We’re Healing, Babes.

Oof, do you ever wake up some mornings and just feel like you got hit by a car?

‘Cause samesies.

But maybe that’s because I did. Get hit by a car, that is. Kinda wild, right? Trust me, I don’t think there will ever come a day when I’m not in total shock. Definitely did NOT have that on my Bingo card for happening. Like, ever.

But it did. And I think I’m at the point mentally and physically (yer gurl is typing this with her right arm wut??!!!) that I can talk about it. Write about it. Start working through the trauma of what happened. I think at least for me, that’s the biggest first step towards healing.

The Accident

On October 1st while out on a morning run, a run that I’ve done a thousand times before, I was struck by a vehicle while crossing a small neighborhood intersection. I was almost in the middle of the road when a car driving directly towards me made a very fast right hand turn. Without slowing down, the car hit me on my right side. Maybe it was instinct, but I threw my right arm out, almost as if I was trying to stiff arm this very large vehicle moving towards me. My arm hit the car and I flew into the air, landed on the hood, and fell hard onto the pavement below me.

Lying on the road, completely in shock as to what had just happened, I opened my eyes and saw the car drive away.

Yep. The jerkface who just hit a human being (me) with their CAR (!!!) had the balls to just speed off. I don’t understand how they could do something like that. I don’t think I ever will. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was shock. Maybe it was just a complete and utter lack of human decency and compassion. Whatever it was, they fled the scene, leaving me in the middle of the street wondering what the heck just happened.

As I slowly gained consciousness back, and realized the brevity of the situation, I called Mike in tears. Thankfully I had my phone on me and was able to call for help.

“I just got hit by a car.”

The Aftermath

The next 8 hours were a blur—there was a slew of policemen asking questions and taking notes, an ambulance ride to the hospital where they took my vitals and stabilized my arm, head and neck as best they could, and an incredible medical team who immediately went to work treating my injuries.

The prognosis:

• A concussion.
• Four staples in my head.
• An elbow that had been shattered into pieces.
• Some gnarly cuts, gashes, scratches and bruises.
• And a very mentally shaken me.

I went home that afternoon in a daze.

I think anytime you go through a traumatic experience, your mind tries to immediately understand and process the situation. As your body physically starts to begin the healing process, your mind is left to pick up the pieces, to try and find the answers to the questions that are running through your head.

• How could this have happened?
• Is there something I could’ve done differently to prevent this horrible accident?
• Why didn’t that driver slow down when they saw me?
• Why did they just drive away?
• How am I gonna get through this?

A lot of unknowns, friends. A lot of feelings and emotions.

Healing Isn’t Linear

Healing is a very peculiar, funny and non-linear thing. It’s a very up-and-down, janky, rolly-polly thing.

It’s a rollercoaster of emotions, of thoughts, of progress and regression and progress again. I think the thing that has surprised me the most though throughout all of this is the giant wave of feelings I’ve felt over the last month or so.

Guilt and Shame

There was definitely a sense of guilt and self-blame at first. If only I ran a different route that morning, left earlier in the day, later. What if I hadn’t even gone for a run? This might not have ever happened.

But that’s just so silly. I know that now. This accident wasn’t my fault in the slightest. I was out doing something I love, something I have done a million times before. As a pedestrian who was following the rules of the road, who had the right of way, who was VERY much at a disadvantage against anything made out of metal and steel with four wheels, this was simply an unfortunate yet extremely terrible accident. I didn’t do anything wrong.

Despite not being at fault for what happened, I have recognized that healing from it IS my responsibility. Because if it isn’t, an unfair circumstance becomes an unlived life. And bleh, that just sounds awful and NOT what I ever plan on doing.

Fear, Anger, and Sadness

The second wave of emotions involved this sense of fear, anger, and sadness. I just couldn’t shake what had happened. Anytime I would close my eyes, I was right back there –the car, the accident, the pain coursing through every inch of my body. It was like watching a scary movie or reliving a nightmare on loop–you knew when the scary parts were gonna happen but you couldn’t do anything to stop them.

I was scared to leave the house. The sound of screeching tires, honking horns, and even being close to a car sent me into a fit of uncontrollable shaking and tears.

Anytime I’d look down and see the giant L-shaped scar on my arm, I was reminded of what had happened. Anytime I’d feel pain or discomfort, I’d get angry for what had happened, at the person who did this.

I would get extremely frustrated that I could no longer do things that once came so simple and without even thinking. Acts like simply brushing my teeth, using my computer mouse, putting on a shirt and eating now took concentrated effort, were painful, and sometimes weren’t even possible without the assistance from someone else. Talk about humbling.

Part of me felt like I lost myself, too. Running has always been my happy place, my outlet to destress and think. It’s my biggest passion. I feel like that was taken from me the moment that car struck. Physically I will soon be able to run again. But I think it’s going to take some time for me to work up to running outside again, being on the road, without fear of being hurt.

My sense of safety was compromised that day, stolen. That doesn’t just come back overnight.

I guess I just felt so powerless to my emotions, powerless to the situation, powerless in my own body.

There are moments when I still do.

But as the days go by, I’m slowly regaining some of the power back.

The Uncomfortableness of Asking For Help

The next wave of emotion came when I realized that, well shoot. This very independent, need-to-take-care-of-others gal all of a sudden was very much in need of some care herself. I’ve always had the hardest time asking for help, allowing others to provide that help. I never want to feel like I’m a burden (something we’re definitely working through in therapy lol). But I simply had no choice this time–I had to rely on the people in my life that I love and who love me, to help put me back on my feet again.

And goodness, I am BEYOND thankful and grateful for those beautiful souls in my life who were there when I needed them the most. My friends, my family, my coworkers, and especially my wonderful husband Mike.

I cannot even begin to express the overwhelming amount of gratitude, adoration, and love I have for this incredible man. In my scariest moments, in the moments when I felt like I couldn’t pick myself up, he was there to hold my hand, to wipe the tears from my face, and to tell me that everything was going to be okay.

Not only did Mike literally save my life, but he has also been there for me every step of the way as I slowly pick up the pieces, being the shoulder I figuratively and literally lean on as I ever so softly begin to heal my head and my heart.

From helping to wash my hair and making sure I eat, to getting me in and out of bed, making sure I’m comfortable and always making me ugly snort-laugh and smile like a total goober, Mike has been an absolute superhero. My rock. My steady ground and biggest supporter. On top of everything else that he is juggling right now (it’s A LOT), he has sacrificed so much in order to be right by my side through it all.

How in the heck did I get so lucky?!

Hope

I still have my hard days, moments when I struggle, times when I get a little sad. But for the most part, I am feeling so gosh darn hopeful. Hopeful that I will get through this, hopeful that I will regain the use of my arm again, hopeful that they will find out who was driving that car early that Sunday morning.

I have quite a ways to go until I get back to where I was before the accident, but I have also come a long ways from where I was after it. And that I have to celebrate. That, I have to be incredibly proud of.

Everyday We’re Getting a Little Stronger

I was a victim of a horrible accident.

But I’m also a survivor. I’m alive. I’m a badass!

I went though the most traumatic experience of my life and was able to walk away. That’s pretty dang incredible.

Despite feeling like a somewhat broken human right now, I’m also incredibly grateful. There no doubt was a guardian angel looking over me that day. And every day after.

This has been by far the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through. I am tested constantly on my will, on my strength, on my fortitude and hope. But we’re doing it. Little by little I’m getting there.

The scars will fade. My arm will regain its mobility and I’ll start to feel whole and safe again.

Until then, I will practice the utmost grace and patience, and lean on the people I love and who love me. I truly have the most amazing humans by my side.

And to the driver who hit me, I hope you find the power to forgive yourself (and find it in your heart to come forward and clear your conscience).

I’ll be back stronger than ever, fam (it’ll be with a bionic arm, but I’ll be back).

A Dose of Tough Love

Hello everybody!

I hope you are all having a lovely Wednesday so far.

So, for those of you who know me and have followed my ramblings over the past few years on This, That and the Other Thang, you know that I am usually not a very serious person. I like to air on the positive side of things, and as you are probably well aware by now, jump on any chance I get to infuse bodily humor or tragic puns in my posts (or life really. I mean, how can you NOT have a good day when inundated with a good fart joke, am I right?). Today however,  I have a more subdued topic to talk with you guys about. A topic that I am all too familiar with, a topic that hits pretty close to my heart. A topic that I am very passionate about.

Those of you who have followed me on my journey to recovery from my former roommate ED have seen what a terrible, debilitating and horrible disease anorexia really is. It takes your health, your mind, your relationships and your dream/goals away. It’s a mask that hides the beautiful person you are, inside and out, a mask that makes you believe you are somehow less of a person, a person not worthy of love, of acceptance, of recognition. It’s a disease that is not very well understood, a disease that does not have just one cause, one symptom, one magic cure. It’s a disease that I struggled with for nearly ten years of my life and, while I still have a bad day or two thrown into the mix, it’s a disease that I have kicked to the curb, once and for all. I won’t get into too much detail about my road to a roommate-life (you can check out my journey here, here, and here if you’d like), but I will say that I am very blessed to be at a place in my life where the scale no longer dictates my life. Where I am proud to walk around with a little junk in my trunk. Where I can look at myself in the mirror and not only see the reflection staring back, but accept her, love her, be her biggest cheerleader.

Yes.

I have made a lot of gains in the past few years.

I gained my health, my relationships, my dream/goals and my faith. I gained my strength, my humor, my happiness and my zest for life.

I gained it all.

So what if some of it was in my booty, hips and thighs? Those things were just a bonus 😉

I stumbled upon this incredible video and just had to share. To be honest, I went through a rollercoaster of feelings watching this video.

You see, not but a few years ago, I was this girl. I would go to the gym and spend hours on the treadmill, the elliptical, scary thin and scary unhealthy. I did feel that many eyes were on me, and I did have a few people express their concerns. The level of embarrassment and denial I felt was through the roof, but at that time, my ED had way too much control over me to allow me to do anything about it. Since then, I have developed a healthy relationship to food and exercise, and, much like the woman in this video, have come a very long way from that sick girl, largely in part to the people in my life, my friends and family who helped me see what I was becoming, what I was doing, and that if I didn’t do something to kick ED to the curb once and for all, what I’d be missing out on.

Watching this video, really made me take a step back and see things from a different perspective. Seeing things from a clear and healthy mind, I cannot even begin to imagine myself as this weak, sick and unhappy girl and makes me incredibly sad. When I was in the depths of my ED, I probably would have not accepted help from a stranger. Actually, that’s a lie. I KNOW I wouldn’t have; “I’m fine. I don’t need help. I’m not sick.” The reality of it was, I was too sick to see just how sick I really was. It just goes to show how powerful miss ED really is, how she bends your thoughts and your reality. Sometimes it takes a bit (or a lot) of outside influence from caring individuals to help show you the truth, a dose of tough love. Seeing these people reach out to this young girl with such heart and compassion, a girl whom they had never met, and who by their caring actions inevitably ended up saving her life, made me heart smile so much and brought a tear to my eye!

If any of you are struggling right now (even I still have my bad days), please don’t hesitate to reach out. To a friend, a family member, or a stranger at the Y with a heart bigger than Texas. The same goes if you see someone struggling. You never know how you can have the power to change someone life!

If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder, please visit the NEDA website for information on how you can help!

Just a little reminder…

Just a little reminder…

At the end of each day, just before you go to bed, take about thirty seconds to look out your bedroom window at the stars–remember your place in this world and don’t you for one second let yourself get lost in it. Then, take some time to remind yourself that what you’re going through now will pass and it WILL get better; everything heals with time.

Remember that even on your darkest, most horrible of days, those days when you feel utterly and helplessly alone, underestimated, unappreciated, and unloved, remember that you’re NOT. Remember that somewhere out in this great big world, somebody loves and appreciates you oh so much, perhaps even more than you’ll ever know. Furthermore, realize that there’s at least one person out there that’s dying to meet someone just like you. Yes, you. You, even with your frizzy hair, big nose, glasses, and not-so-flat tummy. You, with your awkward smile, embarrassing laugh, and that corny sense of humor that you think that no one could ever love.

You are appreciated and wished for and brilliant, each and every one of you.

Above all else, though, take the time at least once a day to remind yourself that you’re beautiful–inside and out. Don’t let the way others judge you affect how you judge yourself; don’t let your mistakes and your past define you; and don’t let anything, ANYTHING hold you down.

Remember you are a wonderful person and you have the potential to go so very far. You are amazing just exactly how you are, flaws and all. You don’t need to every change for anyone but yourself.

Each and every one of you is worth so much more than you know..and if you ever, EVER start to forget or doubt any of that, read this again. You know it’s true; now, it’s time to embrace it.

I love you all!! ❤

Gone too Soon

I was recently reminded of how precious our lives truly are. Yesterday, my dear cousin Nick who I grew up idolizing lost a very cruel battle with alcoholism; he was 34. 34! His struggles with alcohol and depression really only surfaced to friends and family within the last few months, but I, as well as many of my other family members suspect that he had been dealing with these deeper issues much longer than any of us ever even realized.

All day yesterday and during my sleepness night, I couldn’t help but ask “Is there anything that I could have done to help him?” “What if I tried to reach out to him more?” “How could I have missed the signs?” “Is there anything I could have done/said/tried to do that could have prevented this from happening?” After going over all of these shoulda/coulda/woulda’s in my head, I was instantly reminded of the countless times my friends and family tried to help me, tried to say or do anything and everything to get me from listening and acting on my eating disorder.

While alcoholism and eating disorders have their succinct differences, they come from the same beast: addiction. Even at my sickest points, those times when I tiptoed the line of living to see tomorrow, the only person that could help me, that could change me, was me. Doctors and psychologists, friends and family could give me the facts, could express their concerns and could offer words of encouragement, love and inspiration, and I believe a large part of my recovery is due to those very things, but the one thing, the only thing that propelled me into the happy and healthy place I am in today was me. I had to fight my demons. I had to face my fears. I had to overcome obstacles and hardships and relapses.

I say these things to you today because I believe that you can too. But you have to make that first step. YOU have to be the one to say enough is enough. YOU have to be the one to kick your eating disorder, your depression, your negative thoughts about yourself in the ass!

My cousin Nick was an amazing person. He was loving and funny and kind and caring. He was an all-star soccer player, knew how to play the guitar like nobody’s business and could make one mean pancake (as was seen by the Sunday morning pancake breakfasts that we had whenever we came to visit). He was so full of life up until those last few years/months when he just couldn’t deal with his burdens any longer. He got so caught up in his unhappiness, in the bottle, that he lost the will to fight anymore.

I urge you all to keep fighting! Nothing is worth risking your happiness, your goals and dreams, or your life for!

Nothing!

I love you all and want you to know that if you ever, EVER need someone to talk to, to redirect your thinking, to reassure you that you are the amazing and beautiful and incredible person that you are, I am here! No matter if you have ever suffered from an eating disorder or not, we all have our daily battles that try their hardest sometimes to throw us off course. The most important thing to remember is…

DO NOT STOP FIGHTING!

I love you, Nick, forever and always. Even though I will miss you more than words could ever express, I know that you are in a much better place. You are no longer in pain, are no longer hurting, are no longer alone, and I cannot wait until we are reunited someday. And since you never fully taught me how to play Metalica’s Fade to Black on the guitar, I’m calling the first spot in line with at least five free lessons buddy–God can just wait his turn 😉

Doing the Math

Numbers are simple things aren’t they? Yet when thought about in a different way, they can take on a whole different meaning. For example…

3: The number of times I have bravely gotten up and sang my heart out in karaoke. My go-to song? You better believe it’s Journey‘s ‘Don’t Stop Believing’.14: The age when I had my first kiss–it was sloppy and wet and in the parking lot of the movie theater, but oh, was it magical. 24: The number of times I have cheered my hot dog-eating, soda-slurping, foam-finger wearing and crazy-fanatic heart out at a Milwaukee Brewer’s game. 49: The age my pup Thunder is in dog years. Oh how they grow up so fast! 65: The number of books I have in my personal library–and that’s not counting my Nook. It’s safe to say I am just a bit of a bookworm. Just a bit.

Here are a couple more numbers for you real fast….

*42% of 1st-3rd graders report wanting to be thinner and 81% of fifth graders have an extreme fear of becoming fat

*The average American woman is 5’4″ tall and weighs 140 pounds. The average American model on the other hand is 5’11” tall and weighs around 110 pounds.

*Americans spend of $40 Million dollars on dieting and diet-related products each year.

*24 million: The number of people, both male and female, in the United States who suffer from some kind of an eating disorder.

 *9 million: The number of those 24 million aforementioned sufferers who recover and go on to live a happy and healthy life.

 I am also a number. I am ‘1’ of the 24 million people who have fought, battled and struggled with an eating disorder. I am not fully there yet, but I am well on my way to also becoming ‘1’ of those 9 million who have fought, battled and struggled with an eating disorder….and WON!  Let me throw you one more number.

1: If I could have ‘1’ wish, it would be to give hope and inspiration to everyone out there who may be going through not only an eating disorder, but are facing anything difficult or challenging in their lives. I want to let people know that it is possible, that there is hope. I am ‘1’ and sometimes, ‘1’ is just enough. Enough to foster a change, to bring awareness and to encourage others out there to take back their lives, completely and whole-heartedly ED free!

This week is super important to me. You see, it is National Eating Disorder Awareness Week (NEDA) and I oh so would love it if you could all help me out with something. Just like with my mom’s famous chocolate-chip cookies, having ‘1’ is great, but having more is even better.

There are sadly so many people who are impacted by eating disorders worldwide; many of which who suffer in silence. It may be your sister, your best friend, your college roommate or your daughter. It may be your teammate, girlfriend, brother or cousin. For this reason, it is my hope, my ‘1’ wish that you and me can all do SOMETHING to remind others that they are in fact, beautiful and special, unique and amazing, funny and kind, just because they exist. They are all these things because they are perfectly imperfect.

So who’s with me?! Let’s work together to shoot that 9 million recovery statistic to the stars!

Remember, you are ‘1’, but sometimes ‘1’ is just enough.

For more information on how you can help, check out The National Eating Disorder Association website here:

http://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/index.php

*Information obtained from the National Eating Disorder Association

Really Real. Really.

Hey guys!

Usually this blog o’ mine is upbeat and silly, full of some of my observations and thoughts about this crazy but wonderful world we live in. I wanted to share with you my everdays and everynights, my fun and memorable experiences. I wanted to give you all a glimpse into what it’s be like to walk a day in my Chuck Taylor shoes, what it is like to be me. And I have loved every minute of it (I hope you have done the same, or at least somewhat put up with me. I know I can be kind of an uber dork at times). And for the most part, I do write about silly and upbeat things, just because that is how my life is. That is how I like and choose to view the world, with a smile and a sense of humor the size of Big Foot’s giant foot.

When I first decided to start this blog, I wanted to be as real as I could be. I wanted it to be sort of a digital diary if you will, with the exception that this one would not be kept hidden under my bed like my other Lisa Frank notebooks that my sister always seemed to get her hands on. No, this diary I wanted to share with the world-wide web, with all of you. I told myself from the start that I would be as real as real could be.

But I have a confession to make: I haven’t been as real I could have been.

This is probably the hardest thing I have ever written, the hardest thing that I have ever admitted, both to myself, to those who know me best and to those who are here for the first time. I was afraid, and am still afraid, of showing a weakness, of sharing something that for so long, I have tried to keep hidden and pushed away. Something I was extremely ashamed and embarassed of.

You see, I have been fighting a very strong and debilitating disease for quite some time now. There have been times where I have been really great, healthy and happy and strong, but there have also been times when I have not, times when the grips of hopelessness and guilt and loneliness seemed to have its iron hands on me. I guess that how it is when you are knee-deep in recovery from an eating disorder. Every day is a journey. Every day you have the choice to wake up and decide to do what YOU want to do, what YOU need to do, or you have the choice of listening to that evil and manipulative voice in your head telling you to do something different. To those people who have been lucky enough never to have struggled with an eating disorder, to have almost lost everything because of it, you are extremely lucky.

You also may not understand the complexity of the disorder. And that is totally normal. After years of battling anorexia, I don’t think I completely understand it either. Something I do know is that it is so much more than food. So much more than physical appearance and wanting to gain attention in some odd way.  It goes much, much deeper than any of that. I also want to stress that ED as I call him (short for Eating disorder) is a totally separate entity from the person. My ED and I are not one in the same. ED is a coruptive and sinister voice who sits on my shoulder, telling me that if I just do what he says, if I just continue to hurt myself and others by not living the full life that I could be had he not shown up in my life, I will be the person I always wanted to be. I will be perfect. But is this the person I really want to be? Absolutely NOT! Can anyone really be perfect? Absolutely NOT!

The thing that I am realizing is that I am SOOOOO much more happy being perfectly imperfect. So what if I don’t wear size 2 jeans? So what if I decide to skip a trip to the gym and instead stay at home, watching Harry Potter marathons while eating Ben & Jerry’s from the container? Does that mean that I am a bad person? Absotively posatutley NOT! My strive of perfection, my need to be on my game 100% of the time has led me down a path of self-consciousness, doubt and fear. It has turned an amazing and funny and care-free girl into one who is shy and constantly worried about what others think of her, one who thinks one of the hardest things to do is accept herself for who she is, to love herself. And one of the most trickiest parts about ED is that he is omnious; he lets me be me to an extent. He allows me to retain a lot of what makes me, me, yet hinders me just to the point where I am not completely in control. ED has allowed me to live, but not fully live. It’s like looking through a pane of window shades; I can see the sun shining and the dog peeing on the neighbor’s bush, but only partly. The shades, or ED, is in the way and is covering my full view. I have had enough of the window shades. Heck, I not only want to look out the clear window, but I want to ditch the window completely and let the fresh air consume me.

For each person it is different of course, the reasoning behind why they turned to this ridiculous method of coping, of dealing with the stresses and worries of their lives. I still don’t quite know why this disease got a hold of me, but I do know that it has had its hold on me for too long. For far too long.

For so long, this disease has been like a the bad roommate, the smelly ex-boyfriend, the frenemy I have never wanted. It has take-take-taken everything from me; my voice, my happiness, my dreams.

But that all stops now.

It is time that I start taking. Taking back my voice, my happiness, my dreams, my life.

This is not going to be an easy thing to do. In fact, this will be the hardest and most trying thing I will ever have to do. There will be bumps and bruises along the way. There will be distractions and road-blocks trying to prevent me from getting to my destination. I will fall. But I will get back up. I will keep fighting. I will not give up.

I deserve to have that perfectly imperfect life that God intended me to have and I will do anything and everything to reclaim what was, and is, mine. It is time to once and for all evict that bad roommate, ditch the smelly ex-boyfriend and de-friend my frenemy on the Facebook of life.

I started off this blog as a way to share with you my crazy and wonderful life.

I wanted to be as real as I could be.

This is me being real.

This is me showing my strength by sharing my weakness.

I am imperfect. I have my struggles and my doubts. But I am also a pretty darn amazing girl who loves life and is working her bum off (actually, who is working to gain a bit of a bum) to be the person she wants to be. 110%. I am the same person I have always been. I am still silly and goofy and loving and caring; ED has not changed that. I am however on my way to being an even better version of myself. So watch out…Wendi is back baby and there is no stopping what I can do!

I want to thank you for listening, for reading this and for following me on this journey. I also want you to know that I am here for anyone out there who may be going through the same thing or knows someone who is and wants to talk (I have been told I have a tremendous pair of ears). I would love to answer any questions you may have or just to be there in support. If I can help inspire or give someone the strength to once again be healthy and happy, to let them know that they are not alone, I would be so very happy. One thing I have learned through this whole process is that it is alright to ask for help, that no one alone can beat this thing.

Another thing that I have learned…recovery is possible. And that to me is enough.