Knocking on Hope’s Door
Andrea Ivory goes door to door to sign up uninsured women for FREE mammograms.
Eating disorder: my struggle to stay alive
Every Tuesday Mama shares a personal story.
This week’s story was written by Kristen
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My name is Kristen, I am 15 years old. If someone were to describe me they would probably say something like she’s nice, funny, and crazy. But people who know me better would not go with those words at all. Maybe that’s what I was two years ago, but now I’m far from those things.
I am suffering with an eating disorder. Over these two years that I have been struggling with this, they have been the most depressing, terrible years of my life. The problems started when I was in the 8th grade, that’s when I started puberty. I would notice things about myself and other girls that normally, I would have never paid attention to.
I was comparing myself to other girls and wishing that I could have what they had. But in 8th grade, I was so thin. I started to question that. I became obsessed with watching what girls around me would eat. I would go online and look up pictures of girls who were thin. I would hang out with my best friend and just admire the great things about her that she had that I didn’t. I would watch her eat, notice how much she would take-in and I would try to control what I ate but I would always out-eat her. But, what I couldn’t see, was that I just had a larger appetite.
As time went on, I would routinely be checking my calories. I didn’t even understand what was too much and what was good for me. I became obsessed with looking at myself in the mirror and criticizing myself and tearing myself apart. I began dieting, taking diet pills. Checking my weight many times a day. When I couldn’t lose the weight I started to become really down on myself thinking I couldn’t do anything right. I would hate myself for not being able to lose weight.
That’s when I started making myself throw up, not too much, but at least once a day. I didn’t lose weight, but it gave me a little bit of relief. At some point between the 8th and 9th grade, friends would tell me I was looking really thin. But, that was because I was thin to begin with and loosing three pounds was noticeable.
Towards the end of 9th grade, my best friend and I would start fighting a lot because she hated my boyfriend. I loved him, but this caused a lot of problems with me and her. This put so much stress on my shoulders and I stopped eating. Before summer me and my boyfriend went on a “break” and things were a little better, but things with my best friend were still not the same.
She went away in the summer to go to her beach house. I was alone at home and I started hanging out with different people, because I didn’t really have anyone to hang out with.
One day I was hanging out with one of my old friends, and she looked really thin, she told me that she was taking some new diet pills that had made her lose a lot of weight. I asked her what they were, she told me, and I went out and got them. They worked like magic. I swear I lost a pound every day. I was never hungry. It surprised me so much, because never have I ever been able to restrict food so much.
I went days without food and I felt amazing. I saw the change in my body and I loved it. I lost eight pounds and I thought it was pretty noticeable, but what really bothered me was that my mom didn’t say anything to me. She didn’t care, and she didn’t worry. That’s what I was working on, and I don’t know why, making my mom worry. For some reason I wanted her too. And when she did we began to clash. My mom was so worried, and so were all my friends and family members. I hated it, everyone would try and make me eat and I just wanted everyone to leave me alone. No one could control me, I didn’t eat and everyone knew I wouldn’t.
After about a week of my mom nagging me about eating, my family went on a vacation to New Jersey for a week. It was with my cousins, my family, and family friends. I was so excited, I thought it would be fun. It was a disaster. No one could be around me Everyone was mad at me. People were worried, and crying, hating me, and criticizing me. While in New Jersey, I fainted almost three times. I couldn’t move without everything in my vision going black. My body felt like it was heavy and dying.
When I came back from New Jersey, I immediately went to my best friend’s house, who was now home. One look at me and her eyes filled up with tears, she looked at me with surprise and fright. We sat on her couch and just talked and cried. She could feel my pain, and I could tell. But being with her made me feel comfortable.
We all decided to go out for dinner (me, her, her mom, and her sister) we got there and as I was about to order, I started crying. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t eat. I hadn’t noticed that I had got to the point that I was afraid to eat. I could not force myself to eat anything. I was scared, and I knew that I was in serious trouble.
I slept at her house that night and the next day my mom came over and told me she wanted to take me to the hospital. I laughed in her face and said no way. But, I went because everyone was insisting that I go. On the way there, I knew that this wasn’t going to be good. I knew even thought I denied it, I was not okay. We got to the hospital and they admitted me into the ER.
I had lost over twenty pounds and was less then 80 percent of my recommended body weight. I was 5′5 and I weighed 97 pounds. The doctors told me I almost died, that my pulse was so low that if I hadn’t come to the hospital that day I would have had heart failure.
I was on feeding tubes for three days untill I was moved to the rehab in the hospital. There I stayed for three weeks and I gained 6 pounds. I had to leave because my parents insurance wouldn’t pay for it anymore. I went home and the first meal I had in front of me I cried. I cried and cried for the next month.
School came and I thought people were going to think I was fat, but they didn’t. It’s been a month and a half since summer and I weight 103 pounds.
I go to therapy twice a week and to a nurse practitioner where they weigh me and check my heart and everything else. My eating disorder has almost destroyed me; it has almost killed me and I have lost almost all my friends. It is a battle everyday, but I still fight.
Fighting Lupus: My personal story
Every Tuesday Mama shares a personal story.
This week’s story was written by an Anonymous person
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I’m a 38 year old single mom with a 17 year old son. I was diagnosed with Lupus 15 years ago and have had it come and go in and out of remission.
About six years ago it came out with a vengeance. We have tried every known medication, treatment, chemo all to no avail. Now my only hope is that a stem cell transplant will work, or that God will come and heal me. I don’t feel that my work here is done and I have been unwilling to give up the fight. But it’s been hard.
I went from doing all kinds of volunteer work with kids every day and working two jobs for me and my son, to being pretty much sentenced to a chair. I have been unable to do much, especially in the past year. The fatigue and pain gets unbearable. I cry over stupid things and wish that this was one big nightmare. But it’s not, it’s real and it doesn’t want to let go.
It’s hard on my family, especially my mom, to see me this way and I fight for all of them. But, what I do now isn’t living, especially when I used to be so active.
I pray all the time and I don’t understand why my prayers haven’t been answered. At first I said, I’ll go through this if it means one person could be helped. I still mean this, but with each passing day it gets harder to say that.
No one in my family has Lupus and I thank God for that every day. I would gladly take the pain for any of them. I spent most of 07 and 08 in the hospital. I was Lifeflighted eight times that year and they nearly lost me twice.
There are no support groups, not that I could get out anyway’s, in my area. I happen to stumbled up on this web site. If I can say one thing is that you can’t give up. You have to find that one thing in life that means everything to you and fight for it. Someday, someway, they will find the right answers to Lupus, and I hope I’m around to see and receive them.
- Anonymous
Tuesday Story: It took 8 years
Every Tuesday Mama shares a personal story.
This week’s story was written by an Anonymous person
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Gymnastics was my life since I was a kid. I did the sport for over 15 years on top of volleyball, track, and cross country. I even went on to coaching gymnastics in my later years.
Ever since I can remember, I always thought that I was fat. Probably since the age of 6, right before my closest sibling died.
I also thought I was ugly, since I was not the standard blond hair, blue eyed girl, like all of my class mates. I even had a really unique name which made me feel even more out of place.
Probably, the main reason I felt I was so different is because I started to develop before all of the other girls. Don’t get me wrong, I was still a skinny kid but with big boobs.
I began starving myself in the fourth grade. It got so bad I wouldn’t eat for weeks at a time and I would continue to go to gymnastics practice as usual. If I did eat it would only be half of an apple wedge or 2 gummy bears. I remember fainting regularly or getting really shaky and dizzy but my parents never seemed to notice. If I couldn’t hide not eating, I would throw up. Then that became too easy.
It started to feel too good. I could work out in gymnastics every day, then go and eat as much as I wanted, then just puke it all up. This lead to many other bad decisions such as horrible boyfriends and extreme drug using. I eventually got hooked onto crystal meth for about three years and I still thought that I was fat! About 90 pounds later I decided that I was done with it all. I quit the drugs, quit the eating disorder, and just tried to live a normal life.
That took me about 8 years to settle down and become normal again. I am now at a regular weight, even though I feel like a heifer, I would rather be thicker than on drugs, having an eating disorders, or even worse dead! I am now 130 pounds and I am eating healthy again. I have started on a regular work out schedule.
- Anonymous
Permission Granted
Every Tuesday Mama shares a personal story.
This week’s story was written by an Anonymous person
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live life out loud
unless you’re just shy
and even if you are just shy
find a way to live out loud
like
pissing your name in the snow
or
driving topless
on a road trip with your nips to the wind
because life is good that way
and people will assume and judge
because we are all imperfect
and imperfect and good
go together
like on dates and stuff
and they hook up
and do wild things
and regret is always there
like a somber judge
listen intently
then go back to being
imperfect and good
and hook up and booze
and fall in love and get up
live out loud
and let those
that assume and judge
do their thing
unless you are a politician
or a corporate muckety muck
or you have to tap dance
in bathroom stalls for sex
write with your
imperfect hand
paint with
your crooked teeth
or sing
you one note wonder!
dance without ever
stepping on
the beat
blog your wonderful
sorry life
just because you can
and when you do this
you will notice
even more imperfection
and that some of us
are butt-holes
and greedy
and maybe this is the part
that I am
describing you
and when you honestly
write, sing, dance,
paint,
you will notice
even more goodness
and imperfection
and that people care
about you
and it is your job
to be imperfect and good
and to love
even the butt-holes and
greedy people
and some folk
have made this exceptionally
challenging
So permission granted
to live out loud
even though
we think no one
will get us
or love us
like we are
imperfect
and good
- Anonymous
I Was Shocked!
Every Tuesday Mama shares a personal story.
This week’s story was written by an Anonymous person
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I just knew that I had everything going for me, my life was complete, and we were happy. Then all of a sudden my dreams were shattered. Once my boyfriend had taken my virginity, I found myself homeless, scared, alone, and on top of everything else PREGNANT!
I had to beat all of the odds alone, sacrificed, and struggled to make ends meet. Once my daughter was born in May of 2002, I was rushed back to the hospital Labor Day weekend with a temperature of 104.0 I was placed on a cooling blanket, with I.V’s. I was very sick and weak, not to mention terrified.
Only then to find out I had Genital Herpes. I was shocked. It took a toll on me and has changed my aspects on life, and my surroundings. I find myself wondering daily if people can notice, and are they judging me by my disease? I have learned to have faith and cope with my circumstance.
Though, I get depressed at times and often feel guilty because my daughter was also born with herpes. Life isn’t easy. I feel as if I’ve disappointed everyone, and my family. I ask myself, “Why am I such a failure?” My daughter is now 6 years old and is in the 1st grade, with a learning disability. I wonder if it may be from her antibiotics, and or because of the fact she was born with this disease.
I am a single mother facing trials everyday, but at the same time I am also learning. Trusting others isn’t an easy thing for me, and I don’t socialize very often as I would like to do, for the fear that I am being criticized, and a lot of people can be extremely judgmental. I’ve gained trust, and confidence in one person, whom we have become the best of friends, she knows all about my daughter’s and my situation, for that she shall never judge us, or turn her back on us. We are very grateful to consider her our best friend!
I’m hoping that my story will touch most readers, and to understand that when your teachers, and parents are telling you to use safe sex, PLEASE do so, because it could truly change your outlook and your life!
- Anonymous
Personal Story: Don’t Bother Me, I Can’t Cope
“I have had a great deal of hurt in the theater both as a Negro and as a woman, but I don’t get immobilized by it,” she [Vinette Carol] said an interview with The Los Angeles Times in 1967. “I tell myself that no one individual is going to make it impossible for me.”
The title is from a 1970’s Tony Award winning play. I chose it because often times I feel just like that, snapping at the world to ‘get back’ because I can’t cope. That feeling of immobilization, the fight/flight/freeze reaction is fully formed at birth. Yes, we are wired to feel before we able to think and reason. The ability to think and reason isn’t fully formed until around age eleven.
As children, we learn how to cope, how to deal with this fight/flight/freeze reaction from our parents or the adults around us.
Growing up, it often felt as though my feelings would overwhelm me. My Southern-born parents were reserved. Let me put it this way, there were things that happened that should have been talked about and never were.
Food became a coping mechanism for me, it didn’t matter whether I was happy or sad (read: good or bad stress), food was the answer. I was literally swallowing my feelings instead of sharing them. It didn’t take long for that to take a toll on my health.
At a very young age I was diagnosed with hypertension and diabetes. During a doctor’s visit, he simply looked at me and shook his head and said, “You’re not going to live very long if you keep going this route.”
To be continued.
- Aunt B
Low Self-Esteem and my battle to overcome it
I’ve always had low self-esteem, but I never realized how bad it truly was until I developed anorexia the start of my freshman year in High School.
I had no clue why I was doing this to myself. I started skipping lunch in school because I just wanted to lose ten pounds. But that wasn’t good enough. I weighed myself 3 or 4 times a day. I would exercise in my room constantly. I would feel bad even if I ate just one piece of fruit.
Eventually, I become so concerned with my weight, I wouldn’t chew gum or drink water. I was always comparing myself with my friends’ bodies. I hated myself. I never went out with my friends anymore because, I was afraid we would go out to eat or something, and I could not bare that idea.
One day my mother decided to take me into the bathroom and weigh me. I went from weighing 140 pounds to 103 pounds in three months. I am 5′5″ so I was never overweight. My mother broke down.
My parents tried to get me to go and see a doctor. They arranged for me to have a complete physical, but really it was more than that. It was for them to talk to me and try and make me understand that I had a eating disorder.
I still couldn’t see it no matter what people were telling me. My parents would fight with me every night about it. They didn’t understand me anymore. I was restless, I was always so tired but could never sleep. Finally I had to see a counselor and doctor.
Over the course of a year, I have become the stronger person even before my anorexia. Seeking help made all the difference and I am truly happy now.
- Anonymous
