The Halfway Point

I try really hard to take my New Year goals seriously.

Keyword = try. 

I was sitting here and thinking back to January and I realized I couldn't even remember what my word for this year is. So that shows you just how well my goals are going, huh?

Of course, I easily figured it out by looking at January's post. But still---I obviously haven't been focused on it enough if I was able to forget the word altogether!

The word I had picked was forgiveness. And since it is now September (technically past the halfway point...), I knew I wanted to assess the goals I had made and re-center myself.

Because lately, I've been feeling out of whack---like I'm just running from place to place with no sense of purpose.

I go to therapy and half of the time, my thoughts just ramble because my brain feels like scrambled eggs.
So I guess those videos in elementary school about drugs turning your brain into scrambled eggs didn't contain the full truth. . They should've added that motherhood/divorce/fostering/college/career/ADULTHOOD IN GENERAL could also scramble your brain.
Moral of the story? We need to be teaching young children to go live on the beach with ZERO responsibilities so their brains stay healthy forever.
Of course, I'm mostly kidding. And although I've never tried to test out the difference, I am sure my brain is less scrambled now than it would be if I were doing cocaine. At least I sure hope so!


Nevertheless, I feel like I'm just here. I'm not really gaining much or losing much. I'm just here. I'm not growing mentally or spiritually. I'm just here.

Am I working to forgive myself and others? Kind of. Which is better than not at all but not as great as YES!

I've let go of so much past hurt. I've done a really great job of moving forward. I have forgiven myself for things I never thought I'd be able to move past.

I have accepted that only hindsight is 20/20. I might hate that but I've accepted it.

But I feel like this year brought some unexpected changes and I didn't expect to react to them in the way that I have.

After our court trial, I was worried that my co-parenting relationship would be ruined with Hayley and Andersen's dad. Thankfully, that seems to be the opposite of what happened. I mean, it sure isn't all rainbows and butterflies but I truly thought that our relationship would need so much repair work because the last year was full of so much hurt.

That's a God thing. God did that for us. Somehow, it has been better and things have run pretty smoothly with only small snags here or there.

But that's pretty typical because it's co-parenting---and it sucks.

Leo came into our lives and I find myself moving between believing he will be here forever and panicking that DCS will call and tell me he is leaving tomorrow.
I'm not ready to open up about Leo's situation and what his future most likely holds yet but just know that I am equal parts mess and at peace. 

I stepped on the scale a few weeks ago and shouldn't have. Because two seconds before that, I was fine with the way I looked and felt and two seconds after that, I began struggling to love myself and have continued down that path in the weeks since. It. Has. Been. Hard. And that's sad to me because it hasn't impacted me that significantly in a long time.
As a disclaimer or FYI to that paragraph, I am still currently doing great and am fully still in eating disorder recovery. Just in case you're my mom and you were worried.

On any given day, I can go from wondering how I'm even managing to stay afloat to feeling like I am Super Woman in about 10 seconds flat.

I am not drowning but half the time, I feel like letting myself. 

I am not going to give up but half the time, I feel like that'd be easier. 

So as far as my goals for the year, I am really trying to push through and remember that FORGIVENESS word. I've sincerely thrown all of my other yearly goals out the window because I just want my main focus to be on digging into my past and realizing that it doesn't have to determine my future.

I still have faith that it's possible, mainly because I have seen it work in my own life. 

And so this is my halfway point (even though we are 3/4 of the way through the year) where I recommit to myself that I am going to continue focusing on forgiveness and moving forward with my life.

Thank you for coming and goodnight. 

F I V E

FIVE. 

That number sounds so large. 

I distinctly remember Hayley turning FIVE and wondering how I was gearing up to have a Kindergartner in just a few short months. How was she old enough for that? How was I old enough for that? 

She is now in the FIFTH grade.  

And here I am, kind of kicking ass and kind of failing at this single mom thing. 

FIVE. 

My WHAM basketball jersey number all of the years I played basketball as a child, thanks to my ASU basketball idols, Eddie House and Ike Diogu. 

FIVE. 

The number of children I planned on having. Before the days where I realized you can't necessarily plan those things. 

FIVE. 

The number of years it has been since my husband left me---my d-day, if you will.

In that time, Hayley has doubled in age and Andersen is close to tripling his age. They were 5 and 3 when their dad left.

And today, that feels a bit crippling to me. It feels like, in some way, I have failed them by allowing them to grow up for the majority of their childhoods without a father figure living in our same home.

I know that isn't true. I know that I've done everything BUT fail them these past five years. I know they will someday recognize how much work I've put into keeping their lives as normal as possible.

Today is a day that I don't mind sinking a little lower than normal. It is a day I allow myself to feel the negativity.

Because five years ago today, in the early morning, I kissed my husband goodbye and sent him off to work, not knowing that that would be the last time he would tell me he loved me and have me believe it.

Five years ago, I spoke pretty directly with my Heavenly Father, as He told me to recognize how beautiful my life was---not knowing that He was preparing me for an utterly devastating heartbreak hours later.

And then five years ago, I heard the words, "I don't love you anymore." over the phone and I knew it was already over. I knew, deep down, that he was never coming back. I knew I needed to prepare to become a single mother.

I just knew.

The words "I think we need a separation" were no different than if he had said, "I filed for divorce" because my gut told me he wasn't coming home.

It's been five years since my world completely shifted. And when it did, I became a completely new person.

If you were to ask me now whether I'd choose to go back and do things differently, I'd tell you no. I wouldn't. Because I know that my marriage was supposed to happen. And I know that my divorce does not negate how right my marriage was. 

In turn, I don't know if I feel right about saying that my divorce was part of the plan---I don't know if it was---but I do know that Heavenly Father has a specific plan for me post-divorce.

I know that plan includes continuing my education and devoting the majority of my time to my children. I know that plan includes so many deep friendships and taking in children who may live in my home for a month or may be here forever. I know that plan includes happiness and sadness and anxiety and more knowledge than I ever could've asked for.

The thing is, my divorce taught me a lot of stuff. 

Some of it bad---people really CAN leave deep scars by making crappy decisions.

Some of it good---you really CAN do anything you set your mind to.

In the past five years, I've wondered what life would look like now if I were still married and sadly, I can't see the same happiness I currently have. I can't picture a life with Leo in it or Hayley dancing like she does or Andersen getting the help he needs in school.

My divorce pushed me to do hard things that were the right thing. In fact, it still pushes me.

I am more patient and empathetic with the people around me and have become much more sensitive. I am not afraid to speak up about things that are wrong including pornography or abuse or being honest with the people you love. I am also not afraid to talk about my own struggles that include an eating disorder and anxiety.

I live a pretty authentic life. 

Or at least I try to. 

I try to give my anxiety it's place because heaven knows it ain't going anywhere! So I may as well embrace that it is a part of me. And my OCD and ADHD? Might as well give them their space here as well because why not?!!

Five years ago, I was living a very unhealthy life as I obsessed over my food intake and exercising. I gave my ex-husband's decision control over me because if he left me, chances were it had something to do with my imperfect body. 

And in those darkest moments of my eating disorder, I learned so much about myself as I begged for Heavenly Father to just loosen the grips my addiction had over me. I learned that I want to live a life I love, not a life the world tells me I need to be living.

I will probably never be a size 4 again. I am more overweight now than I was five years ago. And although sometimes that is still hard, the majority of my days are spent realizing how beautiful and amazing I am AS IS. Not beautiful IF I lost 50 pounds. Not beautiful IF I had less pimples or if my eyelashes were just a tad fuller. Not beautiful IF I could figure out a way to get rid of the stretch marks and the larger stomach that have accompanied my two pregnancies.

Beautiful. 
Amazing. 

As is. 

I wouldn't change the events that transpired five years ago, even if I could. Because I never would've become who I am without those hardest moments. I never would've taken as many leaps of faith.

I never would've learned just how brave and resilient I can be. 

The events from five years ago have not only shaped me but have helped me as I've walked through other dark times in my life.

I really CAN do hard things. I really, truly can.

The moments of despair and trauma I experienced five years ago have left lasting effects that I still deal with today. I am afraid of loss most of the time.

It doesn't matter how amazing things seem to be going. I can convince myself that I am about to get fired from a job where I know I'm appreciated just because my brain sends broken warning signals that tell me I'm supposed to fear the world.

BUT---I don't let that stop me. I still do the things, despite knowing there is a potential for heartache involved.

I no longer put my life on hold just because I am afraid of new experiences. 

I still get scared---and then I face my fears by allowing new experiences anyway.

Five years. 

Wow. It feels somewhat painful that it has been a whole five years and yet, in so many ways, I am beaming that we are five years out. Because trust me, I'd rather be here than where I was on this day five years ago.

I am continuously healing and growing from those awful events that happened five years ago and all I can really say today is that I am extremely grateful to be living the life I am currently living.

Because---Hayley.
Because---Andersen.
Because---Leo.
And because I like this new authentic life way more than I ever could've imagined. 

I Won A Contest

 From the writing contest I entered for Mother's Day: 

Hi. 

My name is Suzanne and although I am many things, warrior is certainly at the top of that list. 

I was a fairytale lover --- boy-obsessed from 1^st grade until I graduated from high school. Fairytales taught me that I needed a man to take care of me and I believed from a young age that if I was loved by a man, I would have infinite worth.

I was married at the age of 19. And as we all do, I planned to spend the rest of my life building a future with my husband. I didn't expect it to be perfect but I expected it to always be our mess --- not his mess and my mess.

The thing is, my husband truly did love me. That part was not a lie. He was great at loving me when he wanted to. But he loved me conditionally. He loved me for certain parts of who I was and began to tear down the parts of me he didn’t like. I became a pawn in our marriage and learned that I was not the most important thing to him. But why? I couldn’t figure out what was more important.  I just knew things had shifted. He hardly ever wanted to be intimate with me and would stay up all night playing video games, claiming he had insomnia. I got used to marriage feeling mostly one-sided and found myself justifying the way he was treating me --- because at least he wasn’t physically abusing me. But I still wondered if the shift in our marriage was my fault.

I had given this man two beautiful children --- was it my body? Was I not sexy enough anymore?

For a girl who claimed to be strong and independent, I am surprised when I look back and realize how much I lost myself in my marriage. Then again, for a girl who claimed to be strong and independent, I had held the belief that my worth was dependent on a man for as long as I can remember.

Five years into my marriage, I was arguing with my husband one day when he told me he no longer believed in God and would not be attending church with us any longer. This shook me but I held my ground and poured myself into being a better wife and mother. I could fix this. I could mend this part of our world that felt bruised and broken. I felt our marriage falling apart but I wasn’t going to let it. I needed him and I felt he needed me too.

I found myself drowning while trying to save him. Often times, he came home from work angry and unresponsive and he would lock himself in our room or go outside to clean his guns or work on the car he was fixing up. The emotional abuse was weighing me down and I started to have panic attacks about seemingly normal things like what brand of food to buy. My husband would point my anxiety out and remind me how unstable I was and how I needed to continue therapy because I was causing hardships in our marriage. 

I thought it was me. I thought I was the reason things were falling apart. And so I tried to fix myself and allow him space by taking care of the kids with essentially no help. I didn't want to bother him. I didn't want to make things worse. I was sensitive to the fact that I was diagnosed with "mental health issues" and that it was ruining my marriage. 

And in the midst of me trying so hard to fix us, he abandoned our family in August of 2013, after seven years of marriage. Our children were only 5 and 4 years old and did not understand what was happening, so on top of being abandoned by my husband, I was left to tell my kids about the divorce by myself and deal with their heartache. And in turn, they knew I was their safe space and so they directed all of their anger toward me for months while begging me to bring their daddy back home. 

Throughout the 6 month process of separation and divorce, I found out that my husband was not the man he had claimed to be. I started to realize that I was not the only one struggling. He was addicted to pornography, among other things. I tried so hard to stay afloat throughout this time but I began to drown in the form of an eating disorder and severe anxiety. 

I felt so worthless. So used. So unloved. 

The trauma I experienced while learning about that betrayal is something I'm still healing from.

But I don't point that out to tell you how awful he is. Because the thing is, my ex-husband is not a monster. We don’t always get along and he certainly makes some poor choices when it comes to his treatment of myself and our children but he isn’t a monster. He is an addict that struggles with knowing how to treat the people he loves most. He pushes us away in fear of us rejecting him. Does that lessen my pain? No. But it helps me to understand that I was not the problem. I could not have been prettier, smarter, or more subservient. This battle wasn’t mine to win or lose. It was, and is, his battle to fight and he chose to fight it without me by his side.

I’ve endured a lot since my divorce 4 ½ years ago. I figured that the longer we were divorced, the easier things would get. And I guess, in some ways, that is true. But I still find that divorce affects myself and our children on a daily basis. I have endured some pretty awful fights, DCS reports, a difficult court trial, among the daily struggles that come when trying to co-parent with a person who has a hard time with communication. I struggle to help my children as they both deal with the trauma this has caused in their lives, resulting in general anxiety and separation anxiety. 

I was forced to find myself when my husband abandoned me. That event, although extremely traumatic for me, has shaped me into a person that I very much like. I did not curl up in a corner and die --- I fought for myself and my children. I graduated from Arizona State University with a bachelor’s degree last summer. I am working two jobs to provide for my children. I got certified as a foster parent and was the mother of a sweet and sassy toddler for five months last year and last week, I was asked to take in a two-day-old baby boy and have been killin’ it in the motherhood department. My children are healthy and loved.

I still struggle with loneliness, especially when my kids go to their dad’s house but I know that my worth is not dependent on others. I will still live a beautiful life, even if I never remarry. I will continue to persevere when life slaps me in the face because I know for a fact that I can do hard things.

As the 5th anniversary of that traumatic August day creeps up on me, I wanted to share this letter I wrote a few months ago. I ended up winning that contest and was gifted a beautiful piece of jewelry that I wear often to remind myself how brave I am.

It's amazing to me how telling my story is healing, each and every time. This definitely doesn't contain it all and there are parts that will always be too personal but I am grateful that I can look back and remember the bad parts AND the good parts.

You guys, there was so much good. For years, the bad seemed to negate the good but I'm learning to validate those good times too.

They were real. They are real. 

It is still a rollercoaster. I think it always will be. But this is the hand I was dealt. This is a huge part of my journey. And telling my story is not to relive the past and open old wounds---it is a reminder of where I've been and where I am now.

I am grateful for the pain that has dissipated as the years have passed. 

And I am so incredibly grateful for the life I am currently living.

I Am Not Unbreakable

When I was fourteen, I went to a church camp called Especially For Youth. It was one of the best weeks of my entire teenage life and I owe that mainly to one person in particular.

Her name was Jalene and she was my camp counselor.

Jalene was one of those people who could make you feel special no matter what. And being a needy, awkward teenager, I gravitated to her from day one. I'm sure it was annoying to her but she never made me feel that way.


About halfway through that week at church camp, she shared a scripture with us during one of our devotionals and that scripture quickly became my favorite; partly because it really did speak to me and partly because it came from my new idol.

**********

1 Corinthians 10:13

There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.

**********

To this day, whenever that scripture is referred to, I am transported back to being an awkward teenager who felt unloved and unimportant and I am reminded of what that scripture did for my soul.

It gave me hope. 

It gave me hope because I was a teenager who hated my body and wondered if my life really had meaning. I was angry that my life felt hard and I compared the lives of my friends and wondered why I was feeling so devastated about the life God had picked for me.

I figured this scripture was God's way of saying, "I've pushed you to your breaking point and your future does not hold difficult trials." 

it'skindafunnytomenow

Because surely, a God who wouldn't give me more than I could handle would never let me struggle with a miscarriage or infertility or divorce or addiction or betrayal. All of those things would be too much and God would know it.

I didn't have enough faith in myself that I would be strong enough to handle anything harder than my teenage break-ups and constant fights with my family and eating disorder battle. And based on that reasoning, I assumed I would escape those "big" trials that I had watched other people enduring.

Because the way that I interpreted that scripture was pretty black and white. "I can't handle that so He won't allow me to go through that." Simple.


In the midst of divorce, I remember revisiting that scripture and hating everything about it. It was now a liar. I was a single mom and I was broken. Completely broken.

How could I have been so stupid? God couldn't make someone choose to stay married to me. I was so angry at myself for having false hope in that scripture.

And while trying to put my pieces back together from divorce, I experienced another traumatic event that hurt my children and myself. And although I thought I couldn't break any more, I did. Pieces of my heart that I had put back together shattered to an even greater degree.

Somewhere in the middle of this, I stopped trusting God. I didn't lose faith in His existence---I just stopped believing what I had trusted in that scripture. And in the midst of the darkest times, my only thoughts sounded like this: WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW?! I thought God wouldn't let me break! 

But God did NOT stop me from breaking. 

And I shouldn't have expected Him to. 

When I read that scripture at age 14, I interpreted it to fit my anxious mind. If God wouldn't tempt me above what I was able to endure, He would know I'm definitely not strong enough to endure "x, y, and z".

But there was a key piece of that scripture that I was looking past. The very last part of that scripture states "that ye may be able to bear it". And if the scripture ends with that phrase, doesn't that mean none of us are actually exempt from pain and suffering in this life? Why would God tell us we would be able to bear hard things if He was going to shield us from all of the hard things?

So it finally clicked. And I didn't really like that it clicked. Because that meant I wasn't exempt and that I had no right to be angry at God and that I was, in fact, capable of breaking.

God would let me break. 

But as promised, He would provide a way for me to put my shattered pieces back together. He would help me escape the very depths of Hell if I would reach my hand out and hold onto His.

And as I put those pieces back together, differently each time, He shows me where certain pieces belong in my ever-growing soul. He heals me, not by erasing the pain but by strengthening the shattered pieces so that in the end, I am a better person.

When God promises us that we are stronger than our temptations, He is quick to add that WITH HIM we can handle them.

It isn't that God won't let us break. It isn't that we will never experience temptations that we fully believe are out of our control.
The truth is that God meets us in those dark alleys and says, "Follow me", and when we do, we realize we can bear ANYTHING with Him by our side.

I no longer believe I am exempt from trials just because I may not be able to handle them. 

Instead, I try my best to trust in God so that when I break, I can allow Him to help me put myself back together again.

It doesn't always happen easily. There is still some small part of me that feels anger toward God when I'm faced with something difficult. And ironically, that is because I have faith that He can heal me. It isn't because I doubt Him. It is because I'm over here having panic attacks and thinking, "I know You have the power to heal me so why is this still happening?"

Although it seems like a negative thing, to talk about how I am NOT unbreakable, it helps me. Knowing that I can break reminds me that it is ok to feel the way I need to feel and grieve the way I need to grieve. It reminds me that this type of break isn't permanent but that my timeline doesn't have to be rushed.

It's ok to break. 

Everyone does. 

And everyone has the capability of putting those pieces back together, to create a whole new masterpiece.

I love my breakable life. I hate anxiety but I love my life.

And I think what I love the most is that it's possible to love life, even when the sun is hiding behind the dark clouds and the rain seems never-ending.

In the middle of this struggle where my anxiety is almost always overactive in my brain, I still have some of the most beautiful days and I'm still capable of making really amazing and brave choices.

Anxiety doesn't ruin my life. It can't---because I won't let it.

This week has been full of choices that have left me in awe of my own strength. I got to start observing at my old high school on Thursday.
On Friday, I got to teach my very first 15-minute lesson (planned all by myself) to a classroom of 10th graders and I wasn't even a little bit anxious. It went really well and I found myself excited, knowing that I will soon have that as my every day career.
On top of that, I am one month into my teaching certificate and decided to take FIVE classes---all of which I currently have 100% in.
My house is NOT a disaster and I've already done all laundry from our vacation last week.
Anxiety hits my eating habits hard but I've chosen healthier options multiple times in the past two weeks (sounds like baby steps, feels like giant steps).
I've gotten multiple calls (no placements yet) for foster care and I'm just chillin' over here like, "Bring. It. On." Because if I didn't think it was the right thing to do in the midst of all this crazy, I wouldn't be doing it.

I love the life I'm living. It gets lonely, sure. But it's pretty darn great.

And I am grateful that God allows me to break so that I recognize just how strong I am with Him by my side.

Wildfire

Lost.
Wounded.
Still breathing.

Surrounded by a dark forest of trees that all look exactly the same.
Rain drenches her hair and she can no longer decipher between the raindrops and the tears on her cheeks.

To her right, she sees flames.
To her left, she sees a tornado.

Which path does she choose?
Because right now, both look scary and painful and possibly deathly.

She screams toward the Heavens and asks God why He has left her to forge her own path.

She doesn't want to do it. 

She doesn't want to be bruised and scarred. She wants to stay whole.

But God tells her she will learn more about herself this way, that she will grow to understand the world more in depth and be filled with an empathy for others that she could've never known any other way.

He promises her He won't leave. 

But she isn't sure she can trust anyone, even the God who created her and knows her entire path.

Because if God was just, would He really tell her to choose between a tornado and a wildfire? Wouldn't He find another way to open her eyes to empathy and understanding? Wouldn't He shield her from pain?

It is at this moment when she remembers God was not responsible for placing her between a wildfire and a tornado. He did not bring her here. 

She is here through the choices of herself and others in her life.

Opposition in all things.

She is here because God gave His children the ability to make choices, right or wrong. Because He knew that forcing His children to follow a specific path would not teach them that they are capable of making those choices on their own.

And then she understands why He has promised her a deeper understanding in the midst of her pain.
Because her pain will teach her. She will learn how to love deeper.

Without knowing pain, she won't truly know the deepest joy.

But although she understands, she is so very scared.

She is afraid of what will happen in the midst of a fire. She is afraid she may not make it out alive.
And she is afraid that if she does make it out alive, no one will want to be around her because she will be broken.

Broken.

Do people ever fully come back from being broken? 

She steps toward the wildfire, knowing she is about to be burned but seeing no other options.

Her eyes dart left and right, looking for the best path, and they lock on a person caught in the worst part of the fire.

Does she save them and hurt herself more? Or does she take the path less painful?

She knows the answer. God has taught her the answer. 

And so she runs straight into the middle of the wildfire and begins to pull the other woman to safety on the other side.

The fire sears her skin and she screams out in pain. It is in the middle of this fire that she feels her deepest pains immensely.

She feels all of the pain from divorce and custody battles and believing she will never be loved by a man again. She remembers the friends who betrayed her and the ones who just silently left unexpectedly. She feels all of the times she has felt fat and ugly and stupid and annoying.

And she considers giving up. 

But she keeps going because she believes there is still life on the other side. 

When they finally make it to the other side, she looks to the woman and realizes this woman is now holding her.

And she realizes that although God did not stop the pain, He placed them there together to ease the burden of going through this alone.

Their pain was different but it didn't matter. 

Whether for today or for the rest of their lives, they belonged to each other. 

Because although hurt people have the potential to hurt other people, they also have the potential to help other people. 

And in the midst of this excruciating pain, they had chosen to help each other.

It isn't over.
It may never be fully over.

But as the days pass, her wounds begin to heal. 

And although she looks over the horizon and sees many mountains ahead, she knows she can move them. She knows that God will not leave her in the middle of a storm, even when she tries to convince herself that He does.

She knows she can keep going. And that along the way, she will find others to help. And in return, she will find them carrying her when she needs to be carried.

Because she understands that everyone has pain. 

Everyone needs someone. 

And we belong to each other. 

Eating Disorder Awareness 2017

I kind of cannot believe that it is 2017---that I am now participating in National Eating Disorder Awareness (NEDA) week for the FOURTH time.

I remember the first year I spoke about NEDA week in 2014, it wasn't the full story. I wasn't yet ready for that. I wrote about my past history with an eating disorder here but I wasn't ready to speak up about how my struggle had not only come back but, this time, with a vengeance.

I was so afraid of what people would think about me.

Eating disorders seemed like a taboo subject if you were talking about current life events. 

In July of 2014, I started to open up a little more about my eating disorder struggle being a current event and not just a past life event. You can read about that here.

But one of my favorites, one of my most cherished memories is the night I hit my rock bottom. Instead of being in control, my eating disorder was now controlling me. 
And that night, while sobbing on my kitchen floor, my little red-headed boy poked his head around the corner and brought me a pillow and a blanket and just laid there, stroking my hair while I cried.
You can read that beautiful post here.

The thing is, I've talked about this subject a lot since then. I've been up and I've been down. I've felt like a fraud and I've felt like a warrior.

And this year is a time where I genuinely don't feel like a fraud. 

I have fought so hard for this. 

I don't need to retell my story. You can read that post here.
Instead, we are going to go back in time, back to when things weren't always so rosy.

And I made this decision to share some personal journal entries with you because I want you to be aware of the power of eating disorders.

These words are all mine from various times throughout the past three and a half years. 

Oh, also, I swear a lot in my journals and I didn't change any of the words here so...you know...you've been warned in advance.


"I broke down yesterday.
It was one of those moments were, on the inside, I had completely lost my shit, but on the outside, I was acting totally fine.
I was fighting within myself---eating disorders are good, no they're bad, no they're good, no, no, no, no, no---*brain explodes*.
And I'm pissed. Because I have so many reasons to be happy. In fact, there are so many reasons why I AM happy.
But on the inside, when I allow my thoughts to turn to body image, I lose control. I cannot handle it. I fail at every recovery measure I've tried. I hate my body. I get angry at it for not being perfect.
Recovery tells me that my body has birthed two children, that it can dance and still do incredible things.
Ed tells me none of those things are good enough, that I'd be worth something if I'd just stop eating.
Stop. Eating.
I tell myself this daily. And then when I do eat, I hate myself for making such a bad life decision.
Because even though my life is so beautiful, it'd be even better if I was beautiful. My body doesn't match the life I'm living. It isn't beautiful.
I want to be beautiful.
And the only reason I'm still fighting is because I've heard stories of the damage and the heartache. In fact, I've been those stories. I've been ruined before. But if it weren't for journals, I wouldn't remember those broken stories because right now, when I look back, all I remember is feeling so strong and accomplished and worthy.
And I want to feel those things all of the time.
A part of me still feels like fighting is the right choice. And the other part of me feels like fighting isn't worth it.
So badly, I wish this wasn't my life. You have no idea how much I wish this wasn't my life.
To feel happy with your life while fighting or not fighting inner demons, that just doesn't seem fair.
I want to feel happy without hearing so many hurtful things being said about me inside of my brain.That girl in there, she is mean. She is cruel. She has extreme standards. Not for everyone, just for me.
Sometimes I don't get how I can be her, how I can be so concerned with loving and accepting others without being that way with myself.
Sometimes I feel absolutely crazy." 

"Fighting is hard.
I feel this sense of pressure that I'm supposed to be fighting for myself every day and a lot of times, it's too much. It is too damn much.
People say I'm strong. I even say I'm strong. But at night, when I think back on the day and the amount of times I gave in to my eating disorder, I realize just how weak I am.
I don't know if the trauma from the past month has made it worse but I feel like crap all of the time these days---obsessing over my food intake, purging many times a day, looking in the mirror and seeing fat fat fat fat fat fat fat and a whole lot of ugliness, weighing myself in the morning and wanting to throw the scale out the effing window.
I act like I'm fine. Am I fine? I feel fine. I feel like this is who I'm supposed to be. I feel like if I can just lose weight, I'll be happier than ever before. I believe that. I remember last March/April when I was going to the gym daily and starving myself or obsessively purging. I was beginning to look better. I was beginning to feel in control while simultaneously getting out of control---irony? Sure.
I think that's the thing I hate most about eating disorders. I crave the control but after a while, I lose control. But in a weird twisted way, the loss of control also feels good because my brain is saying, "This is what you've wanted! This is total commitment and you will love yourself soon.".
Soon?
When does "soon" happen? Does it end with the specific amount of weight I've dubbed as "worthy" of my approval? Or will the number just get lower each time I reach a goal?"

"There is so much fear involved with an eating disorder. Recovery and addiction both involve fear. Neither seems 100% free of it.  
I was sick this weekend and unwillingly threw up a few times. I went to church today still feeling a bit nauseous so I didn't eat beforehand and I slept in and missed an hour of church.
As I walked the halls, I was getting stopped over and over again by women asking me how I've lost so much weight. At first, I felt awkward. Would they like to know what my real secret has been? But after the first two stops, I started to feel good. I felt a little more confident and a lot more beautiful. I felt the attention and I soaked it in. 
And I couldn't bring myself to keep food down the rest of the day. 
So tonight I tried to reel in my safety nets by reading my journal and as I read a few key entries, I remembered.
I remembered the night I blacked out in my own bathroom and all I could do was crawl into my bed and hope I'd be awake the next morning. 
I remembered the times I would be running at the gym and my vision would blur as I pushed my body beyond what it should've been capable of doing." 

"Ed tells me a lot of heavy things when I compare myself to the people around me. He tells me that if I lose 20 more pounds, I'll suddenly feel "good enough". He tells me that I am a horrible mother and that I am the reason my spouse was addicted to pornography. He tells me that I should be more self-conscious than I currently am. When I start to feel any amount of confidence in myself, he laughs in my face and tells me the people who say nice things about me are doing so because they feel sorry for me. It's so hard to believe that people say things because they truly mean them. It is so scary to trust people.
At church today, a woman asked me how I'm getting so skinny. I looked at her with bewilderment. Me? Skinny? Ha! But I told her a friend had referred to this as the "divorce diet" because I just don't have an appetite right now because of stress. It was a lie. I hate lying. I wanted to tell her how I'm struggling with an eating disorder---and not just "an eating disorder" but bulimia, an eating disorder that doesn't come with loss of appetite very often. I wanted to tell her how I hate the girl I see in the mirror. But I have no idea what to say in these situations. I am not ready to just be "the girl with the eating disorder" or "the girl with the eating disorder because her husband left her". I want more of an identity than that and I'm afraid if I tell my real story in the middle of my struggle, I will get lost somewhere in there. When I'm stronger and have the confidence to help others with all of this, I know I will be able to tell my story and still be me."

"Today I tried hard. I mapped out my safe foods and put each of them around a meal time and I've been doing good so far. Only a few times have I had to talk myself out of unhealthy habits. 
I've been putting off this fight because I was afraid of it. I was afraid of weight gain and I was afraid I would feel more out of control again. 
All morning, I've had visions of taking a hammer to my scale. Seriously. I haven't been brave enough to do it because I cannot fathom NOT having my scale. 
But I ate breakfast and lunch. They were very small meals but they felt ok. I wasn't afraid. I didn't panic. I wanted so badly to fight. And I did it.

And then tonight I did it. I knew it needed to be done. I grabbed a hammer and my scale and I smashed it on my back porch. I smashed it over and over with the hammer and when that didn't do the job well enough, I grabbed the shovel and annihilated it. I'm sure my neighbors think I've lost my mind. It felt so completely liberating and scary and amazing, all at the same time. Now that I'm sitting here, without a scale in my bathroom, I feel like maybe I can fight this. I feel a lot of anxiety but mixed in, there is a sense of peace."

The majority of these are from 2014, back when I was pretty engulfed in my eating disorder.

How thankful I am to NOT be in that place today---but instead to be in a place where I choose recovery every single day of my life now.

And the truth is that it is a constant effort and choice on my part. I could go back there at any time---but I don't want to.

I like where I'm at right now. 

And the fact that I have been able to eat healthier lately without restricting or eating everything in my kitchen late in the evenings is a testament to how well my brain is doing.

You guys, my brain is healing! 

I haven't felt this way in a very long time and it is worth every moment where I've fought and failed and gotten back up again.

Friends, eating disorders are real and they're not all that fun to talk about. But they're also not all that fun to live with.

Because of that, I tell my story.
Because of that, every February/March I support eating disorder awareness week.

It's time to talk about it. 

It's time to stop ignoring the signs because it feels too uncomfortable to talk about it.

If you or someone you know is showing signs of an eating disorder, please reach out for help.

Please. 

My Reality

I can remember back to when my eating disorder was at it's worst a couple years ago.
I can see the patterns, recognize the spiral, and remember how it felt to be SO in control and SO out of control at the very same time.

I can remember the things I used to hear inside my brain so vividly.
You are worthless. No, I'm not. Yes, you are. Ok.
You are lazy. But I exercise all the time. You're still lazy. Ok.
You are not worthy of another relationship. Any man worth my time would love me as I am. No, he wouldn't. Ok.
You don't deserve food. Yes, I do. No, you don't. Ok.

I used to fight with myself daily, constantly. 

And as I was sitting on the couch tonight, watching a movie with my kids, I felt those same words come into my head. They were so loud tonight. And I couldn't just fight them off with a positive thought. Sometimes, when they're so intensely loud, it's extremely hard to fight them.

It's been hard lately. It's been hard to differentiate between the truths and the lies in my head. It's such a nasty cycle and I hate it.

I hate eating disorders. 

Hate. Them.

I got up from the couch halfway through movie night and told the kids to grab their cups of ice cream and meet me in the garage.
I needed to get out of the house. 
 

I hopped on my bike and the kids climbed in the trailer and we started riding. I rode up and down streets, past so many houses I've spent the last eight years driving past.
I ached and felt lonely.
I smiled and felt free.

Because that's about where I'm at right now---somewhere in the middle, somewhere in a confused state where sometimes I feel good about myself and sometimes I hate myself.

And as vulnerable as this is, it's honest.

It's real. 

And it's really hard. 
A. Lot. Of. The. Time.

I can look back on so many memories from the past two years where I've hopped on that same bike in very similar moments of confusion and pedaled far away from my house to find a park where I could sit and think and write in my journal and cry and dance around in the grass.

Sometimes I'm hit with anger that this is my life and these are my demons to fight. I wonder why. I think about how inadequate I feel when it comes to opening up or helping others or fighting for myself---mainly because I'm overweight and I worry that people will think I'm making this all up---and then I remember that if I'm not opening up or helping others, none of this would be worth it and my anger would never subside.

I can blame the media or God or my childhood or my divorce or probably a million other things but really, this is mine.
However it started. However it continued.
It is mine. 

Nobody can fight my battle for me. I get that.

I know you might read this and think I'm crazy or weak or dramatic but the truth is, I am the opposite of those things.
I am strong and brave and resilient. 

I can remember back to a time a few years ago in therapy when my counselor had me acknowledging the different parts of me that make me into who I am. The sensitive me who wants everyone to feel loved and happy, the self-abusive me who gets so angry with herself for the tiniest mistakes, the fearful me who is afraid of so much more than I could ever type here.
At first, I felt a little schizophrenic for acknowledging that there are different components of who I am but as I was leaving that day, I felt this surge of energy to study each piece of myself and learn from that part of me.

That therapy session has opened my eyes and helped me not feel so crazy when I go from being super happy to angry with myself to lonely and sad. All of these feelings are valid. They are all me. And they don't make me crazy. They just make me human.

So today hasn't been the best for my recovery. I don't like saying that. I don't like the stigma of 'weak' or 'shameful' or 'unstable' that I feel often goes with knowing a person has an eating disorder.
Because when I open up, I feel like my people will start staring every time I eat or exercise or maybe that they'll wonder if I'm going to throw up later---and you guys, I just want to feel like me. And throughout this process the past few years of opening up, I've learned that MY people, the ones who really care and try to understand me, they aren't hovering over me and viewing me as unstable. They check in every once in a while but the rest of the time, they let me figure this stuff out on my own.

They treat me like their friend and I love that. 

I love how beautiful it is to know that someone is struggling and to be able to treat them as equally as you'd treat a person who seemed to have it all together.

It takes an incredible person to be able to do that. And I have so many of those incredible people in my life.

We Wear Purple

 Last year in March, we marched through the Phoenix Zoo to support the National Eating Disorder Association.

It was important to me. I wanted to share this memory with my children and teach them an age appropriate amount about eating disorders and how they can affect anyone.

Anyone.

This year, I wasn't sure I wanted to speak up about NEDA week because it's been an incredibly messy year but then I remembered...I don't do this just for me. I do this for my kids and for others who may be suffering or who don't know a whole lot about eating disorders.

And so we woke up on Wednesday and put our purple on.

 And throughout the day, I felt this surge of bravery for this recovery thing I've been trying to do for years.

It still wasn't an easy day. There are so many things that are different than this same time last year. There has been a lot of behind-the-scenes trauma.

But I'm just as worthy as the rest of the people in this world. I am brave enough to speak up and find JOY amidst really hard things.

So because of that, we still acknowledged NEDA week...

...some of us a little bit more permanently than others. {I'm seriously obsessed with my purple hair...THANK YOU, Jenny Brown!} 

Eating disorder awareness is important. 

My body image is something I've struggled with my entire life, even as a young child. I often wish I could go back in time and give that beautiful little Suzanne a hug and tell her how worthy she is.

Although this year has been really messy, I feel like this week, today, this very second, I am so much closer to healing and recovery than ever before.

I used to think that being skinny was the only thing that could make me happy. I thought that once I was 'x' amount of weight, I'd be good enough and worthy enough to date and possibly get remarried.
Sometimes, I still believe those things. 
But they are lies. And lately, I've been working hard to think positively about myself when I look in the mirror.

My children will notice. And because I love them so dearly and want them to love themselves, I'm fighting for myself.

No matter what storms try to rage, I will still be fighting.

Always and forever, I will fight to love myself.

Because warriors don't give up. 

NEDA 2016

 Seven year olds shouldn't think they're fat.
But I did. 

Seven year olds shouldn't pray to God, begging him to make them skinny.
But I did. 

Seven.
Years.
Old.

I've always had an unhealthy relationship with food, from wanting to eat all of the time to hating to even look at food.

Somewhere around the time when I turned 14, I started to minimize my struggle with my body and would get frustrated with myself for not doing anything about it!

I cracked down. I made daily plans and rigid routines. No one could deter me from my control.

I thought it was a good control. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought this was what strength looked like.

I was finally going to be worthy, good enough, beautiful, etc.

My name is Suzanne and I have an eating disorder. 

Sometimes when I say that out loud, it sounds foreign. It sounds shameful. I mean, I'm overweight so I must be overreacting, right?

When you're overweight, eating disorders are ok, right?

The truth is that this is wrong but I don't always believe this fact.
The truth is that eating disorders are dangerous no matter how much you weigh or what your BMI is.

And the real truth? The real truth is that my struggle is still completely real right now, today, this very minute.
I don't feel out of control. In fact, I feel very much in control. But there's this part of my brain, the part that is healthy, that tells me this isn't real control. It tells me I'm being deceived by my eating disorder.

A few years ago, as I was going through a divorce, I decided to stop fighting for my recovery. What was the point? I felt worthless anyway. No man was going to look at me and my body and my two children and say, "That! I want all of that!". I couldn't stand the thought of being alone forever. I literally couldn't stand it.

And so I tried to make myself more worthy. I gave in to my eating disorder. I was obsessive and secretive. I was creating a new monster, a monster that included more than just Bulimia and obsessive exercising. I had created something much worse---some regimen of eating disorder hell that I could not control.

In fact, the very thing that I thought was giving me control had completely taken my control away. 

It has taken me much of the past year and a half to somewhat recover from that hell. And it has been the exact opposite of easy. In fact, it hasn't completely happened. There have been highs and lows, days where I'm strong and days where I believe everything my eating disorder tells me.

It has been extremely painful to try and recover, only to realize I'm more overweight than I've been in years. Sometimes I question what recovery really is because if it's just weight gain, I want no part of it. 

Sometimes, ED feels like my biggest supporter, my number one fan. Sometimes I believe my eating disorder. Sometimes I am so ashamed of what I look like that I think about never leaving my house again. Sometimes it is completely unbearable.

My eating disorder is a living nightmare. I'm not kidding. It is an all-consuming struggle that can take over in a split second and throw me into a downward spiral of shame and despair.

This isn't something that's cute or trendy. It isn't something that I've done for attention. It isn't something I chose.
The actions I chose, the disorder I did not. 

Friends, I was seven the first time I realized I was fat.

Seven. 

I want that to sink in for you.

It surely sinks in for me.

I have a seven year old daughter. I have a seven year old who looks to me for guidance and I'll be damned if I'm going to ignore the issue of teaching her about healthy body image.

Somehow, someway, I believe I've managed to teach her while also dealing with my personal hell but it isn't easy. It isn't easy to preach about healthy body image when there is a voice inside of my head that tells me healthy body image is a load of crap.

I know it isn't.
I know I can teach her.

But I also need to teach me. 

Sometimes I feel so scared, wondering how I'm ever going to conquer this giant monster. I know I've done it before. I know I've had some really strong moments in the past year.

But if we're being truthful, and I do want to be truthful with you, right now isn't one of those strong times.
It isn't.
And the best thing you can do for someone in a situation like this is love them because there is literally nothing you can do.

I have to fight this. I have to change it.

And I can.
I can do it.

I've gone through so much hard stuff in the past few years---I know I can conquer anything.

But knowing that doesn't make the fight seem easier. Knowing that doesn't make the next few weeks, months, or years look super bright and hopeful.

I know there are still going to be some pretty dark days---days where I curl up in a ball and hate myself and cry because all I want is to be skinny and beautiful.
I literally did all of that last night.

But the biggest thing for me, the best hope I have in beating this, is reaching out to my people. Because addiction thrives in secrecy. And my eating disorder is absolutely, positively an addiction.

And I'm sorry if this is uncomfortable for you to read---it sure as hell isn't a walk in the park for me either---but I do it, I open up about my struggle because there are people who are struggling silently. They are your friends, your family members, you.

I plan on winning my fight. Somehow. Some way.
Right now, I take it one day at a time and I fall short every single day. But I get back up and try again the next day. That's just how life works. Failure, to me, doesn't mean I throw in the towel. Failure means I'm still living and breathing and trying. Surely I can't fail if I don't try so that has to mean something.

And I'll get there. I. Will. Get. There. 

A few days ago, I posted an extremely brave video on Facebook with pieces of my story in it. If you'd like to watch it, here it is. Toward the end, it shares some information on eating disorders and how you can help yourself or your loved ones.

I have so much hope for our world. I really, really do.

This month is National Eating Disorder Awareness month. 

This awareness is important to me. I spend a lot of the month of February talking about it because I am passionate about helping others going through similar things as I've gone through and am going through.

So if you'd like to support me, you can wear purple and tag me in your photos on Facebook or send me the pictures throughout the month. Or please contact me to join our team as we walk through the Phoenix Zoo to support NEDA on March 6th, 2016 at SIX AM! It'll surely be worth it and everyone is welcome to join our NEDA team and walk with us. And you're even welcome to come over the weekend before for a t-shirt making party.

I fight because my children need me. 
I fight because I am a child of God. 
And I fight because I have worth.