Always The Mirror

 

 

There is always the mirror, isn't there?
A reflective distraction technique used to measure every perceived imperfection. We can tell ourselves that mirrors and numbers do not define our worth, but we still stand sideways, checking for bulging bellies, sagging bottoms, and widening hips. We plan extra workouts and elaborate cleanses to replace the thoughts of what we are actually afraid of losing. It certainly isn't extra weight or inches that we are terrified of, but we are masters at convincing ourselves otherwise. Self improvement is a national pastime, so what would we fill our time with if we weren't always so busy fixing the outer shells of who we are? Taking care of our health and wellness is important, although not for reasons of physical beauty, and yet that is what invades our minds with doubt and worry. As diligent as I am about relapse,
eating disorders are sneaky,
and there is always the mirror, isn't there? 

 

"Beauty is not in the face, it is a light in the heart." ~Kahlil Gibran

Panic Attacks

My first panic attack happened on the way to the hospital. My husband had just undergone his second craniotomy to remove a brain tumor, and was horribly ill with meningitis. I thought I was going to lose him, and everything all at once felt like it was closing in on me. Suddenly I couldn't hear anything, my heart felt like it was going to burst through my chest, and I couldn't breathe. I was trapped inside the confines of my car and overwhelmed with fear. They always happen when I'm in my car. My mind wanders, churning with thoughts, and usually they are worrisome thoughts, filled with what ifs. What if this happens, what if that happens? I'm never in the present moment. I pull over, and sometimes I literally have to smack myself in the face a couple of times. I often call my therapist who will talk me through it, and help me slow down my breathing. I've had three in the past two weeks. She says that the increase is because I'm eating more, and all of the feelings that I usually bury with the eating disorder are coming to the surface. It makes sense, but no wonder I struggle with relapse. It makes it easy to skip a meal here, skip a meal there, until I've managed to totally block out all feeling. I'm not doing that though. I'm pushing through, but I dread when the next wave will hit, the next panic attack, or the next nightmare. I see my psychiatrist next week, and I'm going to ask for more Xanax. I hate to rely on drugs, but maybe it will get me through this rough patch. Maybe I'm asking for too much to think that one day I will be free from all of this. The bouts of depression, and anxiety are things that I've struggled with for most of my life, and maybe it is part of my make up, and I should just accept who I am, flaws and all. Ahhh, acceptance...there's a concept!

Not Scared Enough

You would think that summer would be the hardest time of year for me. I was raped the summer that I was eleven, and though it is hard, autumn and winter are the worst. I remember going back to school, the smells in the air, the feel of the wind, and trying to forget. This time of year brings back the pain of holding it all inside. It brings back the fear that everyone would discover my secret and be disgusted when they looked at me. I can still feel the filth crawling on my skin, and I wish more than anything, that I was not here. I want to close my eyes and be able to disappear. It's not that I'm necessarily suicidal, although both attempts have been in the winter, and my eating dwindles down to nothing. Maybe I only want to escape from being me, and of knowing that people will hurt you. I don't want to remember. Both of my attempts were meant to obliterate the memories, and at the time, I didn't contemplate the finality of death. I still don't. Most of the time I choose to forget that I'm slowly killing myself, and my health is failing. I ignore the osteoporosis, the skipped heartbeats, and my screwed up digestive system. My therapist tried to scare me today, and the tough love hurts and makes me angry at the same time. How dare she care, and make me feel guilty for hurting those who love me. I get mad at everyone around me, and for what? For loving me when I can't love myself? It all sounds so easy when everyone tells me that I need to take care of myself. Just eat...it is only food...go to the kitchen, try not to think about it, and do it. My therapist said that she thinks her words roll off of me like teflon. I hear them, but I can't find enough energy to put them into action. To say I'm tired is an understatement. To say I don't really care is the truth. I scare myself a little, but not enough. Not enough to find the strength to take care of me.

Sick and Twisted

I feel lost, and as if I don't even know in which direction that I want to go in. I'm stuck in a destructive pattern of making one bad mistake after another, and for those, I want to punish myself. I soothe myself by doing the one thing that I know I'm good at, and that is going hungry. My therapist told me today that I need to prove to myself that I can eat even when I'm anxious and under stress, but that is just the last thing that I want to do. I guess I really want to prove that I can still starve myself, and I know how sick and twisted that sounds. It has always been my way of feeling like everything is in control when inside I feel so out of control. I don't have any idea of what I'm going to do to fix this, and the sad thing is that I don't know if I want to anymore. Staying here feels safe, or at least safer than jumping off the cliff into the unknown. I want to believe that I won't get too sick. I will be able to stop when I'm thinner. When I'm thinner, everything will be alright.

A Simple Choice

Why do I let the sick parts of my past take over the present, making me sick in the future? This is when I have the choice to make, and it’s really quite simple. “Go over to the refrigerator or the cupboard, and find something to eat.” I’ve been saying this phrase to myself all afternoon, the light fades, and here I still sit, with an empty stomach and a racing heart. There are days when I just will not do it. I can’t even find it in myself to get angry, and I wish that the indifference would frighten me. I need the anger to recover, and I need to eat to feel. It is a vicious cycle, and the kitchen is only a few footsteps away.

Just Snap Out Of It

The weather here is still dreary, drizzly, and cold. I sit here as I type, wishing for fingerless gloves. Yes, I would wear them:) I'm still struggling with the depression, but reaching out for help. My psychiatrist raised my medication dose, so hopefully that will help. Eating and more nutrition would also help my mood, and yesterday I did better than usual, but today it was back to restricting. The full feeling is hard for me to sit with, even though I know that it will pass if I give it time. I just didn't want to go through that today. My nutritionist weighed me on Wednesday, and I've lost weight, although she wouldn't tell me how much. That is fine. I already knew I had lost, and though the eating disorder is thrilled by this, there is another part of me that is afraid. I'm afraid that I won't find my way out of this, ever. I'm afraid that I will always be ruled by weights and numbers, food and calories, the mirror and my distorted mind. I'm really going to try to eat more this week. If I can focus on the holiday's and being connected to my family, I think that will help. This is my last week of work before Christmas break, and my parents will be here on Saturday. I can't wait to see them, and I know the boys are excited because they keep asking when they are getting here. We still haven't decorated or put up the tree, but it will definitely be done tomorrow. I can no longer put it off, and I just have to snap out of these blues.

Snap!

Taking A Break

It felt so good to sleep in this morning. I've had too many nights of insomnia lately, so I needed a few extra hours of rest. I'm off work until Monday, and I plan on taking an actual break from everything having to do with recovery. That doesn't mean that I plan on being destructive at all, it only means that I need a reprieve from focusing so much on what I need to be doing, or what I'm failing at doing. In therapy this week, we talked about my desire for perfection. I expect it from myself, but I also project that on to others, feeling as if everyone expects me to be perfect. My slips and slides on this recovery journey tend to trip me up. I feel like I shouldn't be making mistakes. I'm going to use these next few days to be thankful for where I am right now, and for all of the blessings that I have. Today I'm going to bake pumpkin bread and apple crisp to take over to the big feast tomorrow. I'm looking forward to spending the day with family, and especially my nieces. I'm going to teach my niece, Riley, how to knit. I bought her some child size knitting needles, and some fun yarn to get her started. I'm going to focus on family, and not on the overwhelming amount of food. I'm going to eat what I can, not worrying about what other people think of my portions, or how much or little I eat. I'm going to do whatever makes me feel the most safe and comfortable at the time. If I can't eat much, that will be okay. I've been thinking about the fact that I usually tend to drink too much on holiday's. I know that I do it to relax and calm myself when I'm anxious, especially when I'm worried about the amount of food I may be expected to consume. This year is going to be different, and I'm taking the pressure off of myself. I'm not going to be drinking, and that will be good, but it will also be hard. Pressuring myself to eat at the same time would be too much, so I'm not going to do that to myself.

Well, that is all for now. Hopefully I will have some pictures to post from our celebration in the next few days. Wishing everyone a Happy Thanksgiving! Much love to you all.

A Disappearing Act

Yesterday I went to the new addiction support group that I was talking about. It was held in the back room of a little downtown coffee shop. I arrived about fifteen minutes early, asked if there was anyone there yet, and sat down in the coffee shop with a vanilla latte'. I waited, and only saw two people go into the back meeting room. Two people! I didn't stay. It only meets once a week, so I'm assuming it isn't ever a large group. I was disappointed, because it had sounded so promising. I guess I will go back to AA a few more times, and attempt to give it a shot. I promised that I would try, so I don't want to go back on my word.
Yesterday, I barely ate anything, and I know that not having an appetite is a poor excuse. I know what I need to be doing, but right now I have zero motivation to do it. The weight is coming off, and to tell you the truth, that thrills me. The eating disorder itself is a type of addiction. Once I get into this pattern, I find it so difficult to stop. The voice of my eating disorder is so loud right now, and I find it hard to ignore. My therapist always asks me why it is so important for me to be thin. The immediate answer is to say that I want to take up as little space as possible. A friend of mine who is also struggling with anorexia said the same thing, that we feel apologetic for our very existence. If I could only disappear, it would be better, and I would be safe. I'm not sure why I feel that way. I do know that I'm loved, and important to so many people. I think that it goes back to my dad not making me feel like I was important, and the rape definitely did a number on my self esteem. I remember thinking after the rape, that I was bad, and that there was something wrong with me. I felt ugly to the very core of my being, and I've walked around with that feeling for most of my life. I do want to recover, but I can't find the will to make it happen. To be free from all of the negativity in my head. The voice that tells me I'm not good enough, smart enough...never enough. To be rid of the numbers, the measuring, the calories, the checking of my bones, to make sure they are still there, and not hiding behind a layer of fat. I'm weary, and yet I continue to forge ahead on this destructive path, strangely feeling that my life depends on it. Lately in therapy, we have been focusing on the alcohol, when I believe that is the least of my problems. I'm drowning in this eating disorder, and because I'm not a walking skeleton at the moment, no one seems to see it. Isn't it interesting that I can say in one sentence that my wish is to disappear, yet I want everyone to see me, and to validate that I'm worth saving. It is all such a dichotomy, and my mind swims in the confusion.
Somewhere inside, I need to find the strength and self worth to save myself.