Well, I made it thru another day.  I woke up this morning and did not feel like walking.  The weather was a little messy and so I took the moment to sleep in.  Probably wasn't my best choice but I did it anyway.  Again, another honest moment, but I am not very good at eating.  Yes, I am reminded daily that by not eating it is "self injury".  Today was no exception.  I never thought that I would have to deal with an eating disorder.  It's been honestly a rude awakening.  I lived with a bulimic most of my growing up and so I swore that we would never discuss weight in my home.  I have a house full of girls.  They are beautiful and that needs to be one less thing they need to worry about, so I have never owned a scale.  When I started dealing with my thyroid issues I went into my Dr and advised him that I thought that my metabolism had sped up because I could eat and then within 3 hours I would be shaky.  That is when I learned that I had my thyroid issue.  But, I didn't lose any weight with my thyroid issue.  So, then they diagnose me with hypoglycemia, low blood sugar.  OK, so I watch the sugar intake and I can totally avoid the shakes of low blood sugar.  I had some heart palpitations and so I went to the Dr, he checked my thyroid levels and then had me wear a heart monitor for 30 days to make sure that all was OK with my heart.  My thyroid numbers will always have to be on the hyper side to avoid the return of thyroid cancer and so when I found that all was good with my heart, I started really pushing the exercise.  I became hooked.  I love my walks (unless I get freaked out, and that really sucked, I am still fighting that fear!) but I can't believe the feeling that I get when I am out on my own.  Because of my exercise I have changed my pant size by 3 sizes.  But, on the other hand, if you look at my medical records, my weight has not changed in over 2 years.  It is true, ask my Dr.  So, to me, is it really an eating disorder?

My therapist advised me that I have even trained myself to not even think that I am hungry because I told him that it is very rare that my stomach growls.  He went on to some theory, but I got hung up on the fact it was "self injury".  I told him to consider it "fasting", he didn't buy that.  So, more confessions, I evidently "self injure" on a daily basis, if I skip a meal, or if I skip Sacrament, or if I pick at a scab it is considered self injury.  NICE! 

This morning, I didn't want to go for my walk, I didn't want to go to work, I didn't want to do anything.  I was even late for work, and guess what-I didn't care!  I was so much in my head this morning.  I get in my head a lot, pretty much daily.  I still struggle with the fact that I was not there for my little one on Friday.  I get frustrated with the fact that it was Dad that took her to the ER.  I should have been there for her.  It sucks that my role is reversed and I was left to provide for the family, when my husband was left to nurture.  Damn it, I wanted it to be me!  I have struggled for a long time with work and some of the things that I have missed out on.  I have worked close to home so I came home every 4 hours like clock work to breast feed my little ones.  When my last one was a year old my thyroid Dr became very irritated with me because my thyroid nodules were getting larger but I was still breastfeeding.  They don't do anything but wait and watch when someone is breastfeeding.  I knew she was my baby, but I was told that I needed to be done.  Again, I will never have that time back with my little ones.  I understood the risks and the Dr's were very good to allow me the time that I did have.  But, I was done.  I am so grateful that my little one still loves to snuggle.  She still loves the skin contact and will rub my arm until she is asleep.  My little one, even though she was a complete surprise to me and threw me a curve ball, she truly was a tender mercy from the Lord, and my life is blessed to have her.  I miss her every day when I work.  I can call her and she can always make me smile.  Realistically, my husband doesn't realize the blessing he has been given by being allowed to stay home and enjoy those moments with all of our little girls.  What I wouldn't give to just have one day. 

As I mentioned yesterday, General Conference is coming up and I would be lying if I didn't say I was nervous.  October conference was so hard for me.  I had just started into therapy, had the flashbacks and just started with EMDR.  Every talk I could find something that I wasn't doing right.  Every talk I could find something that I needed to do to be better.  I still struggle on a daily basis for feelings of worthiness and my own self worth.  I still struggle on a daily basis to know that the path I am going on is the right one for me.  And I still struggle every day with the perfection so as to not need to repent.  I know, we are supposed to repent on a daily basis, but when you work so hard to be perfect, then you fall short, and then don't feel worthy to approach your Heavenly Father, it is a very vicious cycle.  One thing they stress in therapy is to remind yourself that you are doing the best you can.  If I don't like the way I am living and this is my best, then that must suck for me.  My poor friend tried to reach out to me all day to get me out of my head and I isolated bad.  Her last note to me told me that she was not going to force me out of isolation.  WOW, I didn't even realize that is what I was doing. 

I'm sorry, but I am just going to rave for a minute.  I hate that I had to have these memories unfold.  I hate that I feel bad for my brother, I hate that I have compassion for my brother and for his family.  I hate that I cannot confront him.  I hate that his son reminds me so much of him that I have a hidden resentment towards him.  I hate that my parents excused his actions, even to the day that he died, and continue to excuse them.  I hate that my parents were so stressed with trying to deal with the challenges of my older siblings that the younger ones were pushed aside.  I hate that I can look at my life and see how much was formed from abuse.  I hate that it even happened, that I didn't stop it, that I accepted it as "normal" because it was "normal" for me.  I hate that when I couldn't stop it, that no one stopped it for me.  How could it have been acceptable for so long?  How, could no one have seen it?  Can I just ask, who was supposed to protect me?  If Heavenly Father couldn't take away my brother's agency, is this a punishment for not listening to the Holy Ghost?  Am I the only one the Holy Ghost tried to warn?  Did he warn my parents?  I remember my Dad telling me that he wrestled with Satan when my sister lost her virtue.  So, what when his own son took mine was there nothing? Last but not least, I hate that as I sit here and cry one more time, that the memories that I have recalled cause my whole body to ache.  That the memories are now out in the open and that I want to crawl inside myself every time I think of them.