I had an appointment with my dietitian tonight. We figured out together why my anxiety has been so bad. She asked me to go home and write about it, and then email it to her and my therapist. I did that and now I'm sharing it on my blog. This is probably one of the rawest, honest, and painful essays I have written. So I'm a little nervous about posting it. I'm not asking for anything, just maybe some encouragement, or if you are going through, or have been through something similar, to maybe add some words of wisdom. Thanks.
I have this image in my head that won't leave me alone. I'm walking down the road leading up to the school where the abuse took place. I walk through the big iron gates, past a wooded area, past the soccer field and the play ground, but then the images stop, right before I see the school. I think I am too scared to walk any farther. I don't want to go inside. Why would I? But I don't want to see the iron gates or the soccer fields or the play ground either. Because they remind me of the happy girl I once was. The girl I was before he stole my happiness, my power, and my safety.
When I left Remuda, I didn't think I was scared of him anymore. But I am. He still has power over me, even though it's been 11 years. I know he shouldn't, and I really don't want him to. But the fear he left me with still lives inside me today. I think part of me still feels I was at fault. I have said it and written it many times. That even though I was younger and smaller, I was strong as an ox from gymnastics. I could have pulled away, run away, hit him, or screamed. And I did none of those things, for reasons I may never understand. I think in order to really heal, I need to forgive myself. I don't know how to do that.
The flashbacks are not as intense nor as frequent as they once were, but they are still there. I have learned to deal with them. But the feelings are still so, so intense. Sadness. Pain. Hurt. Fear. Grief. Helplessness. Loneliness. Cold. Dirty. But mostly fear. The sounds and smells of the times he abused me are still very real in my head.
I have been thinking about what happened quite a bit lately. I'm not sure why. Maybe I need to figure that out. I want to talk about it in therapy, but I hold myself back. It's still a very painful place for me to visit, and I hate how hard it is for me to talk about.
I am usually really good at expressing my feelings. But it's hard for me to express my feelings about my abuse. There don't seem to be enough words to fully and truly explain how sad and hurt I feel. I guess I get frustrated by that.
I have been wanting to express my feelings about this for quite some time, but haven't because I'm scared to talk about it. So my feelings about it have been manifesting into anxiety.
I guess I need to talk about it. But I am scared, and I need your help. Because although I can talk about how it makes me feel, I don't know what to do beyond that. I feel stuck.
Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts
Friday, November 4, 2011
Friday, September 30, 2011
hole
Well this was an epic week. I am SO glad it's over. Let me just give you the run down.
My depression hit me hard this week. Really hard. On top of that, I was dealing with a ton of body image struggles and obsessive thoughts. I didn't really take the best care of myself. I struggled with restricting here and there. I haven't really had much of an appetite. I have had urges nearly every single day this week to binge/purge, but I haven't. I have stood my ground because I know bingeing/purging will make me even more depressed. It has been a week full of so many intense and overwhelming emotions. I have cried more this week than I have in the past 2 months.
Wednesday night I had dinner with my second mommy, Mrs. Robson. It was such an amazing conversation. She challenges my thoughts and cares about my emotions and what I am going through. We were both in tears at one point. I am able to vulnerable and honest with her in a way I am not with most people. I am not afraid to tell her things about me and my life, because I know she will love me and be there for me regardless. She's been there for me for 9 years and I have so much gratitude towards her. One thing we talked about on Wednesday night was the pain of my past. The pain from my abuse, the loss of my grandmother, and the loss of gymnastics. When all of those things happened when I was 11, I did not deal with them. It was when I went to Remuda in February I finally dealt with all of it and the pain I felt was so intense, and so raw. I still am dealing with that pain today. It comes from my core, a place so deep inside me. It feels like the pain and sadness will never stop coming. I told Mrs. Robson all of this. She said, it's not about moving on. That takes time. But it's what I do with the pain and sadness that is important. I have to choose to make the healthy choices, to live in the moment and not worry so much about yesterday or tomorrow. It's really hard, she said. But totally possible. It was hard to talk about this, but I knew I was with a safe person, so that made it easier. She told me a song that she said reminded her of me. When I got home, I listened to it and I was in tears. I have never had someone dedicate a song to me. I was humbled. The song is "Can't go back now" by The Weepies. Listen to it!
Thursday morning I had therapy. It was a good session, I guess. I brought up my trauma. It's been on my mind a lot lately. Not just the abuse, but everything that happened during that time period...all of the loss I experienced in such a short time. I sometimes feel stupid that I have not been able to move on. But like I said before, that's not what it's about. It's about allowing myself to deal with the feelings. My therapist was completely and totally supportive about all of this. She said I could talk about it whenever I felt the need to. It made me feel a lot better to hear this. I think I am going to bring it up again next week. It's been on my mind SO much and I have been breaking down crying every night, having flashbacks. I have been feeling that deep pain in my core, and it hurts so much. I need to heal from this, and not feel so sad and hurt anymore.
This morning I saw my dietitian. I was really looking forward to getting a hug from her. She gives the best hugs in the world and knows how to help me feel better. I haven't seen her in two weeks. She's been sick and she didn't want to give whatever she had to me, so she couldn't hug me. It made me pretty sad. As soon as I sat down, she could tell how hard things have been for me lately. I was honest with her about how I have been restricting, at in one instance, over-exercising. She asked if I thought I had lost weight. I said no. And I guess she didn't think I had either because she didn't weigh me. I told her how deeply I hated my body, how bad I thought I looked. She told me I had "ED eyes". How I see myself is so distorted. She said, I had such a sick and malnourished body, as well as such a muscular and toned body for so many years. And now for the first time I am healthy, and I have to get used to that. She didn't seem to keen on the idea that I wanted to lose weight.
I pretty much left my dietitian's office in tears. The amount I loathed my body was too much for words. I wished I could have magically lost 10 pounds. I felt so depressed. So disgusted. So frustrated. The past couple of days I have had that feeling of wondering if recovery is really possible for me. I just don't know anymore. Some times I have these moments of how great things are now, and having hope that I will turn out okay one day. But lately it's just been really discouraging. Sometimes I think the ED voice will never leave. That I will never feel happy with my body. I just want to feel better.
Work today just dragged on. I wanted it to be 5:30 so I could go home and run. I was ready to go and run and I looked in the mirror and I broke into tears. I looked so big. I didn't want people driving to see my running and see how big I was. My thighs have cellulite on the front, sides, and back. It's repulsive. I ended up going running away. It didn't really make me feel all that better. I took a cold shower. I laid in my bed listening to music, trying to calm down. I took a Klonopin when none of these things made my anxiety go down. After about a half hour, I finally felt like life was a little more bearable. I went downstairs and watched a little TV. Soon after, the Klonopin took it's full effects and I went back up to my bed and passed out. I slept for 3 hours. Now I am feeling anxious again. I feel so gross and dirty. I am going to go shower for the 3rd time today. Ugh.
I just feel like shit. Sorry for the negativity. Maybe after this weekend I will feel better?
My depression hit me hard this week. Really hard. On top of that, I was dealing with a ton of body image struggles and obsessive thoughts. I didn't really take the best care of myself. I struggled with restricting here and there. I haven't really had much of an appetite. I have had urges nearly every single day this week to binge/purge, but I haven't. I have stood my ground because I know bingeing/purging will make me even more depressed. It has been a week full of so many intense and overwhelming emotions. I have cried more this week than I have in the past 2 months.
Wednesday night I had dinner with my second mommy, Mrs. Robson. It was such an amazing conversation. She challenges my thoughts and cares about my emotions and what I am going through. We were both in tears at one point. I am able to vulnerable and honest with her in a way I am not with most people. I am not afraid to tell her things about me and my life, because I know she will love me and be there for me regardless. She's been there for me for 9 years and I have so much gratitude towards her. One thing we talked about on Wednesday night was the pain of my past. The pain from my abuse, the loss of my grandmother, and the loss of gymnastics. When all of those things happened when I was 11, I did not deal with them. It was when I went to Remuda in February I finally dealt with all of it and the pain I felt was so intense, and so raw. I still am dealing with that pain today. It comes from my core, a place so deep inside me. It feels like the pain and sadness will never stop coming. I told Mrs. Robson all of this. She said, it's not about moving on. That takes time. But it's what I do with the pain and sadness that is important. I have to choose to make the healthy choices, to live in the moment and not worry so much about yesterday or tomorrow. It's really hard, she said. But totally possible. It was hard to talk about this, but I knew I was with a safe person, so that made it easier. She told me a song that she said reminded her of me. When I got home, I listened to it and I was in tears. I have never had someone dedicate a song to me. I was humbled. The song is "Can't go back now" by The Weepies. Listen to it!
Thursday morning I had therapy. It was a good session, I guess. I brought up my trauma. It's been on my mind a lot lately. Not just the abuse, but everything that happened during that time period...all of the loss I experienced in such a short time. I sometimes feel stupid that I have not been able to move on. But like I said before, that's not what it's about. It's about allowing myself to deal with the feelings. My therapist was completely and totally supportive about all of this. She said I could talk about it whenever I felt the need to. It made me feel a lot better to hear this. I think I am going to bring it up again next week. It's been on my mind SO much and I have been breaking down crying every night, having flashbacks. I have been feeling that deep pain in my core, and it hurts so much. I need to heal from this, and not feel so sad and hurt anymore.
This morning I saw my dietitian. I was really looking forward to getting a hug from her. She gives the best hugs in the world and knows how to help me feel better. I haven't seen her in two weeks. She's been sick and she didn't want to give whatever she had to me, so she couldn't hug me. It made me pretty sad. As soon as I sat down, she could tell how hard things have been for me lately. I was honest with her about how I have been restricting, at in one instance, over-exercising. She asked if I thought I had lost weight. I said no. And I guess she didn't think I had either because she didn't weigh me. I told her how deeply I hated my body, how bad I thought I looked. She told me I had "ED eyes". How I see myself is so distorted. She said, I had such a sick and malnourished body, as well as such a muscular and toned body for so many years. And now for the first time I am healthy, and I have to get used to that. She didn't seem to keen on the idea that I wanted to lose weight.
I pretty much left my dietitian's office in tears. The amount I loathed my body was too much for words. I wished I could have magically lost 10 pounds. I felt so depressed. So disgusted. So frustrated. The past couple of days I have had that feeling of wondering if recovery is really possible for me. I just don't know anymore. Some times I have these moments of how great things are now, and having hope that I will turn out okay one day. But lately it's just been really discouraging. Sometimes I think the ED voice will never leave. That I will never feel happy with my body. I just want to feel better.
Work today just dragged on. I wanted it to be 5:30 so I could go home and run. I was ready to go and run and I looked in the mirror and I broke into tears. I looked so big. I didn't want people driving to see my running and see how big I was. My thighs have cellulite on the front, sides, and back. It's repulsive. I ended up going running away. It didn't really make me feel all that better. I took a cold shower. I laid in my bed listening to music, trying to calm down. I took a Klonopin when none of these things made my anxiety go down. After about a half hour, I finally felt like life was a little more bearable. I went downstairs and watched a little TV. Soon after, the Klonopin took it's full effects and I went back up to my bed and passed out. I slept for 3 hours. Now I am feeling anxious again. I feel so gross and dirty. I am going to go shower for the 3rd time today. Ugh.
I just feel like shit. Sorry for the negativity. Maybe after this weekend I will feel better?
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
super long post
Today, was a draining, emotional, but good day. I had therapy today, for the first time in 2 weeks. When I woke up this morning, I literally jumped out of bed because I was so excited. I felt a little bit of anxiety heading into therapy, but more excitement. It was so good to see my therapist. She later texted me and told me how nice it was to see me too.
We covered a lot in our session today. I talked about how my depression has come back in the past couple of weeks. She said that it makes sense that it's come back, because of the lack of control I have with the whole therapy situation. I just have to keep truckin' along and knowing it will not be like this forever. The depression has concerned me a little bit, just the oversleeping, and not cleaning and letting my laundry around...these are all classic signs for me. I know it's all situational, I just need to...keep going.
We also talked about the restricting that's been going on. My therapist is still encouraging me to eat 3 times a day, she says it doesn't matter what I eat, as long as it is 3 times a day. I know this will be hard, but I know it's necessary. My metabolism is majorly fucked up. It has been for quite some time. I want it go back to the way it was. Granted, my weight is fine (in reality, not in my head) but if I continue to eat the way I am, it will not be good for me. It isn't good for me now!
I talked about the situation with my younger sister and how triggering she has been lately. My therapist and I decided I should talk to my mom about this. I am at the point where I am concerned for my sister, that she might have issues with food. And I just want to share my concern with my mom and see if she feels the same way. I didn't get a chance to talk to my mom today, but I'm sure I will soon.
Then, we started talking about abuse stuff. I get really quiet when this topic comes up. I talk, but not as much, and my breathing starts to get really fast. I had brought my journal with me, so I shared with her a few exerpts that I had written pertaining to the abuse. She asked me if I ever get angry about it, or at him. I told her I have a couple times, but not really. She says it's something I need to do and asked why I hold back that anger. I guess it's because...I feel anger towards myself still, also guilt and shame. I feel like I have to apologize to myself..for not taking care of myself better. I also wonder, what happened to him in his life, and feel like...well maybe I have no right to be angry at him if something bad happened to him. My therapist told me I always have a right to my feelings, despite what happened to him. I believe her, but there still seems to be something holding me back from feeling anger. My goal for the next two weeks from my therapist is to experiment with feeling angry, and just see how it goes. I'm scared if I do that, I will completely lose it and lose control. But, hey I am willing to give it a try. We were continuing to talk about the abuse when I started to disconnect. I totally felt it, I zoned out. My eyes were in a blank stare. I could see things in my head, memories. And I felt scared, I felt the tears forming behind my eyes, and my breathing got really really fast. My therapist kept asking me what was going on and I could not open my mouth, it was just physically impossible at the time. Finally she asked,"what do you need, a hug?" I nodded and she came and sat beside me and held me and I finally let the tears out. Afterwards I was able to tell her what was going on in my head and what I was feeling. Today was the first time I have ever cried in front of my therapist (I have been seeing her almost a year). It was a scary and vulnerable thing for me, but God, it felt good to let it out.
I left therapy feeling hopeful, drained, but hopeful. I ran some errands with my mom, went to the library and then went to my parent's house for dinner. I came home to my own house, and basically had a meltdown. "How am I going to get through another 2 weeks?" I kept saying out loud to myself, "Holly you can do this, you are going to be ok" These are words my therapist says to me constantly! But I continued to cry. I also was overcome with emotion when thinking about how supportive and caring my therapist is/has been. Does anyone ever get like that? I mean, I have been in therapy for years, but for the past year I have really started working on all my shit. And my therapist has been completely and 100% supportive and caring, and there for me when I need her. It just makes me emotional. So, I also was crying about that. And then I freaked out about abuse stuff, had some flashbacks, but with the help of Emily (she also blogs on here) I calmed down.
Which brings me to my next little blurb...Emily. I have found a new friend within the past two days. We have talked online for a couple hours the past two nights and now I feel like I've known her forever. She is such an inspiration to me, all that she is going through and fighting, and continuing to be so positive about life and recovery. I could not have gotten through tonight without her, and I know I have her on my side and as my support. Thank you Em, you really mean the world to me.
Well, I think that's about it. Sorry this was so super long, I guess today was sort of epic. It felt that way at least. So I'm ready to fight through the next 2 weeks, journal every day, try to eat 3 times a day, and reach out for help when I need it.
I can do this. I will be okay.
We covered a lot in our session today. I talked about how my depression has come back in the past couple of weeks. She said that it makes sense that it's come back, because of the lack of control I have with the whole therapy situation. I just have to keep truckin' along and knowing it will not be like this forever. The depression has concerned me a little bit, just the oversleeping, and not cleaning and letting my laundry around...these are all classic signs for me. I know it's all situational, I just need to...keep going.
We also talked about the restricting that's been going on. My therapist is still encouraging me to eat 3 times a day, she says it doesn't matter what I eat, as long as it is 3 times a day. I know this will be hard, but I know it's necessary. My metabolism is majorly fucked up. It has been for quite some time. I want it go back to the way it was. Granted, my weight is fine (in reality, not in my head) but if I continue to eat the way I am, it will not be good for me. It isn't good for me now!
I talked about the situation with my younger sister and how triggering she has been lately. My therapist and I decided I should talk to my mom about this. I am at the point where I am concerned for my sister, that she might have issues with food. And I just want to share my concern with my mom and see if she feels the same way. I didn't get a chance to talk to my mom today, but I'm sure I will soon.
Then, we started talking about abuse stuff. I get really quiet when this topic comes up. I talk, but not as much, and my breathing starts to get really fast. I had brought my journal with me, so I shared with her a few exerpts that I had written pertaining to the abuse. She asked me if I ever get angry about it, or at him. I told her I have a couple times, but not really. She says it's something I need to do and asked why I hold back that anger. I guess it's because...I feel anger towards myself still, also guilt and shame. I feel like I have to apologize to myself..for not taking care of myself better. I also wonder, what happened to him in his life, and feel like...well maybe I have no right to be angry at him if something bad happened to him. My therapist told me I always have a right to my feelings, despite what happened to him. I believe her, but there still seems to be something holding me back from feeling anger. My goal for the next two weeks from my therapist is to experiment with feeling angry, and just see how it goes. I'm scared if I do that, I will completely lose it and lose control. But, hey I am willing to give it a try. We were continuing to talk about the abuse when I started to disconnect. I totally felt it, I zoned out. My eyes were in a blank stare. I could see things in my head, memories. And I felt scared, I felt the tears forming behind my eyes, and my breathing got really really fast. My therapist kept asking me what was going on and I could not open my mouth, it was just physically impossible at the time. Finally she asked,"what do you need, a hug?" I nodded and she came and sat beside me and held me and I finally let the tears out. Afterwards I was able to tell her what was going on in my head and what I was feeling. Today was the first time I have ever cried in front of my therapist (I have been seeing her almost a year). It was a scary and vulnerable thing for me, but God, it felt good to let it out.
I left therapy feeling hopeful, drained, but hopeful. I ran some errands with my mom, went to the library and then went to my parent's house for dinner. I came home to my own house, and basically had a meltdown. "How am I going to get through another 2 weeks?" I kept saying out loud to myself, "Holly you can do this, you are going to be ok" These are words my therapist says to me constantly! But I continued to cry. I also was overcome with emotion when thinking about how supportive and caring my therapist is/has been. Does anyone ever get like that? I mean, I have been in therapy for years, but for the past year I have really started working on all my shit. And my therapist has been completely and 100% supportive and caring, and there for me when I need her. It just makes me emotional. So, I also was crying about that. And then I freaked out about abuse stuff, had some flashbacks, but with the help of Emily (she also blogs on here) I calmed down.
Which brings me to my next little blurb...Emily. I have found a new friend within the past two days. We have talked online for a couple hours the past two nights and now I feel like I've known her forever. She is such an inspiration to me, all that she is going through and fighting, and continuing to be so positive about life and recovery. I could not have gotten through tonight without her, and I know I have her on my side and as my support. Thank you Em, you really mean the world to me.
Well, I think that's about it. Sorry this was so super long, I guess today was sort of epic. It felt that way at least. So I'm ready to fight through the next 2 weeks, journal every day, try to eat 3 times a day, and reach out for help when I need it.
I can do this. I will be okay.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
realize.
I'm crying. Big fat teardrops are rolling down my cheeks. It keeps coming and coming. In my head are images of my 22 (almost) years on this planet. The good stuff first. Going to the hospital to see my little sister when she was born, learning how to do a cartwheel for the first time, trips to the mall with my grandmother, visiting my cousins in Maryland, spending my summer 24/7 at the pool, getting really good at gymnastics and winning beam at nearly every meet i competed in, loving the feeling of flying through the air in gymnastics and diving, family vacations at the beach, halloween, christmas, blowing out my birthday candles...such good and fond memories. I was happy, a very happy kid. Sure I had my issues with ADHD, but I was happy and full of life and potential. Enter age 11. Images of my body being violated, hurt, and abused. My last gymnastics meet ever, in pain physically and emotionally. Why? My talent and potential were taken away from me. Who am I? Numb. Lost. Depressed. I found a new use for scissors. Not in a good way. Reaching out to anyone and everyone who would listen to me, except my family. Just wanting to destroy myself, what I've become. Looking at the bottle of pills. I want out. Psych hopsital, is this really happening? Food, my enemy. Staring at the porcelin bowl. Never happy with the scale. Remuda Ranch, the desert, life long friendships, but the ED has become my identity. Still do not know who I am. The next 6 years are a repeat of cutting, eating disorder, being suicidal, therapy, and being flat out miserable.
And here I am...4 days away from my 22nd birthday. For the first time...realizing...no, really really realizing...I am the only one who can change myself. That I have to do this. I want to have babies one day, fall in love, travel the world, have an abundance of friends, and grow old and happy. I finally WANT to do this. But I'm scared. It's hard to see the end, a happy end. I struggle with..."do i even deserve this?" Do I deserve happiness and peace, when I have just wasted my time and other people's time for so long? Oh God, I want it so bad. I am ready. I will do what it takes. I want better.
And here I am...4 days away from my 22nd birthday. For the first time...realizing...no, really really realizing...I am the only one who can change myself. That I have to do this. I want to have babies one day, fall in love, travel the world, have an abundance of friends, and grow old and happy. I finally WANT to do this. But I'm scared. It's hard to see the end, a happy end. I struggle with..."do i even deserve this?" Do I deserve happiness and peace, when I have just wasted my time and other people's time for so long? Oh God, I want it so bad. I am ready. I will do what it takes. I want better.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
heat
I have therapy tomorrow. Last Friday after the hardest therapy session of my life, I decided I really did not want to do that again, talk about it again. But, now I do. I just feel a need to talk about it; how it's affecting me, what I feel about it, and just more of the memories. I'm scared too, but I feel like I'm going to explode by not talking about it. And I know that's healthy. And I know it's a good thing that I have a need to talk about it. But it's like....damn, this is going to be the hardest shit I've ever done.
The eating disorder is...well...just a pain in the ass. I mean I don't know how to define what my recovery is like right now. I find myself obsessing about calories, what I eat, how it makes me feel. All the urges to purge are still there, but no I'm not purging...I am fighting them. That is a good thing. The binging at night is of course still there. And I almost accept that it always will be. It's a 10 year habit, like I don't think it will go away ever. I saw someone I went to high school with the other day who I hadn't seen a while, she told me, "you look pretty skinny, is everything okay?" Okay, first of all, I'm like 99% sure I'm at a healthy weight, so I have no idea why she said that. So for her to say that, just pissed me off. Because...I don't see what she sees. Whatever.
The anxiety is just...relentless. I have been practicing my breathing a lot, it does help. But sometimes...I get this feeling in my chest. It's like a weight on my chest, like it literally feels like a cement weight on my chest. And then it's like...I cannot take a deep breath in, and so that makes me panic of course. And ugh, it's just a horrible feeling. Not necessarily a new feeling, but it feels worse that it has before...if that makes sense?
I'm going to the beach next week. I could not be more excited! The beach we go to, in North Carolina, is my favorite place in the world. So relaxing, so quiet, so remote. It's just a breath of fresh air. To be with my family, my dogs, the ocean, good food, great weather, it will just be...soo good for me. I can't wait to go running on the beach in the early morning.
It's hot as hell here this week. It's going to 105 degrees tomorrow. I mean, that's a little ridiculous. I love summer, but not that hot.
Anyway, it felt good to get these things off my chest. I love blogging. It's hard to do it sometimes though, because at times I just want to ignore it and do something else. But I know it helps in the long run.
The eating disorder is...well...just a pain in the ass. I mean I don't know how to define what my recovery is like right now. I find myself obsessing about calories, what I eat, how it makes me feel. All the urges to purge are still there, but no I'm not purging...I am fighting them. That is a good thing. The binging at night is of course still there. And I almost accept that it always will be. It's a 10 year habit, like I don't think it will go away ever. I saw someone I went to high school with the other day who I hadn't seen a while, she told me, "you look pretty skinny, is everything okay?" Okay, first of all, I'm like 99% sure I'm at a healthy weight, so I have no idea why she said that. So for her to say that, just pissed me off. Because...I don't see what she sees. Whatever.
The anxiety is just...relentless. I have been practicing my breathing a lot, it does help. But sometimes...I get this feeling in my chest. It's like a weight on my chest, like it literally feels like a cement weight on my chest. And then it's like...I cannot take a deep breath in, and so that makes me panic of course. And ugh, it's just a horrible feeling. Not necessarily a new feeling, but it feels worse that it has before...if that makes sense?
I'm going to the beach next week. I could not be more excited! The beach we go to, in North Carolina, is my favorite place in the world. So relaxing, so quiet, so remote. It's just a breath of fresh air. To be with my family, my dogs, the ocean, good food, great weather, it will just be...soo good for me. I can't wait to go running on the beach in the early morning.
It's hot as hell here this week. It's going to 105 degrees tomorrow. I mean, that's a little ridiculous. I love summer, but not that hot.
Anyway, it felt good to get these things off my chest. I love blogging. It's hard to do it sometimes though, because at times I just want to ignore it and do something else. But I know it helps in the long run.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
depression
I've been hesitating to post. I am pretty embarrassed with how much I'm struggling. I don't even know why I am having such a hard time with depression. But I am. It all started last Friday. I guess I had a pretty intense therapy session, and it just triggered depression and a lot of self-harm thoughts and urges in me. I wrote about how hopeless I have been and still am. One one hand I want to die...I do. I want to just end the anxiety, the pain, and the torture. But on the other hand, I know deep in my heart somewhere there is some hope, and that I have felt better than this before, so I know it's possible again, right? I don't know if I am suicidal or not. That sounds crazy I know. But I can't figure it out. I definitely was the other night. Does anyone, like me, get annoyed and frustrated with having to rely on medication to make anxiety or depression better? I know it's a great thing, but I often wonder if that's really the solution to my problems. Besides, meds scare me, always have. I take them, but very reluctantly.
So, I don't want to live the way I am living anymore. I know the strong and right thing to do is to fight, but honestly I am tired of doing that too. Some would argue that I'm not even fighting to begin with, but I think I am. I fight my urges, I fight my thoughts. I go to therapy, I take my meds, I do my breathing exercises, I have a job, etc. Maybe I'm not perfect at all of these things, but at least I am doing them. And who does it perfectly anyway? People keep telling me..."you can and will recover from your eating disorder. you will heal from the sexual abuse, it will get better. These things just take time" I always want to respond with..."how much time?" Okay, so I know I have only just begun to work on the abuse, it's only been about 7 months that I've been working on that in therapy. But with everything else, the eating disorder, the anxiety...that's been going on for years. I don't blame my current or previous therapists. If anyone, I blame myself for not being at a good spot in recovery at this point. Maybe I am not fighting hard enough, trying hard enough. Maybe I don't want it. I'm not completely sure. I do know that it scares me to recover from all of my issues. They have been my identity for years now, without them...who am I? Everyone will leave me. I will be alone.
I am constantly terrified that my therapist is mad at me or annoyed at me. She swears she isn't. But sometimes I wonder...she must be. I have annoyed school counselors and therapists in the past, how come she hasn't yelled at me yet or left me? I was abandoned by a school counselor before, and yelled at many times. Okay, so maybe I deserved to be yelled at a few times. But my therapist right now trusts me, I think. She seems to. I don't know how I deserve such a good therapist. She's really amazing.
I realize this post has been all over the place, but that's kind of how I am right now.
Today is my little sister's 18th birthday. I can't believe how old me and my sisters are getting. My big sister turns 26 in a couple of weeks, and I turn 22 in a month.
Anyway. Whoever read all of this deserves a medal. I know it wasn't that much fun or exciting to read.
So, I don't want to live the way I am living anymore. I know the strong and right thing to do is to fight, but honestly I am tired of doing that too. Some would argue that I'm not even fighting to begin with, but I think I am. I fight my urges, I fight my thoughts. I go to therapy, I take my meds, I do my breathing exercises, I have a job, etc. Maybe I'm not perfect at all of these things, but at least I am doing them. And who does it perfectly anyway? People keep telling me..."you can and will recover from your eating disorder. you will heal from the sexual abuse, it will get better. These things just take time" I always want to respond with..."how much time?" Okay, so I know I have only just begun to work on the abuse, it's only been about 7 months that I've been working on that in therapy. But with everything else, the eating disorder, the anxiety...that's been going on for years. I don't blame my current or previous therapists. If anyone, I blame myself for not being at a good spot in recovery at this point. Maybe I am not fighting hard enough, trying hard enough. Maybe I don't want it. I'm not completely sure. I do know that it scares me to recover from all of my issues. They have been my identity for years now, without them...who am I? Everyone will leave me. I will be alone.
I am constantly terrified that my therapist is mad at me or annoyed at me. She swears she isn't. But sometimes I wonder...she must be. I have annoyed school counselors and therapists in the past, how come she hasn't yelled at me yet or left me? I was abandoned by a school counselor before, and yelled at many times. Okay, so maybe I deserved to be yelled at a few times. But my therapist right now trusts me, I think. She seems to. I don't know how I deserve such a good therapist. She's really amazing.
I realize this post has been all over the place, but that's kind of how I am right now.
Today is my little sister's 18th birthday. I can't believe how old me and my sisters are getting. My big sister turns 26 in a couple of weeks, and I turn 22 in a month.
Anyway. Whoever read all of this deserves a medal. I know it wasn't that much fun or exciting to read.
Friday, June 11, 2010
go away Ed
Therapy was good. We touched on the abuse, but not too much. We mostly talked about nightmares I've been having and how I feel about the abuse and my abuser now, as compared to a while ago. Things have changed. She says I'm making progress. That's hard to hear, because I don't really see it. Not all the way at least.
I got really emotional at the end of the session, didn't break down completely, but there were tears. I told her how I felt completely hopeless about my life. How I am so sick of depression, anxiety, the abuse, wanting to cut, purging, starving, etc. How I feel like I will never get rid of it all. "I just want to feel better" is what I said. I want some peace. I have been in therapy for so many years and I am completely 100% sick of what my life has been and become. But at the same time, I am scared of getting better, of my future. So, I think that's what holds me back a lot of the time, unfortunately. I have really been struggling with all of this lately. Just breaking down sobbing at the thought of who I am and what I struggle with on a daily basis. It makes me cry now writing it. So, I am going to stop writing about it because...I am sick of crying too.
I also saw my psychiatrist this morning. We talked about my issues surrounding needing to please people and the constant fear of disappointing people. I talked about that in therapy too.
ED is really loud right now. I mean really loud. I am on day 4 of no purging, but god, the urges are so very strong. I know it's good I am ignoring them and coping in a healthy way, but...it is so damn hard. Just crying on the bathroom floor trying so hard to just breathe through it and resist it. That's a little dramatic isn't it? Well, whatever it takes. I am a strong person, not as a strong as I like, and right now these urges are really, really testing my strength. It might break me. I continue to struggle with restricting, I wish I wasn't because it is so horrendous. I have no energy. I get hungry, and then I lose my appetite in a matter of seconds. It's hell on earth. I would never wish an eating disorder on anyone, and for all you that want an eating disorder, you are wrong. It's such torture. And sometimes it becomes more than you can handle. Night bingeing continues to be a struggle as well. I have struggled with that for years and god I wish it would just go away. I'm not exactly sure why I do it but it needs to stop. It makes me feel so gross too.
I want to take a nap so bad right now. You have no idea. But I leave for work in a half hour. Work from 3-10. And then I work tomorrow morning 8am-3pm. Kill me. It might.
I am SO going to the pool on Sunday. Getting my tan on and swimming and maybe throwing on that one piece and doing some diving. It makes my heart happy thinking about diving...change that maybe to a definitely.
That's all for now.
I got really emotional at the end of the session, didn't break down completely, but there were tears. I told her how I felt completely hopeless about my life. How I am so sick of depression, anxiety, the abuse, wanting to cut, purging, starving, etc. How I feel like I will never get rid of it all. "I just want to feel better" is what I said. I want some peace. I have been in therapy for so many years and I am completely 100% sick of what my life has been and become. But at the same time, I am scared of getting better, of my future. So, I think that's what holds me back a lot of the time, unfortunately. I have really been struggling with all of this lately. Just breaking down sobbing at the thought of who I am and what I struggle with on a daily basis. It makes me cry now writing it. So, I am going to stop writing about it because...I am sick of crying too.
I also saw my psychiatrist this morning. We talked about my issues surrounding needing to please people and the constant fear of disappointing people. I talked about that in therapy too.
ED is really loud right now. I mean really loud. I am on day 4 of no purging, but god, the urges are so very strong. I know it's good I am ignoring them and coping in a healthy way, but...it is so damn hard. Just crying on the bathroom floor trying so hard to just breathe through it and resist it. That's a little dramatic isn't it? Well, whatever it takes. I am a strong person, not as a strong as I like, and right now these urges are really, really testing my strength. It might break me. I continue to struggle with restricting, I wish I wasn't because it is so horrendous. I have no energy. I get hungry, and then I lose my appetite in a matter of seconds. It's hell on earth. I would never wish an eating disorder on anyone, and for all you that want an eating disorder, you are wrong. It's such torture. And sometimes it becomes more than you can handle. Night bingeing continues to be a struggle as well. I have struggled with that for years and god I wish it would just go away. I'm not exactly sure why I do it but it needs to stop. It makes me feel so gross too.
I want to take a nap so bad right now. You have no idea. But I leave for work in a half hour. Work from 3-10. And then I work tomorrow morning 8am-3pm. Kill me. It might.
I am SO going to the pool on Sunday. Getting my tan on and swimming and maybe throwing on that one piece and doing some diving. It makes my heart happy thinking about diving...change that maybe to a definitely.
That's all for now.
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