Most of you know that I have suffered from chronic and severe anorexia for two a half years.
I haven’t gone to the gym, lifted weights, except for push-ups, sit-ups, and my stretch band exercises.
I have cared about being small on my lanky build at 68 inches and at my heaviest in two and a half years at 103 pounds.
Most of you know I sustained a major fall this summer and have had one knee surgery, need my foot broken in two place and held together by pins, need my thumb fused, and lastly a major realignment of my leg all to come.
Today I got my cast off my hand and I was put into a custom brace that allows me to grip to some degree. I decided after falling upon a person I used to be close to, who had a similar body as mine, but for over two years has been a gym rat, and is built like a man and competing in competitions that I should get at least my upper body ripped with no intention of looking like my old acquaintance.
For a lot of you, you are not aware I was a full scholarship division 1 basketball player whose body has also been a machine and a temple to me. ‘
I decided today to start working out at the gym, to get some shred in my arms, chest, back, and abs. I am not fat skinny as a lot of really skinny people are. I am just frail and yes today I admit through tears of remorse and regret: fragile.
I decided I would do what I always did for a workout and on day one work my chest, shoulders, back, and abs.
Let me just give it to you straight-I fell on my face truthfully. I thought after two years away from hard core workouts and severe anorexia I could like my acquaintance go in to the gym, start easy and run with it. I had every intention of taking an upper body picture today and again in six weeks.
I am levelled. Devastated doesn’t begin to describe my hurt, pain, and reality of today and the abuse I have tortured my body with starvation.
I walked into the gym and was apprehensive about all the muscle heads and frail little me. I thought about the girl stuck in my head with guns so manly yet so strong compared to myself. I started with my first chest exercise and I put it on what I thought was a light weight, but a good place to start. Nope, I couldn’t lift the bar. My pit in my stomach was growing with the anxiety of having lost the gift of a body I once had been given. I did the exercise with the minimum 10 pounds of weight it would allow me to do.
With tears streaming down my face for so many reasons I completed my sets, the girl with the guns who had nothing on me was now haunting my brain, and only shear will and pride get me at the gym to finish my workout-worlds away from where I thought I would be and so many worlds farther then what I was in peak shape.
Here is where anorexia is so insidious and so fucked up-I was nervous after my workout that I was starting a routine that would bulk me up! Yes that fear was real and I had to quell it by looking at the girl’s Instagram page and realizing I don’t want to look like that but I do want to be shredded at my current weight. It is simply called mission impossible.
I felt horrible on every plane of my body and mind after that workout. It hurt, it stung, it made me cry, and I don’t cry. Period. I am still on the verge of tears. So far from healthy and now scared at what I felt from my boney-assed workout. I am scared about my health, but at the same time concerned with adding bulk. I make no sense because I am still an anorexic and I still haven’t beaten this disease.
Everything feels off. My head hurts, my heart is beating too fast, and I still am not happy. My gosh I fear I can never get myself back, and that thought is one that is too big for me to carry right now. So the tears of grief, anger, and shock burn my salty eyes. I have no where to go and no where to turn, but inside and get over this bullshit. I still care too much about being super thin with long arms and legs. When I saw the girl who I have been obsessed with I felt sorry for her, because she wasn’t skinny anymore, and yes, to me she looked fat, and very unwomanly. I mourned for her petite body, when I thought she was attractive and now my gosh if I could look like that I wouldn’t want it in a million years.
I left the gym completely dazed and confused and not sure about my next workout tomorrow. Maybe the gym is too big a leap and I need to #AMP it up at home? I really don’t know, but I didn’t feel good, I felt unwell and two hours later I am still recovering.
It started as such a great day. Boy has the ending changed. I know and everyone will tell me I can do this I have the strongest mind that anyone has every seen. Come on, I starved myself by pure restriction. Not many people have the will-power to do that even when they want to so bad.
I have risen as the Phoenix from the ashes before, so why question myself now? Why not be packing my gym bag for tomorrow and replenishing my water, and eating a high protein meal? In my defense I did buy a Muscle Milk and I am sipping it but I don’t want to go to the gym and embarrass myself and wear my messed up head down further. I tried to think of someone who is really on the hot seat and never gets a break of peace-Hillary Clinton. I don’t know how she does it. How does she face each day to only be battered and kicked to the ground? I thought about the debate tonight. She has to do it differently, she must go where she has tried to avoid but now in this last debate it is time for her to take the gloves off and punch the hell out the Don. Okay so I got advice for HRC but where is my inner voice for me? It has gotten so scared and I have grown so far from me, that I am mute. I can’t rally myself up in any way or any fashion. I truly want to drink some alcohol and sleep my reality off. Unfortunately that is not me, so I will suffer and I will fight the tears that bring me to my knees asking and praying for things to be different for the anorexia switch to be turned off.
I realize as I settle down that I must fight the fight I don’t think I can. I must believe when there is so little of me to believe in. I must prove to myself first, and then to others, that I am capable of this and I WILL rise from the ashes; that this nightmare will have a happy ending.
So I have wiped away the tears, eaten, and packed my bag, talked to my best friend and my ex-wife the two people who will never give up on me even if I do. I know this is really more than I can handle but I will, every day I wipe away the tears, grow my faith and restore my body to a better well, and continue on with getting up every day to be the Corey I am supposed to be.
I am not having a pity party, I am not tossing in the towel, yet I really don’t know my way out of this mess. I guess as I get up each day with one goal to be better and more different than the day before, I will eventually succeed. What that success looks like I don’t know, and I think it is best that I don’t make goals, proclamations, or, anything of that sort to only cause more pressure, more grief, and more disappointment.
I went to the gym to do what I know what to do: shred my body in 6 weeks without a lot of effort thanks to blessed genetics. I Will take the before picture tomorrow and I WILL post my 6 week results together after I have completed the six week workout program I need to revamp and get real about really fast. I am putting my ego aside, I will post however unattractive my pictures are in hopes of only making a difference in at least one other anorexic’s life. I have anorexic readers, and they struggle everyday, and they read my blog to help them keep going. I started the Cake is Now blog to write my entire anorexia story in hopes of helping just one person. In fact, I have 100’s of readers with anorexia all at different points, but they read my story because I vowed not to be a lifer and to use my concept of Radical Will with my care team, and beat this monster. I have yet to win this fight, and now my readers are my inspiration, and I WILL make my story have a happy ending. Everyone who loves and has cared for me through this twisted illness, and my devoted readers, and most importantly me, deserve to beat this vicious monster I once thought was my very best friend.
So I end here for today. The tears are dried up, the support of loved ones received, and most importantly my gym bag is packed for another day at the gym. I am not letting this win, my head was strong enough to starve myself down to 69 pounds from 130, and I now have come back to wavering around the 100 pound mark. Definitely a feat, but mission not completed. I will not hide my falls, my despair, my tears, and I will pick myself up and be back at that bloody gym tomorrow and the day after that. I don’t know much, but I do know I will be at the gym for the next six weeks and the first thing I will do tomorrow is take my before picture. No more looking at pictures of other people, I am deadset focused on me. I will use tomorrow’s picture as my own motivation and in six weeks show the world where I was and where I journeyed to……
BORN THIS WAY-2016