Confession Time! ((ABSOLUTELY NO JUDGEMENT))

I am a hot mess. Throw darts at me and you will hit both literal and figurative scar tissue.

My dad didn't believe in things like hospitals and physical therapy for injuries, so by the time I got actual medical help I was:

(1) an adult,
(2) obese, on the edge of morbidly obese,
(3) malnourished (somehow),
(3) infertile,
(4) suicidally and perpetually depressed, and
(5) half-crippled from a triple-twist (plus neck hump, plus neck vertebrae aligned *backwards*, somehow) in my spinal column.

Fortunately, my mom recognized #4 for the ticking time bomb it was and got me a therapist as a teenager. But it was the last one that did me in. Otherwise I might have just kept going like I was going. I have no idea where I'd be now if that happened.

By the time I realized there was something terrible wrong with my spine, I'd already lost 2/3 of the weight I needed to lose by sheer effort of will and exercising until near-unconsciousness. (Don't do that, by the way. The therapist and I have had words over this and what does and doesn't constitute anorexia.) And by "realized there was something wrong with my spine," I mean, "in so much pain at 25 that I could only take distances 10 steps at a time before sitting down."

It's been four years since then. I've lost a lot of weight and I'm not obese anymore, or malnourished (turns out my childhood diet of meat, cheese and little else wasn't good for me--who knew?), or even infertile--I got into a good OBGYN and an orthopedist who messes with my hips now and then. When I was nine, my abdomen (stomach, uterus, cervix, ovaries) was one long interconnected line of scar tissue. (It hurt. All the time. Also, it bled out a lot.) My stomach got better once I started eating better; the scarring's getting better with hormones and exercises (and other, nastier treatments, but hey...results). The hump came out of my neck last week, and my neck's going the right way again, so I only have---er---three other curves to tackle. *sigh* I walk, but I can't run. I can do karate twice a week, though, so it's getting better. It just feels so damn slow.

I sometimes daydream about having parents who'd actually take their child with broken bones to the hospital and physical therapy and whatnot, but that was not my life. (I didn't realize it at the time, but mom was as bad off as I was--she broke her neck(!) and my dad didn't even take her in.) I'm glad I don't talk to my dad or his family anymore.

I have an incredibly long way to go. Days like today feel like a death march. But hey, here's me. Marching.

I took the kids to breastfeeding group so I could rant about Ellie still (at 8.5 months old) feeding every two hours in the night and refusing most food in the day. I am knackered! Nobody could give me any magical solutions but I feel better for venting, and realised it's pretty common too.

I just feel like I'm putting so much on hold until sleep is better and she can manage without me for a little bit. I've still not been anywhere on my own so no swimming or exercise classes can happen, and I've still not made real efforts to lose those last 15 pounds asI don't drink tea or coffee, chocolate is what gets me through. I'm not ready to give it up!!