When my parents divorced I was really lonely. My mother & I moved on the other side of town to be closer to my new high school. My sister (who I'd never really been close with but we still had a better relationship than I did with my parents) went to college & I never remember her coming home. The only "person" I felt close with was my dog, Muggsy. He's the one I would confide in and he spent every waking & sleeping moment with me whenever I was at my mother's house.
BEST and I met the summer after our freshman year and became fast friends. Now I had someone to confide in and she actually provided feedback. She had family issues as well (doesn't everyone???) and we bonded over that and over the fact that we weren't your ideal match for best friends. We're complete opposites! She was popular & pretty and never had a problem getting a date for Friday nights. She was homecoming princess & head of the prom committee and really social and into everything non-academic. I had never even BEEN to a football game until she begged me to go. I was in the IB programme and that took up most of my time. I actually wanted to drop out and be a regular high school kid but my father would hear nothing of it. I also was involved in every single drama production at school, played softball in the spring, played in the concert band, and took additional classes after school when my schedule permitted.
I was actually pretty depressed back then. Really depressed. As I stated, family life was not good. My mother and I were never ever close and then we were forced to live with each other (with no one else around to fill the silence) and it was pretty awkward. I was furious with her because of the divorce and couldn't bring myself to articulate it very well. So we just fought. All the time. My father and I became increasingly distant as well but we were before then really really close. Because he left I felt he had no right to say anything about my life. I started doing not so well in my classes, hanging out with BEST who he thought was a bad example (and I agree), started skipping school, lying to my parents about everything, and just being the typical teenager that my parents thought they never had to deal with in me. BEST questioned by blind obedience to my parents and I started doing the same. We had fun together, talked about any and everything and I finally felt like I had the sister I'd always dreamed of.
I was also suicidal back then. Those were really really tough times. I can't even remember what was just soooo bad that would make me think death was the only way out, but BEST saved me. I guess it was just knowing that even one person would miss me and loved me and didn't expect anything at all from me. Her insistence that life would be so much better once I got out from my parents house. And she was right.
And it wasn't just my family life. Although my dad was emotionally & verbally abusive with me and assaulted me with words like "fat ass" and "slob" and "disgusting" and a "disappointment" I had to deal with my mother's perpetual silence on the matter. I was sad because I had no boyfriend. I was unhappy with my weight. I was unhappy with my life. But BEST made things better. Our friendship was a safe haven and her house became my weekend refuge. I guess that's why I'm having such a hard time with us not being friends anymore, because I was at a low point in life when we became friends and I depended on her to make me feel better about life.
Currently I'm dealing with the same shit I supposedly dealt with back when I was 16. Except there's no BEST to pick up the pieces. I've reverted back to the days when I can only confide in my dog, now Chewy (because Muggsy is at home with my parents). My mother has gone back to caring for a man who physically & emotionally abused her for nearly two decades. I'm in law school and I had no idea why. Except I do know why...because I couldn't stand up to my father. Because I still feel I owe my parents something because of everything they've done for me. Because I still feel the need to make them proud of me even though I'm quite sure that can never ever happen with my father. Not only am I struggling with my bulimia, but I'm actually supposed to be in recovery, which makes it even harder, because when I screw up I feel like shit because I'm not supposed to just be a bulimic, I'm supposed to be a recovering bulimic. I have no friends in law school, like seriously. The two people I ever hang out with outside of school (and its always for school related things) live with their boyfriends. Oh and that's right, I still don't have a boyfriend. I still hate my body. I'm still overweight. I still think I'm undeserving of anything, especially bulimia, and even more so of getting help.
Nothing has changed in the past 8 years. Except back then I didn't know that things could get better and they did. Now I know things could get better, but I just believe that I'm getting in the way of it. Funny how I fought with the Doctor about how I'm not depressed...when the fact that I can skip a month of classes, be behind in every single class, sleep in bed until 2 pm, skip work, and only thing about binging and purging has go to be proof that I'm sinking. Sinking fast. I can't take too much more of living like this and that's what scares me the most. Something has got to give.
And the one person who saved me before doesn't want to be my friend. And I think I need her to get through this all...the drama with my family, my issues with school, being there for me with my recovery, and everything else in life. And I still want her to be there for me. And I still want to be there for her. I guess this is another example of me not wanting to let go of anything because we stopped being friends for many many reasons and even if we tried we couldn't go back to being friends like that again.
My dad is right. My life is a mess.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
S-T-R-E-S-S-E-D
I'm feeling a lot of different things right now & I think it's because I'm really trying hard not to numb everything out by "messing up." Except, I really want all these feelings to just go away so I can focus on my work.
I'm stressed out. Like to the point of tears. I knew this point in the semester would come. Three research papers all due in the upcoming weeks. One of them is completely unresearched and I'm supposed to present tomorrow. I feel like I need to just sit down and bawl but that's not going to get anything accomplished. I don't even have a TOPIC. I'm fucked.
The two other papers are actually past due for the draft which means I'm just fucking myself in the end because I'll desperately need feedback. I'm literally three to four (I'm not even sure) hundred pages behind in Evidence. I'm only a couple of hundred pages behind in Indian Law and I don't have my classes registered for next semester because I owe the school money for parking tickets (& the health insurance fee).
My life is a mess. I feel like I need to say that one more time so that I truly accept it. My life is a mess. I never have enough money because I blow it on binge food (among other things). I can't talk to my parents about this because I know my father would absolutely hate me. I know that's what would happen. My mother would do exactly what she is perfect at doing. Nothing.
Maybe if I accept that my life is a mess then I will really really really try to make things better instead of just living like this. Maybe I should truly try turning this over to God. Maybe I should pray for God to help me with this because I can't do it by myself. I was just saying to someone in my EDA group tonight that I think I need to hit rock bottom in order to change my life.
God, I pray that isn't the case. Let this please be the end. Last night I felt so shitty about my life about MY LIFE and I went home and I just gave it up. I binged.
Didn't purge though. I wanted to feel sick throughout the night (so I wouldn't do it again...yeah right. Like that matters). And then today, why was it so easy for me to just wait until 8 pm before I put any time of nourishment in my body. I mean other than a glass of water I went the entire day without eating anything until 8 pm. And even then it was just a protein bar.
What the fudge is wrong with me? Why do I do this? Why won't I stop. And I'm really really angry right now. And the only thing I want to do is just get some really good binge food like Moe's and eat and eat and eat and then just throw up until I don't feel like this anymore.
Maybe my head will be clearer. I'll devise a plan on how to come up with a topic for Wrongful Conviction and start my research. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow, go to class, and not try to sleep away the day like I've been doing the past month, just avoiding life. Maybe all I need is to just get through finals & papers and then I could come clean with my mom at least. Maybe someone will save me from myself because I know I can't take too much more of this.
Update: Just got back from my first binge & purge in two weeks. Right now the only thing I feel is relief. Finally, my head's clear. I'm no longer thinking about food. I'm not as stressed about this stupid research paper. And I'm sure at some point later tonight or tomorrow I'll feel really crappy about what I've just done...but gosh, as soon as I started eating I really felt soooo much better. Not that I deserve brownie points, but I did call my sponsor a few hours ago in an attempt to fight this off. And I should have said something to my buddy who's here studying with me but I just didn't think anything anyone said would comfort me as much as this does. So much was racing through my mind and I couldn't make sense of it all and I did want someone to grab hold of me and make me ride this out...but I need to be able to do that on my own. People can't always be there to prevent me from a binge & purge.
Luckily, I meet with Shish on Thursday. And I pray she'll say something to enlighten my eating disordered mind.
I'm stressed out. Like to the point of tears. I knew this point in the semester would come. Three research papers all due in the upcoming weeks. One of them is completely unresearched and I'm supposed to present tomorrow. I feel like I need to just sit down and bawl but that's not going to get anything accomplished. I don't even have a TOPIC. I'm fucked.
The two other papers are actually past due for the draft which means I'm just fucking myself in the end because I'll desperately need feedback. I'm literally three to four (I'm not even sure) hundred pages behind in Evidence. I'm only a couple of hundred pages behind in Indian Law and I don't have my classes registered for next semester because I owe the school money for parking tickets (& the health insurance fee).
My life is a mess. I feel like I need to say that one more time so that I truly accept it. My life is a mess. I never have enough money because I blow it on binge food (among other things). I can't talk to my parents about this because I know my father would absolutely hate me. I know that's what would happen. My mother would do exactly what she is perfect at doing. Nothing.
Maybe if I accept that my life is a mess then I will really really really try to make things better instead of just living like this. Maybe I should truly try turning this over to God. Maybe I should pray for God to help me with this because I can't do it by myself. I was just saying to someone in my EDA group tonight that I think I need to hit rock bottom in order to change my life.
God, I pray that isn't the case. Let this please be the end. Last night I felt so shitty about my life about MY LIFE and I went home and I just gave it up. I binged.
Didn't purge though. I wanted to feel sick throughout the night (so I wouldn't do it again...yeah right. Like that matters). And then today, why was it so easy for me to just wait until 8 pm before I put any time of nourishment in my body. I mean other than a glass of water I went the entire day without eating anything until 8 pm. And even then it was just a protein bar.
What the fudge is wrong with me? Why do I do this? Why won't I stop. And I'm really really angry right now. And the only thing I want to do is just get some really good binge food like Moe's and eat and eat and eat and then just throw up until I don't feel like this anymore.
Maybe my head will be clearer. I'll devise a plan on how to come up with a topic for Wrongful Conviction and start my research. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow, go to class, and not try to sleep away the day like I've been doing the past month, just avoiding life. Maybe all I need is to just get through finals & papers and then I could come clean with my mom at least. Maybe someone will save me from myself because I know I can't take too much more of this.
Update: Just got back from my first binge & purge in two weeks. Right now the only thing I feel is relief. Finally, my head's clear. I'm no longer thinking about food. I'm not as stressed about this stupid research paper. And I'm sure at some point later tonight or tomorrow I'll feel really crappy about what I've just done...but gosh, as soon as I started eating I really felt soooo much better. Not that I deserve brownie points, but I did call my sponsor a few hours ago in an attempt to fight this off. And I should have said something to my buddy who's here studying with me but I just didn't think anything anyone said would comfort me as much as this does. So much was racing through my mind and I couldn't make sense of it all and I did want someone to grab hold of me and make me ride this out...but I need to be able to do that on my own. People can't always be there to prevent me from a binge & purge.
Luckily, I meet with Shish on Thursday. And I pray she'll say something to enlighten my eating disordered mind.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Birthday Blues
I've been trying to tell myself that it's not such a big deal that I'm alone on my birthday. I did get to spend a week at home with my family (the true present in that was that I was not at law school) and I did get to see one friend during my vacation. But now I feel really lonely and swamped with work and really really lonely. And I shouldn't feel that way. I know that. Chewy's at home waiting for me (my 7 year old peekapoo) and when I say waiting, I mean waiting. That dog's enthusiasm when he sees me walk through the door has saved me from plenty of nights of feeling too sorry for myself.
I don't have real friends here. Not like the ones I made during undergrad, when even if no one had any money we still hung out and did nothing at all and had the best time. The ones who called at 1 am this morning to make sure I knew they were thinking about me and wishing we were all together again so we could celebrate. The ones who sent multiple e-greeting cards and asked what I wanted so they could send me pictures of it in the mail. (My friends are all in graduate school as well and we think it's really funny to send pictures of what I would have bought if I had money. It's the thought that counts, right?)
My law school friends are my law school friends. We talk in school. We talk outside of school, but about school. We may meet up occasionally...rarely outside of school, but it's always to study or watch The Firm or discuss Evidence or trial strategies.
I started out my birthday by waking up at 6 am. I cleaned my room so my parents wouldn't be too pissed...prepared myself for the 3 hour trip back to school...took a nap (skipped work)...and made it in time for my presentation in Indian Law. It's just another day, right? Just one day. Except, it's my day and I've always done something special on MY day.
It's 8:00 pm and BEST hasn't called, emailed, texted, or facebooked. If she had called I had already planned on not answering the phone, but then I figured it might be my goddaughter and I wouldn't want to miss talking to her. BEST always made a big deal out of my birthday and then everyone else just kind of jumped on board. I guess I should have seen this coming...But the feeling of not having anyone here to celebrate is really bothersome.
No surprises. No cake. No ice cream. No movie. No balloons. No cards. Nothing at all to open.
And no one to spend the day with.
I don't have real friends here. Not like the ones I made during undergrad, when even if no one had any money we still hung out and did nothing at all and had the best time. The ones who called at 1 am this morning to make sure I knew they were thinking about me and wishing we were all together again so we could celebrate. The ones who sent multiple e-greeting cards and asked what I wanted so they could send me pictures of it in the mail. (My friends are all in graduate school as well and we think it's really funny to send pictures of what I would have bought if I had money. It's the thought that counts, right?)
My law school friends are my law school friends. We talk in school. We talk outside of school, but about school. We may meet up occasionally...rarely outside of school, but it's always to study or watch The Firm or discuss Evidence or trial strategies.
I started out my birthday by waking up at 6 am. I cleaned my room so my parents wouldn't be too pissed...prepared myself for the 3 hour trip back to school...took a nap (skipped work)...and made it in time for my presentation in Indian Law. It's just another day, right? Just one day. Except, it's my day and I've always done something special on MY day.
It's 8:00 pm and BEST hasn't called, emailed, texted, or facebooked. If she had called I had already planned on not answering the phone, but then I figured it might be my goddaughter and I wouldn't want to miss talking to her. BEST always made a big deal out of my birthday and then everyone else just kind of jumped on board. I guess I should have seen this coming...But the feeling of not having anyone here to celebrate is really bothersome.
No surprises. No cake. No ice cream. No movie. No balloons. No cards. Nothing at all to open.
And no one to spend the day with.
11 Days
The next four weeks promise to be unbelievably unbearable. With seven days of class left in the semester, three research papers (one completely unresearched) I'm opening myself up to a world full of chaos, anxiety, and (near the end) an all out breakdown. I'm pretty behind in every single class and yet I fully plan on catching up and redeeming myself in the end. I guess that means that I either:
1. Focus on recovery come December 21st give myself one more month of binging & purging and place recovery on the back burner. What's one more month, right?
2. Keep fighting.
I know. I know. I definitely don't need to give myself one more month of freedom. Getting through this last month of school & exams while in recovery means that whatever pops up in life in the future I'll be able to handle it. I can't actually say, oh well, I'm in recovery, but I've got this new job and it's stressful. So once this summer internship is over I can get right back towards recovery. But oh how I wish...
I haven't thrown up since November 15th! I made it to my birthday and for that I am very thankful. Technically I was only going for a week, though I'm sure everyone in OT will be amazed if I can make it to Thursday. (But then what?)
I made it through the holidays with my parents and with the drama going on with my friends and for that, I am grateful. School stresses me out to the point where I've literally had to stop myself from pulling my hair out (which was NOT a pretty sight!) And compounding all the "extras" really makes me feel uneasy.
Right now I feel like restricting. Like in my mind, right now I'm saying to myself I just ate for 11 days, at least one meal a day, and I can't remember the last time I binged (well, if I tried I could) but the whole point is, I do feel like that's something I couldn't afford to do. Unfortunately, I peeped my weight at the doctor's office this past Wednesday (not at OT, but at my family doctor) and the nurse wasn't aware that I shouldn't have seen that. I had actually just been weighed on the 15th and I know weight flucutates, but just knowing that the number moved up two pounds and that I'd eaten food for the past six days without purging had me really panicky.
Cruella was right though...once I started eating regularly without restricting all day, it got easier, which of course was my fear in all of this. First I just ate dinner, then the next day I ate dinner a little earlier and had a snack. This past Saturday I ate three regular portioned meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. By the end of the night I soooo desperately wanted to binge just so I could throw everything up and just start from scratch, but it's not as easy with family all over the house.
So 11 days. I'm not ready to throw that away just yet. But I'm also not willing to continue down this road of eating every single day. But I'm also really glad that I haven't purged. And I'm really glad that I haven't had a full out binge in a while. So I'm not sure what to do really...
And so far so good on the Zoloft. No weird dreams. I'm still tired as ever but I think that may just be because of school & work & just life in general. I guess I've just proven to myself that if I do eat, even just once a day (without waiting until like midnight) then I really don't have the urge to binge & purge as much. And clearly while being home, I was triggered almost every single day and I'm not sure how I dealt with it, but I didn't want to mess up (as much I wanted to purge) I recognized that I was doing the right thing.
1. Focus on recovery come December 21st give myself one more month of binging & purging and place recovery on the back burner. What's one more month, right?
2. Keep fighting.
I know. I know. I definitely don't need to give myself one more month of freedom. Getting through this last month of school & exams while in recovery means that whatever pops up in life in the future I'll be able to handle it. I can't actually say, oh well, I'm in recovery, but I've got this new job and it's stressful. So once this summer internship is over I can get right back towards recovery. But oh how I wish...
I haven't thrown up since November 15th! I made it to my birthday and for that I am very thankful. Technically I was only going for a week, though I'm sure everyone in OT will be amazed if I can make it to Thursday. (But then what?)
I made it through the holidays with my parents and with the drama going on with my friends and for that, I am grateful. School stresses me out to the point where I've literally had to stop myself from pulling my hair out (which was NOT a pretty sight!) And compounding all the "extras" really makes me feel uneasy.
Right now I feel like restricting. Like in my mind, right now I'm saying to myself I just ate for 11 days, at least one meal a day, and I can't remember the last time I binged (well, if I tried I could) but the whole point is, I do feel like that's something I couldn't afford to do. Unfortunately, I peeped my weight at the doctor's office this past Wednesday (not at OT, but at my family doctor) and the nurse wasn't aware that I shouldn't have seen that. I had actually just been weighed on the 15th and I know weight flucutates, but just knowing that the number moved up two pounds and that I'd eaten food for the past six days without purging had me really panicky.
Cruella was right though...once I started eating regularly without restricting all day, it got easier, which of course was my fear in all of this. First I just ate dinner, then the next day I ate dinner a little earlier and had a snack. This past Saturday I ate three regular portioned meals for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. By the end of the night I soooo desperately wanted to binge just so I could throw everything up and just start from scratch, but it's not as easy with family all over the house.
So 11 days. I'm not ready to throw that away just yet. But I'm also not willing to continue down this road of eating every single day. But I'm also really glad that I haven't purged. And I'm really glad that I haven't had a full out binge in a while. So I'm not sure what to do really...
And so far so good on the Zoloft. No weird dreams. I'm still tired as ever but I think that may just be because of school & work & just life in general. I guess I've just proven to myself that if I do eat, even just once a day (without waiting until like midnight) then I really don't have the urge to binge & purge as much. And clearly while being home, I was triggered almost every single day and I'm not sure how I dealt with it, but I didn't want to mess up (as much I wanted to purge) I recognized that I was doing the right thing.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Thanksgiving
In honor of Thanksgiving I'm considering having a thematic post on Thursdays about what I'm thankful for over the past week. And of course, since today is Thanksgiving, I'll start it off.
1. My two nephews, Jay & Lee. They're amazing. They've made our family a whole lot closer but me & my older nephew have a special bond. I suspect Lee and I will be just as close and I cant wait until he gets a lil older.
2. My Family: Neither my immediate nor extended family know about my eating disorder. It's justnot something I can talk to them about and it would be not a healthy place for me. But they're still my family and I love them and I know they love me. My father's older sister has just saved me once again by agreeing to cover my bills next month because I've been using rent & utilities to pay for my OT. Technically, if I just told her about that I'm sure she or
someone in the family would pay for it so that I wouldn't have to fret around at the end of every
month, but I'm just not there yet.
3. Weather: Not originally my idea but my nephew and I were talking about how much we
enjoyed playing soccer after Thanksgiving and that surely would not have happened if it wasn't
75 degrees outside!
4. My EDA group & sponsor. I'm quite sure I don't need to go into details here. But no matter
what strange words come out of my mouth, they never seen amazed or astonished or most importantly, judgmental. They never act like what I'm saying is crazy or abnormal, for a person with an eating disorder. Maybe because they've been there, but I really appreciate them. In fact, a buddy from EDA called right after Thanksgiving Dinner and I wasn't planning to purge actually but it was just nice to get that phone call. A good reminder that I am in recovery.
5. My family medicine doctor. Something about her made me tell her about my bulimia and the
thought surely never crossed my mind before in the past 5 years with other doctors. I always felt weird when they asked those personal & intruding questions, but this new one was young and friendly and she seemed genuinely concerned. I'm thankful she's my new doctor because otherwise I might still be just another young girl with bulimia who had no intention
of ever acknowledging that she had a problem, and certainly no plan to recover.
6. I haven't purged in one week. I'm thankful for that. I really am. I'm scared because Ive binged and didn't purge (and today...on Thanksgiving, when I've eaten so much, I'm really thinking about heading to the bathroom, but my mind is really fighting it.)
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In other news, here are some reasons why I'm not so thankful. It's been a really bad day. I woke up with a headache after getting less than 6 hours of sleep because I stayed up cooking for the night before. Then my nephew didn't want to come to Thanksgiving dinner at my mother's house and cried for an hour before being coaxed into leaving his dad's family. It was pretty frustrating because I'd envisioned this perfect little holiday with my parents, sister, her two kids and the dogs running around the house. And it was already not starting off on the right foot.
Instead my sister got into a fight with my dad and almost didn't show up for dinner. When she
arrived (completely empty handed) and without her younger son, my father was really upset (as was I) and another argument ensued.
The only thing that was perfect was the food (with the exception of the bread, which I didn't cook). My sister is really particular about food and she was really amazed at how well the dinner turned out. This has been the fourth Thanksgiving that I've made for my family and this was much much better than any of the previous years. I had hoped that by cooking, I would be able to control the urge to eat because I'd continuously be around the food. I'm not sure how it's working. I'm sure I would have eaten so much more had I not cooked, but I don't really feel in control at this moment. I feel like I put myself in a vulnerable position being around the food, feeling really down about the stuff going on with my family & my life in general right now and all I feel like doing right now is throwing up. I miss the empty feeling in my stomach.
My sister and I got into an argument. And then I really got into it with my mom. And I was so
pissed off at my mom that I lost my cool. We didn't actually start off on the right foot on
Tuesday night when I got home but I didn't expect us to fight this break. Surprisingly, I haven't had any problems with my dad because I've just walked away from him. But there are some fights you can't ever walk away from and I'm struggling to define which ones are worth the trouble.
I left the home feeling completely frustrated and I wanted to just sit down and "mess up" but
there was nowhere to go. Being at home during the early evening isn't conducive to binging &
purging, so I left to visit a friend who knows about my problem. She doesn't know the extent but
I still felt like it was a safe refuge. BEST arrived ten minutes after I got there and it was awkward. We have seen each other since the breakup...once. I showed up at her doorstep
to see my goddaughter, but now I guess I know how she felt that day. Completely caught off guard.
But now I feel like the bad guy. My other friend has clearly been put in the middle, although we've done everything we can to make sure that didn't happen for our friends. Yet and still, things are not the same. My friends go out and don't call to invite me. They lie to me about their plans so that I won't feel uncomfortable and it just makes me feel like shit. I feel like everything has changed and maybe I'm to blame for many of the changes, but I feel like I'm losing all my friends just because I'm not friends with one person. That really hurts.
And this is obviously still affecting me. Maybe I should completely distance myself from all of my friends from home for a while. I hate to do that, but just knowing that these childish games are going on really pisses me off. And the thing is, BEST told her boyfriend about my bulimia. She betrayed my confidence, among a dozen other almost equally devastating things, and my friends take her side. My best friend told the guy who emotionally abuses her...the guy I cannot stand and has driven a wedge between us about my eating disorder and she had no reason to do it. I just feel really tired. My heart feels so heavy.
I hope tomorrow will be better
1. My two nephews, Jay & Lee. They're amazing. They've made our family a whole lot closer but me & my older nephew have a special bond. I suspect Lee and I will be just as close and I cant wait until he gets a lil older.
2. My Family: Neither my immediate nor extended family know about my eating disorder. It's justnot something I can talk to them about and it would be not a healthy place for me. But they're still my family and I love them and I know they love me. My father's older sister has just saved me once again by agreeing to cover my bills next month because I've been using rent & utilities to pay for my OT. Technically, if I just told her about that I'm sure she or
someone in the family would pay for it so that I wouldn't have to fret around at the end of every
month, but I'm just not there yet.
3. Weather: Not originally my idea but my nephew and I were talking about how much we
enjoyed playing soccer after Thanksgiving and that surely would not have happened if it wasn't
75 degrees outside!
4. My EDA group & sponsor. I'm quite sure I don't need to go into details here. But no matter
what strange words come out of my mouth, they never seen amazed or astonished or most importantly, judgmental. They never act like what I'm saying is crazy or abnormal, for a person with an eating disorder. Maybe because they've been there, but I really appreciate them. In fact, a buddy from EDA called right after Thanksgiving Dinner and I wasn't planning to purge actually but it was just nice to get that phone call. A good reminder that I am in recovery.
5. My family medicine doctor. Something about her made me tell her about my bulimia and the
thought surely never crossed my mind before in the past 5 years with other doctors. I always felt weird when they asked those personal & intruding questions, but this new one was young and friendly and she seemed genuinely concerned. I'm thankful she's my new doctor because otherwise I might still be just another young girl with bulimia who had no intention
of ever acknowledging that she had a problem, and certainly no plan to recover.
6. I haven't purged in one week. I'm thankful for that. I really am. I'm scared because Ive binged and didn't purge (and today...on Thanksgiving, when I've eaten so much, I'm really thinking about heading to the bathroom, but my mind is really fighting it.)
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In other news, here are some reasons why I'm not so thankful. It's been a really bad day. I woke up with a headache after getting less than 6 hours of sleep because I stayed up cooking for the night before. Then my nephew didn't want to come to Thanksgiving dinner at my mother's house and cried for an hour before being coaxed into leaving his dad's family. It was pretty frustrating because I'd envisioned this perfect little holiday with my parents, sister, her two kids and the dogs running around the house. And it was already not starting off on the right foot.
Instead my sister got into a fight with my dad and almost didn't show up for dinner. When she
arrived (completely empty handed) and without her younger son, my father was really upset (as was I) and another argument ensued.
The only thing that was perfect was the food (with the exception of the bread, which I didn't cook). My sister is really particular about food and she was really amazed at how well the dinner turned out. This has been the fourth Thanksgiving that I've made for my family and this was much much better than any of the previous years. I had hoped that by cooking, I would be able to control the urge to eat because I'd continuously be around the food. I'm not sure how it's working. I'm sure I would have eaten so much more had I not cooked, but I don't really feel in control at this moment. I feel like I put myself in a vulnerable position being around the food, feeling really down about the stuff going on with my family & my life in general right now and all I feel like doing right now is throwing up. I miss the empty feeling in my stomach.
My sister and I got into an argument. And then I really got into it with my mom. And I was so
pissed off at my mom that I lost my cool. We didn't actually start off on the right foot on
Tuesday night when I got home but I didn't expect us to fight this break. Surprisingly, I haven't had any problems with my dad because I've just walked away from him. But there are some fights you can't ever walk away from and I'm struggling to define which ones are worth the trouble.
I left the home feeling completely frustrated and I wanted to just sit down and "mess up" but
there was nowhere to go. Being at home during the early evening isn't conducive to binging &
purging, so I left to visit a friend who knows about my problem. She doesn't know the extent but
I still felt like it was a safe refuge. BEST arrived ten minutes after I got there and it was awkward. We have seen each other since the breakup...once. I showed up at her doorstep
to see my goddaughter, but now I guess I know how she felt that day. Completely caught off guard.
But now I feel like the bad guy. My other friend has clearly been put in the middle, although we've done everything we can to make sure that didn't happen for our friends. Yet and still, things are not the same. My friends go out and don't call to invite me. They lie to me about their plans so that I won't feel uncomfortable and it just makes me feel like shit. I feel like everything has changed and maybe I'm to blame for many of the changes, but I feel like I'm losing all my friends just because I'm not friends with one person. That really hurts.
And this is obviously still affecting me. Maybe I should completely distance myself from all of my friends from home for a while. I hate to do that, but just knowing that these childish games are going on really pisses me off. And the thing is, BEST told her boyfriend about my bulimia. She betrayed my confidence, among a dozen other almost equally devastating things, and my friends take her side. My best friend told the guy who emotionally abuses her...the guy I cannot stand and has driven a wedge between us about my eating disorder and she had no reason to do it. I just feel really tired. My heart feels so heavy.
I hope tomorrow will be better
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Step One: Asking for help & then accepting it.
Today I'm sincerely thankful for EDA. I was about to write that it's a little early for my "thankful" list since it's not Thanksgiving Day yet, but it doesn't have to be Thanksgiving in order for me to be thankful or appreciative of all the many many blessings I have in this life.
Our guest speaker today discussed sponsorship & since our meeting is relatively new and most members are struggling with recovery it's been difficult for us mainly because we do lack sponsors. Fortunately, I opened up to the two leaders after a few sessions wherein they both set me down and told me I needed to make some life altering decisions. And fast. I speak with them both on a regular basis but I haven't actually begun to work the steps. It's hard for me to talk to people about this. Even people who are going through it or who have been through it. I always feel like I'm burdening them with MY problems.
So I guess today was more or less like a breakthrough because I admitted to myself that I could not do this alone. Not that I don't want to, because trust me, I'd rather struggle with this than ask for help. But when I realized that I really honestly couldn't fight my bulimia toute seule, I felt the load that I had been carrying by myself for the past five years lighten up. Just a little bit.
And not that I'm not working with the Doctor or Shish or Jenny, because it's just as important that I continue to do that. But I need that accountability, I need the structure and discipline that a sponsorship will provide. I need daily support because I'm in deep trouble and I can't get that daily support from my OT team.
I was pretty anxious about asking my sponsor because I feel like it's a tremendous responsibility and I imagine no one could actually look forward to working the steps with someone who fights recovery as much as I do. But she agreed! And now I'm so happy I have a sponsor; someone who can hold me accountable and help me work through the steps and deal with the shit that led me to my eating disorder. And even better, my sponsor said she was honored & was really glad
that I came to her and asked for her help. It made me feel like I made a really great decision today, which lead to another great decision: eating dinner & not purging it.
Score Erin!
I trust her. I respect her. And I know she'll push me, in fact, even more so than my OT team because that's just the type of person she is. And that's just the type of person that I need.
I'm home for the holidays now and within minute one of walking into the front door I felt the anxiety and drama of being home. I was literally on the verge of tears when my cousin phoned to see if I made it home safely. It's so amazing how that lifted my spirits. I know my immediate family loves me & they do show it, but they show so much more that it often overshadows the love. But my sponsor's willingness to help me, and the random call from my cousin really changed my whole attitude (at least for this evening).
I still feel pretty burdened with Thanksgiving dinner, three research papers, spending time with my family & friends during my short vacation home, and of course my bulimia recovery, but I don't feel like it's a fight that I'm destined to lose.
I hope this feeling lasts and lasts and lasts.
So I guess today was more or less like a breakthrough because I admitted to myself that I could not do this alone. Not that I don't want to, because trust me, I'd rather struggle with this than ask for help. But when I realized that I really honestly couldn't fight my bulimia toute seule, I felt the load that I had been carrying by myself for the past five years lighten up. Just a little bit.
And not that I'm not working with the Doctor or Shish or Jenny, because it's just as important that I continue to do that. But I need that accountability, I need the structure and discipline that a sponsorship will provide. I need daily support because I'm in deep trouble and I can't get that daily support from my OT team.
I was pretty anxious about asking my sponsor because I feel like it's a tremendous responsibility and I imagine no one could actually look forward to working the steps with someone who fights recovery as much as I do. But she agreed! And now I'm so happy I have a sponsor; someone who can hold me accountable and help me work through the steps and deal with the shit that led me to my eating disorder. And even better, my sponsor said she was honored & was really glad
that I came to her and asked for her help. It made me feel like I made a really great decision today, which lead to another great decision: eating dinner & not purging it.
Score Erin!
I trust her. I respect her. And I know she'll push me, in fact, even more so than my OT team because that's just the type of person she is. And that's just the type of person that I need.
I'm home for the holidays now and within minute one of walking into the front door I felt the anxiety and drama of being home. I was literally on the verge of tears when my cousin phoned to see if I made it home safely. It's so amazing how that lifted my spirits. I know my immediate family loves me & they do show it, but they show so much more that it often overshadows the love. But my sponsor's willingness to help me, and the random call from my cousin really changed my whole attitude (at least for this evening).
I still feel pretty burdened with Thanksgiving dinner, three research papers, spending time with my family & friends during my short vacation home, and of course my bulimia recovery, but I don't feel like it's a fight that I'm destined to lose.
I hope this feeling lasts and lasts and lasts.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Like Mother, Like Daughter
My EDA buddy called while I was at OT on Thursday. For some reason we got on the topic of divorce & Family Law & I let it be known that not only is it not an area of my expertise (because I haven't taken Family Law) but that I don't ever plan on taking the class. Most people in law school are kind of bewildered by the fact that I'm not the least bit interested in the course. Even if one doesn't intend on being a divorce attorney or doing anything related to family law, those are still rules of law any lawyer should know these days. And I agree. It's a good section of the law to be familiar with and even more so because it will be on the BAR.
But my parents are divorced. And I grew up with parents that fought nearly everyday for the last eight years of their marriage and it's not something I ever want to relive again. EVER! Family law never ends. The fighting doesn't just stop with the separation or the divorce or child custody matters or alimony payments or pension benefits. When a family breaks up (assuming the mother or father doesn't just abandon the family) everyday there is always some discussion about what one parent is doing that another parent isn't doing. Always money issues. Excuse me, I mean fights over money. And once you go through that with your own family, you certainly understand the need for good & moral lawyers to advocate for the mothers and fathers, but I also understand how it's hard for that to happen. After a certain point, even the good hearted lawyers become jaded & cynical & become so invested (as they should be) in their client's case that it's no longer healthy, no longer about the family, and certainly no longer about justice.
My buddy and I discussed my parent's divorce and although it was actually a lot smoother than their 18 year long marriage, I admit I still struggle with that pain of their breakup. For a while, even though I knew my parents were unhappy and making my sister & I unhappy as a result, I just wanted them to stay together. Then I grew to the point where I realized it might just be better if they broke up, at least I'd have two houses, two computers, two sets of clothes, and two parents who would be willing to do whatever it took to make me want to live with them instead of the other parent.
A month before I turned 13 my mom picked me up from school and said we had to run some errands. We showed up at some new townhouse community a few miles from our family home & I still had no clue what was going on. Minutes later we're walking into my second home.
Amazing. No discussion. No preparations.
We just drove to my dad's new house and walked inside like it was the most normal thing one could do on Halloween.
What's even more amazing? My own bedroom had already been completely furnished & decorated like I had always lived there. I didn't know what to feel at that point. I was pretty furious that they would lay it on me like that. I hadn't even noticed that my dad had been packing up a great deal of his own things over the past few months. I was also really sad. I didn't want my father to leave our home, nor did I want to accept this new home as a home away from home, even though my dad took special care to make sure that I would want for nothing there it just didn't feel right.
I felt sorry for everyone...for my parents for not being able to pull it together. For my father for being asked to leave our home. (He was really playing the victim the first few years after the big move) And even though now I can truly admit that it was beyond the time for my parents to separate, I was angry with my mother. I hated their incessant arguing & name calling & the abuse that my sister & I were exposed to has had long lasting effects on our lives, but my idea of a family did not include divorced parents where I spent four days out of the week with my mom and three days with my dad.
So what was my response after walking in and seeing the new house & my new room? "Mom, we need to go. I'm supposed to be at a Halloween party in an hour and I still need to get changed."
It wasn't until I was in college five years later that I began to rethink my position on their divorce. At first I blamed my mom & sister even for the dissolution of my parent's marriage. I was just a child really when all of that occurred and I wasn't really exposed all that much to the abusive aspects of the relationship. I saw & heard enough to knew that there were problems, but I didn't realize the extent of the problems until I became an adult. From that moment on I totally understood my mother's position in asking for a divorce but I couldn't understand WHY it took her so long.
She was in an abusive relationship with my father for almost two decades. During all of that time she exposed her children to physical, verbal, & emotional abuse and although I acknowledge that she too is a victim here, she continued to play the role for entirely too long. To this day, her only explanation for staying in the relationship is because of me. I was daddy's little girl, he literally only referred to me as Princess.
Boy! Did that made me feel uncomfortable! Knowing that she subjected our entire family to that kind of turmoil so that I could still have a relationship with my father made me feel responsible. But it also made me think differently of my own mother. I could never imagine doing that to myself or my children...especially my children. I could never know that I was destroying their sense of family and love and relationships and continue to do so because I was unsure of what the future would bring without my husband around. And I would never tell my daughter that I did it for her, even if it is true.
I grew up never wanting to be anything like her because of her relationship with my father. Even as a little girl, I knew I wanted to be financially independent, I wasn't desperate to be married (especially if it would be so hard to walk away from an abusive relationship because of "love" or "security") and I knew I would stand up for myself & my children. After almost 24 years of existence now I realize that I walked away from my family taking after both my parents in ways that I had hoped I buried at home.
I have the shortest fuse for a temper and when I unleash my wrath it is not a pretty sight. I yell, I scream, I name call, and I don't withdraw until I have the person in tears. My mom actually has suggested several times that I go take anger management classes and that she would gladly pay for it. I didn't realize just how bad it was until it got to the point where I could make my own father cry. And although it makes me sad to know that the words I say can cut someone's heart into pieces, I know I won't stop until I've made them feel as shitty as they've made me feel. I used to pride myself in not being anything like my father, but I see the abusive nature of temperament and I hate it. And then I hate the fact that my mother stayed so long because I might deal with conflict & rage in a healthier way had I not been exposed to lashing out for over half my life.
But I also see a lot of my mother in myself as well and that makes me even more ashamed. A lot. I've always thought she was weak. Loving, indulgent, but entirely too weak. She doesn't stand up for herself, and she doesn't stand up for me or my sister. She's always silenced by my father and more recently, she's become more silenced by me and my sister. I HATE THAT!
After almost two decades of marriage she finally walked away...but it was too late. She was unable to date other people, fearful that she'd end up in a similar relationship. She and my father often blurred the lines of their relationship after the divorce, not knowing the true definition of their role as parents because they'd been married for so long and neither had a desire to see other people. Now my father has moved back into my mother's house. It was quite a transition for my sister and I and I expressed some concerns about her inability to end unhealthy relationships which of course brought her to tears because I was a bit too assertive & abusive in that conversation. But only because they got divorced for very valid reasons. But now because my father is ill, my mother feels obligated to help him. And he feels entitled. He feels like she owes him and that it is her duty to help him in this time of need. I hate that too.
I feel like this relationship with my mother and father will never end. It's never over. I hadn't made the connection between divorce & bulimia before, nor had I made the connection between my inability to breakup with bulimia and my mother's inability to break things with my father.
But just like divorce, the battle with bulimia is never over. Years from now I may no longer be binging or purging, but I will still be engaged in the fight because my bulimia could always come back. It doesn't want the divorce to happen & so it will continuously try to work it's way back into my life.
The fighting, the feelings of uncertainty, feeling overwhelmed by the fight, feeling defeated by the fight is to be expected now because I'm in the early stages of recovery. You cannot truly divorce yourself from something that is apart of your life. I've been bulimic for almost five years, and for that time it was a big part of who I was (am) and what I did (do). No longer engaging in those practices will be a great relief and I look forward to the day when I feel content with not binging & not purging everything I eat, but I recognize that I can never ever stop fighting for my recovery, even when I'm recoverED. I can never ease up, and although the fight will undoubtedly get easier with every passing day, this isn't a fight that will ever end. And I can't keep looking for the day when all of this will finally be over. I can only look at today and hope I make the best possible choices to ensure I continue in my quest for recovery.
Thanks to my EDA buddy, I realize that I shouldn't be so quick to judge my mother. Everyone has their reasons for not ending relationships that they know are unhealthy, but that's easier said than done and I more than anyone understand that now. But I still judge her and I still judge me. And I want to make sure that I continue to do so. Maybe one day I'll learn to forgive both myself & my mother and I won't have the need to understand the whys of my bulimia and the whys of her marriage to my father. But it is wrong to subject myself to this kind of treatment and I shouldn't tell myself otherwise.
Not fighting my bulimia makes me weak, makes me just like my mother and that's something I've always fought (apparently I've lost a few of those fights as well). Giving up on recovery means that I'm not worth it and in my heart, I know my mother didn't deserve to put up with that abuse for as long as she did, and neither do I. Even if I have been too weak in the past to stand up for myself, I still don't deserve to suffer from my bulimia.
I still have major conflicts with my own recovery, like not feeling as though I deserve to eat three meals a day (although I did for the first time in a L-O-N-G time today), feeling anxious about my weight & having the worst possible body image ever, and my pervasive self-loathing thoughts that make me feel like I might deserve to suffer from bulimia after all. But even with all of that, I know I still deserve to look myself in the eye with love & compassion & self respect, no matter what bad decisions I made in the past. I still deserve to not feel the pressing need to purge whatever food I eat. But I can't just say I deserve to live this "life worth living" (as Shish terms it) without putting in the hard work.
Yes, it's too late for my mother, she's still an active member in her unhealthy relationship and it's really sad to admit that one can get to a point where it is too late. But I'm glad I see someone who has let something get the best of them, because now it gives me the motivation to never get to that point. I truly want a life worth living, so I know what I need to do, even when I don't feel like it, even when I feel fat & disgusting, even when I feel like I don't deserve to be recovered, even when i feel like I'm losing. I will have setbacks, I fear that is inevitable in life with anything. But I can't be her. I won't be her anymore. I need to prove to myself that when it comes to my bulimia (or any other future conflicts I have in life) that I am strong enough to stop the abuse. I am strong enough to stop being victimized (even by myself). I can stand up for myself. I do stand up for myself. And I can walk away from an unhealthy relationship no matter how far back we go, no matter the history, no matter how daunting the task of walking away will be, and no matter how long it takes me to walk away so long as I never look back & keep fighting.
But my parents are divorced. And I grew up with parents that fought nearly everyday for the last eight years of their marriage and it's not something I ever want to relive again. EVER! Family law never ends. The fighting doesn't just stop with the separation or the divorce or child custody matters or alimony payments or pension benefits. When a family breaks up (assuming the mother or father doesn't just abandon the family) everyday there is always some discussion about what one parent is doing that another parent isn't doing. Always money issues. Excuse me, I mean fights over money. And once you go through that with your own family, you certainly understand the need for good & moral lawyers to advocate for the mothers and fathers, but I also understand how it's hard for that to happen. After a certain point, even the good hearted lawyers become jaded & cynical & become so invested (as they should be) in their client's case that it's no longer healthy, no longer about the family, and certainly no longer about justice.
My buddy and I discussed my parent's divorce and although it was actually a lot smoother than their 18 year long marriage, I admit I still struggle with that pain of their breakup. For a while, even though I knew my parents were unhappy and making my sister & I unhappy as a result, I just wanted them to stay together. Then I grew to the point where I realized it might just be better if they broke up, at least I'd have two houses, two computers, two sets of clothes, and two parents who would be willing to do whatever it took to make me want to live with them instead of the other parent.
A month before I turned 13 my mom picked me up from school and said we had to run some errands. We showed up at some new townhouse community a few miles from our family home & I still had no clue what was going on. Minutes later we're walking into my second home.
Amazing. No discussion. No preparations.
We just drove to my dad's new house and walked inside like it was the most normal thing one could do on Halloween.
What's even more amazing? My own bedroom had already been completely furnished & decorated like I had always lived there. I didn't know what to feel at that point. I was pretty furious that they would lay it on me like that. I hadn't even noticed that my dad had been packing up a great deal of his own things over the past few months. I was also really sad. I didn't want my father to leave our home, nor did I want to accept this new home as a home away from home, even though my dad took special care to make sure that I would want for nothing there it just didn't feel right.
I felt sorry for everyone...for my parents for not being able to pull it together. For my father for being asked to leave our home. (He was really playing the victim the first few years after the big move) And even though now I can truly admit that it was beyond the time for my parents to separate, I was angry with my mother. I hated their incessant arguing & name calling & the abuse that my sister & I were exposed to has had long lasting effects on our lives, but my idea of a family did not include divorced parents where I spent four days out of the week with my mom and three days with my dad.
So what was my response after walking in and seeing the new house & my new room? "Mom, we need to go. I'm supposed to be at a Halloween party in an hour and I still need to get changed."
It wasn't until I was in college five years later that I began to rethink my position on their divorce. At first I blamed my mom & sister even for the dissolution of my parent's marriage. I was just a child really when all of that occurred and I wasn't really exposed all that much to the abusive aspects of the relationship. I saw & heard enough to knew that there were problems, but I didn't realize the extent of the problems until I became an adult. From that moment on I totally understood my mother's position in asking for a divorce but I couldn't understand WHY it took her so long.
She was in an abusive relationship with my father for almost two decades. During all of that time she exposed her children to physical, verbal, & emotional abuse and although I acknowledge that she too is a victim here, she continued to play the role for entirely too long. To this day, her only explanation for staying in the relationship is because of me. I was daddy's little girl, he literally only referred to me as Princess.
Boy! Did that made me feel uncomfortable! Knowing that she subjected our entire family to that kind of turmoil so that I could still have a relationship with my father made me feel responsible. But it also made me think differently of my own mother. I could never imagine doing that to myself or my children...especially my children. I could never know that I was destroying their sense of family and love and relationships and continue to do so because I was unsure of what the future would bring without my husband around. And I would never tell my daughter that I did it for her, even if it is true.
I grew up never wanting to be anything like her because of her relationship with my father. Even as a little girl, I knew I wanted to be financially independent, I wasn't desperate to be married (especially if it would be so hard to walk away from an abusive relationship because of "love" or "security") and I knew I would stand up for myself & my children. After almost 24 years of existence now I realize that I walked away from my family taking after both my parents in ways that I had hoped I buried at home.
I have the shortest fuse for a temper and when I unleash my wrath it is not a pretty sight. I yell, I scream, I name call, and I don't withdraw until I have the person in tears. My mom actually has suggested several times that I go take anger management classes and that she would gladly pay for it. I didn't realize just how bad it was until it got to the point where I could make my own father cry. And although it makes me sad to know that the words I say can cut someone's heart into pieces, I know I won't stop until I've made them feel as shitty as they've made me feel. I used to pride myself in not being anything like my father, but I see the abusive nature of temperament and I hate it. And then I hate the fact that my mother stayed so long because I might deal with conflict & rage in a healthier way had I not been exposed to lashing out for over half my life.
But I also see a lot of my mother in myself as well and that makes me even more ashamed. A lot. I've always thought she was weak. Loving, indulgent, but entirely too weak. She doesn't stand up for herself, and she doesn't stand up for me or my sister. She's always silenced by my father and more recently, she's become more silenced by me and my sister. I HATE THAT!
After almost two decades of marriage she finally walked away...but it was too late. She was unable to date other people, fearful that she'd end up in a similar relationship. She and my father often blurred the lines of their relationship after the divorce, not knowing the true definition of their role as parents because they'd been married for so long and neither had a desire to see other people. Now my father has moved back into my mother's house. It was quite a transition for my sister and I and I expressed some concerns about her inability to end unhealthy relationships which of course brought her to tears because I was a bit too assertive & abusive in that conversation. But only because they got divorced for very valid reasons. But now because my father is ill, my mother feels obligated to help him. And he feels entitled. He feels like she owes him and that it is her duty to help him in this time of need. I hate that too.
I feel like this relationship with my mother and father will never end. It's never over. I hadn't made the connection between divorce & bulimia before, nor had I made the connection between my inability to breakup with bulimia and my mother's inability to break things with my father.
But just like divorce, the battle with bulimia is never over. Years from now I may no longer be binging or purging, but I will still be engaged in the fight because my bulimia could always come back. It doesn't want the divorce to happen & so it will continuously try to work it's way back into my life.
The fighting, the feelings of uncertainty, feeling overwhelmed by the fight, feeling defeated by the fight is to be expected now because I'm in the early stages of recovery. You cannot truly divorce yourself from something that is apart of your life. I've been bulimic for almost five years, and for that time it was a big part of who I was (am) and what I did (do). No longer engaging in those practices will be a great relief and I look forward to the day when I feel content with not binging & not purging everything I eat, but I recognize that I can never ever stop fighting for my recovery, even when I'm recoverED. I can never ease up, and although the fight will undoubtedly get easier with every passing day, this isn't a fight that will ever end. And I can't keep looking for the day when all of this will finally be over. I can only look at today and hope I make the best possible choices to ensure I continue in my quest for recovery.
Thanks to my EDA buddy, I realize that I shouldn't be so quick to judge my mother. Everyone has their reasons for not ending relationships that they know are unhealthy, but that's easier said than done and I more than anyone understand that now. But I still judge her and I still judge me. And I want to make sure that I continue to do so. Maybe one day I'll learn to forgive both myself & my mother and I won't have the need to understand the whys of my bulimia and the whys of her marriage to my father. But it is wrong to subject myself to this kind of treatment and I shouldn't tell myself otherwise.
Not fighting my bulimia makes me weak, makes me just like my mother and that's something I've always fought (apparently I've lost a few of those fights as well). Giving up on recovery means that I'm not worth it and in my heart, I know my mother didn't deserve to put up with that abuse for as long as she did, and neither do I. Even if I have been too weak in the past to stand up for myself, I still don't deserve to suffer from my bulimia.
I still have major conflicts with my own recovery, like not feeling as though I deserve to eat three meals a day (although I did for the first time in a L-O-N-G time today), feeling anxious about my weight & having the worst possible body image ever, and my pervasive self-loathing thoughts that make me feel like I might deserve to suffer from bulimia after all. But even with all of that, I know I still deserve to look myself in the eye with love & compassion & self respect, no matter what bad decisions I made in the past. I still deserve to not feel the pressing need to purge whatever food I eat. But I can't just say I deserve to live this "life worth living" (as Shish terms it) without putting in the hard work.
Yes, it's too late for my mother, she's still an active member in her unhealthy relationship and it's really sad to admit that one can get to a point where it is too late. But I'm glad I see someone who has let something get the best of them, because now it gives me the motivation to never get to that point. I truly want a life worth living, so I know what I need to do, even when I don't feel like it, even when I feel fat & disgusting, even when I feel like I don't deserve to be recovered, even when i feel like I'm losing. I will have setbacks, I fear that is inevitable in life with anything. But I can't be her. I won't be her anymore. I need to prove to myself that when it comes to my bulimia (or any other future conflicts I have in life) that I am strong enough to stop the abuse. I am strong enough to stop being victimized (even by myself). I can stand up for myself. I do stand up for myself. And I can walk away from an unhealthy relationship no matter how far back we go, no matter the history, no matter how daunting the task of walking away will be, and no matter how long it takes me to walk away so long as I never look back & keep fighting.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
...and we give thanks for the new Constitution
In honor of Thanksgiving Day I'll be posting My Personal Constitution on Thursday (hopefully). And along with that, a promise that I'll read my personal constitution at the start and end of my day. Basically, it's a mission statement & will include my goals and dreams, both personally and professionally and an outline for how to achieve these goals. Constitutions are work in progress and cannot just be pumped out in one sitting.
Where'd I get the idea? The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. I started the book the summer before law school but never finished. Maybe I'll pick it back up over winter break. But anyways I'll post the "Articles" that correspond to my bulimia recovery and I'm actually looking forward to developing my personal constitution because I think it'll provide as an excellent recovery tool.
What does this have to do with Thanksgiving? Well traditionally Turkey Day is a holiday to commemorate the first meal between the Pilgrims and the Indians who feasted and praised God in the New World. Now family and friends congregate with a great feast and typically give thanks for the many blessings we have in life. The first national Thanksgiving holiday was dated on November 26, 1789 by President George Washington. He proclaimed this holiday as a day for Americans to give thanks for the new Constitution, to thank God for the new Union that had been formed & our safety & security. Two hundred and eighteen years later not only do I turn 24 years old, but Americans and the world still look to guidance for the Constitution of the United States and although people may not know the entire history of why there is even a Thanksgiving Holiday, we as Americans are at one time or another thankful of our government and Constitution, especially the Bill of Rights. The US Rule of Law and Constitution provides as an excellent guide for how our nation should be governed and is a role model for other developing and modernized nations. So if it works well for the US government, then my own personal constitution should provide as an excellent guide for my own life, especially my recovery.
Side note: I ate a meal Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, & Monday. Go me! A dear friend from EDA spoke some rather true words that hit home Thursday afternoon. If I don't think about what I stand to lose and get serious about recovery now, I'm going to be in some serious trouble years from now when I am forced to deal with recovery. Yes, I did have setbacks. I also binged on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, but I didn't purge. I felt extremely sick and I worried incessantly about what not purging "meant." I feel like giving up everyday and I feel like I am so anti-recovery that I'm countering anything good I do with my thoughts & beliefs. But I do not want to give up. I want to be recovered. I want to not forever be plagued by this eating disorder. I want to be thin, but more than that, I want to give myself a voice, stand up for myself, stop being a victim and regain my self respect. If it gets to the point where it's too late, where I've done too much damage, when I'm forced into a situation of recovery or...whatever, then not only could I not ever forgive myself of not being 100% committed to recovery, then I'll feel like I didn't make the choice to change my life for the better.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Silenced. I'm always silenced.
Last night I couldn't sleep. Anxious about therapy and about reporting all my failures these past two weeks. I haven't seen Shish in two weeks and we normally meet every Thursday so I kind of felt pressure to hold it together. While on the road I received a voicemail from Shish who phoned to say she couldn't make our afternoon session.
Not good. I don't take things like that lightly. I was worried sick about therapy, anxious about it, all this recovery thinking makes me feel crazy and then to have the session canceled when I had already left just really put me over the edge. And since I'm no longer on Prozac, I truly could tell the difference between moments when I'm over the edge and moments when I'm backing away from the edge. Almost made me want that damned SSRI.
Then I thought about it in a different light. Technically, I had nothing positive to report to Shish. I've been seriously considering "postponing" recovery anyways (whatever that means) and it might be good to take some time away to see how bad things get. On the other hand, I'll never get used to the idea of recovery, if Shish and I (along with the rest of the treatment team) don't establish some sort of routine so I can battle my bulimia on a daily basis. Sigh...
I would have preferred the Doctor call and say that she couldn't make it. In her mind, I'm so fucked up that I absolutely need antidepressants. And when I expressed my concerns about starting another prescription because of the problems I had with Prozac that I am still dealing with, I felt like everything I had just said was completely dismissed. Honestly, I just participated in a trial competition and did an extraordinary job. But when it comes to dealing with this I feel like:
1. I don't know what to say
2. I'm not as articulate or confident in what I'm thinking or feeling because I'm ashamed
3. I'm not even at liberty to "object" because I am the one fucking up my life & she's only trying to help
4. I fight nearly every single step of the way and I need to stop and let them do their jobs
So apparently there has been a prescription of Zoloft just waiting for me at the pharmacy for over a week now. Shrug. I figured that me not replying to her email suggesting Zoloft was the same as me saying, "No Thank You."
But maybe I am depressed. I'm certainly not happy. And even though I've stopped crying everyday and stop spending every waking moment in bed avoiding life, I guess when I compare where I am to what I used to be, anything would be better than that. Because really, I feel myself avoiding social situations with friends, I feel myself clamming up in my apartment or even when I'm at home, spending time away from family. I feel like extraordinary weight like honestly, and I never knew the feeling of having the whole weight on your world, but I feel weighed down and it's not only physically exhausting, but emotionally draining as well.
I'm just fearful because she's so adamant about antidepressants that it makes me think something is wrong. Maybe she's not as prescription happy as I make her out to be. Maybe she honestly believes this is what's best for me. And I think it's agreed that:
1. I don't always know what's best for me
2. Even if I do know, I don't do it
But I wanted to breakdown and cry during our meeting this afternoon, because whatever objection I made was countered and overruled. And perhaps rightfully so. But I'm struggling here, with every single aspect of recovery and I don't know what I need from the Doctor, but this isn't working. At least Cruella backs down if she thinks shes pushing, and maybe that's the wrong idea, but its certainly the wrong idea when your patient actually dreads sessions with you. I even felt like had Shish and I had met and I told her that I didn't fulfill our agreement that she wouldn't be a bitch about it. But the Doctor seems to think that there's no way life can change for me, eating habits, attitudes, behaviors, unless I'm on an SSRI. Maybe she's right.
And so I just shut up. I stopped protesting. I felt defeated again and I could literally feel my spirit falling and the weight on my shoulders mounting. I could only nod that I would in fact pick up the prescription and return again in two weeks so we could monitor any side effects.
I cried with Cruella today. First time I've actually showed any emotion besides anxiety. Literally it was like two tears because I did not feel like having a breakdown, especially with not being able to "talk" about it with Shish. Cruella said I wasn't making any progress, which I already knew. And for the second session in a row, she felt like she was sending me on my way without any tools to use over the next two weeks. I agree. I always feel like I leave not knowing what to do, and if I know what to do...not knowing how to in fact do it.
So nutrition goals for the next two weeks?
I'm to eat three meals (at any time of day) per week without purging them and without having them lead to a binge. She asked why it was such a struggle for me to commit to that and I said I had no insight. But I do have insight, I just didn't feel like being all vulnerable and letting my walls down which is the exact point of therapy.
Eating one small meal and not purging means I've just eaten something that I don't need to eat. It also means that because I've eaten, I'm likely to continue eating. It won't inevitably end up in a binge, but it could. It could just end up in me eating two regular portion meals in a day. And then what if that happens two days in a row? Right. EXACTLY what she wants me to do, get comfortable with eating at regular intervals, regular portions so that I don't end up messing up. But for me, if I'm eating and I'm not purging, I'm violating some sacred code. I am not proud of myself for accomplishing my assignment. It doesn't give me confidence that I can do it again tomorrow. I'm afraid that I just might do it again tomorrow. Because that means I'm eating and I'm not purging. That will lead to a binge. Will I then not purge that too? So now, all I'm doing is eating and I'm not getting rid of it. And I need to get rid of it.
What I want from recovery? Tonight, I want to not binge ever. To not purge ever. To eat once a day to make sure that I don't end up messing up. If I didn't have to eat everyday that would be fantastic. To not think about food constantly. To not ever get the urge to binge & purge. To stop eating after a little bit and know that I'll stop eating after a little bit. To not ever have anxiety about eating breakfast that I'll also eat lunch and dinner as well. To not ever have anxiety that if I eat anything that I'll continue to eat. To know that I won't, so that I won't have to purge.
But I couldn't tell her that because I was ashamed to say that to her face to face. Because you can't look someone in the eye after you say all of that because you've then clearly confirmed all suspicions that you're in more trouble than previously believed. And so I felt the pressure mount and agreed, three meals a week and I won't purge them. But even then I felt so incredibly low because it's a commitment I made that I know I'm not ready to commit to. Everything that runs through my mind says I'm ready to stop binging and purging and hating myself and punishing myself and I WANT TO STOP but I can't do anything to make that happen.
Why do we have to start with regulating my food intake in the beginning? I feel like this pressure or the only goal being eat three meals a day, or just eating period are making things worse. Not that I would necessarily look forward to discussing the underlying causes now, because I know that would make me feel worse, but everyday I want to quit because not only am I failing at three meals a day, but that's not even what I'm working towards.
Not good. I don't take things like that lightly. I was worried sick about therapy, anxious about it, all this recovery thinking makes me feel crazy and then to have the session canceled when I had already left just really put me over the edge. And since I'm no longer on Prozac, I truly could tell the difference between moments when I'm over the edge and moments when I'm backing away from the edge. Almost made me want that damned SSRI.
Then I thought about it in a different light. Technically, I had nothing positive to report to Shish. I've been seriously considering "postponing" recovery anyways (whatever that means) and it might be good to take some time away to see how bad things get. On the other hand, I'll never get used to the idea of recovery, if Shish and I (along with the rest of the treatment team) don't establish some sort of routine so I can battle my bulimia on a daily basis. Sigh...
I would have preferred the Doctor call and say that she couldn't make it. In her mind, I'm so fucked up that I absolutely need antidepressants. And when I expressed my concerns about starting another prescription because of the problems I had with Prozac that I am still dealing with, I felt like everything I had just said was completely dismissed. Honestly, I just participated in a trial competition and did an extraordinary job. But when it comes to dealing with this I feel like:
1. I don't know what to say
2. I'm not as articulate or confident in what I'm thinking or feeling because I'm ashamed
3. I'm not even at liberty to "object" because I am the one fucking up my life & she's only trying to help
4. I fight nearly every single step of the way and I need to stop and let them do their jobs
So apparently there has been a prescription of Zoloft just waiting for me at the pharmacy for over a week now. Shrug. I figured that me not replying to her email suggesting Zoloft was the same as me saying, "No Thank You."
But maybe I am depressed. I'm certainly not happy. And even though I've stopped crying everyday and stop spending every waking moment in bed avoiding life, I guess when I compare where I am to what I used to be, anything would be better than that. Because really, I feel myself avoiding social situations with friends, I feel myself clamming up in my apartment or even when I'm at home, spending time away from family. I feel like extraordinary weight like honestly, and I never knew the feeling of having the whole weight on your world, but I feel weighed down and it's not only physically exhausting, but emotionally draining as well.
I'm just fearful because she's so adamant about antidepressants that it makes me think something is wrong. Maybe she's not as prescription happy as I make her out to be. Maybe she honestly believes this is what's best for me. And I think it's agreed that:
1. I don't always know what's best for me
2. Even if I do know, I don't do it
But I wanted to breakdown and cry during our meeting this afternoon, because whatever objection I made was countered and overruled. And perhaps rightfully so. But I'm struggling here, with every single aspect of recovery and I don't know what I need from the Doctor, but this isn't working. At least Cruella backs down if she thinks shes pushing, and maybe that's the wrong idea, but its certainly the wrong idea when your patient actually dreads sessions with you. I even felt like had Shish and I had met and I told her that I didn't fulfill our agreement that she wouldn't be a bitch about it. But the Doctor seems to think that there's no way life can change for me, eating habits, attitudes, behaviors, unless I'm on an SSRI. Maybe she's right.
And so I just shut up. I stopped protesting. I felt defeated again and I could literally feel my spirit falling and the weight on my shoulders mounting. I could only nod that I would in fact pick up the prescription and return again in two weeks so we could monitor any side effects.
I cried with Cruella today. First time I've actually showed any emotion besides anxiety. Literally it was like two tears because I did not feel like having a breakdown, especially with not being able to "talk" about it with Shish. Cruella said I wasn't making any progress, which I already knew. And for the second session in a row, she felt like she was sending me on my way without any tools to use over the next two weeks. I agree. I always feel like I leave not knowing what to do, and if I know what to do...not knowing how to in fact do it.
So nutrition goals for the next two weeks?
I'm to eat three meals (at any time of day) per week without purging them and without having them lead to a binge. She asked why it was such a struggle for me to commit to that and I said I had no insight. But I do have insight, I just didn't feel like being all vulnerable and letting my walls down which is the exact point of therapy.
Eating one small meal and not purging means I've just eaten something that I don't need to eat. It also means that because I've eaten, I'm likely to continue eating. It won't inevitably end up in a binge, but it could. It could just end up in me eating two regular portion meals in a day. And then what if that happens two days in a row? Right. EXACTLY what she wants me to do, get comfortable with eating at regular intervals, regular portions so that I don't end up messing up. But for me, if I'm eating and I'm not purging, I'm violating some sacred code. I am not proud of myself for accomplishing my assignment. It doesn't give me confidence that I can do it again tomorrow. I'm afraid that I just might do it again tomorrow. Because that means I'm eating and I'm not purging. That will lead to a binge. Will I then not purge that too? So now, all I'm doing is eating and I'm not getting rid of it. And I need to get rid of it.
What I want from recovery? Tonight, I want to not binge ever. To not purge ever. To eat once a day to make sure that I don't end up messing up. If I didn't have to eat everyday that would be fantastic. To not think about food constantly. To not ever get the urge to binge & purge. To stop eating after a little bit and know that I'll stop eating after a little bit. To not ever have anxiety about eating breakfast that I'll also eat lunch and dinner as well. To not ever have anxiety that if I eat anything that I'll continue to eat. To know that I won't, so that I won't have to purge.
But I couldn't tell her that because I was ashamed to say that to her face to face. Because you can't look someone in the eye after you say all of that because you've then clearly confirmed all suspicions that you're in more trouble than previously believed. And so I felt the pressure mount and agreed, three meals a week and I won't purge them. But even then I felt so incredibly low because it's a commitment I made that I know I'm not ready to commit to. Everything that runs through my mind says I'm ready to stop binging and purging and hating myself and punishing myself and I WANT TO STOP but I can't do anything to make that happen.
Why do we have to start with regulating my food intake in the beginning? I feel like this pressure or the only goal being eat three meals a day, or just eating period are making things worse. Not that I would necessarily look forward to discussing the underlying causes now, because I know that would make me feel worse, but everyday I want to quit because not only am I failing at three meals a day, but that's not even what I'm working towards.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Hungry
Surprisingly, I woke up hungry this morning. Not hungry enough to eat breakfast because I knew, just knew, I'd end up eating lunch and I couldn't eat two meals in a day, now could I? Except...I didn't eat lunch. I had class, then a brief period wherein I could have gone out and had a salad and felt perfectly content in doing that, but I just didn't trust myself to stop. At a salad. And I couldn't bring someone from school to make me accountable because no one at school knows.
After my afternoon classes I went home and took a nap and hoped that when I woke up I'd be ready to study. Except, I woke up starving and then I worried. Worried because today is Wednesday, tomorrow is therapy day and I do not need to go to therapy on Thursday having completely fucked up the day beforehand. After a few hours of stalling (and making matters worse) I finally headed to the organic grocery store. They have a nice little hot food bar, salad bar, and some really expensive meals you can buy for the whole family. I opted for two scoops of rice with chickpeas and tomatoes. And then because I knew my nutritionist would want me to at least have some protein, I grabbed an Odwalla bar. The chocolate one, of course.
The rice was soooo good that I wanted more, but I held off because it's not a good carb and I didn't want to overdo it. I'm not really a fan of protein bars but I finished this one off and still didn't feel full. Of course I didn't. I ate a protein bar and two scoops of rice at 8 pm after not having eaten the entire day. Did I expect to be full?
Except, I just really did not want to purge. I did not want to binge. I did not want to overeat and so I was trying to be very very careful so that at least I might feel a little less uneasy about doing dinner (and maybe lunch) the next day. But I was STILL hungry. So I drove out to Moe's and sat in the car for an HOUR.
I prayed. I called someone from EDA. I called a friend who knows about my bulimia. But I couldn't tell either of the girls I called that I was outside my favorite place to eat (& binge) and that I was planning on going in...not for an all out binge fest, but just to eat enough so that I could stop thinking about eating.
For an hour I wrestled it over and over in my mind. And at a quarter to 10 I went inside, ordered my food, returned to the car and gorged myself.
I'm losing.
But am I even putting up a good fight?
I should have SAID something to my EDA buddy. I should have told my friend, one of my best friends, that I was literally about to walk into trouble. But I wanted that food. I wanted to eat and feel good about it, to give in, because I'm so tired of fighting it.
So now I sit here feeling sick to my stomach because I refused to purge. I deserve to feel this pain, maybe next time I'll drive away. Maybe next time I'll speak up. I'm really not sure which punishment is worse, binging & not purging, or binging & purging. I hate when I force myself to steer clear of the bathrooms because I get afraid that I'll stop purging after a binge. That I'll feel I don't need to do that anymore...even though I know that's not true. Even if I take a break from purging, I always go back.
I'm so ashamed even for people who know, I feel like they don't want to talk about it. I know they would rather talk about anything other than the fact that I'm struggling with this. It makes them so uncomfortable. And for my EDA buddies, I know they are so tired of thinking of new ways to encourage me. After a while, it gets really old. It's burdensome to worry about someone so much, 's its best to pretend (as I do) that there isn't anything wrong.
After my afternoon classes I went home and took a nap and hoped that when I woke up I'd be ready to study. Except, I woke up starving and then I worried. Worried because today is Wednesday, tomorrow is therapy day and I do not need to go to therapy on Thursday having completely fucked up the day beforehand. After a few hours of stalling (and making matters worse) I finally headed to the organic grocery store. They have a nice little hot food bar, salad bar, and some really expensive meals you can buy for the whole family. I opted for two scoops of rice with chickpeas and tomatoes. And then because I knew my nutritionist would want me to at least have some protein, I grabbed an Odwalla bar. The chocolate one, of course.
The rice was soooo good that I wanted more, but I held off because it's not a good carb and I didn't want to overdo it. I'm not really a fan of protein bars but I finished this one off and still didn't feel full. Of course I didn't. I ate a protein bar and two scoops of rice at 8 pm after not having eaten the entire day. Did I expect to be full?
Except, I just really did not want to purge. I did not want to binge. I did not want to overeat and so I was trying to be very very careful so that at least I might feel a little less uneasy about doing dinner (and maybe lunch) the next day. But I was STILL hungry. So I drove out to Moe's and sat in the car for an HOUR.
I prayed. I called someone from EDA. I called a friend who knows about my bulimia. But I couldn't tell either of the girls I called that I was outside my favorite place to eat (& binge) and that I was planning on going in...not for an all out binge fest, but just to eat enough so that I could stop thinking about eating.
For an hour I wrestled it over and over in my mind. And at a quarter to 10 I went inside, ordered my food, returned to the car and gorged myself.
I'm losing.
But am I even putting up a good fight?
I should have SAID something to my EDA buddy. I should have told my friend, one of my best friends, that I was literally about to walk into trouble. But I wanted that food. I wanted to eat and feel good about it, to give in, because I'm so tired of fighting it.
So now I sit here feeling sick to my stomach because I refused to purge. I deserve to feel this pain, maybe next time I'll drive away. Maybe next time I'll speak up. I'm really not sure which punishment is worse, binging & not purging, or binging & purging. I hate when I force myself to steer clear of the bathrooms because I get afraid that I'll stop purging after a binge. That I'll feel I don't need to do that anymore...even though I know that's not true. Even if I take a break from purging, I always go back.
I'm so ashamed even for people who know, I feel like they don't want to talk about it. I know they would rather talk about anything other than the fact that I'm struggling with this. It makes them so uncomfortable. And for my EDA buddies, I know they are so tired of thinking of new ways to encourage me. After a while, it gets really old. It's burdensome to worry about someone so much, 's its best to pretend (as I do) that there isn't anything wrong.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Not a Good Night
Tuesdays are generally good days for me. Generally. But last night was not one of those general nights. I was already feeling pretty ambivalent about attending EDA and usually it's the one day of the week I look forward to because it gives me the opportunity to congregate with friends and really talk about my struggles with bulimia. However, the week preceding last night's meeting I started thinking really negative thoughts like:
Why am I the only overweight bulimic in group?
Why is everyone else so thin?
How can they look at me and not see someone who's fat and needs to restrict?
What am I doing wrong with my bulimia (because I always end up gaining so much weight instead of losing it?)
Ridiculous, I know. That was my bulimia talking and it provided very good arguments for me to avoid EDA at all costs for a while. Fortunately, I made at least one good decision last night and I did attend group. But I just feel like I'm so negative in group. I'm always the one who's fighting recovery, fighting three meals a day, fighting giving things over to God. And I cannot wrap my mind around the idea of letting go of this and giving it to God.
And then what?
Then I'm miraculously cured of my bulimia? I never binge? I never purge? I never have self loathing thoughts?
So last night after group I ate dinner (or what I would classify as dinner) with two friends. Then I purged and trekked off to the library to get some studying in. It was so matter of fact. So...routine. So, well it's only 7 pm and I don't generally eat this early, but it's okay because I know I'll get rid of it. And then of course when I got home I completely "messed up."
And I tried to think about why. What triggered me into doing this? I wasn't hungry because I'd just eaten. I wasn't upset. Okay, that's not entirely true. I actually felt defeated by my bulimia and had discussed my next step with my friend from EDA prior to leaving school. But I walk around feeling defeated everyday so I don't think that triggered last night's binge and purge.
I hate this so much. I mean thinking about all this, why and how and when..the entire recovery aspect of it all. It makes me upset which makes me want to "mess up." I hate the fact that I won't just eat lunch now but that I'll wait until I can't avoid the food any longer, until I get really sad or lonely or upset or whatever, until I'm starving. I hate how I could change the course of events for tonight just by eating something small now and knowing that I will have yet again failed myself.
Why am I the only overweight bulimic in group?
Why is everyone else so thin?
How can they look at me and not see someone who's fat and needs to restrict?
What am I doing wrong with my bulimia (because I always end up gaining so much weight instead of losing it?)
Ridiculous, I know. That was my bulimia talking and it provided very good arguments for me to avoid EDA at all costs for a while. Fortunately, I made at least one good decision last night and I did attend group. But I just feel like I'm so negative in group. I'm always the one who's fighting recovery, fighting three meals a day, fighting giving things over to God. And I cannot wrap my mind around the idea of letting go of this and giving it to God.
And then what?
Then I'm miraculously cured of my bulimia? I never binge? I never purge? I never have self loathing thoughts?
So last night after group I ate dinner (or what I would classify as dinner) with two friends. Then I purged and trekked off to the library to get some studying in. It was so matter of fact. So...routine. So, well it's only 7 pm and I don't generally eat this early, but it's okay because I know I'll get rid of it. And then of course when I got home I completely "messed up."
And I tried to think about why. What triggered me into doing this? I wasn't hungry because I'd just eaten. I wasn't upset. Okay, that's not entirely true. I actually felt defeated by my bulimia and had discussed my next step with my friend from EDA prior to leaving school. But I walk around feeling defeated everyday so I don't think that triggered last night's binge and purge.
I hate this so much. I mean thinking about all this, why and how and when..the entire recovery aspect of it all. It makes me upset which makes me want to "mess up." I hate the fact that I won't just eat lunch now but that I'll wait until I can't avoid the food any longer, until I get really sad or lonely or upset or whatever, until I'm starving. I hate how I could change the course of events for tonight just by eating something small now and knowing that I will have yet again failed myself.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Second Thoughts
Shish agreed with me that therapy isn't working because:
1. We haven''t invested enough time together; and
2. Because I am not fully committed.
Herein lies the problem.
I am committed enough to go to EDA once a week. Committed enough to drop Immigration Law so that I could go to the meetings instead of go to class. Committed enough to driving 2.5 hours one way for outpatient treatment. Committed enough to doing that even when I cannot stay home for the weekend, therefore driving back 2.5 hours so I can fulfill my academic obligations. So I guess we're in accord. That's not much commitment. But here's the thing, what other commitments can I make and then actually commit to doing them?
Yes. I could commit to three meals a day. But why commit to that when I know it's a bold faced lie? Yes, I could commit to thinking about marking three meals a day. But what's the point in thinking about marking meals if I know I won't actually mark them.
I feel an utter sense of disappointment. I also feel that I'm losing hope. How on Earth can I just stop my old habits just because now I say I want to stop them? That's ridiculous! I've been binging and purging for almost five years. Agreeing to follow Cruella's nutrition goals is one thing. Following them is another. Yesterday I was so ready for Thursday, so I could meet with Cruella and express my sincerest apologies for being such a bitch at our last session. I was so ready to commit to doing everything she outlined for the week.
Today that seems unlikely. Unlikely that I can go from restricting all day long to eating breakfast, then lunch, then dinner. It's not the binging and purging that scares me. It's the fact that I'll be eating so much and not purging. It's all those unnecessary calories because I am fat. It's that eating breakfast and lunch and dinner will make me feel really bad about myself and that will inevitably lead to a binge and purge. It's knowing that for now I can punk Cruella into allowing me to think that applesauce constitutes breakfast, lunch and dinner, but that knowing down the line she'll add a sandwich and yogurt to that for lunch. She'll keep adding things that I don't need to eat. And because I don't need to eat them because I'm already fat, then I'll purge them. And there we are...back at square one.
Why am I even pretending that I want to be recovered? That's the question of the day.
Do I really want to be recovered? Yes.
I want to get rid of all of those self loathing thoughts, actions, and attitudes that have pretty much taken over my life. But am I willing to break the habit of restricting all day so that I don't binge at night? I'm hesitant. But only because if that means I'm eating throughout the day to prevent the binge, there's nothing to prevent the purge. I want it out because I want to be thin. I'm obviously still sick (not that I ever contested that notion) because I equate thin to prettiness and my life's happiness. And let's back up a minute...there's nothing to prevent regular eating from turning into an out of control binge.
Do I want to go through recovery, eating three meals and two snacks, trusting Cruella, trusting Shish, trusting the Doctor (maybe not so much her), trusting group, and giving myself the opportunity after years of abuse to trust myself. That's asking for a lot. Why can't we opt for eating one meal a day and not purging it and eliminating the binges? Maybe I'll bring that up to Cruella and Shish on Thursday.
How do I go from restricting all day or even all week to eating breakfast like it's no big deal? EDA members would say prayer. Shish would say something like faith & trust. I lack all three.
I could pray that God allow me to eat breakfast, however there's nothing to make me actually eat it because although I have the burning desire to be recovered, I have no desire to eat without purging. Do I believe God can cure me of this? God can do all things and that I know to be true. I suppose the more appropriate question is do I believe that I'm worthy of God's help and love in struggling with my bulimia and the answer to that is -- No. It's as simple as that.
Prayer. I could pray for good health I suppose, the courage to make the best decisions everyday. I already pray for God to protect me when I'm on the road and I always pray for others and our world leaders to do what's best for humanity. But I feel foolish asking for God to help me to eat when I know that in some parts of this city (not to mention the entire world) people are praying for food to eat.
I suppose it's my shame not allowing me to ask for help because this is MY problem. It won't allow me to talk to my parents, although that's mostly fear governing that nondisclosure. But it won't allow me place this burden on anyone, including God, because I have had a wonderful life and I don't deserve to put anyone through this. I have been overwhelmingly blessed and every time I restrict, binge, and purge, I feel like I have no right to do this. And no right to ask for help.
Maybe I am one of those persons who needs to hit rock bottom before I can commit to change.
1. We haven''t invested enough time together; and
2. Because I am not fully committed.
Herein lies the problem.
I am committed enough to go to EDA once a week. Committed enough to drop Immigration Law so that I could go to the meetings instead of go to class. Committed enough to driving 2.5 hours one way for outpatient treatment. Committed enough to doing that even when I cannot stay home for the weekend, therefore driving back 2.5 hours so I can fulfill my academic obligations. So I guess we're in accord. That's not much commitment. But here's the thing, what other commitments can I make and then actually commit to doing them?
Yes. I could commit to three meals a day. But why commit to that when I know it's a bold faced lie? Yes, I could commit to thinking about marking three meals a day. But what's the point in thinking about marking meals if I know I won't actually mark them.
I feel an utter sense of disappointment. I also feel that I'm losing hope. How on Earth can I just stop my old habits just because now I say I want to stop them? That's ridiculous! I've been binging and purging for almost five years. Agreeing to follow Cruella's nutrition goals is one thing. Following them is another. Yesterday I was so ready for Thursday, so I could meet with Cruella and express my sincerest apologies for being such a bitch at our last session. I was so ready to commit to doing everything she outlined for the week.
Today that seems unlikely. Unlikely that I can go from restricting all day long to eating breakfast, then lunch, then dinner. It's not the binging and purging that scares me. It's the fact that I'll be eating so much and not purging. It's all those unnecessary calories because I am fat. It's that eating breakfast and lunch and dinner will make me feel really bad about myself and that will inevitably lead to a binge and purge. It's knowing that for now I can punk Cruella into allowing me to think that applesauce constitutes breakfast, lunch and dinner, but that knowing down the line she'll add a sandwich and yogurt to that for lunch. She'll keep adding things that I don't need to eat. And because I don't need to eat them because I'm already fat, then I'll purge them. And there we are...back at square one.
Why am I even pretending that I want to be recovered? That's the question of the day.
Do I really want to be recovered? Yes.
I want to get rid of all of those self loathing thoughts, actions, and attitudes that have pretty much taken over my life. But am I willing to break the habit of restricting all day so that I don't binge at night? I'm hesitant. But only because if that means I'm eating throughout the day to prevent the binge, there's nothing to prevent the purge. I want it out because I want to be thin. I'm obviously still sick (not that I ever contested that notion) because I equate thin to prettiness and my life's happiness. And let's back up a minute...there's nothing to prevent regular eating from turning into an out of control binge.
Do I want to go through recovery, eating three meals and two snacks, trusting Cruella, trusting Shish, trusting the Doctor (maybe not so much her), trusting group, and giving myself the opportunity after years of abuse to trust myself. That's asking for a lot. Why can't we opt for eating one meal a day and not purging it and eliminating the binges? Maybe I'll bring that up to Cruella and Shish on Thursday.
How do I go from restricting all day or even all week to eating breakfast like it's no big deal? EDA members would say prayer. Shish would say something like faith & trust. I lack all three.
I could pray that God allow me to eat breakfast, however there's nothing to make me actually eat it because although I have the burning desire to be recovered, I have no desire to eat without purging. Do I believe God can cure me of this? God can do all things and that I know to be true. I suppose the more appropriate question is do I believe that I'm worthy of God's help and love in struggling with my bulimia and the answer to that is -- No. It's as simple as that.
Prayer. I could pray for good health I suppose, the courage to make the best decisions everyday. I already pray for God to protect me when I'm on the road and I always pray for others and our world leaders to do what's best for humanity. But I feel foolish asking for God to help me to eat when I know that in some parts of this city (not to mention the entire world) people are praying for food to eat.
I suppose it's my shame not allowing me to ask for help because this is MY problem. It won't allow me to talk to my parents, although that's mostly fear governing that nondisclosure. But it won't allow me place this burden on anyone, including God, because I have had a wonderful life and I don't deserve to put anyone through this. I have been overwhelmingly blessed and every time I restrict, binge, and purge, I feel like I have no right to do this. And no right to ask for help.
Maybe I am one of those persons who needs to hit rock bottom before I can commit to change.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Breaking Up
My best friend (BEST) and I broke up recently. We've had little spats from time to time in the past and have always referred to them as "break ups". But this time, I think we actually broke up. D'apres moi, the friendship wasn't healthy. And since I'm in this whole recovery mentality mode (which is a GOOD thing) it seemed natural to remove all unhealthy relationships from my life...not just food. This was difficult considering that BEST is without a doubt the sister I never had. Not that I don't have a sister, because I do, but we've never been close. It was one of those friendships that was just truly.........I can't find the words. But I feel blessed to know that for about 9 years we could come to each other with anything and walk away feeling completely loved and understood.
So how did that turn unhealthy? It's a long story. You'll just have to take my word for it. In fact, I prolonged the break up for as long as I could because I'm one of those girls who doesn't leave abusive relationships. I don't hold myself in as high regard as people would believe I do and for that very reason it's hard for me to let go of people or things when
1. I think I need them
2. I think they need me
3. I'm afraid I won't have anyone to replace them with.
In the end, I realized that it was important for me to prove to myself that I could walk away from BEST as much as it would hurt. And it still hurts to this day. But there's a small piece of me inside that's smiling because I didn't think I would ever end our friendship. I always put the power of ending romantic relationships in their hands because I viewed myself as too weak to do it. And I was back then; too weak. But now I can honestly say that she was no longer being my friend. That she was causing more grief than right now my life can allow for and I finally put my foot down.
Now to the REAL point. Not that I view my relationship with my bulimia as a friendship at all, but it is a dependency. It is routine. It is a coping habit. It is definitely NOT unknown. I couldn't imagine ending the friendship with BEST because we'd been friends for almost a decade. Who would I tell my exciting news to when I advanced in a trial competition? Who would literally cry with me when I broke down about my diminished self esteem and battle with bulimia? Who else could even HEAR about my bulimia and not judge me? Even writing this, I'm unknown of the answers. I guess for a while, I'll have to depend on myself.
My bulimia is so routine, it's like I'm out of a page from a textbook. I restrict all day & then I "mess up" at night. Sometimes I can go days and when that happens I am overjoyed because I fought the urge to eat, and even better to binge! If something bad happens I automatically know I can go to it, to make me feel better. Or maybe, if I'm honest, it doesn't even make me feel better, but I can avoid whatever horrible situation just occurred. And I like to avoid. It's what I know. It's what I do. It makes me feel a certain way and even though sometimes it makes me feel like shit, other times it makes me feel like I am in control. Regardless, giving up my bulimia is unknown.
How will I cope?
How will I avoid?
Or will I have to deal with life as it presents itself to me?...
Will I have to deal with my self loathing thoughts some other way?
By not punishing myself...
Will I have to depend on myself to deal with bad news, and body image, self esteem, relationships & love now that I've given up BEST and my bulimia?
Still, I have no answers. I felt completely humiliated when I facebooked BEST last month and inquired to know how her life was. Hard to let go. 9 years. Every birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas celebrated. We graduated high school. She sent me off to college. I was at her daughter's baptism. She came down for my graduation. We saw each other through a few bad relationships and we took in way too many New Year's together.
I feel the same way about my bulimia. As much of the bad aspects as there are, there were still some good times and at the end of the day it's hard to separate the two because of the history we've had together. With my bulimia, I got down to a size 6 from a 14. I had my first relationship. I felt more secure & confident. I didn't have to search for the high end sizes at Express & AE. I could shop at Bebe & Arden B with ease. I could tell my friends what size I wore. My parents stopped harassing me about my weight. I felt more attractive. Love & relationships weren't just some fantasy, it was actually happening and I had my bulimia to thank for it. And even though things are pretty bad with my bulimia now, I almost feel like if we can just make it through this rough patch together, I get back down to a size 6, I appreciate myself more, things would be better. But I know that's my bulimia talking.
At least now I know that.
So that's why it's hard to lay the first brick. Because I sincerely put all my life's happiness in my size and body shape and for a little while everything pretty much fell in to place when I lost weight. With the exception of what I was doing to my body and the shame I felt, I was the happiest I'd ever been in life. Breaking up with bulimia scares me because I'll be replacing it with three meals a day and two snacks. Unimaginable. Breaking up with bulimia brings tears to my eyes because there's a part of me that concedes that if I were just better at it, I wouldn't have to break up with it. Breaking up with bulimia means my life's happiness isn't wrapped up in my size or weight or body shape and I'm not willing to concede that belief.
Breaking up with my bulimia means my life's happiness is wrapped up with me and what I do and who I love (and who I let love me). It means that once I make this break with bulimia, I'll be even happier than I was a few years ago because I won't feel shame and loathe even if I end up gaining weight. It means I won't judge myself by other people's measure sticks that I've claimed as my own. It means I'll experience a life that I haven't known since I was a little kid, one without binging and purging, constant thoughts about sizes and weight, insecurities about love and relationships. And although I don't look forward to experiencing this break up with bulimia, I am looking forward to living that life.
So how did that turn unhealthy? It's a long story. You'll just have to take my word for it. In fact, I prolonged the break up for as long as I could because I'm one of those girls who doesn't leave abusive relationships. I don't hold myself in as high regard as people would believe I do and for that very reason it's hard for me to let go of people or things when
1. I think I need them
2. I think they need me
3. I'm afraid I won't have anyone to replace them with.
In the end, I realized that it was important for me to prove to myself that I could walk away from BEST as much as it would hurt. And it still hurts to this day. But there's a small piece of me inside that's smiling because I didn't think I would ever end our friendship. I always put the power of ending romantic relationships in their hands because I viewed myself as too weak to do it. And I was back then; too weak. But now I can honestly say that she was no longer being my friend. That she was causing more grief than right now my life can allow for and I finally put my foot down.
Now to the REAL point. Not that I view my relationship with my bulimia as a friendship at all, but it is a dependency. It is routine. It is a coping habit. It is definitely NOT unknown. I couldn't imagine ending the friendship with BEST because we'd been friends for almost a decade. Who would I tell my exciting news to when I advanced in a trial competition? Who would literally cry with me when I broke down about my diminished self esteem and battle with bulimia? Who else could even HEAR about my bulimia and not judge me? Even writing this, I'm unknown of the answers. I guess for a while, I'll have to depend on myself.
My bulimia is so routine, it's like I'm out of a page from a textbook. I restrict all day & then I "mess up" at night. Sometimes I can go days and when that happens I am overjoyed because I fought the urge to eat, and even better to binge! If something bad happens I automatically know I can go to it, to make me feel better. Or maybe, if I'm honest, it doesn't even make me feel better, but I can avoid whatever horrible situation just occurred. And I like to avoid. It's what I know. It's what I do. It makes me feel a certain way and even though sometimes it makes me feel like shit, other times it makes me feel like I am in control. Regardless, giving up my bulimia is unknown.
How will I cope?
How will I avoid?
Or will I have to deal with life as it presents itself to me?...
Will I have to deal with my self loathing thoughts some other way?
By not punishing myself...
Will I have to depend on myself to deal with bad news, and body image, self esteem, relationships & love now that I've given up BEST and my bulimia?
Still, I have no answers. I felt completely humiliated when I facebooked BEST last month and inquired to know how her life was. Hard to let go. 9 years. Every birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas celebrated. We graduated high school. She sent me off to college. I was at her daughter's baptism. She came down for my graduation. We saw each other through a few bad relationships and we took in way too many New Year's together.
I feel the same way about my bulimia. As much of the bad aspects as there are, there were still some good times and at the end of the day it's hard to separate the two because of the history we've had together. With my bulimia, I got down to a size 6 from a 14. I had my first relationship. I felt more secure & confident. I didn't have to search for the high end sizes at Express & AE. I could shop at Bebe & Arden B with ease. I could tell my friends what size I wore. My parents stopped harassing me about my weight. I felt more attractive. Love & relationships weren't just some fantasy, it was actually happening and I had my bulimia to thank for it. And even though things are pretty bad with my bulimia now, I almost feel like if we can just make it through this rough patch together, I get back down to a size 6, I appreciate myself more, things would be better. But I know that's my bulimia talking.
At least now I know that.
So that's why it's hard to lay the first brick. Because I sincerely put all my life's happiness in my size and body shape and for a little while everything pretty much fell in to place when I lost weight. With the exception of what I was doing to my body and the shame I felt, I was the happiest I'd ever been in life. Breaking up with bulimia scares me because I'll be replacing it with three meals a day and two snacks. Unimaginable. Breaking up with bulimia brings tears to my eyes because there's a part of me that concedes that if I were just better at it, I wouldn't have to break up with it. Breaking up with bulimia means my life's happiness isn't wrapped up in my size or weight or body shape and I'm not willing to concede that belief.
Breaking up with my bulimia means my life's happiness is wrapped up with me and what I do and who I love (and who I let love me). It means that once I make this break with bulimia, I'll be even happier than I was a few years ago because I won't feel shame and loathe even if I end up gaining weight. It means I won't judge myself by other people's measure sticks that I've claimed as my own. It means I'll experience a life that I haven't known since I was a little kid, one without binging and purging, constant thoughts about sizes and weight, insecurities about love and relationships. And although I don't look forward to experiencing this break up with bulimia, I am looking forward to living that life.
Challenge: 8 things I like about my Body
Inspired by Dr. Stacey's Challenge -- Eight Things I Like About My Body:
1) The twinkle in my eye when I smile
2) My smile
3) My curly hair...after a good conditioning!
4) My eyebrows..when perfectly arched :)
5) My feet. (no arch which means i always have an excuse not to wear high heels!)
6) My friends call it the overhead projector: my inability to hide exactly what i think or feel
7) My mole: exact one as my daddy
8) My shoulders...they look great in halter tops!
What about you? What 8 things do you like about your body?
The First Brick
This blog is a major step on the road towards recovery. Hopefully, it will encourage me to use the tools, allow me to find others who are blogging about their own recovery from EDs, and hopefully be a source of encouragement for others out there struggling with bulimia, anorexia, binge eating.
My name is Erin and I've suffered from bulimia since January 2003 (although I was a binge eater long before that.) It has taken me a very very very long time to admit that I have a problem, but I am proud to say that now I am at least doing something about it. I started outpatient treatment six weeks ago and it has been just a little shy of hell. It's so frustrating to have nutritionists, doctors, therapists, and support group members tell you to just eat three meals a day (without purging) like it's no big deal. I scoffed at the idea. Scoffed. Like hello, if I could just eat breakfast, lunch, dinner, and oh yeah, two snacks, and not throw them up and not binge and purge then I wouldn't be in treatment because I wouldn't have an eating disorder!
I do appreciate my treatment team (well, all except the Doctor who's just a little too prescription happy for my liking). I just need to keep in mind that I prayed for God to give me this opportunity to do outpatient treatment while in law school (and be able to afford it). Honestly, God provided a way. I'm not the most religious or spiritual person out there...trust. But I was at a point where I did not know what to do, I did not know how to help myself, and all of a sudden all these possibilities appeared and I'm thankful.
So what's my treatment team look like?
My Eating Disorders Anonymous group (EDA) meets once a week. For the first time ever I have been able to TALK to people about everything that I'm going through in life as it relates to my bulimia (or anything else really for that matter). It's a relief. A relief to me because I really had been keeping so much bottled up inside.
And now I plug. If you or anyone you love is suffering from anorexia, bulimia, binge eating, compulsive eating please visit www.eatingdisordersanonymous.org To say that the website saved my life is not an overstatement. The website listed all the support groups in the area and fortunately for me, there was one. My group is awesome. The leaders are supportive and encouraging and honest. End plug.
Seriously, the two women who started the group, sat me down after three weeks and said that something had to change with my life. I either needed to get professional help at an inpatient treatment facility or else. That was a wake up call because no one had EVER said that to me before. Some of my very close friends know about my bulimia but it's hard to tell outsiders all of the truth. But it's not so hard to hear the truth from people who have been there. And they've BEEN there. (If you find there's no EDA support group in your area, try an overeaters anonymous group. Personally, I've never attended another support group, but I fully intend on sitting in on an AA meeting and I'll let you all know how that goes). The point of the group is to connect and communicate with other people going through the exact same thing as you. We even have guys attend our meeting. Okay, so we have ONE guy. And he only came once. :)
My outpatient treatment clinic team consists of:
My doctor, "Doctor" (Original, I know). I don't like her. She seems really nice honestly but she rubbed me the wrong way when at our first meeting she introduced the idea of Prozac.
So here's where I feel the need to explain myself. It took me five years (almost) to acknowledge that I am in fact bulimic and that I no longer want to be so out of control and that I need help. Nowhere in my mind did HELP include anti-depressants. I've done my research and it appears that SSRIs do in fact help a lot of bulimics by taking the edge off. In addition to that, because symptoms of bulimia and depression overlap, it's not a bad idea to prescribe the drug because lots of people who have bulimia are often times depressed. That being said, I am currently not depressed and so I don't see the need to fix something that isn't broken.
AND it frightened me (for lack of a better word, although now that I think about it, frightened is the right word) that someone who had sat with me for less than 20 minutes would just say, how do you feel about Prozac! I was offended and I know I shouldn't have been. I take mental health VERY seriously and I suspect you'll all learn more about my mental health as this progresses. In fact, I majored in psychology in undergrad, and I was not one of those students who majored in psych because I couldn't find something I really liked. I REALLY liked it. Every single class I took! So much that I considered doing a J.D./Ph.D. in clinical psych for grad school. Fortunately, I decided against it because 7 years of graduate school work really intimidated me. But anyways, the point in all of that was to say that I don't have a problem admitting that someone needs prescription drugs for their mental health. Just that I don't need it.
It's totally alright if you all laugh at me right now. I almost prefer you do. After a month of the Doctor insisting that I try it because it would make me FEEL better, not be so edgy and impulsive, regulate my hunger, and weighing it heavily on what prozac means to ME (That if i need anti-depressants, then I must be in worse shape than I thought) I decided that I would TRUST my team. Evidently I could not trust myself to make good decisions about my health, which is what ended me up in treatment, therefore I need to listen to their advice and follow their guidance. This was also particularly hard because as I just noted, admitting you cannot trust yourself is humiliating. Admitting you have to trust someone who wants to drug you up because they know what's best is beyond humiliating.
So I decided to be a good sport and we'll see how this theme becomes null and void in future visits with the Doctor and the other team members. Prozac made me overwhelmingly tired. I mean I could sleep for 14 hours a day and still want more sleep. In addition to that, I'd been having these really crazy dreams about people dying and I was a detective and at one point a hot air balloon escape was involved. I could go on and on about the dreams but I won't. Now I'm off Prozac and of course Doctor just takes that to mean that I still NEED an SSRI because I'm demonstrating so many symptoms. I take it to mean that at this moment in time I cannot experiment with drugs because I am in law school and I don't have 14 hours a day to sleep. Nor do I care to know what Zoloft is going to do my dreams or sleeping habits or God knows what else. If at any point in time I get depressed or my bulimia gets so bad (not sure how to measure THAT) then I will gladly try Zoloft. And, I can honestly admit that I was starting to feel a little better about life in general. I wasn't "messing up" any less. I wasn't eating any more regularly (although I was experiencing hunger pains). But things that ordinarily would have RUINED my day and sent me into a mess up didn't even make me cry! Something could really PISS me off and then suddenly I wouldn't feel so pissed off. So I guess I don't entirely hate the Doctor as much as I'd like to think I do.
My nutritionist, Cruella. Obviously, that's not her name. But my first impression of her was that she was a real bitch. Honestly, she's absolutely my favorite person to go see at OT. She makes her expectations of three meals a day known first and foremost but totally works with me when I'm nowhere near that. And I appreciate that more than I really ever let her know. I feel like if I walk in on Thursday and I haven't followed our nutrition goals for the week that she's not disappointed in me. Maybe she is and she's just professional about hiding her thoughts but she never makes me feel like I'm not trying my absolute hardest. (And I'm not!) I love Cruella because she's the example of how you can't just judge someone based on that first impression, how people and things are far more complex than you initially take them to be. For the past month Cruella and I have been focusing on marking meal times with "something" to eat...not necessarily a meal. And she totally understood how scary that is for me. I tell her things I wouldn't tell my therapist (partially because I know she'll just tell my therapist for me and I won't have to deal with my own insecurities about whether my therapist is judging me). Anyways, right now, Cruella and I aren't working on anything. She admitted she's stumped with me because during our last session I just flat out refused to eat three meals a day. I simply told her that I wasn't even going to try. So it felt TOTALLY good to say that but I was actually very disappointed in myself. Recovery is MORE than about food, but eating three meals a day is basic. Refusing to comply with Cruella's nutrition goals is pretty much refusing to engage in therapy. Except...I am in therapy.
My therapist. Shisk. She's very pretty which is actually a good thing. I'm one of those extremely judgmental people who really bases a lot of things based on the way that people look. I know. I know. Shame on me. But it's the truth. So she's very pretty and young but we have had our conflicts. Finally I spoke up for myself and just flat out told her that I don't like the tone she takes with me because I found it insensitive and judgmental.
Score Erin.
Shish was rather convincing with her argument that she had to take the "matter of fact" tone with me because she didn't think I was ready to discuss the emotional aspects of my bulimia and it helps us both stay focused on what's important right now. Yeah, it's the same three meals a day thing. So far Shish and I are just getting to know each other so that I feel comfortable talking about things with her. We both came to agree that therapy over the past month and a half hasn't been working but we had differing rationales. Mine was that it was just too hard and everyone had such high expectations and wanted me to move too fast. Actually, Shish agreed that the team might actually be pushing me too much. But she countered that by saying that if they eased up on me, recovery would take a whole lot longer and I've been pretty adamant from day one about my goal being recoverED so I wouldn't have to "deal with this" anymore. She also said that recovery wasn't moving along because in her opinion, although my heart is in it, my stomach is not and that I am not't putting very much effort into recovery outside of treatment.
I agreed.
Score Shish.
However, in my opinion, I have made huge steps: admitting I have a problem, getting help, showing up at treatment, and going to group. Shish's assignment is to envision what the recovery process looks like, not just waive a magic wand and end up there. I have to place the first brick on the yellow brick road to recovery (hence the name of my blod) and showing up isn't that brick. Acknowledgement isn't that brick. Following Cruella's nutrition goals is a brick (but I tossed that brick off to the side). My teams needs to know that I'm really committed to recovery and so we're looking for a new brick I can lay down. We made an agreement that I would eat dinner once a week for the next two weeks and not get rid of it. When we agreed to this I felt pressured and overwhelmed and frightened. Ordinarily, we meet once a week but I had a trial competition last week and couldn't make our appointment, which is why the agreement spanned two weeks. The first week I failed miserably. I ate twice and purged both times. I also completely "messed up" twice.
I felt ridiculous. Like oh my gosh, Shish asked me to eat ONE meal out of an entire week and NOT throw it up and I couldn't do it. I felt like she was right, I was stalling in treatment and could NOT commit to laying a brick. I felt really bad about myself but I still couldn't imagine just eating it already! Then a friend from EDA called and laid all my shit out on the table for me to see. She basically said that I wasn't in recovery because I wasn't committed. (Exactly what Shish had said over a week beforehand.) She said that I have to be 100% committed to every meal everyday and that just because I had treatment twice a week didn't mean I could take the rest of the week off.
(Actually, that's exactly what it meant in my mind.)
Hearing that from someone at EDA and not just some member of my treatment team really smacked me in the face. My own inner wisdom truly acknowledged that I wasn't in recovery because I don't try everyday, three times a day. My own inner wisdom said I was letting my bulimia win by convincing me that I could tell Cruella that I would not follow her nutrition goals, that I would not fulfill agreements I made with Shish, and that I would find every reason in the world to avoid EDA meetings.
Recovery is hard. Actually, that's an understatement. It makes me deal with things that I never had to deal with when I had my bulimia. And trust me, I still have my bulimia. But I do want to build my yellow brick road. I want to wake up and not perpetually worry about my weight and body shape, and have negative, self deprecating thoughts. I want to want to eat three meals a day and feel like I deserve to do that, no matter what size skirt I wear. And I want to know that I'm worth it...that I can get better...that I do maintain the power to help myself get better by following my treatment plan. If I fail to reach my destination, it won't be because of the Doctor or Cruella or Shish. It won't be because of my parents or society. If I fail to recover from my bulimia, it will be because every time I needed to place down a to build on this road to recovery, I fought like hell. And if I'm gonna fight like hell, then I better fight for recovery, not against it.
My name is Erin and I've suffered from bulimia since January 2003 (although I was a binge eater long before that.) It has taken me a very very very long time to admit that I have a problem, but I am proud to say that now I am at least doing something about it. I started outpatient treatment six weeks ago and it has been just a little shy of hell. It's so frustrating to have nutritionists, doctors, therapists, and support group members tell you to just eat three meals a day (without purging) like it's no big deal. I scoffed at the idea. Scoffed. Like hello, if I could just eat breakfast, lunch, dinner, and oh yeah, two snacks, and not throw them up and not binge and purge then I wouldn't be in treatment because I wouldn't have an eating disorder!
I do appreciate my treatment team (well, all except the Doctor who's just a little too prescription happy for my liking). I just need to keep in mind that I prayed for God to give me this opportunity to do outpatient treatment while in law school (and be able to afford it). Honestly, God provided a way. I'm not the most religious or spiritual person out there...trust. But I was at a point where I did not know what to do, I did not know how to help myself, and all of a sudden all these possibilities appeared and I'm thankful.
So what's my treatment team look like?
My Eating Disorders Anonymous group (EDA) meets once a week. For the first time ever I have been able to TALK to people about everything that I'm going through in life as it relates to my bulimia (or anything else really for that matter). It's a relief. A relief to me because I really had been keeping so much bottled up inside.
And now I plug. If you or anyone you love is suffering from anorexia, bulimia, binge eating, compulsive eating please visit www.eatingdisordersanonymous.org To say that the website saved my life is not an overstatement. The website listed all the support groups in the area and fortunately for me, there was one. My group is awesome. The leaders are supportive and encouraging and honest. End plug.
Seriously, the two women who started the group, sat me down after three weeks and said that something had to change with my life. I either needed to get professional help at an inpatient treatment facility or else. That was a wake up call because no one had EVER said that to me before. Some of my very close friends know about my bulimia but it's hard to tell outsiders all of the truth. But it's not so hard to hear the truth from people who have been there. And they've BEEN there. (If you find there's no EDA support group in your area, try an overeaters anonymous group. Personally, I've never attended another support group, but I fully intend on sitting in on an AA meeting and I'll let you all know how that goes). The point of the group is to connect and communicate with other people going through the exact same thing as you. We even have guys attend our meeting. Okay, so we have ONE guy. And he only came once. :)
My outpatient treatment clinic team consists of:
My doctor, "Doctor" (Original, I know). I don't like her. She seems really nice honestly but she rubbed me the wrong way when at our first meeting she introduced the idea of Prozac.
So here's where I feel the need to explain myself. It took me five years (almost) to acknowledge that I am in fact bulimic and that I no longer want to be so out of control and that I need help. Nowhere in my mind did HELP include anti-depressants. I've done my research and it appears that SSRIs do in fact help a lot of bulimics by taking the edge off. In addition to that, because symptoms of bulimia and depression overlap, it's not a bad idea to prescribe the drug because lots of people who have bulimia are often times depressed. That being said, I am currently not depressed and so I don't see the need to fix something that isn't broken.
AND it frightened me (for lack of a better word, although now that I think about it, frightened is the right word) that someone who had sat with me for less than 20 minutes would just say, how do you feel about Prozac! I was offended and I know I shouldn't have been. I take mental health VERY seriously and I suspect you'll all learn more about my mental health as this progresses. In fact, I majored in psychology in undergrad, and I was not one of those students who majored in psych because I couldn't find something I really liked. I REALLY liked it. Every single class I took! So much that I considered doing a J.D./Ph.D. in clinical psych for grad school. Fortunately, I decided against it because 7 years of graduate school work really intimidated me. But anyways, the point in all of that was to say that I don't have a problem admitting that someone needs prescription drugs for their mental health. Just that I don't need it.
It's totally alright if you all laugh at me right now. I almost prefer you do. After a month of the Doctor insisting that I try it because it would make me FEEL better, not be so edgy and impulsive, regulate my hunger, and weighing it heavily on what prozac means to ME (That if i need anti-depressants, then I must be in worse shape than I thought) I decided that I would TRUST my team. Evidently I could not trust myself to make good decisions about my health, which is what ended me up in treatment, therefore I need to listen to their advice and follow their guidance. This was also particularly hard because as I just noted, admitting you cannot trust yourself is humiliating. Admitting you have to trust someone who wants to drug you up because they know what's best is beyond humiliating.
So I decided to be a good sport and we'll see how this theme becomes null and void in future visits with the Doctor and the other team members. Prozac made me overwhelmingly tired. I mean I could sleep for 14 hours a day and still want more sleep. In addition to that, I'd been having these really crazy dreams about people dying and I was a detective and at one point a hot air balloon escape was involved. I could go on and on about the dreams but I won't. Now I'm off Prozac and of course Doctor just takes that to mean that I still NEED an SSRI because I'm demonstrating so many symptoms. I take it to mean that at this moment in time I cannot experiment with drugs because I am in law school and I don't have 14 hours a day to sleep. Nor do I care to know what Zoloft is going to do my dreams or sleeping habits or God knows what else. If at any point in time I get depressed or my bulimia gets so bad (not sure how to measure THAT) then I will gladly try Zoloft. And, I can honestly admit that I was starting to feel a little better about life in general. I wasn't "messing up" any less. I wasn't eating any more regularly (although I was experiencing hunger pains). But things that ordinarily would have RUINED my day and sent me into a mess up didn't even make me cry! Something could really PISS me off and then suddenly I wouldn't feel so pissed off. So I guess I don't entirely hate the Doctor as much as I'd like to think I do.
My nutritionist, Cruella. Obviously, that's not her name. But my first impression of her was that she was a real bitch. Honestly, she's absolutely my favorite person to go see at OT. She makes her expectations of three meals a day known first and foremost but totally works with me when I'm nowhere near that. And I appreciate that more than I really ever let her know. I feel like if I walk in on Thursday and I haven't followed our nutrition goals for the week that she's not disappointed in me. Maybe she is and she's just professional about hiding her thoughts but she never makes me feel like I'm not trying my absolute hardest. (And I'm not!) I love Cruella because she's the example of how you can't just judge someone based on that first impression, how people and things are far more complex than you initially take them to be. For the past month Cruella and I have been focusing on marking meal times with "something" to eat...not necessarily a meal. And she totally understood how scary that is for me. I tell her things I wouldn't tell my therapist (partially because I know she'll just tell my therapist for me and I won't have to deal with my own insecurities about whether my therapist is judging me). Anyways, right now, Cruella and I aren't working on anything. She admitted she's stumped with me because during our last session I just flat out refused to eat three meals a day. I simply told her that I wasn't even going to try. So it felt TOTALLY good to say that but I was actually very disappointed in myself. Recovery is MORE than about food, but eating three meals a day is basic. Refusing to comply with Cruella's nutrition goals is pretty much refusing to engage in therapy. Except...I am in therapy.
My therapist. Shisk. She's very pretty which is actually a good thing. I'm one of those extremely judgmental people who really bases a lot of things based on the way that people look. I know. I know. Shame on me. But it's the truth. So she's very pretty and young but we have had our conflicts. Finally I spoke up for myself and just flat out told her that I don't like the tone she takes with me because I found it insensitive and judgmental.
Score Erin.
Shish was rather convincing with her argument that she had to take the "matter of fact" tone with me because she didn't think I was ready to discuss the emotional aspects of my bulimia and it helps us both stay focused on what's important right now. Yeah, it's the same three meals a day thing. So far Shish and I are just getting to know each other so that I feel comfortable talking about things with her. We both came to agree that therapy over the past month and a half hasn't been working but we had differing rationales. Mine was that it was just too hard and everyone had such high expectations and wanted me to move too fast. Actually, Shish agreed that the team might actually be pushing me too much. But she countered that by saying that if they eased up on me, recovery would take a whole lot longer and I've been pretty adamant from day one about my goal being recoverED so I wouldn't have to "deal with this" anymore. She also said that recovery wasn't moving along because in her opinion, although my heart is in it, my stomach is not and that I am not't putting very much effort into recovery outside of treatment.
I agreed.
Score Shish.
However, in my opinion, I have made huge steps: admitting I have a problem, getting help, showing up at treatment, and going to group. Shish's assignment is to envision what the recovery process looks like, not just waive a magic wand and end up there. I have to place the first brick on the yellow brick road to recovery (hence the name of my blod) and showing up isn't that brick. Acknowledgement isn't that brick. Following Cruella's nutrition goals is a brick (but I tossed that brick off to the side). My teams needs to know that I'm really committed to recovery and so we're looking for a new brick I can lay down. We made an agreement that I would eat dinner once a week for the next two weeks and not get rid of it. When we agreed to this I felt pressured and overwhelmed and frightened. Ordinarily, we meet once a week but I had a trial competition last week and couldn't make our appointment, which is why the agreement spanned two weeks. The first week I failed miserably. I ate twice and purged both times. I also completely "messed up" twice.
I felt ridiculous. Like oh my gosh, Shish asked me to eat ONE meal out of an entire week and NOT throw it up and I couldn't do it. I felt like she was right, I was stalling in treatment and could NOT commit to laying a brick. I felt really bad about myself but I still couldn't imagine just eating it already! Then a friend from EDA called and laid all my shit out on the table for me to see. She basically said that I wasn't in recovery because I wasn't committed. (Exactly what Shish had said over a week beforehand.) She said that I have to be 100% committed to every meal everyday and that just because I had treatment twice a week didn't mean I could take the rest of the week off.
(Actually, that's exactly what it meant in my mind.)
Hearing that from someone at EDA and not just some member of my treatment team really smacked me in the face. My own inner wisdom truly acknowledged that I wasn't in recovery because I don't try everyday, three times a day. My own inner wisdom said I was letting my bulimia win by convincing me that I could tell Cruella that I would not follow her nutrition goals, that I would not fulfill agreements I made with Shish, and that I would find every reason in the world to avoid EDA meetings.
Recovery is hard. Actually, that's an understatement. It makes me deal with things that I never had to deal with when I had my bulimia. And trust me, I still have my bulimia. But I do want to build my yellow brick road. I want to wake up and not perpetually worry about my weight and body shape, and have negative, self deprecating thoughts. I want to want to eat three meals a day and feel like I deserve to do that, no matter what size skirt I wear. And I want to know that I'm worth it...that I can get better...that I do maintain the power to help myself get better by following my treatment plan. If I fail to reach my destination, it won't be because of the Doctor or Cruella or Shish. It won't be because of my parents or society. If I fail to recover from my bulimia, it will be because every time I needed to place down a to build on this road to recovery, I fought like hell. And if I'm gonna fight like hell, then I better fight for recovery, not against it.