gutless

I went back to see the new therapist yesterday, and it actually went ok. In fact I was almost cheerful when I left. She gave me a new way of looking at the idea of an admission; basically I keep falling into these depressive bouts, and although I can get up out of them with time, they always come back. So perhaps I need to try something different. What I've been doing up til now only works for a short time, so it's obviously not a long term solution. So trying something different might be the ticket.

So I got a little bit brave and made an appointment this afternoon to see my gp to ask her some more specific questions - my intention was to tell her that I was willing to give it a go.

But I lost my bottle. In fact I very nearly ran away while I was waiting to be called in. I got as far as the door...

I asked her what she thought I should do. She told me she wasn't going to make the decision for me - it had to be my decision. She said that she felt that I wanted her to tell me what to do. And I've been pondering that. It didn't feel quite right. I really don't want her to tell me what to do - but I do really need her reassurance that it's ok to say yes. I need her to reassure me that I do need this. That's what I couldn't get her to do. It wasn't that I needed her to tell me what to do, it's that I needed her to tell me that I needed it. That I wasn't going to be made fun of for wasting everyone's time.

Or perhaps I am wasting everyone's time. Perhaps she's just bored with me. I know what a total chore I am at the moment. I can feel it in the one line replies from friends who are sick of my complaining. And in the silence from other friends who just don't bother. She's so kind, but everyone has their limits, perhaps I've just outlived my welcome.

Let's face it, I'm sick of me too.


Part of me wants to force her hand, to do something that will make her have to intervene - but I've worked so hard over the last few years to prevent that from happening. Then there's another part of me that just wants to run away and hide. But if I do that, like I always do, nothing is going to change or get better.

I don't want to be told what to do, but I do need some guidance and she won't help me out. I just don't know what to do!

I have another appointment next tuesday to try again. Maybe I can figure this out before then.

neglect

I was musing to a friend recently about my inability to do certain things at the moment, such as take my anti-anxiety medication and attend my appointments. She likened this self-neglect to self-harm, which I thought was interesting. I guess that's what my anorexia was too - harming myself by not allowing myself to eat.

I have confided in a couple of people this weekend what has been happening, and interestingly they all came back with exactly the same advice: "imagine this was happening to your friend or your child, what advice would you give them?" But it's not that easy. I seem to really believe that other people deserve help and care, but I don't. I wish I did, but I don't. I also seem to believe that for other people depression and ED are not their fault. These are treatable biological illnesses that they simply have the misfortune of having. But not for me. For me this is my fault. I won't put in the hard work of therapy, I won't keep my appointments, I won't take my medication, therefore I get what I get.

And yes, even as I type it I can see how hard I'm being on myself. But I also know that won't change anything. I know I won't go see my gp or therapist. But I really don't know why.

I'm betting if I read over all my past blog posts there would be a pretty strong theme of me being frustrated at  my own brain, so why don't I ever learn? Why does nothing ever change? My mum suggested I go see my gp the other day. What she doesn't know is that I've been a thousand times. And nothing ever gets better.

Makes me wonder if it ever will.

lifesavers

It's no exaggeration to say my kids save my life everyday. From the little hand that holds mine when we walk, to the tears that need me to kiss them away, to the big conversations about life and love; my kids remind me daily of how important I am to them.

And that is enough.

the inherent problem with therapy

I have a new therapist. Today was my second session with her. I like her. She has a nice voice - it's strong and confident. I'm not keen on the wispy, I'm-going-to-hypnotise-you type voice so many affect. But as with all therapists, you're basically inviting them to give their opinions on your life. You place yourself in the horribly vulnerable position of telling them your most secret secrets - and they give you their opinion.

And no matter what they say - you invited it. It's for your own good.

"If you die, it will shatter the lives of your children."

Thanks. I did actually know that. But thanks for being so unnecessarily cruel.

They then get to say things like "well I'm not going to sugar coat it", "you need to hear the facts", "I need to be honest with you". Apparently the fact that I am so distressed that I have actually voluntarily come to therapy means that I asked for it. Surely the fact that I am this distressed would mean that a little sugar coating was in order? Perhaps we could have the honest forthright discussions when I'm feeling less fragile? Perhaps if you're worried about me self harming or restricting, then piling on the guilt 5 minutes before the end of the session is not the best way to go?

To say I'm disappointed would be an understatement. I'm confused now on what to do next. Do I cancel my next appointment or try again. She did apologise after I told her that she hurt me - that's something. They don't always apologise.

Sigh. I won't make any decisions tonight. Time to just sleep on it.

speed bumps and silence

My gp says I've hit a speed bump.

I'm not sure what I've hit.

I know that when other people have trouble, get sick, relapse, whatever, people come out of the woodwork to support them. I've seen it. I've seen messages of hope and bunches of flowers, and gofundme accounts. But I get nothing. A nothing so big and deep and black and silent. The silence is deafening. The silence engulfs me and makes me lose hope. My gp asked if the silence was what has made me feel so worthless - and through the tears I simply nodded. I'm empty from helping others at the moment and have nothing left. And the emptiness hurts.

So here I am blogging. Talking to myself again like I did so many years ago.

I did go hat in hand onto FB yesterday and ask if anyone could spare time to spend with me to keep from the silence. Thankfully two friends came through.This helped. And I know if I can keep putting one foot in front of the other I will come out on the other side of this. But in the meantime, without any voices of hope to encourage me I'm left to my our inner voice - and all that does is tell me not to ask for help, and to hurt myself as I obviously deserve it; otherwise I too would have spontaneous offerings of support. But I don't.

It's just me, Ed and the silence.

a word on rumination

cute cows from here

Before I started all this recovery bizzo 'rumination' to me meant something cows did. But apparently, in the psychology world, it also refers to the thinking, thinking and over-thinking thing that I do - especially about mistakes I have made.

I was a cow last night. And not the cute and cuddly one up there, but the mean, cranky, fly-off-the-handle-and-have-a-gold-medal-tanty type of cow. And then I cried. And I cried. And I cried some more. And then I rang my big brother and I cried some more. And then once he'd calmed me down enough for me to stop crying,  I went and apologised to MrPJ. Who said, and I quote, "it's ok, just relax".

What? Just like that we could forget about my tanty? What about all the beating myself up? The endless explanations about why I was so stressed. The guilt, the shame, the waiting for forgiveness. Oh shit, that's right, he's my husband not my father.

MrPJ has a way of just forgiving and moving on. Yep, you were a cow, and thanks for saying sorry. Ok, what's for dinner.

But that almost doesn't feel like enough. If I don't ruminate then I haven't punished myself enough for my terrible behaviour. Surely I need to go over and over and over it again in my head so I can re-live and reinforce just how horrible a person I am.

I think I prefer MrPJs approach. Re-living my tanty doesn't make it better. I am sorry and I said so. And if I'm really lucky I will have learned something from the experience to help me deal with my anxiety better next time it happens. But I actually don't have to punish myself by re-living it 75000 time in living colour. Reinforcing what a bad person I am is ED talking, not me. And I don't listen to ED. He is a dick.

So I think I'll choose to listen to MrPJ.

And just relax.

cry for help or attention seeking?

ouch. harsh pic from here

I had a conversation the other day with the mother of a girl recovering from anorexia. Her daughter is doing really well, but has a friend from hospital who is not doing well and keeps sending her text messages all about how there's no point and how she's never going to eat again. My friend's daughter finds this not only distressing but also very triggering and is thinking about cutting ties with  the girl in order to protect herself. She is also, not to put to fine a point on it, sick of this girl's drama.

My first advice was of course that her daughter needs to protect herself and her recovery above all else - that her responsibility is only to her own well being. But I also put in my two cents as to why the other girl is acting the way she is. My friend found this a very helpful perspective, so I thought I might share it with you here.

From how I know I have acted, and the way I have seen others acting (especially on social media) I have four theories why people suffering from an eating disorder engage in what appears from the outside to be 'attention seeking' behaviour:

1. Catharsis - sometimes the pain is just so great that if you don't shout it out you're not always sure what you'll end up doing. It's always better to shout about how much you hurt inside than turn to self harm. You don't really want anyone to respond or fix anything, you're just getting it off your chest.

2. Conversation - sometimes it's about wanting to start a conversation about something that's bothering you, but not really knowing how to do that. You might say "it's all too hard, I'm not going to eat today" but you might mean "what do you do when you feel like this?" You might just being looking for someone with a shared experience to let you know that you are not alone and give you some strategies.

3. Validation - when you are feeling really low, and don't have the emotional resilience or self esteem to find that little spark inside yourself to keep on going, sometimes you just want someone to let you know that you are worth a kind word. That you are loved and appreciated. That you are worth the effort it takes for someone to say "it'll be ok".

4. Sabotage - eating disorders love to isolate. And yes, sometimes the constant badgering is targeted at wearing you down for the specific purpose of eliciting the "go away, I've had enough" response. Then your eating disorder gets the honor of yelling "see, I told you your friends would turn on you in the end. They never really cared about you".

Nothing is ever straight forward with eating disorders, and communication is definitely very high up on that list of complicated issues. But I hope these ramblings are helpful to you. And I hope it helps you to see 'attention seeking' behavior with new understanding and tolerance.

For those of you who know me too well, you will know how much a list with only 4 points on it is bugging me. So if you have a 5th to add please leave it for me in the comments :)

I've lost my restriction mojo

pooped puppy from here

I'm exhausted this evening. Exhausted and emotional - but also very hopeful. A real, new glimmer of hope appeared today.

I had a session with M, my dietician this afternoon. And somewhere amid my sobbing over my regrets and my guilt, we actually managed to find some meeting point. I managed to let my guard down for just long enough to question her on something.

She commented that it didn't seem like I was able to restrict at the moment.


Cue my ED response - I'm just not trying hard enough, I'm a fat pathetic loser because I'm not strong enough to do it. I'll have to try harder, I'll get it back.

Cue my courage - I asked her what it said about me if I can't restrict at the moment.

Her exact answer has been lost in my memory through the haze of competing thoughts and voices, but the gist of it was that not being able to restrict is something to be proud of not ashamed of. If shows that my will to live is stronger than my will to starve myself to death.

That it is the sign of a healthy mind.

I really liked hearing this. Really, really :-)

In a funny way I'm shocked that I was even able to ask her the question in the first place. I was so sure  what her answer would be (that I'm not strong/brave/good enough anymore) that asking felt like setting myself up to be judged. But I'm so glad I asked. Because I was wrong. ED was wrong.

So what am going to do with my new healthy mind? We've pinpointed the one time of the day when I have no routine or structure for eating - lunchtime. It is my most often skipped meal these days now that I am regularly eating dinner with my children. But lunch - I wouldn't even know where to start. Which is risky. We talked about impulse eating if I get too hungry, and also about the desire to not eat if I skip a meal - neither of which are good outcomes.

So without setting myself 'rules' I'm going to work at eating 3 meals and 3 snacks which also fulfill the recommended servings each day. And for the first time I actually want to do this. I really feel like being healthy is something I want.

Yeah, yeah ED, that's not the same thing as being fat. Shut up ED.

Commence 'Operation Helicopter Parent'

from here

I've noticed a change in the eating patterns of my eldest daughter lately. Choosing to have a glass of water instead of a hot chocolate when we go to the cafe. Bringing home her sandwiches uneaten from school. Only wanting rice for dinner. Complaining that she is putting on weight.

We've had discussions about natural body changes as you hit puberty - and the fact that all her friends will go through it too, only she's got there first. We've talked  about it being normal and the right thing for her body. We've talked about being healthy and strong as opposed to skinny and pretty; about body size not being a reflection on your self worth. And although I think the message has sunk in to a certain degree, I think genetics is against us on this one.

Tonight she told me she wants to cut all sugar and fat out of her diet and do lots of extra exercise so she can swim faster and look better in her bathers.

Sigh...

My mum would have been all over this - taking me out training, organizing my meals. My dad would have been telling me how hopeless I was if I didn't stick to it, if my lap times dropped off (not to mention every other aspect of my life he was able to find fault in).

But I know more than them. I am aware of where she's heading, even if she is not. I will encourage her to make healthy choices - but these choices need to be for a heck of a better reason than just looking good in her bathers - although I know how important this can feel at her age (at any age!).

So, my mission, should I choose to accept it (and you can bet the hell I do) is Operation Helicopter Parent. I will watch what she does. I will not turn a blind eye to any increase in unhealthy behaviours. She is my beautiful, funny, creative, articulate, intelligent, and very special girl - and if she stops being able to see that for even a second I am going to jump straight in a reinforce the crap out it. And I will not let her go without food.

I think the work that Laura Collins and the other devoted parents at FEAST do is amazing - but I never want to have to use their services. This family legacy of eating disorders ends with me. If I can't shake this bastard for my sake, then I will do it for my kids so they don't have to suffer the crap I've gone through.



hover...

analyzing the first pangs of guilt

Analyzing this slip from the inside is quite an interesting game. I think I've been here so many times before that I know it won't last and I'm just riding it while it still 'works'. But tonight I felt my first pangs of guilt. Not because of what I'm doing to myself, but because I ate a perfectly sensible dinner. The sort of dinner I've been eating with my family quite successfully for a few months now - but haven't been having for the last week and a half.

But tonight I was hungry - and dinner was really yummy. So I ate it, all.

First pang of guilt - why did I eat all of it when a) I wasn't going to eat any and then b) I was only going to eat half.

Pang of guilt two - my stomach really hurts, this is all my fault.

Pang of guilt three - I need to go running

Pang of guilt four - I'll have to do sit ups once I don't feel so full

Pang of guilt five - I wonder what the scales will say tomorrow.

What I ate was ok. It tasted nice, it was healthy and I didn't over eat. I should be ok. But my recent restriction and all the crap that is tied up with this and my self-esteem has changed how I feel about what it ok.


No great conclusions - just an interesting observation that the same restriction that was making me feel so awesome is now making me feel guilty because I ate something adequate...



postscript: completely lost my cool this evening and ended up yelling at my eldest child and husband. Very ashamed of myself and still crying. I'm assuming my build up and subsequent explosion of stress and my meal are related...

wow, just wow...

my ED thinking has been ramping up a lot over the last week or so. And my big problem is, is that I'm loving it. I'm relaxed and relieved at not fighting it - and yes, once again, it's fixing everything. Yay me, right?

So since I don't want to fight back I thought I would humour ED and make a list of everything that being skinny means to me. Yeah...interesting list...

It makes me a better person
It makes me more fun to be around
I'm more confident
I can be taken seriously - when I'm 'overweight' people think I'm a joke
I'm less self conscious
I can wear what ever I like
People won't judge me
If I make a mistake people will be more forgiving
People will accept that I am intelligent
No one will laugh at me
No one will stare at me
I will like myself better
I won't call myself names


I know there's more to add to this list, but you get the idea.
wow, just wow - right...

restriction - my drug of choice

Trigger warning - this post is about the pros and cons of restriction. Please do not read if you are worried this might be triggering.

[happy pills from here]

My gp says restricting is like a heroin addiction - just because I like it and it makes me feel good doesn't mean it's healthy or good for me.

Problem is, it doesn't just make me feel good. It makes me feel awesome!! Endless energy and power. I am king of the world. I can do anything. I love it. I am high as a kite on it. Why would I want to say no?

But like all drugs, that's just the rush. There's always the morning after. Not just the guilt and regret, but also the knowledge that I am hurting myself. Really badly, possibly permanently, possibly fatally.

But I'm hooked.

I'm a drug addict.

The addiction attacks my brain with it's need to be satisfied.

But I must not give in. It is an addiction and like any addict I can't have 'just a little'. One last drink, one last cigarette, one last hit. No. Not even one. It hurts like hell but I know where it leads.

It's all fun games but it'll end in tears.

I had a nightmare

Last night I had a nightmare - only I didn't remember it until I was getting dressed this morning and I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Then the image from my dream came back to me. In my dream I was overweight. And not just a little bit. And it was very specific as well - it was my thighs, they were really huge. In fact it was so vivid that I cried out in relief when I caught my reflection and recalled the dream.

The image from my dream has been playing on my mind today. Ruminating. Over-thinking. Worrying.

I think I'm doing pretty well from being confronted with my nightmare in living colour like that. And I think I can safely say that I'm 50% recovered now - as my response is split down the middle.

One side of my brain is telling me that I was that I'm being warned that I need to stop eating so much. I need to be more careful or the consequence are going to be dire. I'm going to get fat. So fat I won't ever be able to lose the weight again.

The other side of my brain says that this is my ED using it's dirty tricks to try to pull me back in - and that, although I am aware that I am eating 'too much' at the moment, that really I'm ok with that. I know that after a while my eating will settle back down again. I just have so many things I want to eat again after years of restriction - I even ate a hot dog the other day (not recommended btw - blurgh!!!). And I also can't be bothered exercising at the moment - again not something I intend to do forever, but my body just needs a break.

So 50/50. I can see the second response is the most rational - but I'm not quite ready to let go of the first response.

But at least I feel at the moment as though I have the choice between which decision I make :)

hiding...

[source]

Ever have one of those times where random people out in the world just seem to feel an overwhelming urge to invade your personal space and tell you what they think?

Well I've been having one of those months. And quite frankly if I have to put up with any more judgement from friends, colleagues, healthcare providers and random strangers in restaurants I'm going to completely fall apart.

So I've gone into hiding.

I've cancelled my appointments, cancelled my personal trainer, even cancelled my house-cleaner. I've retreated. I can't win, so I'm waving the white flag.

But only for now.

I have a big social event coming up in a week and a half and I really really want to be in one coherent piece; so I'm not taking any risks. No one is going to get the chance to derail me.

So comments are off on this post. I will be limiting my email, twitter etc. All in the name of "just in case".

"you make me look normal"

this was said to me recently by a friend - so straight away I was laughing -no offence taken.

but she was serious. "no really, you make me look normal"

she went on to explain what she meant - not that I was so nuts that by comparison she appeared far less nuts :-) but rather that to her I was normal. She doesn't see me as nuts, but we share so many things, so many habits and thoughts and worries, that by extension my normality gave her a sense of normality.

I really loved hearing this.

If any of you out there reading my blog think that I am normal and you are nuts, just remember I am every bit as nuts as you, and therefore you are every bit as normal as me.

And to those of you kind enough to be concerned about me after my last post, I'm no more or less nuts that I have been in the past, I'm just saying it out loud a little bit now instead of always bottling it up - so that's really quite a good thing - but thank you xx

*normal pic from here

I miss the old me

I remember very early on in my treatment my gp asking me what percentage of my time do I spend thinking about food/diet/eating/exercise - and I replied very matter-of-factly, because it didn't occur to me that it was a problem, that it was all I thought about. I was very happy with this. These thoughts made me happy. I loved thinking about what I was going to eat. About planning my day ahead. About calculating calories in and calories out - and then being rewarded for my excellence with the tumbling numbers on the scale.

I miss this so much. Now those bloody numbers just go up. They mock me and my failure.

My thoughts were so comforting then. They were not scary, and dark, and mean, and unkind. They were bright and happy and kept me company.

I don't know at what point they changed from being light and breezy thoughts to being crushing dark thoughts, but I long to get back to the point before. The point where they filled my every waking moment - but still made me happy.

Was this ever true though? I feel sure that it was. But I'm also sure that everyone on my treatment team would try to tell me that it was never the case. That my thoughts were never good or comforting or warm. That they were my nasty, manipulative ED voice that I must stamp out and not listen to.

But I'm not so sure. I really feel that before I lost control of it, it was a comforting thing. Almost a hobby.

What annoys me the most, I guess, is that everyone else in the world is allowed to have these thoughts, are allowed to want to lose weight and plan for how they will do - and they are praised, not made to feel dirty and guilty.

It's very confusing wanting to hang on to something that everyone else says is wrong. I just want to go back to how I felt before everyone explained eating disorders to me. Before everyone else decided there was something wrong with me.

I don't think there is anything wrong with me. I'm sorry, but I don't. I know I'm not supposed to say this. I know I'm supposed to have moved past this and accept like a good little girl that I have a problem that everyone else wants to fix for me. But quite frankly I have just run out of things to say to everyone.

I'm overweight. I'm enormous. I don't exercise. I eat. I hate myself in a way I never did before.

I never argued with my gp before. I never looked away in shame when she talked to me before. I never resented people's help before. I never cried like this before. I never froze up and just completely lost the ability to speak before. I never cut myself before. I never burnt myself before. I never had so little control over every aspect of my life before. I was never this exhausted before. I never had so much unwashed laundry before. I was never this isolated from my family before.

Rambling again. No answers again tonight. Sorry, I guess eventually if I just keep writing I'll find a point.

No guarantees though.

screw calm

 

 

appropriate pic from here

I don't have a lot to say at the moment.

Actually I have a lot to say - but it's all ranty, screamy, cranky crap that I'm not really sure I should let out here.

Some of it is bitching about my 'so called (IRL) friends' who I'm just *over* at the moment. Over their judgy-judgy games. Over their inane conversations. Quite frankly I'm just over trying to socialise and be nice.

Some of it is really not-appropriate anti-recovery stuff I really don't want to say here. I know that it's good to be real and honest - and show readers that everyone has ups and downs - but I'm conscious of not wanting to give anyone an excuse for embracing a slip or relapse.

And some of it is cranky "I don' want to talk to you" "I don't need your help" ranting directed at J and DrC that I can see perfectly well is just because I'm avoiding stuff.

So no great insights today. No neat wrap-up where I see the error of my ways and turn it into a positive.

Today it's just bollocks, bugger, crap, stupid, leave me alone shit that I don't really feel any better for having voiced But that's life boys and girls.

self portrait

ever feel like no-one understands *YOU*?

Well, soon there will be a book for you to give to your family, friends and anyone else you think could do with a bit of translation-education.

Bloggers and eating disorder survivors Cate Sangster and June Alexander are currently working on a book to breakdown the language barrier that often exists between ED fighters and their family and friends. This can range from simple comments like "you look well" to seemingly downright thoughtless ones like "stop trying to get attention and just eat your dinner".

More often than not the family and friends of those affected by eating disorders have NO IDEA WHAT HAS HIT THEM - and really need a hand to get inside the mind of their loved one in order to avoid saying triggering and hurtful things.

This book will fill that need. It will help family and friends to understand the language of eating disorders - and therefore better understand how to help YOU on your journey to full recovery. And it will also help break down that stigma that you are doing this on purpose, or just to 'get them back' or to 'be difficult'.

SO HOW CAN YOU HELP?
Cate and June are looking for suggestions of experiences you have had where someone has said something to you and couldn't understand why you were upset by it. But also they would love suggestions from your family and friends as well. Get them to add their voices with suggestions of comments they have made where you have reacted unexpectedly so they can help fill in those blanks too.

And spread the word too. Cate has two buttons on her side bar (see below). Go grab the codes and put them on your blog. One button is to let people know about the book, the other is to let the world know that you have been a part of this valuable project too!!

NEXT STEP??

Go visit Cate's blog for the funny, and June's blog for the facts, including the email address of where to send your suggestions.

MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD. THIS IS BOOK WILL HELP PEOPLE TO BETTER UNDERSTAND. 

To paraphrase Abraham Lincoln:

"I don't understand ED. I must get to know him better"

I've finally become the rollercoaster cliche

source

I can now see how this goes!

I feel distressed so I seek support. The support helps and slowly I start to feel better. I start to eat better. My mind calms down and I start to think clearly again.

I feel strong again. I feel happy and like my old self - ready to tackle any challenge. So I set myself a little one. Just a little one, I'll just lose 1 or 2 kilos. Because that won't hurt me, but then I'll just feel a bit better. And that's ok. I'm not going to go overboard. I'm back under control now. It will all be fine.

So I restrict, just a little. Because I'm fine now. And I up my exercise, just a little. Because I'm fine now.

And that little bit, even one skipped meal, is enough space for ED to squeeze back into my mind.

And so I start to really believe my own bullshit.

And so I'm really extra amazingly fine. In fact I'm so bloody fine I don't need any of these appointments! I've got everything under control and it's fine and nobody is going to steal my motivation away from me. I'm on a roll now. This is great.

And so I cancel my appointments.

And the rug comes sweeping out from under me. I start to panic. but I can't panic, because everything is going really well, you see. I'M FINE, you see. Don't need anyone. I'm wasting their time. Can't talk about it. God I'm stupid, what did I think I was doing. I can't go back and re-make those appointments now, they'll think I'm an idiot who can't take care of herself for two minutes without whining.

And so I panic some more. Lock myself away in my own dark little mind where the only light is provided by my scales and the pain in my stomach.

And then it all gets too much. I blurt it out to someone. And I realise that I really do need some support - otherwise why did I just blurt it out like that. I needed to tell someone. Because I am the olympic superstar at covering up my pain - so if I don't talk no one will know I need help. I have to be the one to initiate the process.

And so in my distress I reach out for support. The support helps and slowly I start to feel better. I start to eat better. My mind calms down and I start to think clearly again.

I feel strong again. I feel happy and like my old self - ready to tackle any challenge...