The Struggle

Anorexia Nervosa 

noun, Psychiatry.

1.

an eating disorder primarily affecting adolescent girls and young women, characterized by pathological fear of becoming fat, distorted body image, excessive dieting, and emaciation.

It's about to get real here, so if the thought of that scares you, you know the way out. 

When I was in junior high I was overweight and it continued into my high school and college years. In junior high I was the quiet, teacher's pet-bookworm who loved school and checked out books three at a time at the library and did countless numbers of service projects to keep myself busy and tried to be friends with everyone. That didn't always work out... Not only was I picked on and teased by my classmates, but I was picked on, teased, and abused mercilessly by my father about how I looked. I looked around at all of my tiny friends who loved to go shopping and share each other's clothes and eat whatever they wanted because they never seemed to gain any weight. After all of the teasing and the hurt, I looked in the mirror, and at over 185 pounds, I was ashamed and resolved that I would do something about so I could look like everyone else. To blend in. After dieting and walking and exercising with no success, I turned to something that changed my life. And not for the better. 

The first time I attempted my foray into anorexia I was caught by one of my best friends and she gave me a lecture/pep talk the likes of which no one has ever heard and it scared me into eating again. Even though I was afraid and ashamed every time food passed my lips. 

Throughout the years my weight fluctuated. I lost 20 pounds in high school my sophomore year and managed to keep most of it off. But then college came and the fear of being fat grew. In a heartbreaking twist, I noticed that the more weight I lost, the more men paid me "positive attention". Because of my father and other circumstances at school, I didn't have any idea of what positive attention from men *was*, but because I was so so desperate for approval from at least one man in my life, I kept at it. And I kept at it. And I kept at it. I was around 150 pounds-ish my last semester of my senior year of college. 

Fast forward to the summer of 2013, just after I finished my student teaching in Riverton, Utah. Just before I left Riverton, I made a plea to my Bishop to help me with my anorexia. I was beginning to get scared at how much weight I was losing. He dismissed it as only a coping mechanism for my stress as a flighty girl (he didn't actually say "flighty girl", but he might as well have) and I left his office and didn't give it another thought, though I was furious with my Bishop for how he treated me. 

 After I finished my student-teaching, I moved to Provo, Utah because it sounded like a good idea. And it was. There I made some of the best friends I'll ever have, but it was also there that my anorexia would again rear its ugly, emaciated head. Once I started working, I was eating around 700 calories a day. Sometimes a little more, sometimes a little less, but despite that I was ruthless and organized and careful about my calorie counting. Nobody could know. No one noticed because at parties and get-togethers they already knew I was intolerant to just about everything and they didn't give it a second thought as to why I wasn't eating. 

A mere three months later I was offered a teaching position in Phoenix, Arizona and I took it. It was one of the best and worst decisions I've ever made. In Arizona, my stress level sky-rocketed and most of my money went to rent; a perfect breeding ground for my anorexia. It all went down-hill fast when I went through a hideous break-up with my boyfriend who was still living in Provo; it was the straw that broke the camel's back and I became even more determined to stick to my twisted sense of nutrition. 

It was only when I was skyping with one of my best friends from college that I realized that something was hideously wrong. After chatting for a good long while, my friend paused and she said, "Stephanie...you're losing a lot of weight..." and I responded with, "I know!!! Isn't it great?!" I swooned over my teeny-tiny clothes as I showed them off to my friend and the light-bulb didn't flicker on until days later when I was looking at myself in the bathroom and I saw the deep, dark circles underneath my eyes and my prominent cheekbones. Something was wrong. A month or two later, I was on a plane home so I could convalesce in my mother's care with my, at the time, debilitating chronic migraines. I was around 130 pounds when I arrived home. 

Below is a picture of me at the end of my Freshman year of college:

And below here is a picture of me just before I came home from Arizona:

It's a big difference, isn't it? I gained back some much needed weight (Around 40lbs) during the end of 2013-2014, but now, the anorexia monster is rearing its ugly head again. It is something that I'm dealing with, but there are things that I am asking you not to do because it could, in fact, make me worse. http://eatingdisorders.about.com/od/family_and_friends/a/What-Not-To-Say-To-Someone-With-Anorexia-Or-Bulimia.htm

I'll keep this blog updated on my continuing journey, but just know that right now, the right people are aware and that this is being handled. It is a tumultuous time in my life while I try to handle my diseases and figure out just what exactly I'm supposed to do with my future and I'm often a stressed out crazy-mess of a person, but also know that I love you and I will do what I can to help you with whatever you need too. It helps to have people to serve. Love you. 

"Something has changed within me

Something is not the same

I'm through with playing by the rules

Of someone else's game

Too late for second-guessing

Too late to go back to sleep

It's time to trust my instincts

Close my eyes and leap!"

p.s. And please, for the love of Pete, don't mention the anorexia to me in person or force me to talk about it. That just makes everyone feel 

aca-awkward. 

Part One: A Letter to Lost Love

Lost Love,

 I need to make peace with you. You have not been kind to me.

First, I did something that I never thought I would do, never thought I would be capable of. I fell in love with an abusive man. Someone, who slowly, but surely began to cut me off from my friends and family. Someone who made me feel that I was only worth what my body looked like. Someone who was so physically forceful, he bruised me. Someone who made me afraid to say no. He never hit me, but there are other ways for bruises to show.

And then, I thought that after all I had been through, I finally caught a break . I met a wonderful man. A man who started to make me forget all the Hell I had been through. We decided to get married. A date for an August marriage was set. We prayed. We made plans. The official engagement ring was ordered, the temple was booked, I bought a dress, travel arrangements were made; everything was falling into place. And still, when I thought nothing could go wrong, it was all pulled out from underneath me. Two days after meeting the family, he left. Almost without an explanation. And I was broken.

And, a few months later, just when I had put myself back together, I got into a relationship that was perhaps the most damaging. One that you know very well. I loved you and you loved me. It was that simple. We had everything in common and we fit together like a hand and a glove. We were the couple everyone wanted to be. You put me back together. We were head over heels for each other and even though we knew that your internship in just over a month would force us to make some very difficult decisions, we weren't worried. We were happy. Ready and happy for whatever the future saw fit to bring us because we knew that after all we had both been through, our love for each other would keep us strong. Keep us together. If only. If...only. A week after meeting your family, you too, also left.  What you did tore me up one side and down the other. I had to be watched; babysat, for lack of a better word, so that I wouldn't hurt myself. After all that I'd been through before you, what you did triggered a mental and emotional breakdown. What you did was the straw that broke the camel's back; my poor heart, soul, and spirit were nearly broken irrevocably. You left everything so hideously open ended that to this day I am still struggling to find closure.Which brings me to this next point.

I need to move on. I need to put myself back together. As hard as it is, I need to leave you behind. I need to leave behind the dump of toxic, hazardous waste that you have made me become. As much as I still love you, as much as I still ache for you in places that I didn't know existed, I can't keep doing this to myself. As much as I know how much you loved me, I need to find someone who will love me enough to stay. I need someone who will follow through on the plans they make with me. Someone who won't tell me how much they still love me, and still leave anyway.

I love you. I wish you the best.

Goodbye,

Stephanie

Diagnosis

I have been thinking about writing this post for the past couple of weeks and I have wondered time and time again where to begin. Many (most) of you know that for the past three years, I have struggled with crippling chronic migraines. You know that since being diagnosed with chronic migraines, my family and I have tried everything that was within our power to get me well and despite our best efforts, my health continued to decline. In the past three years I have been to two neurologists, an infectious disease specialist, a chiropractor, a massage therapist, a naturopath, an acupuncturist, a foot-zone specialist; I have had a lumbar puncture, at least six MRI's, several blood tests and blood panels done, several excruciatingly painful sessions of nerve-blocking shots, had Botox, tried literally every migraine pill on the market and even some medications discovered through medical studies that weren't used to treat migraines, just to see if they would make a difference. To the astonishment of my current neurologist, none of these solutions worked. Under his care, I have recently felt like a completely mute guinea pig. It felt like he kept throwing out random medications just to appease me. It felt like he wasn't hearing me and I was beginning to think that he didn't believe or care anymore how much pain I was in. I was beginning to lose hope. After my latest neurology appointment and not surprisingly getting anywhere, my mum and I decided that it was finally time to go search for answers elsewhere. So armed with three years of medical records and research, we did just that. And that was when my life began to change.

My new doctor, funnily enough, is at a regular, old family clinic that just opened up just around the corner from my mum's work. She had a particularly good experience with him when she, herself, was sick and then again with my baby sister. Overcome with pain and exhaustion, and with a highly cynical attitude, I accompanied my mum to my first appointment.  I was surprised to experience actually being listened to by my doctor. He was overcome with concern and was outraged that I had been through so much and been treated so poorly and carelessly by my other doctors. From that moment he sprang into action and within just two appointments, that's right, two appointments, my family and I got the answers that we'd been searching for for three years.

I have been officially diagnosed with Fibromyalgia (this has been a big contributor to my severe migraines), Hypothyroidism, a heterozygous, genetic mutation that makes it impossible for my body to absorb vitamin B, and a couple of severe vitamin deficiencies. Needless to say that when I received this news, I became instantly overwhelmed. Overwhelmed that there were so many things that were making me sick. Overwhelmed that three of these sickness have no cure and I will have to deal with the rest of my life. And overwhelmed that my mother and I had suggested two of these diseases to my neurologist last year and just barely a few months ago and he dismissed them because they weren't strictly neurological. He even went so far as to call the heterozygous, genetic mutation fake and hyped up; that the doctor whose specialty this mutation is, was trying to take advantage of gullible people.

But do you know what's great in spite of all of these intimidating and overwhelming things I've been diagnosed with? Now I have answers. Now I know that this pain I've been feeling for almost three solid years is not in my head. Now, I can begin to take the first steps on the road to recovery and the first steps to managing my diseases.

This is only the beginning to what I am sure will be an excellent uphill climb towards better times and happier things. For the first time in three years, I can breathe easy knowing that I am finally learning how to take care of myself in the right way. And I no longer have to be afraid of the future. I can now go into it with open arms, armed with new and priceless knowledge to be the best version of myself I can be.

P.S.
Last week I didn't have a migraine for  five straight days. That is an incredible something that has not happened since before I was diagnosed with chronic migraines three years ago. Things are looking up!

When Life Ceases To Make Sense

When life ceases to make sense, what is it that you do with yourself? How do you cope? How do you continue to survive when everything you ever imagined or wanted for yourself has turned upside down and inside out? The answer? I wish I knew.

It is a curious sensation to try and re-imagine,reinvent, and create new dreams for yourself after such an event and epiphany occurs. Everything is so confused and bizarre anyway that you can't make heads or tails of it. You don't know or have any clue about how you're going to do this, you just know that it has to be done, no matter what. It eats away at you like a perverse, ticking time bomb until you finally make one step towards reinvention.

Eventually, slowly, very slowly, you start to make some headway. So, you're not getting married in the temple to the love of your life? FABULOUS! Work on receiving your endowments instead. You don't need a man to receive some of the blessings of the temple. You're not able to use your education degree in the traditional way because of a chronic illness? FANTASTIC. Tutor or teach private lessons! You can still make an impact and change a child's life working with them one on one. Men keep using you like a laboratory-trapped guinea pig over and over again? PHENOMENAL! Forget the dirt-bags, work and focus on yourself, became Lady Gaga fabulous, and make them rue the day that they dragged you through the dirt and let you go.

I haven't got everything figured out yet, and I don't know if I ever will. But the point is that I'm trying, despite the horrifically sh***y hand that I've been dealt.  I won't give up yet, though. It's not my time.

The Book of Love

                True love. What does that mean? To you? To your family and friends? To the world? To be quite honest, I truly think and believe that it means something different to every individual who is lucky enough to encounter it. I also think that if you’re very blessed and fortunate, you can experience it more than once. The idea of soul-mates is a lovely one, but not something I really believe in. I know (from experience), that there are at least a handful of “right” people out there that you could build your life with. Each experience would be different, but you would be just as happy with one as you would with one of the others. And if by some chance, your relationship with one of these people doesn't work out, if it crashes and burns, does not mean by any stretch of the imagination, that it wasn't true and right and wonderful and what you were supposed to be doing at that point in time. We need to remember that each person has their free agency; that that particular fact is what makes true love so beautiful in the first place.

                Roughly three months ago, at the beginning of March, I met a man I was supposed to marry. We were happy and blessed, and in complete awe that we had found each other under such strange circumstances. Despite the challenges we faced and the opposition we received, especially from our family, we made it through because we knew what we were doing was the right thing; that we would continue to be blessed for our faithfulness. We loved each other and we were excited to get married and start our new lives with one another. We threw ourselves into frenzied wedding preparations; I bought my wedding gown and made arrangements for alterations and called the temple and scheduled our sealing, he made a budget, paid bills, and started looking at options for our honeymoon and for our apartment. We shared our dreams, hopes, and fears with one another and kept moving forward towards August.

                But, just a mere two days after he met my entire family at Easter dinner, he came to my door ashen faced and told me that it was over. Midst the shock, pain, and disbelief, I felt anger, sadness, and disappointment. I was hurt. I was frustrated. And more than anything I wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled; until I could knock some sense into him and rid him of the lies and deceit that Satan had filled him with through friends and family. I knew deep in my heart and soul that we were supposed to get married; that we were right for each other. I couldn't believe that he had let his thoughts get so warped that he would forget not only the answers that he got, but the answers I got, and the ones that we got together. I couldn't believe that he had forgotten the significance and importance of all the blessings we had received since making the decision to get married.

                It wasn't until weeks later that I realized that his decisions and actions didn't change the fact that our marriage was right. His actions didn't suddenly nullify our answers and make our decisions together meaningless, our time together worthless. If we had gotten married, it still would have been the right thing to do and we would have been happy, of that I am certain. He had his agency. And I had mine. I guess what I’m trying to say is, is that this man was just one of my right options that Heavenly Father has in store for me. Just because it didn't work out with this particular man, doesn't mean that it won’t work with another of Heavenly Father’s choices.

                Love is multi-faceted. Each experience that each person in the world has is different. No two love stories are alike. These facts are what make love so beautiful, individual, and incredible. As a daughter or son of God, we have endless potential and because of that, our lives have endless possibilities just waiting for us to reach out and take them.

                 Just because this version of a Happily Ever After didn't work for me, doesn't mean that I won’t still get one. I am not bitter because of my broken engagement and cancelled wedding, on the contrary, I am grateful and hopeful. I am grateful and hopeful because I got to experience true love and when it comes along next time, I will be able to recognize it and appreciate it and value it that much more a second time around. I know that it is possible. It is not a dream. It’s real and it’s out there.

                I beg of you to be open to all of the possibilities that life has to offer you, most especially when it comes to love and making decisions that will affect the rest of your life. Even if the possibility seems so incredible and ridiculous, such as encountering someone you haven’t been with in a couple of years, reach out and take it. You take that possibility and you run with it, knowing that God will have your back the entire way; having faith that you can love again because you did it once before.


*Disclaimer:
There is more behind what happened between he and I on that day, and there are other reasons he had for doing what he did, but I felt that it was only necessary to share enough information to give you an idea of what happened. 

A "Thank You" Letter to Demi Lovato

Dear Demi,

I know that's a long shot that you'll get this, but I just wanted to thank you.

Last year I worked in an inner-city school in Phoenix. I taught 8th grade English.Most of the kids came from low socioeconomic backgrounds, single-parent families, we had lots of kids in foster care, we had two group homes within our boundaries; many children were depressed with suicidal tendencies and many of them had come from an abusive home or situation and a fair few had family members that were in gangs. More often than not, I was the only adult in their life who cared whether they lived or died.

I was more than a little overwhelmed when I started teaching, but then I realized what a difference I had the potential to make, largely due to the fact that they were exactly where I was when I was their age. More than anything, more than teaching them English, I wanted to inspire them. I wanted to get them to believe in themselves, get them to understand that they didn't have to listen to the people who told them "NO" or "You're not good enough."; that they had the right and power to do whatever they wanted, that they were capable of anything they set their minds to. Your music, your story of overcoming your eating disorder and your addictions, was/is such an inspiration to them. Being able to listen to your music during their school day in my classroom was their little ray of hope and sunshine that got them through the day.

I have since had to quit and move away from Arizona due to some serious health problems, but I just wanted to tell you this: A large number of my old students just recently went to one of your concerts and they were inspired and awe-struck. You made them feel special and even if just for a little moment, they believed in themselves because of you.

SO, what I really just wanted to say was "thank you". Thank you for taking care of "my kids" and inspiring them and believing in them when I don't have the ability to help them anymore. Thank you.

Sincerely and with greatest thanks,

Stephanie Ann McMurtrey

A New Year, A Fresh Start

Earlier this year when I was really struggling with my eating disorder and severe depression, I hit a very low point, albeit a unique one for someone who struggles with anorexia and depression. After an encounter with a very dear friend via skype who mentioned in passing that it looked like I had lost a lot of weight, I stared at myself in the mirror and was shocked at what I saw after really looking at myself. I had circles so dark underneath my eyes that it looked like someone had punched me in the face, my cheekbones jutted out, my clothes hung loose on me, and for once, I was afraid of what I was doing to myself and how it was affecting me. I called my mother and I cried; asking her over and over again. “What do I do?”

Shortly after this confession, I moved home due to some other serious health concerns and I started the long, hard road to recovery, self acceptance, and ultimately, forgiveness. This has not been an easy road for me to traverse; stuck at home and unable to drive or work due to crippling chronic migraines, I have struggled to find my purpose because it seemed as though everything I was and everything I had worked for was being ripped out from underneath me. I was clinging as if my life depended on it to the things that were no longer relevant to my journey and it was slowly killing me; mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. God had a beautiful, new plan for me, but I was shamefully ignoring Him and almost cursing Him as I tried by myself to heal my broken heart from the Hell I had been through and was still going through. And then through sheer divine intervention, the courage to act, and the desire to change, one day, I looked up and extended my hand to Him and slowly began to trust again.

 Much has changed since I moved home and most of it for the best. I am slowly, but surely learning to love myself for who I am; for how God made me. I am His daughter and God does not make mistakes. More often than not, I have never really understood why God wanted me to do something, but I did it anyway, knowing that He knows best and sees the whole picture of my life when I can only see what’s in front of me. Since I moved home, since following His plan for me, I have been blessed beyond my imaginings. Things are still extremely difficult, but my blessings make it easier to deal. God has given me beautiful, compassionate friends who have cradled and held me in my darkest moments and celebrated with me my small triumphs (like being able to take a walk or finally being able to eat three meals a day) and God has given me some of my strength back so that I am able to do a little more each day and even nanny once or twice a week. He has given me so much, and even though it’s been hard, and even though I've wanted to give up multiple times, He gives me the strength to keep on going.

No matter what, God and Christ always know what’s best for us. Even when we struggle, rage, scream, and beat against their guidance, they patiently wait beside us, holding our hearts and hands until we are quiet enough to hear Them.

Take what you've learned and been through this past year, the good and the bad, and go forward with faith. Move forward with love in your heart and the hope and excitement of good things to come. God loves you.

Happy New Year!