Desperately seeking therapy
So much has shifted since last Thursday morning’s therapy appointment. Perhaps I should use a different word than shifted – which to me connotes positive movement, improvement, progress. So much has gone down the shitter since last Thursday. So much has spiraled out of control. Has overtaken me. Possessed me.
I don’t even know what to say tomorrow morning to Bree. Even me – therapy-loving, IFS-believing me puts up some initial boundaries and it takes at least 20 minutes of “work” before I ever feel like I’m being fully open. I wish I could just plop down on her cream-colored couch, pull a blanket up around me in the fetal position and cry. Really wail and sputter and gasp – the way I do with J sometimes. Respond to her “how are you?” not with a courteous “been better”, “not so great” or “hanging in there”, but with primal gutteral screams and full body convulsions. I am so far from “hanging in there” right now. I’ve had about three days in a row of dinstinct “fuck hanging in there” mentality. Wherever “there” is…I ain’t anywhere close to it and am catching the next bus to as far away from it as I can get on my limited savings.
J’s expressing some frustration again with ED. That he feels disconnected and like I have this thing that is mine and that I don’t let him in on. He brought up the blog thing again – “you won’t even let me read your blog”. Yes, dear but it doesn’t seem to have stopped you now, did it? Of course this beast is mine and he can’t have it – even a little piece of it. That’s probably one of the main reasons why it is here in my life. Because nothing else feels like my own – safe from the greedy paws of others. I mean I’m having freaking visual hallucinations of my father harvesting my organs – clearly I have some boundary issues. I am just so angry and admittedly hopeless. It’s one of those days (or two or three) where I don’t want to get married, know that there’s no possible way I could handle having a kid (let alone two or three), and generally want to retreat away to a cabin in the woods and puke and starve all the rest of the days of my life. Clearly, ED is speaking for me today.
I feel a little frustrated that I’m not able to post bright, shiny, sparkly thoughts today. Usually I don’t feel that way or feel the need to apologize for my negativity. I aim not to write for an audience but to write honestly what I’m feeling - but for some reason tonight I’m thinking of how regular readers might feel disppointed or not want to read more of the hopelessness and sickness and general depths of darkness. Then again, that’s what keeps me reading at least a third of my blogroll.
J just woke up and plopped on the couch and started trying to snuggle and ramble on about tell me about some dream he just had. For fuck’s sake, can I not even blog in peace at 4:30 in the morning??!! I didn’t post last evening because we were engaged in this talk about his feelings and my disorder and blah blah blah and I didn’t want to then throw it in his face by going and “confiding” in my not-so-secret blog. But here I sit, crack of dawn in a dark house, sipping my tea and typing away only to feel interrupted, pulled away from it, like I’m not being a good partner because all I really want to do right now is blog.
And on that note, it seems about time to try to muster a few more hours of restless, hungry sleep before hitting the gym. Here’s hoping that therapy will help.
I wish I could do it without rules
Yesterday was.start.to.finish.horrible. I had such grand plans for a great Snow Day. Turned out in addition to being a s’no work day, it was also a s’no food staying in my belly day, s’no way I can stand up without being dizzy day, s’no way I should be on this treadmill right now day. And honestly, the first day I worried about acute health repercussions to my purging and restricting.
Thursday I ingested some gluten and my sensitive Celiac gut reacted, well, with some GI distress (I’ll spare you the details). But this always means that I stop absorbing the food in my gut, make many trips to the el bano, and wind up very hungry and thirsty. And in the lovely land of Bulimia very hungry leads down a destructive road. Yesterday was another one of my purging lows, in frequency, in intensity, in wobbly after effects. And because I was snowed in, there wasn’t much I could do to distract (this is an exaggeration, there were things I could do but felt so much at the mercy of my disorder that I forgot about them). At some point in the afternoon I crawled into bed and vowed not to get out until J got home from work (4:00, usually). By 5:15 I was panicking and hungry again and praying that he would show up soon so we could go to my favorite restaurant and get a crepe for dinner and keep it down. I could NOT eat another meal alone in this god-forsaken apartment. Phone rings. J is working late – until 7:30. Groan. You can imagine how dinner went (other than alone and in this god-forsaken apartment).
But hang in there, it’s not all doom and gloom. The road may be curving a bit, mainly because I felt so fucking scared and sick yesterday. Possessed, in fact, by this disorder. I know on so many levels it feels like it gives control, but this is a myth (at least for me) and there are those rock-bottom moments when you realize you are completely controlled by IT. Yesterday I felt like the only way I am going to have control of my life is to not have my disorder in my life. If I allow it to be there, even in small doses (what I like to call “dabbling” in my behaviors) – I guarantee myself that I will have these days, weeks, (hopefully not but possibly) months where it is my master and I its slave. Days where the moment I see J’s face I am a puddle of blubbering tears. Days where all there is to do is take a valium and go to bed at 8:00.
That Valium induced sleep lasted until about 3 a.m. at which point I began hatching a plan. Just for today. I’m not going to worry about a week from now or a month from now. Today, Saturday December 13, I have a meal plan in writing and stuck on the fridge. At the bottom of the meals and snacks listed are some rules.
-No eating on the couch. Sit at the table.
-Only eating off plates, not out of packaging.
-No multi-tasking. Pay attention to eating and how you feel (emotionally and physically).
I’ve tried meal plans before – a few weeks ago I had a few good days as a result of planning what I’d eat and sticking to it. My major concern is that it is ME that created the plan. So I’m just trusting that it’s coming from the healthy/recovery me and not the restricting/want-to-lose-weight me. At my absolute lowest in ED behaviors I kept very rigid (and unhealthy) meal plans and obsessed about them. I went to a dietician post-diagnosis with Celiac (in her defense she had no idea that I had an eating disorder) and holy shit – it fueled the fire BIG time. Part of me is wondering, though, if it would help to have my diet planned by someone without an eating disorder. Probably. But I’m terrified of that. Maybe should talk to Bree about it.
Next to the meal plan on the refrigerator is a big sheet filled with “Things to Do Instead”. Including specific tasks related to housework, being outside, playing with my dog, connecting with others (email, christmas cards, phone calls and a list of all the people who ARE in my life and WOULD at least chat with me about bullshit and Christmas and anything besides purging), relaxing.
My goal: To have a “good day”. Translation: To eat what my body needs, not purge, exercise a reasonable amount. Bonus (but this may be setting the bar WAY too high): Not be excruciatingly anxious and difficult to be around.
I really wish I could do it without rules. I wish I could just wake up, smile at the sunshine glinting off the snow and go along my merry way of normalcy today. Just set the intention and have it all pan out. But I just know that, right now, that doesn’t work. It did when I was 4 months into recovery. But not the day after one of my worst days ever. I need the structure. I think about the stories I’ve heard of residential treatment. It’s not like you walk in, they pat you on the back and congratulate you for making the commitment to recover and then send on your way to figure out what to do all day. They schedule your day and plan your food and keep you busy and take a lot of the choices and decision-making off your back (at least in the beginning, from what I hear). So I guess what I’m doing is somewhat aligned with that. I have the best intentions for today and it feels like it is ME and not my disorder choosing this path.
Off to shovel snow with a slice of toast with PB and a little smoothie in my belly. Off to shovel snow with a little bit of pride that I did it – one meal of the day. Off to shovel snow with the fear of disappointment if this day takes a turn for the worse.
*one last observation. That last line about fear of disappointment – it makes me want to beg, plead, bargain, pray with some power in the universe (not necessarily spiritual) not to let the disorder take over today. But acknowledging that feels like it’s taking the power away from ME to keep today on track. So is it better to rely on myself (thereby putting pressure on myself) to battle this today or to turn it over to the universe to keep the disorder at bay. Or maybe a bit of both – I’ll do my part today and hope the universe can give me a break?!
I want to want to get better
and that, dear readers, about wraps it up for the day. “behaviors” galore. crazy disordered head. J pleading with me to reconsider meds. group tonight. can’t type. maybe later. apologies for the lameness of the post but it’s probably best not to ramble on today, polluting the internet with madness.
