I'm not anxious. I'm stressed. There is a difference, at least for me there is.
My job is completely stressing me out to the point of tears and complete exhaustion. It is draining me. I have no idea what to do. I don't want to quit. I don't want to say much more about it because I don't want my employer to somehow find this blog post.
I've been so stressed that I have been clenching my jaw, and grinding my teeth. My teeth and jaw ache so much. It's really painful and makes me more stressed out.
I literally slept all weekend. I'm pretty sure I was depressed, mostly from my job and just wanting to avoid trauma stuff.
I'm sick of...eating disorders. Besides my treatment team, and the close friends that I have who struggle...I want nothing to do with eating disorders. I am going to the NEDA Walk in Charlottesville next weekend because one of my best friends Michelle is going to be there. But I can't stand freaking ED's. When leaving my dietitian's office tonight, there was a super, super skinny and emaciated girl in the waiting room and yes, I did compare myself. I still struggle with that a lot. Even though I know that girl is probably miserable and drained of life. I just hate it. I hate eating disorders. They are competitive and annoying and selfish and stupid.
I want to eat normally (like I've been starting to do) and not feel guilty and like a failure for doing so, even though it excites my dietitian soooo much that I ate a cheeseburger and french fries last week. Which I'm pretty proud of too.
I don't want to sleep away my weekends because I have NOTHING else to look forward to. I don't have any money to spend on myself (it all goes to bills and rent). I don't have any friends here. I don't have a boyfriend. I look forward to sleeping away my weekends. And I know that's not normal or healthy.
Can I just wake up tomorrow and be like everyone else who DOESN'T have an eating disorder? I can deal with all the other stuff, just not the stupid ED.
Monday, October 22, 2012
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Progress is progress, no matter how small
I've been reluctant to regularly update my blog. In all truthfulness, I am processing all of my past trauma in therapy right now (and have been since August) and it has been so difficult. I don't want to share these experiences and how I'm dealing with them on the internet. It's too personal and private. But when close friends ask me how I'm doing, and I say I'm having a hard time, it's because I'm struggling with trauma related issues.
But I do want to continue to write on my blog, and I believe I can do that without talking about my therapy sessions in detail. I will say that, as difficult as processing trauma has been, it's what I have needed to do for a long, long time. I work with an amazing therapist who is making this process safe and I am able to trust her.
Now, onto my progress. I honestly have hated that word for so long. Mainly because I feel like I hardly ever make progress, and that when I do, I tend to self-destruct. However, lately I have been making progress in areas that I didn't even know about until my therapist pointed them out. I've always struggled with feeling guilty for reaching out for help, and feeling so needy. And I apologize excessively for it. My therapist today told me that I have not bothered her, and there is no need to apologize. In fact, she said she thinks it shows great strength and progress that I am able to reach out to her when I feel like I need to, while being able to handle some things without her help. She told me to honor myself for making such progress. I was taken back by that, but in the end it made me smile.
On the eating disorder front, I am also making progress. I have not purged since July, and I really haven't had any urges. Like I said in a former blog post, my ER trip last month made me realize how much my body is suffering when I use ED behaviors. Lately, if I restrict for one day, I have a terrible headache at the end of the day. Restricting is becoming less and less. I enjoy food. I eat pretty much whatever I want, in moderation of course. I don't count calories. I haven't looked at my weight in 3 months. And I actually am beginning to like my body. It's crazy and I never thought I would get to this point. And it's amazing that I can actually get much better.
It's a slippery slope thought, and even though eating is going better, I got scared the other night when my dietitian was praising me for how well I was doing. I thought to myself, "well this won't last. it never does." I got really down on myself. I really want it to last this time. I know that there will of course be ups and downs, but I don't want to fully relapse again.
I am really thankful (and I know I say this a lot) for a really awesome support system and treatment team. My team of my therapist, dietitian and my psychiatrist is the best team I've ever had. Jane, the mom I babysit for, has become a person I can confide in. I have, Debbie, my second mom. And while I don't have really any friends in my town that I can be myself around, I have a handful of really amazing friends scattered here and there that get me and know me and love me.
So, like the title of this post says...Progress is progress, no matter how small.
But I do want to continue to write on my blog, and I believe I can do that without talking about my therapy sessions in detail. I will say that, as difficult as processing trauma has been, it's what I have needed to do for a long, long time. I work with an amazing therapist who is making this process safe and I am able to trust her.
Now, onto my progress. I honestly have hated that word for so long. Mainly because I feel like I hardly ever make progress, and that when I do, I tend to self-destruct. However, lately I have been making progress in areas that I didn't even know about until my therapist pointed them out. I've always struggled with feeling guilty for reaching out for help, and feeling so needy. And I apologize excessively for it. My therapist today told me that I have not bothered her, and there is no need to apologize. In fact, she said she thinks it shows great strength and progress that I am able to reach out to her when I feel like I need to, while being able to handle some things without her help. She told me to honor myself for making such progress. I was taken back by that, but in the end it made me smile.
On the eating disorder front, I am also making progress. I have not purged since July, and I really haven't had any urges. Like I said in a former blog post, my ER trip last month made me realize how much my body is suffering when I use ED behaviors. Lately, if I restrict for one day, I have a terrible headache at the end of the day. Restricting is becoming less and less. I enjoy food. I eat pretty much whatever I want, in moderation of course. I don't count calories. I haven't looked at my weight in 3 months. And I actually am beginning to like my body. It's crazy and I never thought I would get to this point. And it's amazing that I can actually get much better.
It's a slippery slope thought, and even though eating is going better, I got scared the other night when my dietitian was praising me for how well I was doing. I thought to myself, "well this won't last. it never does." I got really down on myself. I really want it to last this time. I know that there will of course be ups and downs, but I don't want to fully relapse again.
I am really thankful (and I know I say this a lot) for a really awesome support system and treatment team. My team of my therapist, dietitian and my psychiatrist is the best team I've ever had. Jane, the mom I babysit for, has become a person I can confide in. I have, Debbie, my second mom. And while I don't have really any friends in my town that I can be myself around, I have a handful of really amazing friends scattered here and there that get me and know me and love me.
So, like the title of this post says...Progress is progress, no matter how small.
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
I can't keep doing this to myself
Before I entered treatment in February 2011, I was really good at covering up my eating disorder. I managed to starve myself, and binge/purge, without any major medical complications, and I somehow kept my weight loss a secret, because no one ever commented on it. Sure, I had the dizziness, the shakiness, dry skin, lack of energy....all of those normal things people get when they don't nourish themselves.
A week before I entered treatment in 2011, I had heart palpitations after a binge/purge episode and truly thought I would die. So I stayed up all night, in fear that I would die in my sleep. When I got to treatment, I didn't think I needed to gain weight or that anything was wrong with my vitals. I was underweight, had low blood pressure, low pulse, low body temperature, and many other medical complications. Eventually, all of that was resolved once I reached a healthier body weight. I wasn't really invincible as I thought I was.
This past spring, after almost a full year in recovery, I relapsed. Over the summer, I admitted myself to the psychiatric hospital because I wanted to die and planned on going through with it. While I was there, my treatment team and parents back home, told me I needed to go back to treatment. There was a place a few hours away from my house where it was suggested I go. In the end, I didn't end up going. I believed I could get back on track while doing outpatient therapy, and I certainly wasn't "sick enough" to go. Or so I thought.
I did not get back on track, in fact, things got worse. In September I went to the ER because I hadn't eaten or had anything to drink in 3 days and I was very dehydrated. My dietitian told me I was at risk for a heart attack, and that was a huge wake-up call to me. The next few weeks I improved my eating a lot, and felt back on track.
Now I'm back to where I was in September. I'm dealing with a lot of painful, painful things in therapy. It's making my anxiety crazy, and I'm nauseous all the time. I have been restricting again.
What blows my mind (although it really shouldn't) is that after using eating disorder behaviors for 10 years, it's finally catching up to me. And I am most certainly not invincible. I'm older, and I'm sure I have caused permanent damage to my body.
I can't keep doing this to myself. I can't survive any more relapses. At this point, I don't even consciously use my eating disorder. It's a habit, it's cemented into my brain. I don't want to do it. And that's what makes this so frustrating. 10 years of eating disorder behaviors is way too long. It's pretty crazy that I'm still alive.
I know how to eat, to follow a plan, to lower my anxiety, etc, etc. I just have to do it. I wish it was easy as that.
A week before I entered treatment in 2011, I had heart palpitations after a binge/purge episode and truly thought I would die. So I stayed up all night, in fear that I would die in my sleep. When I got to treatment, I didn't think I needed to gain weight or that anything was wrong with my vitals. I was underweight, had low blood pressure, low pulse, low body temperature, and many other medical complications. Eventually, all of that was resolved once I reached a healthier body weight. I wasn't really invincible as I thought I was.
This past spring, after almost a full year in recovery, I relapsed. Over the summer, I admitted myself to the psychiatric hospital because I wanted to die and planned on going through with it. While I was there, my treatment team and parents back home, told me I needed to go back to treatment. There was a place a few hours away from my house where it was suggested I go. In the end, I didn't end up going. I believed I could get back on track while doing outpatient therapy, and I certainly wasn't "sick enough" to go. Or so I thought.
I did not get back on track, in fact, things got worse. In September I went to the ER because I hadn't eaten or had anything to drink in 3 days and I was very dehydrated. My dietitian told me I was at risk for a heart attack, and that was a huge wake-up call to me. The next few weeks I improved my eating a lot, and felt back on track.
Now I'm back to where I was in September. I'm dealing with a lot of painful, painful things in therapy. It's making my anxiety crazy, and I'm nauseous all the time. I have been restricting again.
What blows my mind (although it really shouldn't) is that after using eating disorder behaviors for 10 years, it's finally catching up to me. And I am most certainly not invincible. I'm older, and I'm sure I have caused permanent damage to my body.
I can't keep doing this to myself. I can't survive any more relapses. At this point, I don't even consciously use my eating disorder. It's a habit, it's cemented into my brain. I don't want to do it. And that's what makes this so frustrating. 10 years of eating disorder behaviors is way too long. It's pretty crazy that I'm still alive.
I know how to eat, to follow a plan, to lower my anxiety, etc, etc. I just have to do it. I wish it was easy as that.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Pain
I found this quote recently. This is what I'm dealing with.
"Some of us have a hard time believing that we are actually able to face our own pain. We have convinced ourselves that our pain is too deep, too frightening, something to avoid at all costs. Yet if we finally allow ourselves to feel the depth of that sadness and gently let it break our hearts, we may come to feel a great freedom, a genuine sense of release and peace, because we have finally stopped running away from ourselves and from the pain that lives within us."
"Some of us have a hard time believing that we are actually able to face our own pain. We have convinced ourselves that our pain is too deep, too frightening, something to avoid at all costs. Yet if we finally allow ourselves to feel the depth of that sadness and gently let it break our hearts, we may come to feel a great freedom, a genuine sense of release and peace, because we have finally stopped running away from ourselves and from the pain that lives within us."
Tuesday, October 2, 2012
Back Again
I'm really depressed again. Maybe it's because I'm actually eating and not hiding behind my feelings. But I almost feel suicidal. It's scary. I see my therapist tomorrow morning. I am going to tell her everything.
I don't want to get to the point where I have to go back to the hospital.
Trauma stuff is...so hard.
I cried for 10 straight minutes today in between jobs. I couldn't get myself to stop. It hurt so bad. My heart hurt so bad. There was so much pain and it was exhausting. I'm really tired of this life I'm living. I'm just really not patient enough to ride the waves of recovery. I wish I could find the words to describe how deep my pain and exhaustion is. It's just a really, really heavy feeling, and like my heart is being squeezed.
I'm so tired of it.
I don't want to get to the point where I have to go back to the hospital.
Trauma stuff is...so hard.
I cried for 10 straight minutes today in between jobs. I couldn't get myself to stop. It hurt so bad. My heart hurt so bad. There was so much pain and it was exhausting. I'm really tired of this life I'm living. I'm just really not patient enough to ride the waves of recovery. I wish I could find the words to describe how deep my pain and exhaustion is. It's just a really, really heavy feeling, and like my heart is being squeezed.
I'm so tired of it.
Friday, September 14, 2012
ER and other shenanigans
Exactly a week ago today, my friend Sarah was driving me to the emergency room. I had seen my dietitian 4 hours earlier and she was seriously concerned for my well-being. You see, I hadn't eaten or had anything to drink in 3 days. When she weighed me, her super duper special scale told her that I was severely dehydrated. I insisted I was fine (when I really felt like I was dying). She wanted to drive me home because she didn't think it was safe to drive myself, but again, I said I was okay. Around 10:30pm I was walking from my bathroom to my bedroom and all of a sudden everything got white and my head felt like it was spinning, I felt nauseous and on fire. I made myself sit down. After a few minutes, I felt strong enough to walk to my bed and sit down on it. I texted my friend Sarah, and in my gut I knew I needed to go to the ER. So I got there and they did vitals, EKG, took several vials of blood, and put in an IV needle. I didn't get a room until 1:30am. The doctor came in and I explained how this happened and that I had an eating disorder and blah blah blah. He wasn't very understanding or supportive, but whatever. I didn't really expect anything different.
He said my lab work came back and I had low potassium. I got pumped full of fluids to re-hydrate me and get my potassium level back up to normal. I had a TERRIBLE headache that was on day 5. I got a Percocet for that, as well as Zofran for my nausea. After the fluids were pumped into my body, I was allowed to go home. I was pretty loopy from the painkiller, and exhausted. I got home at 4:30am. I went straight to bed. This was on a Friday night/Saturday morning and I didn't feel back to normal until Monday night.
Since then, I have been eating much better and staying hydrated. I guess it was kind of a wake-up call. It scared me a lot. I still have the desire to restrict, but for the most part...I'm not. My parents were really mad at me when I told them what happened. My mom accused me of being needy, attention-seeking, and that I wanted people to baby me. This is why I never tell my mom anything.
I saw my dietitian tonight and she was so glad I went to the ER. She told me I had scared her so much. When I told her I had low potassium that night, her eyes got real big and she said, "you can have a heart attack from that, you do know that right?" I did know that, but don't think it would ever happen to me.
My therapist, who is amazing by the way, has been very supportive. I have been doing a lot of trauma work lately, and I think the anxiety from talking about it led to my behaviors last week that landed me in the ER. She is aware of this, and wants to be very careful and slow from now on when talking about trauma. She recognizes how much emotional pain I am in and just wants to take things session by session. I am perfectly okay with this, as I was so overwhelmed with everything last week.
I've started physical therapy for my shoulder and it sucks. It's hard and painful and it makes me sore and tired. My physical therapist says I have a lot of work to do with it, that it will never regain full strength. Super.
I am going to spend a weekend in October with my best friend Ashley, and we are going to do a NEDA Walk in Baltimore! I can barely contain my excitement. She is my other half and a part of my soul and I cannot wait to see her!
Not much else going on. Just the usual day to day things. My life is pretty boring.
He said my lab work came back and I had low potassium. I got pumped full of fluids to re-hydrate me and get my potassium level back up to normal. I had a TERRIBLE headache that was on day 5. I got a Percocet for that, as well as Zofran for my nausea. After the fluids were pumped into my body, I was allowed to go home. I was pretty loopy from the painkiller, and exhausted. I got home at 4:30am. I went straight to bed. This was on a Friday night/Saturday morning and I didn't feel back to normal until Monday night.
Since then, I have been eating much better and staying hydrated. I guess it was kind of a wake-up call. It scared me a lot. I still have the desire to restrict, but for the most part...I'm not. My parents were really mad at me when I told them what happened. My mom accused me of being needy, attention-seeking, and that I wanted people to baby me. This is why I never tell my mom anything.
I saw my dietitian tonight and she was so glad I went to the ER. She told me I had scared her so much. When I told her I had low potassium that night, her eyes got real big and she said, "you can have a heart attack from that, you do know that right?" I did know that, but don't think it would ever happen to me.
My therapist, who is amazing by the way, has been very supportive. I have been doing a lot of trauma work lately, and I think the anxiety from talking about it led to my behaviors last week that landed me in the ER. She is aware of this, and wants to be very careful and slow from now on when talking about trauma. She recognizes how much emotional pain I am in and just wants to take things session by session. I am perfectly okay with this, as I was so overwhelmed with everything last week.
I've started physical therapy for my shoulder and it sucks. It's hard and painful and it makes me sore and tired. My physical therapist says I have a lot of work to do with it, that it will never regain full strength. Super.
I am going to spend a weekend in October with my best friend Ashley, and we are going to do a NEDA Walk in Baltimore! I can barely contain my excitement. She is my other half and a part of my soul and I cannot wait to see her!
Not much else going on. Just the usual day to day things. My life is pretty boring.
Thursday, September 6, 2012
It's strange...
It's strange how 6+ months ago I thought I was moving beyond my trauma, even though I knew I was keeping a secret about it. Now, here I am going through it again. It's painful, scary, and overwhelming. Luckily, I have a wonderful therapist who is helping me through it. As well as a very understanding and supportive boss. Secrets keep you sick, and I was keeping a deep, dark secret. I think I'm on my way to healing, but right now it feels like my brain is exploding and my body is falling apart and everything causes panic. It's just not fair.
The eating disorder continues to be a monster in my life. Some days it goes away and I eat without thought and worry. Other days, the thought of food makes me sick and I choose not to eat. It's not about feeling fat, or being scared of gaining weight. It never was. It's the anxiety. The anxiety that is always there. I just want to be free of it, of all that holds me down.
I feel like I have to apologize for my disorders, for my issues, and for needing help. I feel stupid, unworthy, and undeserving, even though people tell me I am none of those things. My therapist said, "you aren't stupid, you are brave." And yeah, I am using an insane amount of courage right now to deal with my trauma. But talking about it still makes me feel stupid.
Physically, the anxiety is attacking my body. I tremble and shake all over. I've had a migraine for 5 days. I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. I am having panic attacks. There is a huge amount of anxiety that I think is coming from the huge amount of emotions I am keeping inside. I need a release. I need to cry, scream, jump up and down, or something. I know this gets said a lot, but I literally feel like I could explode any minute.
But, day by day I somehow make it through. That's really the only way. Looking ahead a week or even 2 days will cause me even more anxiety. I am choosing to heal, to be honest, and to be brave. Day by day, I am surviving this.
The eating disorder continues to be a monster in my life. Some days it goes away and I eat without thought and worry. Other days, the thought of food makes me sick and I choose not to eat. It's not about feeling fat, or being scared of gaining weight. It never was. It's the anxiety. The anxiety that is always there. I just want to be free of it, of all that holds me down.
I feel like I have to apologize for my disorders, for my issues, and for needing help. I feel stupid, unworthy, and undeserving, even though people tell me I am none of those things. My therapist said, "you aren't stupid, you are brave." And yeah, I am using an insane amount of courage right now to deal with my trauma. But talking about it still makes me feel stupid.
Physically, the anxiety is attacking my body. I tremble and shake all over. I've had a migraine for 5 days. I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. I am having panic attacks. There is a huge amount of anxiety that I think is coming from the huge amount of emotions I am keeping inside. I need a release. I need to cry, scream, jump up and down, or something. I know this gets said a lot, but I literally feel like I could explode any minute.
But, day by day I somehow make it through. That's really the only way. Looking ahead a week or even 2 days will cause me even more anxiety. I am choosing to heal, to be honest, and to be brave. Day by day, I am surviving this.
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