Five Years Ago

The five year anniversary of my d-day happened two days ago.

And it's hard to put into words how I currently feel about that because it has been so good and so bad.

I felt so panicked leading up to the d-day anniversary. I took off work and kept Cubby home with me. I had lunch with my daughter at school and then my mom took me shopping at the mall and I tried on a bunch of clothes for her as if I was 16 again.

It was actually a really great way to spend my day and I came home that night, wondering if I would start to obsess over the anniversary or whether it would be ok and guess what?!!

I was ok! I was happy! I sat down and blogged on my non-anonymous blog and talked about how hard that day was 5 years ago and how I am so glad to be where I am now.

I talked about how I wouldn't trade those times for anything because they taught me so much.

I love who I am post-d-day. I truly do.

I know it won't ever be rainbows and butterflies. Divorce is such a hard thing. I am reminded of that almost daily.

But looking at my personal growth, I'd take who I am now vs. who I was then any day of the week.

It's miraculous to realize that only five years after my husband told me he no longer loved me, I am doing ok. I am still standing. I am thriving. I am close to ADOPTING A CHILD! {But that's for another post}

This life I'm living---it's beautiful. I am so grateful for all of the knowledge that has occurred in the past five years.

Face To Face

Finally. 

Face to face. 

It only took fourteen months. 

Fourteen months of hurtful comments and hateful looks. 

I took a trusted friend with me because I knew I needed someone to actually process and hear everything while my anxiety did it's work. 

And when we walked up to her, I felt this waive of relief that we were finally face to face after so long. 

And maybe I felt like I had missed her. 

Three hours of each of us explaining our side and trying to get the other person to understand. 

It felt like a divorce mediation. 

She said some things that later I realized were hurtful to me as I thought over them. And I think she knew that. 

I didn't need to know details. But because she had been hurt living through it all, she wanted me to know all of that pain. 

And the reason it was unnecessary is because the whole point of this meeting was supposed to be about moving forward and about telling her how ONLY in hindsight could I have prevented everything. 

The whole point was to convince her I wasn't ever malicious. 

She already knew that though. I know she did. Because she knows me---or at least she knew me. 

I am a completely different person after going through everything I've experienced these past fourteen months. 

So we met. 

And afterward, she asked if I wanted to keep talking and let my friend go home. Maybe her and I could go grab some lunch? 

But I said no. I wasn't ready for that yet. Or maybe ever. 

And when we got in the car to go home, my friend set me straight. 

She is still blaming you. 

What she said was manipulative. 

That felt fake. 

Don't go home and blame yourself all over again. 

And I was surprised because I felt so good. 

But my friend was right. 

Because later that night, I started to panic about all of those details. 

She had gotten to me again. 

Whether consciously or subconsciously, she had said things in a way that made me wonder if this was all my fault. 

Was I really to blame? 

Somewhere deep down, did I know what I was doing? 

And as I pondered these questions and allowed myself to go back to that dark place for a minute, I suddenly remembered back to those days and weeks. And I remembered my heart and how I did everything right in the moment---the best I knew how. 

I told the truth. And although that truth brought about more pain for a while, it was still the truth. 

And in that moment, I knew that meeting did not have the power to put our relationship back where it had been fifteen months ago. 

And I didn't want it to go back. 

Because I remembered how all of this hurt my family and made it so that I could not safely talk about my own children's pain and healing. 

I had been stifled because I had been blamed by someone who should've trusted me---who should've answered when I tried to call dozens of times---who should've come over to my house to talk face to face when everything happened---who should've trusted me instead of turning me into a villain. 

I was never able to talk about my own children being hurt because the times that I tried to, I received nasty comments about how this was all my fault anyway. 

 And I suddenly questioned how any of those people would've known the part about my own children. Because I had only told one person from their group. 

And so when months later, a comment was made on Facebook that said, "How sad that you are dealing with that on top of your son being molested", how did that person know? 

And I suddenly realized that the betrayal went much further than I had thought. I kept quiet about what had happened, not knowing that a large group of people were spreading around the fact that my son had been involved. 

My family was not kept safe in all of this. 

And none of them really seemed to care about that fact. Nobody stood up and said, "No matter the circumstances, we should NOT be gossiping about her children." 

Nobody did that for us.

So yes, we met face to face. And maybe it helped in little ways. 

But it will never be the same. Because the protection of my family is far more important than gaining a friend back who wasn't really a friend anyway. 

And I have so many people in my life who are capable of trusting me through really shitty times. 

So I'm glad it's over. And I will continue to move on and heal each and every day. 

**************

PS: My children are bravely and beautifully doing well. They are warriors. And they are my greatest teachers. And I may never mention their part in this again. Or I might if it feels right. But I hope if you read this, you will respect the privacy of my children in all of this. 

Unbreakable

 Once upon a time, I thought I was unbreakable.

And then my husband left me.
And my children struggled.
And a lot of my friends decided to hate me.
And some of my friends betrayed me.
And I struggled with my faith.
And my eating disorder almost killed me.

And I broke. 

I thought I was unbreakable---and I broke. 
Not once. Not twice. But multiple times, I broke. 

And I remember as each of these things happened that I would look toward Heaven and wonder WHY?
I would get so angry.
I would cry.
I would reach out.
I would hide out.
I would experience deep feelings of anxiety.
And some of the times, I wanted to die.


And then time would pass and people who truly loved me would remind me why they stay and God would comfort me.

And somehow, the thing that I thought I would never heal from would start to heal. The wounds would scab over. The sun would peek out of the clouds. The flowers would start to bloom again.

It was in these moments that I was reminded time and time again that I am not unbreakable.
I am not. 
But when I break, I don't break forever.

Today I am relishing in this truth---that I am a survivor. I did not give up, even when I wanted to so many times.

I did not give up. 

I have spent countless hours of crying and wondering and doubting and although this sounds awful, it isn't always awful. Because those hours of crying and wondering and doubting are what made me who I am today.

A much stronger, more resilient, more compassionate Wendy. 

And I've learned that the people who blame me or hate me or try to break me---they don't know me. And that thought used to frustrate me. I used to get upset thinking I'd given up a portion of my life to people in my life whom I truly loved but who didn't love me back and I hated that they never took the time to truly know me.
But I no longer feel that way.
It no longer makes me angry.

It makes me sad---for them.

Because I know who I am. I know how incredible I am. I know what is inside of my heart. And anybody willing to try and break that is missing out.

My life is beautiful not because it's perfect and not because the sun is always shining. My life is beautiful because I choose to see it that way.

I choose to bask in the brightness that is my children and being a dance teacher and being a child of God and a Christian. I choose to remember the good and learn from the bad.

I might be breakable---but I am also capable of healing. 

And that is what truly counts. 

A Life I Love

A few days ago, my coworker came into my office and was telling me about how she met a childhood friend of mine whom I hadn't seen in years. This friend was asking about me and whether I was still active in the church and how my life was going after divorce and my coworker said, "Well, you know, she's just had a really hard life."

As she was relaying this conversation back to me, her last comment took me by surprise. A part of me was thinking, "Yes, I have! This shit has been hard and traumatic!" But there was a different part of me, the more healed part of me that was thinking, "Everyone has hard stuff. Everyone. My life isn't based on only the hard stuff. There is a whole slew of beautiful roads traveled and beautiful roads in my future."

And that's where I'm at today. 

I'm not fully recovered. I don't know if I'll ever make that concrete statement. But so much of me is doing so much better.

So much better. 

I was out with friends last night having dinner and shopping with my tribe of warriors whom I love and they kept joking about how I had also made plans later in the evening with another set of friends. And how tonight I have more plans with more friends.
And as I was thinking about this fact this morning, I felt an immense amount of love from my Heavenly Father because friendships have not always been my forte. I was bullied a lot as a child by people whom I felt should've loved and accepted me. It was extremely painful and I've held onto trauma from those days for a long time and wondered if I'd ever be able to have real friendships.

And I do. 

I absolutely do. 

My life right now---this is the life I could live forever and never regret it. I mean, I'd like a husband and possibly more children but I don't need that for happiness.
In fact, I really don't need anything for happiness. Just my attitude.

That's been a huge learning curve throughout this process. 

I used to get so angry and ask God why I was feeling so much resentment and sadness when I wanted to bounce back to my happy self. It took me a long time to remember that happiness is something I make, not something I'm given.

Being happy doesn't mean you never get sad or hurt. To me, living a happy life means basking in the joyous times and learning from the darker times.

In my opinion, that is the only way for us to grow. 

I love my life right now. I remember as I was going through my divorce, I was in the biggest hurry to date again and get remarried because I was certain I wouldn't heal or find happiness until I had a man by my side.
But the truth is, I love my life because I'm focusing on loving myself and the people whom God has placed in my life.

I'm not there with my eating disorder---that still gets to me a lot of the time and I don't love my body. But I love who I am, the kind of person that I am.

This girl deserves so much. 

So much. 

And I am so grateful for life these days. I'm so grateful that I've continued on through some pretty horrific events. I'm grateful that I've stood when a lot of people expected me to fall. And I'm grateful for the people who have been there to catch me time and time again so that when I do fall, I don't hit the ground as hard.

Dreams

As a little girl, I dreamed of becoming a wife and a mother. I read fairytales and watched Disney princess movies and believed I'd be able to follow those dreams someday.

At the age of 14, I received my patriarchal blessing and it talked about getting married and having children. I was elated. I couldn't wait for those days. I had always known I wanted to be a mother.

I never worried about whether my husband would treat me well. I never worried about whether I would have miscarriages or be infertile.
Those weren't part of my plan so the thoughts never really entered my mind.

But I've learned some pretty important things in my life. The growing up I've done in the last 4 years is insurmountable in comparison to how much growing up I did the first 18 years of my life.

I know that there is something much bigger than me---God---and that He knows how to take care of me. I know He will help me fight my battles and bask in my joys. I know He loves it when I smile and He is sad when I'm hurting.

And I know that even though my dreams have changed, they are still possible and real.

I was a dancer for 12 years growing up. Twelve years of my life, I spent hours in front of mirrors, perfecting my balance and pointing my toes. And I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up---a dance teacher. I knew I would never want to leave my happy place.

But when I became a wife and mother, I stopped dancing. I never found the time or the place for it.

I stopped dancing for 8 years and it was hard for me. When I was hired as a dance teacher this past year, it was a struggle. I was rusty. (I still am rusty)

But dancing is magical for me. Dancing can cheer me up anytime I'm down. Dancing clears my thoughts and allows me to listen to my body.

I realized something tonight. It could've been a horrible day. I had an old friend say some really hurtful things to me and I could've let it affect me but I taught dance tonight. I watched myself in the mirror and admired my capabilities.

I was happy and free.

It reminded me why I dream.

I dream because hope is real. I believe in my dreams because I believe in myself.

I have an amazing life and as I sit here watching my son play Candyland---pretending he is two different characters on the board---and acting surprised each time he wins, I know I am right where I'm supposed to be.

This is the life I wanted to live. This is the life I dreamed of as a little girl.

I'm living my dream life.

And I thank God for that every single day.

It Isn't Easy

It's hard to let things go when the past seems to be nipping at your heels.

Some days, I see divorce as a new beginning and other days, I see it as a messy reality---filled with hard decisions and memories that can never be erased.

I hated Peter last week. I looked in his eyes and I hated him---hated that he called me a bitch with our child listening from the other room, hated that he cannot figure out how to grow up, hated that I am forced to have him in my life.

I get really frustrated with the rollercoaster of telling people we get along pretty well to realizing that maybe that isn't true to thinking maybe it is true again.

It isn't easy.

But then I remind myself that marriage wasn't easy either. Sometimes I think I forget that. I forget how hard it was to feel alone, to have to sneak out of the bed and cry alone on the couch because if he saw me crying, he would get angry at me. I think about how free I am now---free to show my emotions, free to show my children my emotions, free to think for myself and make my own decisions.

Divorce isn't easy but I am becoming more of who I want to be.

And I try so hard to remind myself how worth it that is when I have really hard days.
All of the pain from divorce is worth it because my children and learning and growing in ways I never could've planned or imagined. It is worth it because I am strong enough to find empathy for so many difficult things in my life and others'. It is worth it because I have learned how to be a better friend and person, a more kinder Wendy than I used to be. It is worth it because I now know that I am a warrior and I'm positive that I can handle the things life throws at me.

It isn't easy---but it is worth it.

Forgiveness is Freeing

The beauty of life is that although really hard things happen, we can move on.

We can pick up those broken pieces and fight like hell for what is important to us.

Lately, I've been thinking about forgiveness and how powerful it is---or more-so how freeing it is.

Two years and one month ago, I was in a marriage that I had fought for, living each day and believing that I would be married forever---and then my husband came home and told me he no longer loved me.
Two years ago, I was told by some of my family members that I needed to fight harder to keep my marriage together, even after Peter had left me.
Twenty-two months ago, I was told on two separate occasions that I should "lose weight to show him what he's missing out on".
Sixteen months ago, I found out that my ex-husband had hidden a pornography addiction from me our entire marriage.
A year ago, a family member told me they didn't understand why I felt the need to broadcast my pain all over the internet and that it could ruin my family.
Six months ago, I lost a friendship I thought would last forever.
Three months ago, there was a stream of hateful comments on my blog that stabbed at my character.
A month ago, my Bishop told me that all I needed to do was pray and read my scriptures to find my faith in the LDS church again.
Three weeks ago, I tried to open up to my mom about leaving the church and the first thing out of her mouth was, "Aren't you worried about ruining your children?"

It's been a painful few years---and not all of the pain is listed above.
But the reason I brought that pain up is not to relive it---I've done that enough in the past two years.

The reason I bring those painful memories up is to remind myself that I am a different person, a better person, because of each and every one of those comments and trials. I am stronger and I have forgiven.

This past month, it started to hit me just how much I have moved on. I woke up one day and realized that I hadn't thought about my pain in over a day---and then sometimes it'd go two days or three days or a week.

And the dreams have stopped. That might sound odd but for me, that is an indicator of my healing. For at least a year after Peter left, I had nightmares almost every night about him. Once in a while, I'd have a good dream with him in it but for the most part, my dreams brought out so much of the pain I was feeling and wasn't able to articulate.

I survived the anger phase---I survived so much that I thought I wasn't capable of surviving.
I can look back to six months ago as I sat in my therapist's office and sobbed for the first time in front of her (after seeing her for 2.5 years) and how much pain I was trying to unload. I can look back at that moment and marvel that I am here---that I am not only breathing but smiling and focusing on so much of the good in life.

God has been working miracles within me. I have faith that the journey I am on is exactly where He wants me to be.
I have faith that whatever I decide will only bring my children and I closer to God.

Forgiveness, for me, starts when I am able to see the perspective of the other side and feel empathy for the other person's pain.
I first felt this a week after Peter told me about his pornography addiction. I remember him sobbing on the phone and apologizing over and over again. I wasn't yet able to forgive him in that moment but it was my first glimpse of empathy for him. I realized how scared he had been for years leading up to the day he left.
And God allowed it to happen many more times in the past two years, from realizing my family was trying to grasp the reality of divorce just as much as I was to realizing that the hateful comments I've read about myself came from a place of love and protection for another person in their lives.

We can choose what we want to see. 
We can choose to see the hate and label it as such or we can try and look through it to see the fear or the protection behind the choices people are making.

Today I choose to look beyond and find empathy for everyone around me.

We are all fighting battles. We are all trying to do what we believe is right.

Forgiveness is freeing and I am choosing to be free. 

My Conflicted Feelings about Ed

I've heard people claim to completely recover from their eating disorders. Honestly, maybe a part of me used to believe that was possible. But I think it had to do with the fact that I was married and happy and didn't struggle with my self-esteem and so my eating disorder's voice was a whisper in my head.

There were times I would look in the mirror and struggle to love my body. But my husband would assure me I was beautiful and my worries would fade.

Then one day, I found out all of that was a lie. I found out that the man who had claimed I was beautiful had been looking at naked women on the internet. And I found that out after he had left me---alone, feeling worthless and abandoned.

And I just can't see myself getting over that. Ever.

I have so many helpful tools and so much support---but sometimes I pull away from the support because I'm so damn exhausted and all I want to do is live with the comfort of my eating disorder and not worry about the repercussions of it all.

Because when I have an empty stomach, I feel empowered. I feel more worthy. But I also feel like hell.

I hate it. I love it.

I've been trying to work on recovery for eight months now. Eight months of rollercoaster emotions, weight loss and weight gain, weeks of no purging, weeks of starving myself, etc. It hasn't been an easy 8 months. In fact, I have felt so much emotional turmoil regarding my eating disorder because I'm so afraid.

I'm afraid of dying---and I'm afraid of recovery.

A year ago, I wrote in my journal about how giving up my eating disorder would automatically equal gaining weight. And gaining weight would cause me to not get married. So moral of that story, giving up my eating disorder would cause me to be lonely forever.
A year later, I can pick out the lies. But I have also gained weight since starting my recovery journey and although I was ok with that at first, the weight gain has gotten to me. I think about it daily---multiple times a day. I can't concentrate very well when my stomach is full because I want to purge. I don't always act on it but the thoughts are always there. They never leave me alone.

I can tell you one of the biggest lies that I believe---that my eating disorder helps me. I tell myself that all the time. In fact, even though I can point it out as a lie, I don't quite believe that. When I was able to go to the gym every day last February through July, I would take pictures in the mirror every few weeks. As I looked at those pictures the other day, I saw a girl who was in control, who was strong and capable. And now I feel like I've lost her again---like I'm weak and incapable. I feel like I'm losing myself.

But everyone says that when my eating disorder takes over, that's when I lose myself.

So why do I feel lost without my eating disorder?

Tonight I'm just trying to honestly and openly sort through these thoughts. I want them here. I want to remember my struggle.

I wish I had this figured out. I wish this blog had more happiness and less mess. But I identify as Wendy the most when life is messy. I just do. And I'm extremely grateful that I have a safe place for all of this.
I can remember back to the days where I felt so alone and had no one to talk to. I remember the feelings of just wishing I could die so that my heart wouldn't hurt so bad. I don't identify with ever being suicidal but I have had days where I believed I would't be strong enough to keep going.

I hadn't purged in so long before this weekend. I had been holding on, even if the rope I was grasping was a thin strand of yarn. At least I was holding on. And now that I'm not holding on---or maybe I am still holding on---I don't know what I want to do next.

I want to heal. I want to believe in myself. I just don't even have a desire to open a recovery book or fight my thoughts. I feel so exhausted.

And the hardest part is, I keep trying to practice patience with myself. I keep trying to validate my fears and anxiety and trauma. But a lot of days, I still feel like I'm at Recovery Square One.

I know focusing on the baby steps will help. I think that's where I'll start. I think I'll continue to validate my feelings and when that becomes easier, I'll add a new goal in there.

It's funny how I gave myself a timeline of "one year" to work through my divorce trauma. I figured that was a loooong time. It sure sounded like a long time. But now that I'm here, it seems like it all just happened.

You really can't put a timeline on grief.

Today I am Wendy

My high's have been higher than I've felt in a year.
My lows are crazy low in comparison.

My heart is angry a lot when I'm alone. Put me in a group of people and I'll perk up. Put me in front of the cyber world of friendship and I'll perk up. Put me in my classrooms at school or at my work desk and it doesn't compare to the thoughts going on in my head.

Am I just an effing crazy person?

Because as I sit and fight for recovery to win again, I truly believe that I love myself. Am I just stupid? I love who I am on the inside. I still don't like who I am on the outside. I am fat. I am truly, by definition, overweight. Am I obese? No. But I'm not skinny.

A lot of my choices at home are stupid. A lot of them directly conflict with my Christian beliefs. Am I just so weak that I can't get my shit together when I'm not being watched?

I'm eventually going to get a tattoo. I know...right?! I have it drawn up. It's just going to happen. But when I found out about Peter's tattoo that he lied about, I flipped out. We were up until 2am fighting that night. So am I just a hypocrite?

A lot of times, I don't feel like I'm genuine because how the hell can I be this awesome serving Christian and in my mind, the most constant phrase that plays is, "Who fucking cares?"? It doesn't make sense.
Like at all.

How can I be angry at Peter for looking at pornography when sometimes I consider just sleeping around because I like sex and I want to feel connection---even fake connection? I hate that I like sex. I know that's ironic. Sex is good. It is natural. It is fun. But I hate liking it because I hate missing it. I hate struggling with the loss of connection. I don't want to struggle. I don't want the struggle to get harder the longer I go unmarried. I thought it was supposed to get easier.

I don't know if there is a bigger contradiction in my life than the fact that I teach my children gospel principles and yet, I struggle to pray. I have a strong testimony and yet, I struggle to go to church. I do not doubt that every word in the scriptures are true and yet, I don't open them up for answers.

I know my Heavenly Father loves me but I don't get why He can't just answer the prayers that I do pray. I don't understand all of this. I wish it weren't so hard.
I can give you every "correct" answer of why I've been given the specific trials in my life. I can point out the blessings from each and every one of them. But that doesn't mean I want them to continue just so I can grow more and get more blessings from hard trials.

I'm done.

I'm done being single and not knowing if there will ever be someone to love me on this earth. Everyone says he's out there. I'm supposed to trust that I'm worthy of a man's love. But have I had a single second date since my divorce? No. Have I kissed anyone? No. Have I had any type of relationship where the guy wanted to be with me more and more? No.

I can trust facts. Facts are facts. They don't need arguing. They just are. So everyone in the world can tell me I'm going to be loved by a man but how am I supposed to trust that? Dream Boy didn't have feelings for me. And I thought I was dealing with that ok but it really freaking hurts. Not because he rejected me. It's ok that he was honest. I kinda like him even more for being honest with me /damnit/. It isn't the simple form of rejection that hurts today. It is the fact that Dream Boy having any inkling of interest would've shown me that love---someday, today, a hundred years from now---is possible. Because I just don't have enough hope that it is. There's a little hope---but each day that passes, a piece of it dies.

I just don't know what I'm supposed to do. Am I supposed to just be perfect and not make any decisions against my religion because that would just make me a liar and put me on the highway to hell? Am I supposed to recognize that I am imperfect and give myself a break? What the hell is my next step? Because the one I choose will probably so freaking contradicting that I am going to go crazy.

Like literal crazy.

There is so much good. I shouldn't be struggling because I am able to recognize the good. I feel like such an ungrateful bitch for NOT acknowledging gratitude in my every day thoughts and actions and feelings.

Today I am Wendy. I am the part of me who is struggling with faith and security and connection. I am the part of me that still gets angry and ignore the empathy I've felt toward Peter's decisions. I am the part of me that is stupid and irrational and unsettled.

I Can Fly

I'm ready to fly.

 

My house is clean today.

I didn't go to school yesterday or work today because I've been sick.

Peter was here this morning for an hour before he took our son on his preschool fieldtrip. The three of us were playing catch together, laughing together, and it felt like we were a connected family again.

Did I mention my entire house is clean?

 

I just feel like I am able to breathe today. I'm able to be sick and not feel guilty that I'm not getting off the couch and doing something productive. I feel like I'm able to relax.

 

And it feels so damn good.

 

I've watched 10 episodes of Shark Tank since last night.

 

Lately I've been going back and forth about whether I would ever allow Peter to come back into my life as my eternal partner. It's a huge choice. I was actually leaning toward giving it a try. But then last night, I was cleaning out my closet and went through a lot of our wedding stuff when I found my wedding journal.

 

In that journal, it held a lot of emotional, painful times from the first few MONTHS of our marriage. Each time I would write in my journal, I would end the entry with something along these lines. "I wish there was something I could do for him. It's a good thing I love him because it's easy to forgive him."

And here's the thing...the longer we were married, the harder it was to forgive and forget each time he hurt me.

The longer we were married, the less optimistic those journal entries became.

 

It was hard to read my journal and then consider trusting Peter and the changes he claims he is making.

 

I don't know how to trust him. I don't know if he deserves the hard work it would take me to trust him.

 

As of today, the answer to Peter's question is no. I'm sure I will continue to go back and forth for a while.

 

But today, I'm going to fly. I'm going to be thankful for the happiness I've experienced this week. I'm going to remember the wonderful nights with friends, the love I've felt from them, and the compassion I've felt for myself.

 

I can fly.

Dear Peter Pan

Dear Peter Pan,
I wrote you a letter last night and it was painful to put into words how I really feel about you at this moment. Because I don't love you and I feel like there is a hole in my heart where I used to. It's empty and hardened and I am not sure it will ever be able to open up to someone again.

I feel it is important to write you and tell you some of the things I have been feeling since you've returned from your summer job.

I am angry. I see you and my chest tightens and my eyebrows furrow. I have realized that I resent you for deserting your children for an entire summer to go find yourself. And maybe it's selfish but this doesn't have as much to do with the kids as it has to do with me. I don't have the luxury nor do I want the luxury of leaving my children for an entire summer to go figure my shit out. Parenthood just doesn't work that way.

This summer, I spent countless hours awake at night just to get some time to myself because my days were spent caring for our children and babysitting other children to pay our bills. I didn't get to take time where I could reflect on my life without the worry of children. And I'm realizing this resentment goes beyond just this summer because there has never really been a time where I could reflect on this mess of a life we've made without factoring in the worries I have for our children.

When you left me, you broke them and you weren't there to pick up the pieces. Those hours upon hours of comforting our sensitive daughter while she cried in her bed or raged about her unfair life were all spent with me. I have helped her find security in her very insecure world. I was there when she yelled at me and blamed me for kicking her daddy out of our house. I was there when she begged and pleaded with me to get remarried soon so she would have a daddy again. I was there when her friends asked why her daddy no longer lived in our home and she burst into tears because IT JUST ISNT FAIR THAT THEIR DADDIES GET TO COME HOME EVERY NIGHT.

Divorce has shredded our hearts. We are piecing them back together but it isn't easy. And the hurt I have felt over your decisions and how you treat me now is a hurt I never could have imagined.

You have betrayed me in the deepest way possible. I wasn't first in your life. And now that we have been living life separately for a year, I can see that you are baffled that we can't just be friends. I can see that it doesn't make sense to you why I get angry and hurt so easily. I can see that you don't understand why I act like you know nothing about our children---because you chose a life that takes you away from their lives and you aren't there for them when you should be.

I loved you once upon a time. I gave you my heart. And now you are just the father of my children. Now you are your own person and you can feel negatively about marriage or women or whatever you'd like and there is nothing I can do to change your mind.

But I hope someday you take responsibility for your actions and understand that marriage can be a beautiful thing. Our marriage could've been a beautiful thing. It didn't have to end. We could've been warriors together but instead, I am now my own kind of warrior. And because I do it alone, I will fight for our children and for myself so that we can make this hell work.

We will make it work without you. I just hope you can learn from your decisions and become stronger on your own too. I pray you learn to fight for the things you are passionate about instead of giving up when things get hard. I pray you learn that your children have broken hearts and they need a dad who will be there when they need a shoulder to cry on. I pray you learn that I loved you for you and I would've fought for you if you would've given me the chance.

I pray you can someday know that there IS a God and that He loves you. He loves you regardless of your actions. He loves you for you, unconditionally. I pray there is a day where you let Him into your life because I know how incredible you can be if you would just let Him love you.

I am angry and sad that things ended. I hate the permanence of your decisions but someday I am going to be a stronger Wendy. Someday I am going to believe in the person my God intended me to be.

I hope you can learn to do the same.

Sincerely,
Wendy

Small Things

Let's talk.

I am seeing a therapist tomorrow.

FOR REALS.

Three months ago, when my financial situation caused a sudden halt in my counseling services, I thought I could do it. I'm strong enough to handle this life and work through my grief and figure out my triggers, right?

I don't think I've ever given my therapists enough credit because I really thought I was doing most of it on my own anyway. I didn't think my therapists were helping enough. I was the one doing the work, right? I'm the one who has to live this life every single day and work through my thoughts and feelings.

But I was wrong. They were helping.

Yes, I do the work. But for some reason, my brain just isn't working properly---and that isn't even a joke.

Sunday was a hard day. I know, do I say that enough!?! Our church lesson was on eternal marriage and I cried---as in, I CRIED IN FRONT OF PEOPLE. If that isn't a sign that I am unstable, I don't know what is. I have just become emotionally hardened and it takes a lot for me to cry. Anyway, so I was crying and my heart was hurting because the lesson hit so close to so much of my pain.

I lost my forever. I couldn't change so many things about my story and most days, all I want to do is change my story. All I want is for my husband to love me for me, to not take me for granted, to not struggle with a nasty addiction that caused him to make some pretty horrible life decisions.

I want to change the fact that he tells people I am crazy and that I took everything he had. Because I didn't leave him. Everything he says is a lie! He portrays me in a way that makes me wonder if he ever could have loved me.

Anyway, therapist! Tomorrow! Pray for me that it goes well. I am seeing the counselor that I have trusted more of my story with than any other person on this earth. I am going back to see the counselor that I made myself stop seeing when my eating disorder was the worst it has ever been. I know that is hard for a lot of my friends to understand. But I feel like it's right for this time and I guess we'll find out tomorrow.

This rambling will have to stop for now because I am trying really hard to do small things in a great way and one of my goals has been to spend more time with my kids--and so far, success!

And little successes are the very things keeping me going. Those and the occasional flowers or visits from friends.

YOU GUYS ARE ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! Every comment on my blog and thoughtful text and message you've sent has been a great thing to keep me smiling on the hardest of hard days.

I love you, friends. I really, really do.

Sensitive

I know, this is a redundant picture. I've used it before.

Tonight, I really just want to forget everybody. I want to forget all of the hurt and the pain and the awkwardness and the crap that comes with being an overly sensitive person.

And when I say overly sensitive---I quite literally mean that. OVERLY.

It's stupid, actually. Being overly sensitive is a weakness of mine and my goodness gracious, I do not like feeling weak. So sensitivity is a sensitive subject for me (ha!).

I'm trying to fight the urge to get my feelings hurt and talk myself through some really tough situations that I'm faced with. This is a huge step for me since I usually shut down when I'm faced with tough situations.

Ok, to be honest, I'm kind of shutting down. Maybe a little bit. But not to the same degree that I used to.
Baby steps, friends, baby steps...
I'm just trying to be more rational and sometimes that means letting myself feel the hurt and the anger for a while and acknowledging that this is who I am. I am a sensitive person. My feelings get hurt when I feel like people don't want me in their life. My feelings get hurt when I feel like people want others in their life more than me. My feelings get hurt by some pretty insignificant things.

I'm sensitive. I'm trying to be ok with that. And when I'm not ok with that, I am just trying not to shut down.

But I get it now. I get why my fight with Ed has become so much harder again. I get how much my eating disorder relates to any pain I feel in my life. When I feel insignificant, I work hard to prove that I am not. When I feel like people will abandon me, I work hard to prove that I am good enough.

The problem is that "good enough = skinny enough" in my mind. And I know my friends don't care about that but Ed tells me they secretly care, that everyone secretly feels like I'm worthless and stupid and sensitive and obnoxious.

This week, the "obnoxious" is my biggest fear and I don't feel any sense of worth because I am loud and obnoxious and I want to be subdued and never make mistakes. I don't want to feel stupid for being me. I don't want to be a screw-up.

I really want things to not bother me so much. I want to be confident and love myself and be an amazing friend.

I'm just so effing angry with myself tonight. I tried to write an uplifting post on my regular blog and it all felt so fake and stupid and I couldn't do it. I couldn't lie and act like I was feeling inspired tonight---because tonight, I feel anything but inspired. I feel anything but incredible. I feel anything but brave.

Maybe I'll get over it tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll be trying really hard to forget my pain and pretend that I am strong and that things don't ever bother me.

Because that just seems like the only way to feel ok tonight.

PS: Pan moved back...so there's that. Maybe that's why I feel like shit. No, I don't think it is but it sure has been "FUN" seeing him a few extra times in the past few days. Yay...not.

PPS: I need counseling. I'm drowning and I need counseling. And the only counselor I want to see is my old counselor, which is weird since I struggled with that for a while. I just don't know anymore. I really just don't know what I want.

The Tornado

She shakes, anticipating the outcome. It is here. The tornado has arrived. Her legs quiver with each sign of lightning. The earth beneath her cracks and the sky is full of grey.

Life as she knows it is over. Everything she has trusted to keep her grounded is now uprooted. The steps she will take will determine parts of her outcome but it is not all up to her. Forces cause her to tremble, to fall, to move in directions she never planned on going.

She runs. She walks. She crawls if she has to. Determined not to let this hell engulf every part of her, she continues on her journey. She will make it. She has to make it.

The only other choice is to give up but she is a warrior.

Her army rallies around her. They can see that she is struggling to find a path around the tornado and she needs their help. And help, they will. They have been there before. They know what this tornado feels like and they know how to find a way. They provide her with flashlights, food, a first-aid kit, and water so she is prepared to make her journey.

She is never alone. Some days, she stands tall. Other days, she lays down on the ground. The tornado lasts longer than anything she has ever experienced. She wonders when it will end. She wonders how it will end.

Can her marriage survive? Will her children survive? Does her soul survive?

She braces for the storm and she prays. With everything she has, she prays that she is strong enough to handle the outcome.

Suddenly, the tornado has wrapped around her. She couldn't get past it, no matter how hard she tried. In the middle of the tornado, she remembers all of the hurtful things her husband has done and said, all of the insecurities she has about herself, and all of the ways she has failed as a mother. She falls to the ground and tries to come to grips with her ending. This must be how it ends. Nothing this painful can possibly be endured by one person.

But when she looks up, she finds her warrior sisters fighting to make their way to the middle of the tornado. They have come to be with her. They realize they cannot rescue her. They cannot pull her from the middle of the tornado. But they can wait with her until it is all over. They can make sure she isn't alone.

The storm finally ends. She is bleeding but not completely broken. Her arms are filled with cuts and bruises and her heart is still aching. Her sisters gather her in their arms and help to heal her. The process is slow. She doesn't fully believe she can ever be healed from the trauma of her tornado. But she lets them in anyway.

She trusts her warrior sisters, for they have been there when no one else would come. They have taken on her heartache and empathized with her pain. They have given her tools she couldn't find on her own.

She used to look at tornados and wonder how anyone was able to survive them but now she knows. She has done it. She has survived the very thing she thought was unsurvivable.

She will make it. There may be other storms that come her way but she will make it.

She is a warrior.

Tonight I Struggle

There is so much fear involved with an eating disorder. Recovery and addiction both involve fear. Neither seems 100% free of it.

I am calling out for help tonight through my blog that I'm sure 3 people read. I fear what my brain says tonight. I fear that I have cut almost all of the strings I had attached for safety.

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---did I mention church starts at 10:00am?

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.

But most of all, I remembered the night I broke. I had gone out to eat with my sister and although I needed to go to the grocery store before picking up my kids, I stopped at home to purge what I'd eaten because I had become so obsessed with my eating disorder that I couldn't handle letting food sit in my body. As I walked through the store that night, I could hardly stand up straight. I felt weaker than I'd ever felt before. I feared passing out and I prayed over and over that it wouldn't happen in public. I couldn't walk more than a few feet without needing to stop and talk myself through the moment so I'd stay coherent. I was scared. I was more scared than I ever remember being.

And in my moment of weakness, I hurt the heart of a friend. I panicked and became selfish because I was worried about my body functioning. I feared my own self and it was the biggest wake up call I'd had up until that point. In that moment, I was my own enemy.

I thought I had lost a friend that night and I thought I had lost myself. But instead my friend did things she shouldn't have had to do and she talked me through my hell and trusted that I would want to recover.

I lived through that experience and I'm grateful for that. I am grateful for friends and recovery and God. I am grateful for my second and third and fifteenth chances.

Tonight I need to be reminded of why I'm recovering. I need to be reminded that I don't want to be back there. I am much happier where I am right now. I share those experiences to show you why I'm fighting. Those are very painful and vulnerable experiences for me to share. When each of them happened, I swore I would never tell a single person. I was ashamed of who I was and the choices I was making. I was ashamed of the selfishness because that is not who I am.

I am not a selfish person. I love helping other people. I hate the person my eating disorder turns me into. I don't want to be her. That isn't the real Wendy.

But it is so hard to fight when I'm surrounded by people who care so much about appearance. It isn't their fault---it's just the world we live in. I find myself sucking my stomach in as far as I can handle it and pinching the fat under my arms and sticking my chin out, all in an effort to look a certain way so people will like me.

I wish I could trust that people like me no matter what. It's just scary to trust that when I struggle to like myself.

I am trying. Tomorrow is a new day and I'm going to try my damndest to be strong and fight the things ed tells me. I want to challenge them. I really do.

I promise I'll keep trying.

Wendy is Me

I think my favorite part about the above picture is that this picture of Wendy is me. It really is.

Maybe it's the naturally sandy brown hair. Maybe it's the pursed lips. But probably it's the headband across the forehead---because that is one of my favorite pieces of jewelry (?Is it jewelry?) to wear.

I'm holding on by a thousand threads---which is way better than one, amiright?

Some days, a few threads break off. Other days, a hundred of them are snapped. But the thing is, some days, I have learned to attach a few extras on for safety.

So when I feel like I'm going to drown, there is a lifeboat nearby.

Because of my eating disorder recovery and the helluva rollercoaster this all is for me, I am trying to build myself a few safety vests for the times I am low...which is now.

So although I no longer see a therapist {probably not the best idea} and I really crave buying a scale right now, I have also set up safety nets for when I am acting this way.

I have friends that I force myself to talk to when I really don't want to talk. I have written messages ALL OVER my mirror and the white board in my room that remind me who I am and why I'm fighting. I read old journals when I contemplate being "back there"---as in, back to the way things were 4 months ago in the worst of the worst of this.

Because control seems like something I want but what I really want is God to keep control. Even though I have a hard time trusting life and keeping my heart safe, I try really hard to believe that this is not the way things are going to be forever.

I have to believe that. It's what I have right now.

Control

Addiction is like a gaping wound that is hard to close.

I tried, dear friends. I promise I tried. I tried to keep my head afloat and sense when my body was feeling uneasy and question why it was happening. I tried to be ok with even the stagnant number on the scale--because stagnant is better than weight gain. I tried.

But it caught up to me. Ed's lies caught up to me.

I reached out (a very good choice for an addict) and was met with love, support, and suggestions---and every suggestion felt overwhelmingly heavy.

I bought groceries (another thing I don't do often when in addict mode) and tried to plan meals and take control.

But I still felt out of control. No matter what I do, I feel at least a little bit out of control.

Control issues, much?

As I was driving in the car the other day, a thought came to my mind. Wendy, just stop telling people about your struggles and you will continue to lose weight. Speaking out about your eating disorder is what has caused you not to lose any more weight. Speaking out has caused you to believe them over me---and who has shown you how to gain control and lose weight? I have.

It was Ed. I went back and forth with the idea to just stop telling people. I went a few days in complete addict mode. But today, I remembered how much I hate deceiving and lying and not being genuine. Addicts aren't genuine. They can't be. Everything is hidden and shameful.

Hiding is when I know I'm back in eating disorder hell again. Hiding was how this all started. I didn't tell people I was struggling on day one. I let it seep out slowly and the more it seeped out, the more I felt like I could fight this disorder.

So I'm trying to come back and I'm really scared. I am scared that this is my life and my fight. I don't like it.
I'm scared because I don't understand myself. Sometimes I am so extremely confident and it isn't an act. I can talk myself out of feeling self conscious in most situations. So why do I struggle with this particular addiction? I don't feel like I have a normal eating disorder---but really, what the hell is a normal eating disorder?! I kind of hate that they're all different because nobody can fully relate to me.

But then I remember Christ and the pain He suffered for me. Tonight, I'm going to hold really tight to that and remember His promises and sacrifices that were made specifically for me.

I don't know how I'll get through this---but I'm still hopeful that I can.

Addiction Won't Win

I've been happier lately---a real happiness that I didn't have to work as hard to find each morning. But it still isn't the lasting happiness I'm hoping for.
I went a week, a whole week, without acting on my eating disorder. It felt so huge. It felt so amazing. I've been a prisoner to the mind games of bulimia for over 8 months and I felt a little bit more free. But I also felt panicky the first few days. I also felt a lot of fear to step on a scale. I felt sadness when my clothes weren't as loose as they have been.

Since that week, I've slipped up every few days. But my goodness, when I look at where I was and where I am, one slip every few days is kind of amazing. That being said, I'm still so worried. My brain hasn't just started loving my body because I stopped throwing up. That part is still pretty prominent in my daily thoughts. I know I've gained weight and that makes me want to spiral.

Weight gain = not good enough. This is the thought I need to fix in my brain. If God can love me at any weight, why can't I love myself? And why can't I believe that someone else could love me?

I do see a brighter future ahead. I see it and I understand that it is possible. Fighting Ed is more possible than ever before and I can do this. I can love the body that is a part of me. I can love the wild, obnoxious, and often times hilarious personality within me. I can love the sensitive, compassionate, and caring side of me. There are so many pieces that make up me and I am going to learn to love each and every one of them.

Because I'm unique and I love that. I don't want to be a cookie cutter of someone else. I don't want to look or act like other people because I am not them. I want to be me and be ok with that.

My addiction will not win. I am a fighter and I'm strong enough to handle an eating disorder, an addict ex husband, two rambunctious kids, full time school, and 3 part time jobs---because I am STRONG!

I don't necessarily believe God gave me this life because He knew I could handle it. I think God gave me this life because He knew how much this life could teach me and make me a better me and He promised that He would never leave, even on the crappiest of days---wait, ESPECIALLY on the crappiest of days.

I'm going to continue to fight. It won't be perfect or pretty or the same as anyone else's fight but I can make it. I am going to make it.

Like A Boss

It has been an incredible week. An incredible week filled with good days and bad days---but every day has brought an experience I have learned from. Every day has taught me something about myself and brought a little bit of hope to my soul.
I had forgotten what believing in myself felt like.

Today I believe in myself. I believe I have worth. I look at dating and am determined not to settle. I believe I can bring something to the table in a relationship.

I'm not saying this will last forever or that I won't struggle. I'm not saying I love every inch of myself. I still struggle with my body image daily but today, I believe in my capabilities and I even believe a man could overlook my body imperfections if he truly sees the kind of person that I am.

I feel worthy of love today. The things I usually easily love about myself are back in plain view. I didn't have to search to find them this morning. They were just there.

My fear is that this won't last. My fear is that I still have spirals and hurdles to overcome.

But today I feel the possibility of healing. I do not want to be affected by divorce my entire life. I am a determined person. I will not let my past decide who I am supposed to be. I will fight my body image issues. I will fight pornography. I will fight for my friendships. I WILL FIGHT FOR MYSELF.

Because I am worth it.

I Choose NOT to Give Up

I stare at that quote a lot. I question it a lot. Because I often do feel like I give up on myself. When I listen to the lies of my eating disorder, isn't that giving up? It sure does feel like it.

The day Peter told me about his pornography addiction felt like a normal day. I didn't ever cry. I didn't really freak out. In fact, other than texting a few close friends to tell them about it, I did nothing. But the next day, I started getting chest pains every few hours. I'd be driving and I wouldn't even realize I was thinking about his addiction but all of a sudden, I'd feel short of breath and my chest would hurt. I was having small anxiety attacks multiple times a day but I brushed it off because, well, I do that!

A few days after that started, I began to convince myself that I am a hard person to love. I started pulling away from my faithful friends who have been there from day one and I started overly obsessing over my new friendships from The Togetherness Project. I told myself that only the Togetherness people could love this "new me" because they had all been where I was and on days when my new friends weren't available, I sunk really far into myself and was even more convinced that people have a hard time loving me. I didn't realize it consciously at first but I was pulling away from my two best friends and slowly shutting them out of my life.

I didn't realize how bad it had gotten until last week, when a third friend mentioned that my friends were feeling abandoned and hurt by me. I had done the very thing I was so afraid of people doing to me. My immediate reaction was panic and guilt. How could I have done this? I am a horrible friend. I was afraid of contacting them and in most situations, I would've just given up because I don't like any type of confrontation. I stewed over it for a day before realizing that the person in my head telling me I was a burden to my friends is a liar. I was choosing to listen to Satan and he wanted me to abandon the supportive people in my life.

So I broke free. I apologized. I cried. I did things that are hard for me to do because my friends are worth it.
My friends are worth it.
My friends were the shoulders I cried on the night Peter left me. My friends were the people who showed up when I was crying over how much I had started hating myself. My friends were the first people (besides a therapist) that I told about my eating disorder starting to consume me once again. My friends have taken my children countless times and cleaned my house and had me over for dinner and let me hang out when I was feeling lonely on weekends without my kids. My friends have been there through all of this. They never abandoned me.

Satan wanted me to worry about them abandoning me and so I started to abandon them slowly to detach from the pain I thought would be coming in the future.

Although I was feeling panic and guilt about this last week, my heart feels lighter today as I think about the apologetic conversations I have had with my friends over the weekend. I treated them poorly and they allowed me to come back. I made the wrong choices and they gave me the opportunity to start making it right.

My friends mean everything to me. My faithful friends and my new friends are some of the biggest blessings in my life and I am so grateful that I am surrounded by all of them. But I owe so much of my blessed experience to my two very best friends. I am so glad they love me. I am so glad they want to help me. Today, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to be friends with my friends.

I've learned from this experience that I am not going to give up on myself. If other people stick with me through some really stupid decisions, I feel like I can stick with myself too. This journey has been so hard and it will continue to be hard but I am not going to give up. Because "if it's worth doing, it's worth doing poorly."