I Surrender

Nothing stays static, everything constantly moving and changing, and it makes me feel fearful and unsafe in this world.
My son had a car accident this evening, and although no one was hurt, I still have this sickening worry in the pit of my stomach. I'm going to try to get through this anxiety by writing. It always seems to help.

Good things that happened today~

• My son is okay.
• It was warm, and the sun was shining.
• I got to ride on the back of a motorcycle.
• I had fun with my co-workers.
• I laughed a lot.
• I ate real food for lunch.

Bad things that happened today~

• The front end of my cute, red HHR is bashed in.
• My toenail polish chipped and I was wearing sandals(very tacky:-D)
• Therapy was painful.
• We can't afford all of these expenses.

There, the good outweighs the bad. That was all I needed to do was to count my blessings, of which I have many. Everything can be fixed. My car, my toenails, my psyche. The money is another story, but somehow we will work it out. We always do.

Trauma Therapy

Today I had my third trauma therapy session. I'm starting to feel more comfortable talking with him about specific details, and he also helps me to make more sense of my feelings, or at least validate that what I'm feeling is "normal." I was telling him what a difficult time emotionally I am having with journaling. Journaling for me is so much different from what I write here. I do realize that other people read this blog who are survivors of sexual abuse themselves. I would never go into detail here about my own trauma, as that could be triggering to other survivors, also it wouldn't make sense to anyone else. New memories come up for me, and I've been trying to write about them, but they are raw, bitter, and they hurt. After I had written one such journal entry, I called my primary therapist and told her that I couldn't come in to see her. (She is the one who has been encouraging me to journal outside of this blog.) I was having a panic attack as I talked to her voice mail. I just didn't think that I could bear going into my session and talking about that journal entry or anything pertaining to the new memory. I did end up going to the session, but I told her that I could not talk about or share anything in the journal. I wasn't sure why I felt so strongly about not sharing with her, because she knows many details of the rape, and I've shared with her more than anyone else in my life. I was talking to my trauma therapist about this and he said it goes back to keeping the sexual abuse a secret, and that in many ways the mind remembers this, and my instinct is to protect myself and still have it remain a secret. I told him that I almost ripped up the pages of my journal, but something held me back. He said he hoped that eventually I would feel safe enough to be able to share with either him or my primary therapist. He said that new memories usually don't come up unless we are able handle them. I think that it will help me to heal if I stop hiding and keeping secrets, so I am going to try to share on Wednesday with my primary therapist. I trust and feel safe with her. I asked my trauma therapist if it was okay to keep digging up the past like this...if it was healthy, and he said that some people can spend their entire lives suppressing their memories and painful events that have happened. In my case, I think that eventually all of the pain and memories had to be released. There were so many ways that I avoided those memories. I starved myself, I obsessively cleaned and made sure that my house and my kids were perfect. I couldn't stop for a second, and I ran as far away from myself and my feelings as I could get. It is okay that I'm digging up my past, because in the process, I'm digging myself out. It is okay, and I'm going to be okay.

My Weekend In A Nutshell

Here is what I wrote in my journal on Saturday~

I’m bored with myself today, and near tears for no reason whatsoever besides the fact that I’m feeling lonely. I talked with my mom and step-dad on the phone, and that helped some, but it also made me miss them. How I can feel lonely in this household of boys is beyond me, but I do. My husband is into March Madness, so he's not being very attentive, and I'm feeling sorry for myself. I think that maybe I’ve eaten too much for dinner, and feel close to the point of purging. In fact, I can think of no good reason not to. I think that it will make me feel better, although I know that it won't. Something needs to make me feel better. It is rainy here today and all that I’ve done today is laundry, cleaned a toilet, and gone to the grocery store. How pathetic is that? God, I’m sorry that this post sounds so depressing and horrible! Maybe instead of purging, I will walk on the treadmill. That would be much healthier, but still make me feel better. There, I’ve problem solved…good for me:) Okay, enough whining. I’m just going to get on with it, and look for some joy. It has to be around here somewhere.

Today, so far~

Yesterday was a waste, and so far today is also proving to be a waste. Of course, I’m the one who is wasting it, but I’m at a loss. I have no money to shop, everyone is involved in March Madness, which is literally driving me mad, and it is rainy and cold. All of the things that I can do are things that I don’t want to do like cleaning and laundry. For some reason, I’m feeling unloved even though I know that to be untrue. My perceptions are usually quite distorted, and I know this, but it doesn’t make looking through my eyes any easier. Speaking of distorted, I feel enormous and ugly. I think that I ate too much yesterday, and as I type, my kids are in the kitchen eating whatever they want. How wonderful would that be, to just eat without worrying yourself sick over it? Ugh, I need to snap out of this funk, and soon! Next week is supposed to be beautiful, warm, and sunny. I’m sure that will help me kick these blues.

*I think that this depression is from missing my anti-depressant for an entire week, but knowing this doesn't make it feel any better. I'm looking forward to Easter, and spending time with my family, and all of my nieces and their cousins. Some sunshine would help me a great deal, so look forward to some positive posts coming up soon:)

Strength

Ahhh, it's Friday! Although it was a short work week for me, it still felt long and slow. I'm dragging, and it doesn't help that I've been out of my anti-depressant all week. The pharmacy is having trouble getting it or something. I'm definitely feeling more down, which is to be expected, but I hate that I really am so dependent upon the medication. I know that the reality is that I will probably be on them all of my life, but it is irksome(that word makes me smile.) Anyway, the pharmacy called today, and my prescription is in, so I should be back to my oh, so happy self, very soon.

My therapy session on Wednesday was intense. We talked about how painful journaling has been, and we talked about how to deal with new memories. My way of dealing with any new memory has been to go back to the beginning and try to make some sort of sense out of what happened to me, but obviously that is counter productive because it will never make sense. It was wrong, and no matter what new information I have, it will always be wrong. I have to remember that I was not at fault, and that I only did what I thought I could do at the time to survive. My therapist tells me all of the time how strong I am, and I have a difficult time acknowledging those words. I don't feel strong now, but when I look back at the little girl that I was, I can see that she had so much strength and courage. I want to be able to own those words and apply them to the woman I am now. Most of the time, I feel like I'm a failure because of the ways in which I cope with the pain. The eating disorder, the suicide attempt, the alcohol abuse, the depression...those things make me feel like a failure. All that I can continue to do is to work on those things, and hopefully one day soon, I will find and feel the power of my own strength.

Journaling

My journal entries are only random words. They mean nothing, but bring so much pain when I read them back to myself. My therapist tells me to journal, but I don't think this is what she meant. There are words, colors, smells...pain...so much pain. I've had some new memories, so she said to journal... I can't. I cannot even say or breathe the ugliness. I've tried, but all I can find are single words, feelings, nothing specific. It means nothing to no one but me. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

Only A Bowl Of Cereal

I ate a bowl of cereal. That’s all it was. A bowl of pumpkin seed flax granola with vanilla soy milk, to be exact. Not a huge fucking piece of cake, a bowl of ice cream, or any other food that I have deemed forbidden. It’s nothing to beat myself up over, and yet I am. See, for the past month and a half I’ve been having Boost or V8 Fusion for breakfast and lunch, but today I ate actual food, and now I feel overwhelmed by the fullness. I want to purge, but I’m not going to, so here I am, writing to distract myself. I know that if I can get myself to a certain point, the feeling will pass, or at least today, I hope it will. I don’t even know what made me go to the kitchen cupboard, pull down a bowl, and pour myself cereal. It wasn’t a plan or even a challenge. I just did it, and that is what scares me. What if I start eating everything without thought? I know the goal is to eat three meals a day, but usually I think it to death. Eating has never been an automatic response to hunger for me. I contemplate the idea of food and when I will allow myself to eat, but today, I just did it. I ate without thought or worry, and that terrifies me. My nutritionist would call this progress, but in my mind, progress means the one word in my vocabulary that I’m not suppossed to say… I’m not even going to write it, because we all know what it is. The cereal probably equaled approximately the same amount of calories as the Boost, so what is the difference, besides that I feel fuller? I need to be rational about this because it is only food. Food is what my body needs to sustain itself, and I deserve to eat and be healthy. I will remember that without food and nourishment, I am joyless.

* I ended up walking on the treadmill for an hour, but at least it wasn't purging, and I did drink the Boost for lunch.

I Believe

"Realize that this very body, with its aches and it pleasures… is exactly what we need to be fully human, fully awake, fully alive."
~ Pema Chodron

I had an appointment with my nutritionist this week, and I’m feeling better about my progress. I somehow felt like I was in a rut because I'm still drinking two of my meals, and I'm not yet ready to switch to actual food, but my weight is stable, so I guess that is good. I’m always so obsessed with losing weight, that it is hard for me to look at stable as a positive thing. I’m really working hard at following the meal plan that I have right now, and exercising in moderation, because at certain times in my life, excessive exercise has been a problem. My nutritionist isn't pushing me to do anything that I'm not ready to do, so I left my appointment actually feeling good about myself. Although it is hard for me to not look at recovery as failing my eating disorder, I’m working on re-framing that thought. Nurturing myself is not failure. It is me taking control, and treating myself with respect and kindness, because that is what I deserve. I no longer want to be a slave to the scale or to a certain size of clothing. I want to be able to accept my body not for what it looks like, but for what it can do for me.
In my appointment, we also talked again about enjoying food, taking my time while I eat, and using all of my senses to experience it, instead of just getting through the meal. I've been working on this, and it is difficult because when I enjoy a meal, I feel a tremendous amount of guilt. The other night at dinner we had some freshly made ravioli, and it was so good that I had a second small portion, but then there was that voice telling me how horrible and greedy I was, and I ended up purging. Of course that also makes me feel disgusting, so it seems as if there is no way to win. My nutritionist says that our bodies are very good at telling us when to stop eating if we pay attention to what our bodies tell us. For example she said that at the beginning of a meal, our taste buds are stronger, but that as we become full, the taste buds dull, and the food doesn't taste as good, signaling us to stop eating, if we listen. I've ignored my bodies cues for so long that it is hard for me to recognize what it is telling me. Right now I feel confused by what my body tells me. I used to love the feeling of being empty, but now hunger scares me almost as much as being full. I do realize that it is progress that I'm not comfortable with being hungry anymore. Now I only need to get past the fear that hunger will lead to overeating and gluttony. All that I have to do is trust the process, and I believe that eventually I am going to win. What a wonderful thing to be able to say...I believe:-)

A Dream Of You

A Dream Of You

Standing naked before you,
shivering in the cold March wind
Only a dream stripped bare
You say, "dreams mean everything."
Everything...
Touching your lips to mine
not quite a kiss
but a question
An answer
to secrets shared
Whispering in the dark
Never alone
Our silence pulsing with words unsaid
Laughter masks the confusion
of losing everything to you
You say, "Dreams mean everything."
Everything...

Angela Minard 2010©

To Do Lists

There is nothing like waking up from a nightmare to start off the day. On top of that, once again, it is gloomy and cold outside. I was hoping for some sun during my spring break. The forecast for Thursday and Friday looks promising, but then they are saying maybe some snow over the weekend! Oh well...

Here is what I've been up to~

• Dave bought me a new iPod on Saturday, so today I have been busy loading my music onto it. For those who care, it is a pretty metallic purple one:)
• I went to the dentist and had the chip in my front tooth fixed. I had an accident on a mo-ped when I was in high school, and lost half of my front teeth. The bonding they fixed it with was starting to wear out, and I was scared the whole piece was going to fall off. I didn't want to look like a hillbilly!
• I'm knitting a scarf for a friends little girl. This will probably be the last of my knitting for awhile, since it is hopefully going to warm up soon.
• Laundry
• Cleaning. I'll be honest...I've yet to do this. I did buy cleaning supplies though.
• Walking on my treadmill
• Therapy
• Facebook

Here is what I still plan to do~

• Cleaning :) Have you seen the show Hoarders? It is so shocking and sad to see that people live that way. I'm definitely going to get rid of the hundreds of magazines that are cluttering my house before I become one of them.
• Plant pansies
• Take my nieces to see Alice In Wonderland
• I also want to see Shutter Island
• Take Phoebe to the dog park
• Take a long walk on the trail that runs behind our house.
• Get a haircut and pedicure
• Write some poetry
• Did I mention cleaning?

I really want to write, but I've yet to feel inspired by anything. I hate that feeling of being shut off from my own creativity. I wish that I could paint or draw all of the beauty that I see. I want to start writing happier poems because I'm feeling happier. I think I will wait for the sun.

Imagine

"Don't let the imaginary person in your head

keep you from loving the real one right in front of you."~ unknown

Where does the imaginary person stop, and the real woman begin? Where and who is the real me, and how do I find her? When did I lose her? I want so much to know who I am. I don't want to be that perfect girl who hides behind the mask. It is a facade that over the years has finally worn me down. Right now I feel broken, and what I need is to build myself back up. I listen too often to the imaginary voice who tells me that I'm not good enough. I listen to the eating disorder who says that I'm fat, ugly, and disgusting. I twist the words of others, hearing only the negative, and disregarding the positive. I'm tired of being one diagnosis after another. I have so many questions because I'm unsure as to how I go about changing my own scewed perceptions of myself. Even though I want to change, and I believe that I can change, it is difficult to know how to go about it. Tackling the eating disorder is one way, I suppose. I don't want to hurt myself anymore, and that is a step in the right direction. One day, I hope to believe that I'm worth saving.

Here Comes The Sun

Off and on today, the sun has been pushing it's way through the thick cloud cover. That is a bit like how my life feels right now. I see and feel glimpses of the warm sun peeking through the darkness, and I have hope.

I had an appointment with my psychiatrist this afternoon. It went really well. I'm feeling less depressed and anxious, so she is lowering the Abilify because it makes me restless and fidgety. I hope that will be okay, since other than those side affects, my mood has been more positive. Today is also the official start of spring break. I have ten blissful days off, although I don't have any big plans. I'm going to spring clean, and hopefully plant some pansies in my window boxes if the weather warms up.
I saw my therapist on Wednesday, and my nutritionist yesterday. They were good sessions, but not much new to report. I'm just working on the same old issues. My nutritionist wants to increase my food intake, but I'm not ready. I'm so comfortable where I am, and my weight is stable. I know that I'm too dependent on only drinking my breakfast and lunch most of the time. I still have a difficult time eating in front of other people. I'm doing better at staying present at dinnertime though. My nutritionist asked me if there was a time that I remember enjoying food, and really, no, I don't. Food and fear have gone hand in hand for such a long time. I like certain foods, but to sit down and actually enjoy it seems foreign to me. Staying present for me means not spacing off while I'm eating, and also not standing up while I eat. At dinnertime, I try to focus on my husband, and that helps some. I know that so often he feels like he doesn't help me, or that I don't give him the chance to help me. Admitting that I need people is not one of my strengths, but I'm trying. I think it is especially hard with my therapist. Last week I didn't have my session, and I really missed her, but also felt very uncomfortable with those feelings. She reassured me that my feelings were normal. She expressed to me that she also missed seeing me, so that made me feel like at least it isn't one sided. I need to know that people care about me, but then again, who doesn't? The thought of being needy really bothers me. I don't want to depend too much upon other people because I'm afraid that I will lose them. Sometimes the pain of that seems unbearable, so I try to protect myself by going numb, and not letting anyone get too close. It isn't a fun way to live life though, so I'm working harder at staying connected to those I love.
Well, that is all for now. I don't know how much I will blog over the week, but I do feel some poetry coming on, so look forward to that!:-)

What If

I don't know why I have this compulsive need to go back to the scene of the crime. In my mind, I see the bedroom, with the mattress on the floor. The freshly painted walls were windowless, and bare. I have the childish thought that maybe if I return to the beginning, I can somehow change what happened. The beginning and ending are what I remember the most, and even now, the memories make me cover my hands over my eyes, although eventually, I'm compelled to look. Over and over again, I do this to myself. I play the "what if" game. What if I had screamed or put up more of a fight. I still feel such shame that I didn't fight back. I just let them do what they wanted to me. I have nightmares where I'm frozen with fear, and suffocating to death. At a certain point, I became numb to the pain and lost inside the eerie silence of my own mind. I look back, and there are fragments of memories that don't fit anywhere. I wonder why I keep taking it out and dissecting the whole thing. I want it all to fit into a nice, compact little compartment, with all of the pieces intact, and in order, and then, I think, maybe I will be able to put it away.

Time Will Tell

On Monday I graduated from the out-patient addiction recovery group that I was going to. I gained some knowledge from it, but I'm glad that it is over. It was wearing me thin, and although at times alcohol is definitely a problem, it is still the least of my worries. I also had a therapy session with the therapist that specializes in trauma on Monday. We mainly talked about the dissociative disorder, and how I can be more aware of when I'm going to dissociate. I've always felt like the "episodes" were out of my control. The last time it happened was the night that I went into the hospital. He asked me if I physically knew how I felt right before dissociating, and the best way to describe it is a floaty feeling that I get. I never remember anything about the times that I dissociate, although I'm fully functional. To me, they are just spaces of time that I can't account for, and most of the time it is usually triggered by a flashback. The therapist explained that it is a form of self protection. The flashbacks and nightmares are getting better though, and I'm also getting better at using the grounding techniques that I've learned. There is so much in my life that has felt out of my control, and sometimes it still feels that way. That is what makes me so afraid to let go of the eating disorder. It is my safe place amidst all of my other internal chaos. For me, not eating IS an option. Today, I choose to eat, but having the option not to feels like power. It is a hard feeling to give up, whether it is false or not. I still haven't let go of the ambivalence when it comes to eating disorder recovery, and I wonder when that will come. I suppose that time will tell.

The Journey

I'm so very tired right now. Tired of running. Tired of hiding from myself. Hiding from bad boys who think that they are men. Boys who do bad things. Bad things to an afraid young girl. I'm just so tired. I want peace. I want to take back what was mine. My body. My soul. My life.

These were the first words that I wrote when I started this blog on June 13th, 2007, and this will be my 600th post. I had just started seeing a therapist at this time, and she suggested that I journal as a way to start finding my voice. I needed an outlet for all of the pain that I was feeling inside, but for me, I needed to learn to find and use my voice in a way that felt safe. I didn't fully realize that others would actually find and read this blog, but it came as a nice surprise. The comments of support and empathy encouraged me to be honest, and to continue sharing. Sometimes I'm discouraged by my relapses and setbacks when it comes to recovery. It has been a long road, but I do believe that although slowly, I am taking back my life. I have learned so much about myself through writing about my thoughts and feelings. I learned that I am not alone, and most importantly, I have learned to reach out for help. I made the difficult decision to go into an in-patient eating disorder facility in the fall of 2008. That was my first giant step into the world of eating disorder recovery. It was the beginning of admitting that I had a problem. Throughout thiat process, I was also dealing with the trauma of being raped as a child, and working through all of those painful feelings in therapy. The eating disorder was how I had coped with those feelings for half of my lifetime. I felt so much guilt and shame. In many ways I'm still stuck in the body of an eleven year old child. I have a lot of growing up to do. I want to thank everyone for the support, and for following along on my journey. I finally feel like I'm on my way.