Boundaries (aka Things I Suck At)

Boundaries are these things that we sent in place mentally, physically, and emotionally to protect ourselves in a variety of capacities. There are so many different uses for them, but most of us kind of suck at actually putting them in place and sticking to them. Personally, my biggest issue with setting boundaries is with work.

My issue with setting boundaries with work has existed almost as long as I can remember. My therapist pointed out that this is a result of my trauma.

When I was in 7th grade, I was severely bullied at school. I was being pushed down flights of stairs, being spit on, having my things taken from me, and more awful things. I was 11 years old and had no idea why these were happening to me. The worst part about it? My parents and I reported it to the school, and their response was, "Well, that's just what middle school kids do. You must be provoking them somehow. So, we are setting you up with your history teacher to do extra work." Then, that history teacher took advantage of that situation. He was grooming me for inappropriate things that teachers should never do. Luckily, that grooming never paid off, but it was still terrifying.

So, the school was teaching me that by throwing myself into work, I would be safe from many of the physical things happening to me. If I am working, I can't get hurt. I have clung to that idea for the last 12 years. It helped me in a lot of ways. I was in the top 5 of my class. I completed college in 3 years, and I received my Master's degree at 22. It helped me get ahead, but it also helped me compartmentalize all the bad and pretend that it never happened. Now that I am unpacking all of those things finally, it is incredibly painful.

I still also don't know how to disconnect myself from work very well. Work had always been a huge distraction from my feelings. So, when I start to feel upset, I turn to work to not deal with things. Tonight, I found myself feeling a little overwhelmed, so I went to check our messaging system. From all the messages, I just got more and more frustated. There were things going on that I had no clue about. Kids being argumentative and debating every rule. I found myself getting more and more annoyed.

Then, I thought to myself, "What the fuck am I doing? I don't get a lot of downtime, so why I am getting annoyed with work when I am off the clock?" So, I shut off the system, but I am still itching to get take care of it because my emotions just make me so uncomfortable. I'm basically crawling out of my skin right now with how uncomfortable I feel. But then I remember that I have very fluid boundaries with work and it has always served a purpose for me. So, now what?

Rationally, I know I need to set a firmer boundary with work. I need to not check my email or my messages once I leave work unless someone calls in an emergency. Emotionally, I am still not sure I am ready to do that or can. I am learning to accept emotions that do come up, even though I am still very disconnected from them; however, I know that if I continue to push emotions away, I will never become comfortable with them. So, I need to set my boundaries and stick to them. Otherwise, I am going to continue to push away my emotions, which results in pushing away people. I will become completely enmeshed in work, and that just sounds terrible. I think boundaries sound way nicer :)

Vacation and Something to Come Home to

Sorry for the blog hiatus. Last week was insane at work, and I ended up working 40 hours in 4 days, which was the worst; however, it meant I didn't need to take any PTO on Friday. I just got a free day off, so that was great.

This weekend, I made a trip up to Wisconsin to surprise my best friend for her 30th birthday. My therapist has been discussing the idea of self compassion with me a lot lately, especially because I tend to continually do things for others instead of myself. So after the crazy week at work, this trip could not have come at a better time. I spent a lot of time with my best friends and family all weekend. It was really a good way to get back to a better perspective on my recovery and where I am in this process.

The benefit of having true best friends that know you inside and out is that I trust them enough to be honest with me. While my eating disorder tells me things that I perceive are true, they are typically completely and totally false. Friends will be gentle in telling you the truth and use it to help you in the long run.

So, when a friend of mine pulled me aside this weekend and said, "Heidi, I am really concerned about you. I want to know if you are truly doing okay," I knew that she could see that I have been doing overly well. I, of course, said that I have been doing okay with good and bad days. She said, "Are you having more bad days lately? Because when you bent over, I could see every rib in your back." For me, that was really difficult to hear. My eating disorder voice said, "Yes. All that restricting we've been doing everyday is making you thin and more beautiful because of that." My healthy mind said, "Woah bitch. That is NOT good." So, what do I do with that?

This was honestly the wake up call I needed. My treatment team has really been pushing me about my lack of progress so far. I have been back in IOP 2 months already. In those 2 months, I have struggled with so many things. I still can't seem to complete my meal plan. I have lost weight, not maintained or gained. I have stomach/GI issues multiple times a week. I felt my depression and anxiety were so bad that I turned to psych meds to help myself. All of those things have made things really brutal, but I have made some progress.

I have not been restricting as much. I have begun sharing my timeline and actually beginning to feel a lot of my trauma, which I have never done. I am learning how to blame others for things they have done to me. I have learned how to handle things not in my control, even if I don't give up control everytime. It's progress.

Driving home, I was able to reflect on the weekend and what I need to keep doing. The hardest part about coming home is looking at what you have to leave behind. But I am coming back to things in St Louis. I have a job and an apartment that give me the freedom I need to continue my journey independently. I have the support of family and friends near and far. I have a treatment center that has wonderful staff and people I get to share this journey with. I am spending time with a wonderful guy that is supportive in this journey (and super cute). I have a new life in St Louis. It's not an easy life. It's not my dream life. It's something new and different though. Do I miss Milwaukee and my friends there? Yes, but it is not the place for me right now at this point in my recovery.

All I can do is take things one day at a time, and the place for me to do that right now is St Louis. The journey continues...

Is Fat a Feeling?

Almost every day, I hear someone in my life or surroundings saying, "Ugh. I just feel so fat today." It's such a common expression in American culture: feeling fat. In eating disorder treatment, they drive home the fact that fat is not a feeling, but rather, it is what we are labeling feelings that we cannot identify or are using eating disorder rationale to discuss emotions. Regardless of what the ED experts say, I know myself and others in recovery really struggle with giving up this idea.

Most days lately, I do truly wake up and say, "God, I feel so fat today." The reasoning changes day to day. It could be that my clothes aren't fitting how I want them to or my jeans are a little tight or seeing my recovered body in the mirror.

Honestly, I still am not used to my recovered body. When you put on 15+ pounds in less than 3 months, it's a shock to your system. The refeeding process is horrifically painful. You have to eat past the point of feeling full, sit with stomach pain and GI issues, and it's time to eat again. Imagine the fullest you have ever been and having to push yourself past that point at least 5 times a day.  To this day, I still have stomach issues, which is what makes this recovery journey that much harder for me. That overly full feeling makes me feel fat.

Rationally, I know that when I am "feeling fat," it's my eating disorder getting into my head. Labeling my emotions as "fat" is a hell of a lot easier than admitting I'm sad, angry, anxious, etc. I have always been pretty disconnected from my emotions, so this is just one more way to keep me that way.

Irrationally, my eating disorder feeds off of this "feeling." ED begins to tell me that that feeling is right. That I am fat, which means I am worthless, unlovable, and all the negative core beliefs I have about myself. It spirals to skipping snacks, not taking my meds, and going from there when I am not in treatment.

Thankfully, I am in treatment. I have the opportunity to discuss these things with my team and others in IOP. I am learning how to truly identify my feelings for what they are. They have been held behind this wall of my eating disorder to keep me "safe" for so long.

Deep inside me, I know there is someone who is so angry at the world and upset with a lot of the things that have happened in my life; things that are honestly truly unfair to any human being. Unfortunately, I don't think I am quite there to let all that out. So, in this moment, I am going to focus on accepting emotions as they come and to try to have compassion towards my new, healthy body.

On Track and Giving It All Away.

Things have been really intense lately. After going through the trials and tribulations of Tuesday, I have been trying really hard to get back on track, which hasn't been easy. Once you start restricting again, your body absolutely hates you when you try to put food in it again, which is why it's so easy to stay in that pattern of restricting once you start. My gastroparesis has flared up big time. My stomach doesn't really know what to do with food right now, so that's been difficult. Every time I eat, I either get full or stomach pain really quickly. The physical part of my eating disorder is only one small portion though.

The mental part has been increasingly difficult with the more trauma work I do in therapy. On Friday, I spent a lot of time discussing the year that set the foundation for everything else in my life: 7th Grade. While I did experience trauma prior to this year, this year was the basis for the majority of my core beliefs, coping, and how I view myself. So, spending 45 minutes talking about that trauma is emotionally and physically exhausting. My therapist had a lot of really solid points though; things I had never thought about, which was awesome. All I can do is take things one moment at a time.

This week has made me really look at giving. I'm starting to learn that I give myself away without really giving anything away at all. I have the ability to give away my feelings, thoughts, and behaviors to others without revealing anything about myself. This is such an ingrained, internal process that I often don't realize I am doing it anymore. I typically I have given myself away to so many people and things in my life that didn't deserve me at all. In my head and my heart, all the space is occupied by others, and I don't leave space for myself. I literally give all of myself away.

I have given my heart to people who don't deserve it. I have given my thoughts to negative things. I have given my time and energy to things that I never needed to, because they make my life worse. I have given love to those who could never give it back to me. I have given my everything to things that don't truly matter in life. But worst of all, I have given everything to my eating disorder, because it was the one thing I felt could keep me going and helped me from not giving everything away. I have successfully done all of this while keeping my trauma in a private room at the back of my heart. I have never truly given myself away, because no one in my life knows all that's back there. I'm not even convinced that I do anymore.

I'm starting to learn that I need to be more careful about who I give myself to. I am realizing that I give things to those who don't deserve them or who don't match what I want. I am giving my everything to work, because it helps keep going. I continue to give myself to my eating disorder, even though I know it's wrong. I just give and give and give, but I hold onto the things that destroy me.

So, time to stop giving away myself so easy. I am at the point where, when I do give, I am losing everything, because it feeds my eating disorder. We all know my eating disorder destroys everything. I think I am starting to learn what parts of myself I am willing to give away. Because I am learning to accept and embrace the things that have happened to me rather than blame myself for them, I am more comfortable giving those things to others. I am learning that maybe giving those parts of me to other people are way more powerful than giving the version with a wall around her heart. Maybe that's how I get to have a more fulfilling life and get away from my eating disorder.

Refusals

I had my first refusal in IOP last night. Every little thing seems to be adding up lately, and I just had no desire to go to treatment last night.

I hate Tuesdays. We go to group for an hour, sit around doing nothing for an hour, and then eat dinner/post/go. So, I arrived at treatment a few minutes late because of work. I got my weight and vitals, which were miraculously in range without having taken my medication yesterday, done by staff and went off to group. Group was fine. I was pretty numbed out to the conversation of "Love Yourself." Never a fun topic, so I just kind of sat there, zoning out. Conversations about love and relationships make me anxious. Some of the topics brought up were pretty triggering. Anxiety builds.

So then, we have this awkward 45 to 60 minutes to sit around and do nothing. With any eating disorder, sitting and anticipating anything with food is the worst. Your anxiety kicks off and all you want to do is go to sleep to relieve it. Then, of course, I decided to pick a challenging meal, chicken and dumplings, instead of my typical sub-meal of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. So, my anxiety continues to build.

Then, I had e-mailed my psychiatrist on Friday morning. I wrote about surrendering to her in a previous blog and being willing to try medication. Well, Thursday night, she left me this long winded voicemail about how she is concerned that I am using alcohol so heavily that I will go into withdrawal and Wellbutrin can kick that off faster. Honestly, I am not drinking nearly as much as I have in the past. I am not even drinking to the point of getting drunk most of the time. I typically max out at 2 drinks, and then I'm good. I have never gone through alcohol withdrawal, only hangovers. So, I e-mailed her Friday morning explaining that my alcohol use is down and that I am not drinking every day, etc. She never responded. So, I didn't start the Wellbutrin. By last night, she still hadn't responded, which was frustrating because I knew she had worked multiple days at this point. My anxiety builds even more.

So, I decided to check in with one of my favorite staff members. I had gotten pretty close with her the first time I was there, so she has been through most of my breakdowns and previous struggles with me. I expressed how frustrated I am with this whole process. In a lot of ways, I feel like I've wasted the last 8 months of my life by doing this, but rationally, I know that this helped save my life. I shared how frustrated I am with my team's lack of responses and my meal plan. I talked about my alcohol use, and how much I have progressed with that. I shared my fears about losing my job, having to move home, and potentially having to go back to PHP. I basically just bitched about everything for 45 minutes and got some support, which was helpful, but my anxiety was still pretty high. She said she would contact my psychiatrist to see what was up and to try and get an answer for me about my medications. My anxiety is at an all time high.

Then, right before dinner, the nurse comes over and tells me that my psychiatrist has said "Absolutely not" to starting medications. So, I just started crying, because at this point, I was just so frustrated with everything. Of course, that's the same moment we're going to sit for dinner. My anxiety has cracked.

On the walk across the hall to dinner, I spoke with another staff member about my struggles today. She informed me she couldn't get my meal changed, so I would have to challenge myself. So, that was just the news I needed. We talked about how I don't feel my alcohol use is bad enough to warrant a ban on medications, especially when I am even open to trying them. I got to the meal really upset, which is never how you want to start challenging meals. The anxiety is overwhelming.

The meal itself was a salad, chicken and dumplings, and cookie cake. Whatever I didn't finish, I knew I would have to drink supplement for, and I didn't want to drink 24 ounces of fluid instead of food. So, I knew I would have to try to eat some of it. For supplementing, you have to eat all or nothing for the appetizer and desert. For the entree, it is none, half, or all of it. I knew I wouldn't finish the salad, because there were ingredients on there that, for taste preference reasons, I won't eat. I was actually able to eat half of the chicken and dumplings. I tried to just focus on conversation and checked in with staff if I was close to 50%. I was feeling too anxious to try and eat all of it. I was also able to finish the cookie cake; however, that still left me with 12 ounces of fluid to drink. For reference, that's like a can of soda, but when you are already feeling so anxious that you're incredibly nauseous, thinking about drinking that amount of liquid in 15 minutes is insane. I need a relief for my anxiety

So, I chose to refuse the supplement. In some ways, it was for practicality. With how sick I already felt, I thought I would lose everything by drinking so much liquid. So, I wanted to keep some calories in. Also, my eating disorder was screaming, because I felt so out of control with the entire day. I didn't want to put those calories in me. I checked in with the staff after the meal just to try and calm down enough. We agreed that I would take the supplement with me and made a 2 drink maximum deal for when I would be out later that evening. My anxiety finally lowered a little when I left.

Refusals are a tricky thing. I feel extremely guilty about it, because I feel like in IOP, I shouldn't be having any. I also feel like I am fucking up my recovery. At the same time, my eating disorder is so happy with me. I felt back in control and ready to go for the rest of the night, especially because the supplement is still sitting in my fridge. I know refusals are a part of this process, but I just wish this would start to get easier. With every little thing adding up, I truly still wonder if recovery is worth it. Then, I have to check myself, because I know it is. I have a responsibility to at least try and make it work, even if I am incredibly frustrated. I do not need to have control over everything, even though it feels like I do. I have control over my choices in recovery, and refusals cannot be a part of that.

How Important is Recovery?

I have honestly been really struggling lately. It is making me wonder how worth it this whole process is. Is it worth spending 10 hours a week in therapy? Is it worth being watched for 3 meals a week and having to talk about how I feel about it afterwards? Is it worth unleashing all this trauma in me that has never been dealt with? Is it work spending 3 nights a week in therapy when I could be doing other things? Is it worth having feelings? Is it worth having to document everything I eat for my dietician to look over? Is it worth going on medications for? What is recovery really worth? When I get really discouraged, I often want to say "Fuck It" and just move on. I would quit treatment, have free time at nights, and just live with my ED.

My body image has been horrible this week. I went out with a coworker last night and had to change 4 times before I was okay with leaving the house. She finally had to say, "Stop. You get to change one more time and then after that, we need to leave. You look fine." I just look in the mirror and see stretch marks from weight restoration, stomach fat, lines from my clothes where they don't totally fit anymore, and just feel disgusting. How do you even get over that mental hurdle? I hope that one day my brain can see that I am human and that my body shape is fine, but I really don't think it ever will. Then, I just am so overwhelmed with my trauma and anxiety that it makes me want to curl up in a ball and just shut down. I can't handle thinking about it anymore. Anticipating treatment and having to talk about these things every night is making my anxiety unbelievably high. I have started shaking again and have had panic attacks. It's been really difficult. So, why not just give up? How important is recovery anyways?

Even when I have these awful days, I try to recognize the positives in recovery. I can't always see these things as positive or even that important, but they still exist. Recovery is worth it, because:

• I have enough energy to make it through a day without having to take a nap.
• I can better focus on things I have to get done and accomplish.
• Long term goals seem possible.
• I'm not isolating from friends and family.
• I am not passing out everyday.
• My hair has stopped falling out and my nails are growing. 
• I am not always doubled over in pain when I do eat something.
• I don't have the body of a small child anymore. 
• I can enjoy the little things in life a little bit more.
• Clothes look better, because they're not hanging off of bones. 
• I don't feel the need as much to turn to drugs or alcohol to numb out.
• I don't feel so empty all of the time. 
• I sleep better.
• I have less anxiety.
• I don't have this obnoxious voice screaming my negative core beliefs in my head.

I could go on and on about all of these. There are so many reasons why recovery is important, but the most important one will always be:

• I have my life back.

Surrendering to My Psychiatrist

To go on psych meds or to not go on psych meds? If you know me, you know I'm pretty stubborn about taking my medications. I also really don't like the idea of using chemicals to balance me out. I'd rather just talk about the shit that's going on that I'm not dealing with. Once I do that, I'm fine; however, I can't have 10 hours of therapy every day, so no matter what, I still end up experiencing symptoms. Lately, my symptoms have been getting worse.

The meds I take every day are "necessary" for me to have a healthy life. My heart pills, which I take off/on, help me to keep my heart rate not insane and to not pass out every time I stand out. My birth control is necessary, because my period came back with avengeance after losing it for 3 months. My trazodone is necessary, because I can't function if I don't sleep. But to me, psych meds aren't necessary. Who needs a pill when you have therapy? I guess mind over matter doesn't always work though.

So, in seeing my psychiatrist yesterday, I decided it wouldn't be a bad idea to discuss the possibility of beginning psychotropic medication. I had a horrible flashback during a staff meeting yesterday that was so bad that I needed to leave to regather my thoughts and stabilize myself out with some solid coping skills. The flashbacks and panic attacks keep getting worse, especially with going through my timeline. Since it is too overwhelming to do large chunks of my timeline in one sitting, I am often left with these residuals or anticipation of what I have to discuss next. This causes issues. So, medicine seems like the best temporary assistance for me to make it through the next few intense therapy sessions.

I have been staunchly against psych meds. My first round in treatment, I had a battle with my psychiatrist. She was often very condescending and judgmental of my life choices. She labeled me as an alcoholic and told me I was in denial about how bad my problems with my eating disorder. Then, after having some serious mental breakdowns, I decided to cave in at the encouragement of my therapist. I tried Prozac and had an allergic reaction to it. Then, I tried Zoloft and became insanely suicidal. So, my track record with meds is bad. 

So, I am surrendering to my psychiatrist. I am working with her to pick a different class of medication. We agreed to try Wellbutrin at a very low dose to start. As always, I am very nervous about starting it. I am worried what it will do to my mood, my feelings, and my body. I am concerned that it will make me foggier. My mind has been so jumbled that I can't even think straight most days. But maybe surrendering is the first step to progressing.

Extreme Anxiety

So, I've been neglecting the blog for a week now, mostly just because I have been extremely busy and extremely anxious. I'm having a difficult time finding the time to force myself to sit down and talk about what is going on, especially because I have been stuffing some really deep things lately. I can just feel everything bubbling up inside of me, feeling like it is on the edge of spilling out, but my twisted mind kicks in and shuts everything down. So, I've been a numbed out zombie for the last week, and the times my emotions have kicked in haven't been pretty.

Last weekend was my brother's wedding, which was really beautiful. Everything, except the freezing weather on Saturday, worked out. I was really nervous about seeing a lot of people, especially when I was having such negative body image all last week. I felt so fat and disgusting for the vast majority of last week. Honestly, I felt okay the day of. It was a lot of different emotions from being nervous that stupid people would show up or pull shit, missing grandma, and seeing this as another life transition for us (finally a good one though). There were just a lot of people in my family with high anxiety levels and lashing out on others, which triggers my trauma, ED thoughts/behaviors, and anxiety. It just makes me shut down. So, I was able to having feelings, but I was distracting from a lot of it pretty badly. It was overall okay, just very overwhelming.

This week, we had a stressful week at work with people visiting from China to check out our program. There were a lot of last minute changes and stressors for what honestly seemed like a meaningless trip. I personally felt like they were here to make sure their kids were fine, but mostly to see America and have fun. It made the last 3 days incredibly frustrating. They are finally gone, so that helps, but my anxiety has been through the roof.

Anxiety is a tricky thing, because not only does it fuck with your mind, it causes your body to malfunction as well. I already have a heart condition, so my heart typically races anyways; however, my anxiety causes it to feel like it is going to beat out of my chest. It would be like the scene in Dumb and Dumber when Lloyd has the dream where he rips the chef's heart out on his date with Mary. My heart would be out of my chest just beating. Everything feels out of control and scary and I just want to go crawl in bed, which is typically what I do. Anxiety is the most difficult level of uncomfort. So, what do we do?

When I have such extreme anxiety, sitting and thinking about what appropriate coping skills are and targeting what the root of my problem are the farthest things on my mind. I just sit and stir until I shut down. Shutting down is just so easy, but so damaging to my psyche. I have been working on focusing on control/out of control. A lot of the things I get anxious about are completely beyond my control. I can't control people not texting me back or traffic or work stuff. I just can't, no matter how much I think I can. My constant need and craving for control will always be a battle. This blog is helping, because it's finally an outlet. Sometimes I don't realize how much I need that...

Now, that my anxiety is calming down, I can move forward rationally. Breathe in, breathe out. One step at a time.

Connecting

Today in session, my therapist and I began going through my timeline, which is a super brutal undertaking. We didn't get into any of the major stuff, but we spent a lot of time discussing my childhood and how that has impacted me as an adult. We all know that childhood has a tremendous impact on everything in our lives; however, she brought up many points that I had never thought about before in terms of different types of connecting. There are many different types of connecting. The two biggest ones we focused on today were how I connect myself to my emotions and how I connect to other people. 

As I have said in previous posts, I have an extremely difficult time connecting with my emotions. I do everything in my power to not feel them. So, when going through my timeline, my therapist and I are really working on figuring out where that all started. Honestly, I'm not really sure I know at this point in time. I think, to some extent, it has always been there. Growing up as a military kid, you experience these major changes that you can't cry about. It also becomes a norm after a while. You get used to saying goodbye. You learn not to cry, because you're getting a fresh start in a new place. It becomes easier. Your emotions become less heightened after each move, each new place, every new face. It becomes routine. So, in many ways, I feel like I am desensitized to emotions. Also, after so many years of stuffing everything, it's just second nature at this point. There are definitely some topics that are so triggering to me that stuffing everything just doesn't work. We spoke briefly about those topics today, but I only teared up at them. I'm really nervous about how deeply my therapist pushes a lot of these issues. I think it will be really helpful, but I am also really nervous. There's just a lot there I haven't touched in a long time, so who knows what is all behind that Eating Disorder wall that's been up for the last 10 years. I think it will truly help me learn to connect to myself more in the long run though.

Connecting to other people has always been a pretty easy thing for me. I consider myself a pretty social person, very extroverted. With that though, I keep a lot of myself locked away. Any time I have unveiled these small parts of myself, especially anything trauma related, those people leave or hurt me with that information later. So, my issues with abandonment kick in, and the wall gets higher.  Then, it turns into a "Why bother?" situation. If I continually unveil these small pieces of myself to others and they walk away, they take those pieces with me, and it breaks me down in the process. Sheltering myself and my heart have always seemed like the best options. Even when I meet people who I truly connect with and feel like I can share those pieces with, I am always so terrified to say anything about my issues that I shut down. I literally can't even say what's wrong sometimes, because I am so terrified of it. I just get weird. That's not fair to the people in my life or the relationships I have/had. I like to think I am doing better with it, but who knows. I don't think I'm a good judge of that.

Overall, I think recovery is all about connecting. For me, I have begun connecting to the identity I have never truly had. I am working on connecting with others better. I am attempting to connect with my emotions for the first time in a long time. I am connecting my rational mind to my body. I am connecting my mind to messages of positivity. It's all about the connections. My connection with my recovery will ultimately be the only way to defeat my eating disorder. If I am not in sync with that connecting, ED will sneak in, and I will relapse. There truly is strength in connections.