I can be to my son and a pretty darn good one for one who is dying. I know I'm dying whether or not anyone wants to accept it. I need a miracle and I've already gotten one so I don't expect another, I simply hope. I'm tired of letting people make me feel like a bad mom, I do the best I can and I protect my son with every ounce of me and teach him. He has a little friend who is a tubie and never once has he ever messed with him. I find that compassionate. Feeling too sick to write much more, probably going back to hospital tomorrow which means I will update you via blog most likely. Good night and God Bless all.

Fucking Smile

     I did something today that I've not done in nearly four years...I popped an edge out with the intent to use it. It is currently staring at me, daring me to give in and let it make it all go away. All that bullshit that no one knows about that is eating me up inside, I just want the screaming to stop because there are very few people in this world that can handle me talking to them about the screaming. It is easier to run away, to tell me the lie that it will all be ok, but it is never ok. It was so quick how it all came back to me, how easy it was to get what I wanted to what my body thinks it needs. And, to answer your question I have NOT used it. 

    It is here staring at me, daring me to just give in, who would have to know? Everyone could go on thinking that I still have it all together when in reality I have so many secrets tearing me apart I want to disappear most days. I wish I could say that I had some strong thing inside of me that is stopping me from picking up that blade and pushing into my pale flesh, but it is simply my son, I swore to him that day he was born that I had enough scars to explain to him let alone adding new ones. I'm just so tired of carrying all of this alone, everything is always on me and there is no relief I just keep this stupid fucking smile on my face like it is all ok when nothing is ok, absolutely nothing. I have organs that are basically non functional and one blood infection away from leaving my child without a mother, and I can't go into the other things that are eating away at me. 

     Who exactly do I have to depend on but myself, friends promise to be there, but they never are. I am, I don't know what I am anymore. My skin is screaming for this razor, screaming for me to end this torment, but I know that the torment will only come back and the razor will only want more and more that I cannot give. Knowing breaking my pale flesh is not an option doesn't stop the itch, I itch like you would not believe, I can see the whole scenario in my head and that wonderful numbness overcoming me, but I know that it is a lie, they are always lie. I don't know how many people I have ever truly trusted with my whole truths, I carry secrets because I know that some would think they need to be screamed from mountain tops when I am doing my best to keep them under control. 
     I'm terrified right now and feel more alone than ever even with people who say I'm not alone. I'm scared of the medical stuff that is going on with me on top of a lot of other things that are going on that I just can't seem to escape. I keep saying I have it under control, I'm juggling all of these razors in the air and I  just can't handle dropping just one because if one falls everything falls and all that is left is shattered. I wonder if I will have a happy ended and at this point I think my happy ending is my son, it is no longer about me, it is about him and now that I have been here and continue to be there for him as long as possible. I don't think I will live to see him grow and I won't get into a religious debate with anyone about anything, but I know that Damien is carrying me on and that is okay for me to understand right now and ease my fear at this moment. 
     Everyone looks at this fucking smile and thinks that everything is fine, but why can no one see behind the lies in my eyes. They are empty, I am empty besides the love I have for my son. The only reason that I fight with the doctors and go through all of this stuff is for a little boy who deserves to have a mommy as long as possible. Everyone thinks things are great, but they don't live in my head and they don't live behind these closed doors, it is amazing the things that fucking smile can hide mainly because no one wants to believe the truth. We love to tell the success stories, the story that I'm in some grand recovery where I never falter, where I never slip, or think of going back to my old ways. That isn't reality...the truth is my demons are still in there day and night I am the one fighting them back keeping that fucking smile so you all think everything is under control and I never once question my resolve to win this war. 
     To be right now I am fighting for my bravery because most days I want to disappear and pretend that this isn't happening to me because this isn't what I was suppose to be or do, yet here I am facing it everyday, everyday knowing I'm one line infection away form dying. I know how fragile my life is, I understand all of it and I don't need to be reminded like I so often am how sick I am and how I could die...I'm well aware of that possibility. I wasn't suppose to be anorexic or a cutter and allow that to ruin my life and yet here I am. And, now here I am suffering from a disease that is difficult enough without dipshit docs and insurance companies wanting to deny everything. I won the battle today, but what happens when I don't win the battle, what happens if I lose the war? I know that really isn't a possibility with my son because he needs me, but sometimes I just want to run away...not from him, but from this horrible existence I've created for him. I won't run, I will continue the battle even on days like today when I just don't want to anymore, when I want someone to tell me to turn that fucking smile off and it is okay to cry and talk about what is going on, talk about those awful things in my past and it be okay, but for today I will be brave.