Lessons learned this week:
1 – If you “call out sick” from work because you’re an emotional wreck – it’s not truly a lie because physiological sickness is likely soon to follow. Burning sinuses, flushed cheeks, prickly eyes and subtle body aches through my neck and shoulders tell me that this body is fighting off some germs after being beat up mentally at the start of the week.
2- My “Self” (with a big ’s’) doesn’t just have to be an innocent bystander. It can calmly assert itself and ask other parts to tone things down a bit (“I know you’re feeling really hopeless right now but I need you to step back for a moment so that I can think clearly about my next step.”). It can negotiate with parts (“I know that you really feel like dissociating because you’re exhausted from this week, but if you can just step aside so that I can be present for group tonight, I will allow you to totally ‘check out’ all afternoon tomorrow.” – impeccable timing for the Netflix delivery of season 3 finale disk of Grey’s Anatomy for just this purpose). It can ultimately play the role of a compassionate parent – listening to each parts needs but also asserting some of its own for the benefit of the whole system.
3 – I miss lifting weights. I felt so strong and powerful Wednesday night after lifting a bit and then slept like a baby for 8+ hours. This is one gym activity that has never really had to do with my appearance as much as just feeling active and strong. Yes, please.
4 – I have no idea what to do about my job. Maybe that’s okay. The options around here are quite shockingly limited and I interviewed today at a skilled-nursing facility. Blech. I’ve been arguing with myself all day about it. Parts of me wanted to cry and run away just upon entering the building – warm and smelly, lines of wheelchairbound slumping elderly with food on their shirts, mumbling to themselves. I just don’t do well with old people like that – never have. Sure I like the 90 year old in the back pew at church but she’s, well, still functioning pretty well and coherent. She doesn’t make me sad and squirmy and in search for a sink to wash my hands. And most importantly, her bodily fluids are contained. I have parts that want to prove to myself that I can do this job as a sign of achievement and strength. But deep down I know I’d be miserable. I’ve done a 12 week clinical rotation in a comperable setting and hated every day of it. I never relaxed or got over the awkwardness of naked grown-ups who can’t remember how to put a shirt on. At least with kids it feels developmentally close-to-appropriate to poop in your pants or be naked or snot or drool. Maybe I am just a kid person afterall. I inquired about one other position at a hospital but it’s an hour away and probably wouldn’t allow me to get to my therapy appointments – the whole reason I’m not relocating out of VT right now. So maybe I’ll just stick it out where I am. It works for my therapy schedule. Who knows, maybe our financially dysmal little non-profit can hold on for 6 months until I’m ready to move??! Maybe that’s a wishful thinking part? hmmm.
5 – I have finally accepted my mom for who she is and what she can offer me in terms of support. On Tuesday night, I was devastated and panicky, overcome by the yuck bubbling up, overtaking all sense of self-control. I sobbed and heaved and thought my chest would implode. I hyperventilated and paced and clung to my Aunt Julie blanket and hoped I wouldn’t die from the sadness. And the whole time I had the phone nearby, ready to call mom to rescue me. But I waited – for longer than I ever have before. I tested the waters a bit – afterall, all this time, energy and money on therapy is supposed to be allowing those exiled parts and their feelings to unburden and be heard. So I let it go until it was unbearable and then called, knowing full well that my mom’s tone would be directive and cold. That she would attempt to talk sense into me and would quickly shift me into the intellectual and analytical mindest that protects me from the yuck. I didn’t call expecting warm and fuzzy or even empathy. Just a rescue.
6 – There are many, many websites, blogs and support groups for the adult children of parents with Narcissistic Personality Disorder. I thought my dad was so crazy and unique and hard to describe or understand. Turns out – he’s in a very special club of crazies who are astonishingly similar.
7 – Mentally rehearsing a plan of what to do if I come home to find my dad on my back porch makes me feel a little bit better.
8 – Sometimes my granddad knows just what to say, “[your mom] told us that your engagement is off. From here I can’t tell if that’s good news or bad news, but whatever its much, much better to break up before getting married. Finding the right mate is a very dicey deal and surviving a few “loves” is good experience!”
9 – Body dysmorphia seems to peak just before my period. My brain is having a field day checking body parts in the mirror, running my hands over them, trying on various pants to see how snug they are, pulling, pinching, squishing, etc. Hormonally exacerbated craziness.
i’m drunk and punctuation is complicated
the weekend will have to take a back burner tonight it was fun and all nothing momentous but as i dashed out to catchmy ride to the airport the four-year-old part of me grabbed the mail and stashed a small package with familiar scratchy handwritinginto the outside pocket of my carryon backage. return address from “Gost Von Hooten” – googled it tonight but no literary connection as i hypothesized.no just some name he made up to get me to open what i already knew was a package from him. the address, the handwriting gave it away – or perhaps it was the email 10 days ago announcing with fanfare that he was sending me something.
that something was a mix CD and a long typed letter (3 pages with a chickenscratch signature at the end.
“my dear dearest daughter,” blah blah blah i listened to 2 tracks on the mix CD last night but was confused about whether the songs were included because they had the word ‘father’ or ‘cancer’ or because it’s a lovesong. that’s sick but it’s true and i got feeling all swirly weird inside so i switched back to NPR.
and today a little bird delivered an email to my inbox – a ranting, angry, hissing email announcing defeat and depression and desperation and what does he have to lose by showing up on my doorstep and havinghim yell i hate him. and that made me scared.
and then the panick attack and then the wine and call my mom. and talked rationally and calmly out of it. out of the experience and into dissociation. drunken dissociation. “you can control your feelings and your response to this”.
and now the numbness. before it was the i had a daddy who doesn’t love me because he cannot love another human being and the ow in my chest and the regression to a sobbing toddler wanting to suck my thumb and dig my teddy bear out of the attic. but now just the numbing numbness.
stick a fork in me.
I am so very done with today.
Began with individual therapy – first in 3 weeks since B was out of town. It went well, brought some really heavy insights which only hit me in full about 6 hours later. I left really feeling drained, despite the fact that B apologized for “an hour of being analytical and intellectual” rather than doing any direct emotional work with parts. I burst into tears twice – that’s emotional enough for me, lady.
Totally checked out for my meager 5 hours of work. You probably could have thrown things at me and I wouldn’t have noticed.
Group tonight. Yoga was amazing – led by B. But the group session just fell apart for me. During check-in (yep, still hate that word after 3 months of group therapy) there emerged a theme of “how my family members responded when they found out I had an eating disorder” with the two girls before me (one of my personal rules in group is to go as close to last as possible in check-in). When it came my turn, I freaked. “I’m feeling sad and want to pass” I said as my eyes welled up and my voice cracked like a pre-pubescent acolyte. Fuck. I HATE EMOTIONAL VULNERABILITY. I wasn’t even sure why I was feeling so sad at first but then my head got all swirly about my dad and the way he reacted when I told him on the phone about my eating disorder. I can’t even go there in my head because it makes me want to head down the road to seventy-pound-ville. The next hour of group was spent curled up in the tightest ball I could in my chair with my hands picking and fiddling while I experienced rapidly cycling tears and total dissociation to floaty float land where I’m hovering about 3 feet above my body. Finally I pulled out when the conversation shifted topics and I could engage in some intellectual banter.
Which brings me to the first topic on the agenda for my next individual therapy session – why I absolutely positively do not EVER want to talk about my father in group. I can’t do it. I know it’s relevant and that it’s only fair to speak for the parts of me that are really stirred up when others talk about related topics. But I just can’t. It’s like jumping off the high dive. I’m up there and the time to jump is nigh. I just can’t. I balk and I count to three and I pace and I bend my knees and plug my nose and step away from the edge again and again and again. It’s excruciating really.
And I’m just wrecked. I have about 5 hours worth of crying to do, wedged forcefully somewhere in my tight throat. Since those tears aren’t going to come now I’m just calling it a night.
A Blue family gathering
Tonight, probably as I type this, my entire family is gathered in the same room. Without me. My brother is giving a reading at the university where my father teaches and so they have reason to amass – brother, mom, step-father, dad, dad’s new wife. There they all sit, beaming with pride over my brother. Each set of “parents” holding hands and sitting close on their folding chairs. In my head the picture feels complete. Like no one notices that anything – anyone – is missing. Like I died.
It brought a very sudden and very brief wince of pain and three tears. And then it was gone.
Sanity Lifesavers
1 – chili dinner at a former co-worker’s house last night. hours of wine and good conversation. connection. support.
2 – sewing new dishtowels for the kitchen yesterday. i’m feeling a resurgence of my crafty nature.
3- along those lines, a trip this morning to my favorite restaurant (courtesy of a gift certificate from my mom) for a crepe breakfast with a friend and then a trip to a fabulous fabric store (also gift certificate territory).
4- writing my holiday thank-you notes this morning over coffee. also a little address book my mom sent this week already filled out with all the extended and blended family’s addresses. very sweet (and useful). probably intended as a mondo hint to write them thank-you’s but it also just felt like a nice “remember that all these people love and support you”.
5 – my 1 month moratorium on anticipating/planning for/obsessing about the future. it’s really actually working and very helpful.
6 – The Power of Now by Eckart Tolle. Read it during my last break-up/recovery effort and it’s a lifechanger. revisiting it now.
7 – Sam the dog. this “little” guy (80 pounds little) is the love of my life. No matter who comes and goes from my life, where I live, where I work, how much I weigh or what I ate today he will always be ready to offer way too many kisses, two-paws (‘mama hold my hands’), a fart and a whiney request to get on the bed. gotta love him. my favorite? when we sit on the floor together he’s a good 4 inches taller than me and I can rest my cheek against his chest and he rests his chin on my head. sigh. that’s love.
8- sunshine. it may be -1 degree outside (yep, that’s a negative, folks) but at least the sun is glinting off the snow. wednesday night, if it sticks with the forecasted 10 below zero, will be the coldest temperature I’ve ever felt.
79 degrees does wonders for my mood
Seriously, the weather today was definitively WARM. No sweatshirt. No jacket. Yummy balmy southern air.
AND…I ate more than air today. I’m about 15 minutes away from meal 3 of the day. Starting off with a Larabar was a compromise with my restricting part – a “snack” but at least some food in my belly to start the day. Lunch was a bit more uncomfortable just because it involved several items on my plate and looked like a lot. It felt okay, though. Eating here is a bit easier because I’m not alone and I eat at the table – a little more mindfully. Helps me stop when I start to feel panicky (which, I guess for the non-disordered is called “full”. hmmm.)
I went to church with my mom this morning. I absolutely love my church at home – mainly the physical building which is old and gothic, yet small and cozy. Decorated top to bottom for Christmas and the service had all the caroling greats – “We three kings” “What child is this”. Love it. Midnight mass is a family tradition and I missed out this year so this was a nice compromise. Church is something I’ve been pondering lately. I’ve gone a few times lately in Vermont either alone or with J, mainly as a distraction from the disordered thoughts and urges. And I don’t feel a strong connection to the big one we go to downtown. But a small, family-oriented church can be a great place to be socially connected and involved. Part of something bigger. I tend to get spooked by really evangelical or “pushy” denominations (which I won’t mention so as not to offend). But I feel comfortable in the Episcopal Church – mainly because it’s familiar but also because I feel allowed to question or explore and attach to the parts that mean something to me and not so much to the parts that don’t. I’m not threatened weekly with hell if I don’t believe hard enough or save other souls. Whew, that’s a relief. Maybe a New Year’s Resolution to find a smaller Episcopal church that feels like a good fit is brewing. We’ll see.
Had a good visit with a dear friend. Technically my high school sweetheart but we’ve remained really solid buddies through the years minus any physical or romantic attraction/awkwardness. His mother is insane about marriage and having babies and is an enormous gossip around my hometown so I felt some anxiety about showing up with the ring on my finger but not really wanting to talk about it. It went better than I expected. Then T and I ventured to Starbucks for a little heart to heart about our lives, minus his nosey mom. He had some really great advice, reassurance and just general knowledge of ME. The me that is underneath all the events and the boyfriends and the geographical relocations. He’s got his head-screwed on really straight and is comfortably single (despite constant nagging from his mom about it). But he gives great perspective on relationships and I am always shocked by how comfortable and sincere we can be despite not talking for several months. Made me want to talk to him more often.
Feeling really good about this trip. My mom has been really nice and not as extreme a version of herself as she can sometimes be – perhaps because I’m a bit vulnerable. I’ve had plenty of time and space to “do my own thing”. I’ve had a break from the tension and drama at home. I’ve had some relative successes in the ED department. I’m feeling much more connected to ME. More in my own body. More comfortable. Tomorrow afternoon I’ll begin the journey back to Vermont (where it is frigid, I’m sure). Tuesday I have therapy and group. I really hope this feeling of groundedenss can last.
I know better
I know that restricting does the following:
-fogs my thinking
-makes me anxious and irritable
-depresses me
-sets the stage for a perceived binge (chocolate covered almonds after dinner, for example)
-sets the stage for a purge (grrr)
-makes ANY morsel of food that enters my belly elicit bloating and discomfort
So why do I do it??!! Partly I’ve been restricting all week as an effort to stave off any purging (which it hasn’t entirely but has certainly decreased it). Partly it’s because of the emotional demands on me right now and the side effect of needing some sense of control (so ED cliche’ed but true). Partly the pain feels good. But I got some “bars” at the grocery today that feel like an acceptable breakfast/lunch or snack to give a whirl tomorrow. I know I can do it – it just requires talking myself down from that disordered place. Compromising with my parts.
I’m starting to visit friends here at home and to accept the phone calls that are incoming. My mom and I saw “Marley and Me” today and I got a perfect excuse to let some tears out in a safe space (no one but me had to know that it wasn’t because of the plot-line).
And, brace yourselves for a shocker, I got some good advice today from my mom. I fully expected her advice to be just to end my relationship. To give up and move on. As if it’s that easy. But she just told me that she thinks I should go back to Vermont and start living the life I want. If it fits with J’s, great. If he resents me taking time and energy for my own self-care, to make a social network, to seek out some sort of meaningful spiritual community or any host of other things I know I need in order to be healthy….then the relationship will naturally end. She thinks that I’m putting too much energy into talking about my needs rather than just living my life according to them. I know that this approach may sound totally negligent of my partner’s needs. But he has, to date, been unable to (1) understand the concept of needs – he even says that he doesn’t understand, (2) articulate any needs himself, (3) demonstrate any needs other than for me to have no needs of my own. I have to tend to agree with my mom’s advice – if only because the talking doesn’t seem to be getting me anywhere. Maybe this will be a more effective way of eliciting change in J than talking about it.
A huge loud part of me says that you shouldn’t want or need your partner to change. That love is about acceptance and compromise. But I’m being completely honest with myself that there are other parts that are speaking up that there are several things within our relationship that simply cannot continue. I’m trying to remember myself when I was healthy (including when I met J) and to begin a path back towards those values.
In my ongoing reading of the IFS relationship book, I was jolted into an upright and alert state by the following excerpt related to abandonment anxiety:
“Whenever we fall in love, the other person always appears rich with a superabundant life…extraordinarily beautiful and extraordinarily alive, an animal whose nature is not to be docile but rebellious, not weak but strong…which is free and liberating, but also unforeseeable and frightening. That is why the person who is more frightened imposes on the other a great many restrictions, a great many small sacrifices, all of which are basically intended to make her gentle, safe and innocuous. And the other person gradually accepts them. To avoid upsetting her lover, she imperceptibly eradicates everything that may have that effect. She makes many small renunciations , none of which is serious…gladly makes them because she wants her lover to be happy, and she tries to become what he wants her to be. Gradually, she becomes domestic, available, always ready, always grateful. In this way, the marvelous wild beast is reduced to a domestic pet; the tropical flower, plucked from its environment, droops in a little vase by the window. And the lover who asked her to become like this because he wanted to be reassured, because he was frightened by the new experience, winds up misisng in her what he had previously sought and found. The person who stands before him is not the same one he had fallen in love with….he asked her to moderl herself on his fears, and now he faces the result of those fears – her nothingness.”
-quoted in the IFS book from sociologist Francisco Alberoni
I want so fucking desperately to be rich with superabundant life. Not in a false way to make others feel good. I genuinely want to feel extraordinarily alive and strong. It doesn’t fit nicely into a measurable outcome but THAT is my supreme goal for 2009. Without descriptors of whether that is in a relationship with J or on my own.
The highlight reel
Life has been moving at too fast a pace recently and the emotional rollercoaster in constant acceleration and descent that I can’t even begin to imagine how to post about it. Here it is in a nutshell:
Wednesday night – J came home, we ventured to his family’s for Xmas Eve dinner. On the way he threatened to take me back home and leave me home alone because I was being too “mopey” (a.k.a. numb, dissociative, exhausted). I convinced him that I could pull it together and “fake it” for his family – which I did impeccably. And I actually felt a bit closer to him during the process.
Wednesday late night – Came home, snuggled, started to “repair” in the aftermath of conflict. He apologized for being so extreme and threatening to abandon me on Christmas eve. We talked about some of the pertinent issues in a calm way. Suddenly he gets up to leave the conversation because “you’re being so hurtful to me”. (I don’t doubt that he felt hurt. But the implication that it was intentional or my fault is not fair. I was merely talking about my need for boundaries – calm, thoughtful, not irrational or overly emotional. He was very hurt, ended the conversation by telling me he didn’t want me to come to Christmas at his family’s the next morning. He slept on the couch for the second night in a row.
Thursday a.m. – early morning discussion of plans resulted in him saying he really wanted me to come to Christmas morning at his family’s so that everyone would feel comfortable and because he would feel embarrassed if I didn’t. I did. On the drive over I requested we not talk about the conflict (he was trying to get back into it) and he responded by another threat to take me home. We made it through the morning at his family’s but with much more distance and tension than the night before.
Thursday afternoon – not really speaking post-Christmas morning. I went straight to bed for a 5 hour nap (avoidance? most definitely!). No food all day. Wanted very badly to self-destruct. Realized that I needed a safe place for the weekend and some respite from the emotional torture of our cycling conflict. Made last-minute flight arrangements to NC to be with my mom.
Thursday night – attempted to sit J down and explain WHY I needed to go to NC so that he didnt’ misinterpret it. He refused. He said that if I went to NC it was over and he’d begin to move his stuff out. He said he wanted to break up now because he feared it would happen anyway and he didn’t want to be hurt worse. I retreated to my cousin’s house for some support and called Bree for reassurance that my going to NC was well-intentioned and not negligent of my relationship. She said it sounded like self-protection and a very Self-guided decision.
Thursday late night – J wrote me an email apologizing for the threat to quit but explaining that he feels powerless over me. That everyone else in my life has influence except him. We had a good convesation about how I am starting to gain influence over my OWN life and decisions and that it probably felt yucky to him but was good for me. Talked at great length. No escalation. Slept in the same bed.
Friday 4 a.m. – awake and at the airport. Flew home. Currently typing on my step-dad’s computer.
Whew! I know, I know, it’s a bit crazy. I’m glad I made the decision, even though the conflict appeared to have relaxed a bit last night. There is really no predicting when or how or why it will escalate. I can only say this here in the relative security of the blog but I fear that I am in a doomed relationship. If it was just this conflict or our communication style I may feel differently. But I was reading an IFS book about relationships today on the plane and I can so clearly identify that in the beginnings of ALL relationships (not just J) I sublimate myself. It’s almost (in hindsight) as if I have no voice of reason. Then around month 6 the Self starts to creep in and say…is this really okay for you? Can you do this over the long-haul? But my parts answer “YES! We can do anything. That’s what love is. Putting up with whatever your partner hands you.” Then in the 12-14 month range I get exhausted. I cannot do this. I cannot commit to it. There are so many issues with our relationship that I don’t know where to begin.
Parts of me are so terrified to quit that I want to keep trying for a few more months. Parts of me fear shame and embarrassment if I call off an ENGAGEMENT. Parts of me are terrified of being alone. But all along, I’ve thought “If J and I didn’t work out, I’d kill myself.” And for the first time, I’m realizing that I wouldn’t. I’d carry on. I’d be okay. Sad, lonely, scared, empty, hurt. But I can survive on my own. Just that realization tugs at the deep down part of me that think I KNOW what to do. I just don’t want to do it, nor do I feel ready to. Especially not on the tails of so much conflict and drama. I need some space to sort it out. Luckily, for the next 3 days I have the entire eastern seaboard of space between us.
This has to go down in history as the hardest Christmas ever for me. Luckily I’m realizing that I have people I can turn to. I’m not trapped. I’m not stuck.
I have restricted severely over the past 48 hours and hope that I can start fresh tomorrow with healthy eating. Ugh. It feels like such a chore right now. Almost intolerable. The hunger feels good. But it will start to affect my mood and clarity of thinking. And if there is anything I trust right now, it’s that I’m having some clarity and perspective. I don’t want to jeoperadize that even if it means force feeding a bit.
merry day after Christmas to all. hope yours was better than mine.
Making some changes
I moved this comfy IKEA chair and ottomon I have into our spare bedroom (which for awhile was madeover as my crafting room but my crafting energy has been drained for quite sometime) and draped it with a soft blanket as my new “blogging nook”. It will hopefully provide a little “me space” for retreat and renewal. It’s got cozy lamp-light and a good vibe. Maybe I’ll even use my craft table to wrap some gifts later.
I made it through today with some victories in the ED department. I noticed at lunch when the anxiety about how much food I was eating set in. I stopped. I got out of the house. Later I was hungry and thoughtlessly bought and ate some M&M’s while out Christmas shopping. Immediately my brain started it’s plotting and planning and heading to purge-ville. So I just breathed and reasoned with myself that it would fill in for my afternoon snack. No need to eat more and push myself WAY past the comfort level. On the whole I’m feeling uncomfortable with having eaten two meals and two snacks today with no workout on the horizon but I’m trying to relax and not let my ED parts jump ahead to “making up for it tomorrow”. This could be the first day of healthy eating in weeks. I’m feeling optimistic that I can make it through without purging, too. Whew, this could be a biggie and I’m allowing the part of me that feels proud to pat myself on the back. I’m also trying to understand the parts that are hissing rage and self-criticism. What do they need that they aren’t getting by me eating well and not purging?
Emotionally I’m feeling quite sad right now and it is a huge step for me to identify that and tolerate it a bit. I cried on my drive back home from Christmas shopping. I didn’t go to the gym as planned because I felt sad and wanted to just “be with it” rather than pound it out of me on the treadmill (a breakthrough, I think). I just felt very alone in the world spending hours this afternoon wandering the shops, to be thinking so much of family (and what the heck to buy them?!) but not be with them. I also felt increasingly anxious as the shopping went on because I was waiting on a couple of phone calls (check, check, check the cellphone – sigh). I wanted to go cross-country skiing today and sent an email invite yesterday to about 6 women I consider “friends” – 2 responded that they wanted to go. Both bailed – one by saying she was pretty busy and would call if she got a break and the other by just never calling back. This let-down from friends has been a constant source of hurt in my life. Is it just that people I like are flakey? Is it a societal trend that people in their late-twenties can’t commit to and follow through with plans (why does everyone want to wait until the day of an event to pick a frickin’ time to and place to meet? why wouldn’t you respond to the email with “yes, I’d love to. how about we meet at the ski lodge at 11?” instead i get “skiing sounds good. call me or text me tomorrow morning and we’ll figure it out.”). It brings out such a lonely and unworthy part of me. The part that thinks that yes, everything and everyone else IS more important than hanging out with me. I can understand why that part feels that way and despite repeated efforts on my part to be social I inevitably get disappointed. A part of me wants to speak for that part, at least with one friend in particular who bails on plans very regularly. To explain to her that it feels much better to just get a “No, I can’t do that this weekend” up front, rather than a “yes” or “maybe” and then last minute back-tracking. I’m not sure I’m that brave but it’s a thought.
Anyways, I’m going to reheat this tea and either read or wrap gifts for a bit before a hot dinner date with my sweetheart. Who, by the way, has been really supportive over the past couple of days. Phew.
