Out of control

This is a story that is hard to tell, but I really feel it needs telling. It is the story of how little L saved me (literally), and how I still struggle.

I was always the fat kid growing up... not just pudgy, FAT. Like 200lbs by the time I was 10 years old fat. I was the kid you see on talk shows and ask, "How could their parents do that to them?" Unfortunately, both my parents are gone, so that is a conversation we were never able to have.

Then middle school happened, and 12 year old girls are vicious. I stopped eating. Made since at the time. I was getting skinny! Lost 50lbs in 6months, and could actually shop in normal stores. Other kids actually started talking to me! Oh joy! I also started having dizzy/black out spells and not able to focus/function. My mom finally started to notice something was not right. But I could not give up my new found skinni(ish)ness. At the time my life felt like it was spiraling out of control, this is the one thing that was MINE. I chose what I was or was not going to eat, how hard I was going to work out, and I would rather die than go back to being the old "fat" me. So I thought. Looking back now, I want to smack that girl. 12/13year olds are so completely irrational, its frightening.

When my mom started paying attention is when I started to get really sneaky. Instead of not eat, I would eat then make my self throw up. At the time I had no idea there were clinical words for what I was doing. Anorexia and Bulimia were not in my vocabulary. I was doing what I had to do to keep my control. Only, I was losing it... bad. I will not bore you with the hell the next 10ish years brought, but it was not pretty. The eating disorders drug me into a depression, and the harder I fought to maintain control the farther out of it I got.

In 2010 I had had enough. I started searching and found an out patient treatment program to start my path to healing. About half way through the program it became cost and scheduling prohibitive. It was not easy to give up that safe environment, but it was a start. For the next year I bounced between good and bad times, and then I became pregnant. Oh the emotions that brought on. The further along and bigger I got, the more out of control I felt. It was probably one of the scariest times of my life. Morning sickness made me feel guilty because I would wonder if it was real or a subconscious relapse, cravings and the intense huger drove me crazy... then, when I really started feeling those first few kicks, something clicked. My body was creating life. My actions and choices would effect this little life forever. How could I hate something so wonderful, and how could I actively choose to hurt someone I already loved so much? Control over my thoughts and behaviors became more important that control over a number on the scale. And I started to hate myself a little less.

I am not going to lie, pregnancy was one of the hardest times for me emotionally. I did not really understand how messed up my mind was about food and fitness until something took greater priority. I would not allow my doctor to discuss weight with me or tell me how much I gained because I was so afraid it would trigger something inside me. I am ashamed to admit I fell so deep into an illness.

Now, with baby number 2, I find myself still struggling. I am so disappointed in myself. I though I had come to a place of peace with my body. I created life, I nourished a baby (still am, 18 months later), my body is freaking AMAZING thank you... stretch marks and all. Except its getting bigger... and I look in the mirror and still hear that voice, the one that says you are fat and ugly, and every other pregnant girl in the world looks cute while I just look like a fat bloated mess. Yes, my voice even tells me I can't do fat right.

While the behaviors are easier to control and the voice is a little dimmer this time around, it still makes me sad to know its there. I managed to lose all my baby weight plus 20lbs within a year of giving birth to "L". I did not crash diet or do anything extreme, just nursed, watched what I ate, and did light exercise. It was probably the healthiest I have ever been, or so I thought.

I will not go back into that dark place I once was, and I owe little L so much for helping me gain a new respect for myself and all my imperfections. I guess that is why it is so disappointing that these issues, at least the emotional part, are still lurking in the back of my head.

What is the hardest part about pregnancy for you? How did you overcome your struggles?