Saturday, January 28, 2012


Too many, probably everyone, I'm the last person they would assume could develop an eating disorder. But by now I can see how it could happen. Not necessarily this eating disorder directly, but rather indirectly.

It all started when I was a child...or a teenager...or about five years ago? Either way, this thing started early; my thought patterns began forming without my knowledge that they were twisted. My brain is wired to work the way that it does. At times my intelligence is incomprehensible even to myself. Yet there are times when my mind tells me to do things that would throw every bit of my intelligence away.

I've been trying to destroy this demon inside my head, and I have yet to be successful. This past month has been rather disappointing since I started down this road to recovery from the eating disorder that has enslaved me for the past four years.

I have never considered myself stubborn. Rather a perfectionist plagued with OCD tendencies. Never a perfectionist to be better than everyone else. Instead as an attempt towards some form of stability in contrast to my bipolar turbulence and life events. But I'm beginning to rethink this theory.

Maybe I'm naive but I'm surprised at how easy it was to slip into relapse. I haven't been very good to myself lately. I've discovered that the complexities of my distorted thought patterns are more complicated than I know. I'm disappointed that I had never realized this long ago.

Monday, January 16, 2012

Do you know who I am?

Twice a week I say my name to a group of guys. Twice a week I say who I am not. I say what I am not.

I've looked at pornography before. I must be a sex addict.

I am a self-published blogger who hasn't written a book yet. I am not a real writer.

I am a weekend-dad and a step-dad. I guess I am not a real dad.

I written about being a gentleman and loving father, a positive role model, but I've taken my anger out on my wife and children. I am a selfish pig.

I have not sought to fulfill the gifts God has blessed me with. I am un-grateful and self-seeking.

I broken many promises to my mother and wife that I would not take another drink. I am no longer a man of my word.

I've had days at work where I goofed off much of the time instead of earning my pay. So I am a thief.

I have followed the voices in my head and heeded to many illogical thinking my bipolar throws at me. I am a crazy lunatic who needs to be locked up.

I have bipolar. Then I am a danger to others.

Food makes me anxious and I prefer to starve myself. I must be weak.

Where my inspiration comes from

A Recycled-Dad with Bipolar & Parkinson's, reflections on fathering and family life and other stuff thrown in'll love my Soap Box Rants

Blog with Integrity\\ Auhor Lupe Picazo

Why I call myself a Recycled Dad

I call myself a Recycled Dad because of the struggles with remarriage and being a step-parent and weekend dad. This is also about my life living with bipolar and how it affects me personally, my family and my job. It also reflects on the grace God has poured out on me throughout recovery from alcohol and an eating disorder. Recycled Dad is about my reflections on the wisdom God teaches daily on fatherhood and being a better husband in spite of being bipolar.

Please feel free to leave comments. I welcome them