My number 1 coping skill, even above ED behaviors, has always been
shutting down. Any time I feel any strong negative emotion (angry, sad,
hurt, shame, guilt, etc), I have the automatic reaction to cut those off
and turn them into anxiety. While anxiety is also a negative emotion,
it's one that I'm pretty used to and am somewhat comfortable sitting
with. It makes things easier to deal with, but it also has some wicked
consequences.
Shutting down prevents me from being 100%
vulnerable with the people I care most about. I always have that last
protective layer from the really ugly parts of myself. Rationally, I
know that they aren't truly ugly, but it's how I feel about the emotions
related to my trauma.
I have become comfortable discussing
my trauma through treatment and having to retell it to various doctors,
counselors, and dieticians, but it's putting the emotion behind it that I
continue to struggle with. I tell my life story like it happened to
someone else. It's like giving someone the details of a movie plot. I'm
detached. I'm emotionless. A robot. This is what happens probably 95% of
the time.
The one major time I have been able to push past my automatic shut
down mechanism was in a psychodrama group during treatment. Psychodrama
is basically a group where someone will use other people or props to
discuss something. I chose to go the 3 chair approach. The first chair
represented me without ED. The second was my eating disorder. The third
represented grief/loss. I have experienced a tremendous amount of loss
in my life. From my sophomore year of high school to my last year of
grad school (7 years), I lost 11 friends in a variety of ways and all
but one of them were unexpected. This coupled with the loss of
relationships and other things have crushed me in the grief/loss
department.
So, in this type of psychodrama, you have to move
yourself between the 3 chairs and talk about what you experience in each
of them. I started in the self chair and talked about what my life
might look like without using eating disorder behaviors. In the next
chair, I talked about my eating disorder and how it kept me safe. Then, I
had to move back to my self chair to talk about how I used that middle
chair to protect me from my grief.
It’s incredibly hard to
sit there and talk about what the real reasons you use your eating
disorder are. One of the biggest misconceptions about eating disorders
is the idea that they are solely about weight, size, shape, numbers,
etc. when, in reality, that’s barely scratching the surface. For me, my
eating disorder has primarily served as my wall between myself and those
strong emotions that I am extremely uncomfortable with. ED keeps me
safe from truly having to feel those things. While that wall keeps the
anger and sadness out, it also prevents others from getting in.
So,
after those 2 chairs, the worst part comes: having to sit in the chair
of grief and loss. Sitting in that chair, I finally had to let myself
feel everything about that suicide 8 years earlier, which set the stage
for how I dealt with every subsequent loss. As I was talking and
(finally) crying about the tremendous guilt I felt for this suicide and
how angry I was, I said something about the other losses.
So, the
therapist asked me how many other losses I had experienced. She added 2
more chairs: one for my father and another for my first relationship. So
now, I had 3 chairs for grief. As I kept talking, she kept adding more
chairs for every other loss until I was surrounded. The sheer visual
impact of the amount of loss in 10 years was overwhelming and I felt it
as I sat there. Then, I had to move back to the first chair.
As I
sat in my self chair, I had to look at the number of chairs beyond my
eating disorder. Again, just a huge number of chairs, none of which I
have ever really dealt with. All of that grief carries a huge amount of
weight for me that I work really hard using my eating disorder to keep
it out. Without my eating disorder or shutting down, I have to feel all
of that, which is too much for me to bear most of the time. So, I stayed
numbed out, with or without using behaviors.
One of the most
difficult things about my journey in recovery has been allowing myself
to have myself and my emotions become one thing instead of these
separate entities. Recovery is feeling and experiencing all of the bad
that comes with the good, and honestly, I really suck at that. I’m very
good at shutting down though.
While it hasn’t been an easy
process, I am genuinely trying to reverse this automatic system, because
it’s not fair for other people in my life and I don’t want to be this
robot forever. It doesn’t go away overnight though. I can’t all of a
sudden feel all of these things I’ve been blocking for years. It’s too
overwhelming that way. But by taking the steps to try and sit with
feelings or to come back from shutting down to discuss what’s going on, I
feel like I am taking teeny tiny baby steps towards feelings, as
terrifying as that truly is.
Showing posts with label coping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coping. Show all posts
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Dance- How I Lost My Dreams to Anorexia.
This is probably the hardest blog I have written so far. It's very painful for me to discuss or even think about, which is why I don't talk about it often. But with it coming up more and more, I need to talk about it. If you know me, dance has been such a huge part of my life. It was one of the only constants I ever had growing up. Every time we moved, I was always involved in dance or something similar from city to city, state to state, country to country. Today, I came to the harsh realization that I haven't danced in over a year, which is something I don't think I ever would have thought would happen in my life, but here I am. I'm not dancing.
When I came to St Louis for treatment, I literally picked up and left everything behind. I was in such a bad headspace that I grabbed a pile of clothes from my floor into a bag (none of which even formed an outfit to leave the house in), got on a train, and tried not to look back. I left behind my job, my friends, my apartment, my car, everything. I ended up losing most of those things because of my eating disorder. To me, none of those things matter as much as dance. Losing that has been one of the hardest things for me to face. I can accept losing everything else, but this is has been really painful.
Last year, I was offered the contract of a lifetime. After so many days of auditioning, last minute trips to New York, and blood, sweat, and tears, I had finally done it; I was offered a contract to be a Rockette in New York City. It took me a few days to think about what to do. Had I taken that contract, I would have had to pick up and leave Milwaukee to move to New York City for a few months. I would have had to work another job to make it by, but it was something I had dreamed about since I was 5. I would be on stage at Radio City Music Hall. I chose to turn it down for two very big reasons- 1) I knew I would have to work a 2nd job just to make ends meet and 2) I was so deep in my eating disorder that I didn't think I would physically be able to do it. Two months had passed since my last audition, and I was down 15 pounds. I was barely able to work everyday, let alone dance a 90 minute show multiple times a week. So, I said no.
Things happen for a reason though. The show I was offered a contract for ended up being delayed, so I would have moved to New York for a few weeks of rehearsals and then, nothing. It ended up being the right choice. Little did I know that 2 months after that decision, I would ultimately lose everything anyway.
I haven't actually danced in over a year. The last gig I did was Mondo Lucha in Milwaukee, which was ninja hip hop and so much fun. For the first time in a long time, I was dancing just to have fun again; not to impress anyone or get a job. It was just for me, and I haven't gotten myself to dance since. Even in treatment, we had dance therapy, and I rarely participated. If I was in group that day, I would always sleep or zone out. It was too painful to accept that I wasn't allowed to really dance at that point in time. All I could do was eat a fuck ton of food and sit around in order to put back on all the weight I had lost. It was torture.
Even now, I haven't been able to bring myself to dance for so many reasons, which my eating disorder has a big part of. Being in front of mirrors for an hour where you have to body check to make sure your body is in the right position is incredibly trigger for me right now. All I see is fat and a body that I don't recognize when I look in the mirror. I have never been content in the way that my body looks weight restored. It makes it incredibly difficult to look in a mirror. Also, my eating disorder tells me that I can't go back to class, because I am out of shape, have no stamina, and won't be good anymore. It would be a failure for me to go, so I just avoid it. Finally, I put so much pressure on myself to be perfect in class. Dancing has always been an outlet for me, but it also has been a downfall. When I dance, I can't even describe the feeling. It feels like home; however, I feel like since I had been the best in class before, I have to live up to that in my mind, which is completely stupid. Dance is for me, not anyone else, but I still can't bring myself to do it.
I shudder in my mind to think that I won't ever dance again. Part of me truly believes it while the other can't see my life without that. Recovery has been a really painful journey so far. I have had to look at a lot of aspects of my life, past, and identity. Dance fits into all of those things, so I know in my heart that I need to reincorporate it. It's just a matter of how and when. I'm still not sure I can, but I don't think I or others would recognize me without it. So, it's sink or swim time. My challenge to myself is to take at least one class this month, because I know that I need to to prevent from going insane. I end this blog with this quote, because what is my life without dancing? Not as good as it could be.
Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you're perfectly free
When I came to St Louis for treatment, I literally picked up and left everything behind. I was in such a bad headspace that I grabbed a pile of clothes from my floor into a bag (none of which even formed an outfit to leave the house in), got on a train, and tried not to look back. I left behind my job, my friends, my apartment, my car, everything. I ended up losing most of those things because of my eating disorder. To me, none of those things matter as much as dance. Losing that has been one of the hardest things for me to face. I can accept losing everything else, but this is has been really painful.
Last year, I was offered the contract of a lifetime. After so many days of auditioning, last minute trips to New York, and blood, sweat, and tears, I had finally done it; I was offered a contract to be a Rockette in New York City. It took me a few days to think about what to do. Had I taken that contract, I would have had to pick up and leave Milwaukee to move to New York City for a few months. I would have had to work another job to make it by, but it was something I had dreamed about since I was 5. I would be on stage at Radio City Music Hall. I chose to turn it down for two very big reasons- 1) I knew I would have to work a 2nd job just to make ends meet and 2) I was so deep in my eating disorder that I didn't think I would physically be able to do it. Two months had passed since my last audition, and I was down 15 pounds. I was barely able to work everyday, let alone dance a 90 minute show multiple times a week. So, I said no.
Things happen for a reason though. The show I was offered a contract for ended up being delayed, so I would have moved to New York for a few weeks of rehearsals and then, nothing. It ended up being the right choice. Little did I know that 2 months after that decision, I would ultimately lose everything anyway.
I haven't actually danced in over a year. The last gig I did was Mondo Lucha in Milwaukee, which was ninja hip hop and so much fun. For the first time in a long time, I was dancing just to have fun again; not to impress anyone or get a job. It was just for me, and I haven't gotten myself to dance since. Even in treatment, we had dance therapy, and I rarely participated. If I was in group that day, I would always sleep or zone out. It was too painful to accept that I wasn't allowed to really dance at that point in time. All I could do was eat a fuck ton of food and sit around in order to put back on all the weight I had lost. It was torture.
Even now, I haven't been able to bring myself to dance for so many reasons, which my eating disorder has a big part of. Being in front of mirrors for an hour where you have to body check to make sure your body is in the right position is incredibly trigger for me right now. All I see is fat and a body that I don't recognize when I look in the mirror. I have never been content in the way that my body looks weight restored. It makes it incredibly difficult to look in a mirror. Also, my eating disorder tells me that I can't go back to class, because I am out of shape, have no stamina, and won't be good anymore. It would be a failure for me to go, so I just avoid it. Finally, I put so much pressure on myself to be perfect in class. Dancing has always been an outlet for me, but it also has been a downfall. When I dance, I can't even describe the feeling. It feels like home; however, I feel like since I had been the best in class before, I have to live up to that in my mind, which is completely stupid. Dance is for me, not anyone else, but I still can't bring myself to do it.
I shudder in my mind to think that I won't ever dance again. Part of me truly believes it while the other can't see my life without that. Recovery has been a really painful journey so far. I have had to look at a lot of aspects of my life, past, and identity. Dance fits into all of those things, so I know in my heart that I need to reincorporate it. It's just a matter of how and when. I'm still not sure I can, but I don't think I or others would recognize me without it. So, it's sink or swim time. My challenge to myself is to take at least one class this month, because I know that I need to to prevent from going insane. I end this blog with this quote, because what is my life without dancing? Not as good as it could be.
Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you're perfectly free
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
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.
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.
Monday, September 29, 2014
Breakdowns lead to Breakthroughs
This week, I anticipate some struggling. Because I have such a difficult time connecting to my emotions, sometimes the smallest trigger can send me into a massive breakdown. The wall my eating disorder helped build comes down just enough for me to just lose any control or compartmentalizing I have done. It becomes this chaos in my mind and body.
When I have a breakdown, I tend to just cry hysterically. Even if I get to a peaceful state of mind, I just keep crying. I think it's because I so rarely cry. Once I start, everything I have been holding in just comes out. Then, my mind begins racing with thoughts of "This isn't okay." "Pull yourself together." "I'm really uncomfortable." "Shut it off." I become very anxious. My chest and stomach get tight, and I can get short of breath. It almost feels like I am dying in some small way. It's not a panic attack, but it feels similar. So, I slow it down and shut it off. It's not resolution. It's my off switch.
My therapists have all pointed out to me that they can see when I shut off. I've been told that my body physically changes. Even if I start to tear up and shit it off, it's a noticeable physical change. Then, I present as okay and just tuck everything away to the back of my mind as far away from my heart as possible. It gets grueling doing that everyday though. So, what am I supposed to do?
Lately, I have been trying to embrace emotions, but it's not gonna happen overnight. I also so rarely deal with emotions that my automatic off switch gets to them so quickly that I don't even notice I am getting emotional sometimes. I can feel that something is off in me afterwards, but it's hard to rectify at that point. Tonight, I had a breakdown. Just a lot of small things throughout today built up, and I just lost it. I tried to sit with my feelings. I was giving myself some positive self-talk, telling myself that it was okay to be upset and frustrated. That lasted about a minute before I shut it off. It sends my ED mind into overdrive.
ED goes crazy when I am upset. It sends every negative message to add to my already terrible core beliefs about myself. It's that reinforcing voice in my head that makes it worse. To make it stop, I have to shut off my emotions to make my head stop racing. But then once I do that, the shame sets in. I just keep hearing that I'm not normal because I can't have emotions or deal with them in any way. I know everyone has different struggles with emotions, but it makes me feel isolated. I shut down and can't open up emotionally to others. It's really hard. Honestly, my head feels like a never ending battle most days. I am so thankful for my Trazodone to help me sleep and to have a break. I am thankful for this blog too as an outlet for my crazy and the support I receive from the people who read it.
You always hear that breakdowns lead to breakthroughs. So, what's my breakthrough tonight? Even though I only had a minute of feelings, I was able to sit with it. That minute of being uncomfortable showed me that maybe my brain does have some fight for recovery left in it. Maybe next time I get upset, I won't shut it off for 5 minutes. Who knows? I won't know til I try it. But that's how recovery goes. Listening to our rational minds, using our coping skills, and taking things one day, hour, minute, second at a time
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
Eating Disorder: 1; Heidi: 0
My eating disorder thoughts are kicking my ass this week. I just feel very overwhelmed with racing thoughts and negative self-talk. It's been causing me to over analyze meals and monitor my intake/calorie count. My urges to undo have also been strong. I haven't, but it's been a little overwhelming. I hate how you can go from peace of mind over the weekend to complete chaos during the week.
I've had a lot of negative body image this week too. I just put on clothes and feel completely gross. I wonder why anyone would ever look at me or touch me. I feel very overweight and fat. I see nothing but fat in the mirror, and that makes it really hard to connect with anyone. It's a really hard concept for others to grasp, so it causes me to isolate. I am trying not to do so by going out with friends, but it's been hard to completely engage.
Last night, I put on clothes to go to karaoke with some coworkers, and I just felt awful about myself. The guy I was with said that I looked great, but those eating disorder thoughts kept getting louder and louder. I finally had to change into something different, because I couldn't handle the noise in my head. It's completely and totally exhausting.
I hate these weeks where it feels like the only option is to completely succumb to those thoughts and restrict until I waste away on my own. It just feels shitty. All I want to do is go take a nap and not deal with anything.
One day, one hour, one minute, one second at a time...
I've had a lot of negative body image this week too. I just put on clothes and feel completely gross. I wonder why anyone would ever look at me or touch me. I feel very overweight and fat. I see nothing but fat in the mirror, and that makes it really hard to connect with anyone. It's a really hard concept for others to grasp, so it causes me to isolate. I am trying not to do so by going out with friends, but it's been hard to completely engage.
Last night, I put on clothes to go to karaoke with some coworkers, and I just felt awful about myself. The guy I was with said that I looked great, but those eating disorder thoughts kept getting louder and louder. I finally had to change into something different, because I couldn't handle the noise in my head. It's completely and totally exhausting.
I hate these weeks where it feels like the only option is to completely succumb to those thoughts and restrict until I waste away on my own. It just feels shitty. All I want to do is go take a nap and not deal with anything.
One day, one hour, one minute, one second at a time...
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Valuing Values
This weekend, I had the wonderful opportunity to go up to Milwaukee with my brother to visit our friends and go to a Brewers game, which is exactly what I needed for my mental health. The best part about these weekends is the time I get to spend with my bestie, Liz (BTW, she blogs about being a new mom here) She and I met under really shitty circumstances. We met the night before the funeral of our good friend, Mike, who had died unexpectedly overnight of a heart condition that no one ever caught. So, we connected in a group of people at the bar and just clicked. We are basically the same person, except that we disagree on Beyonce. I could not have survived in Milwaukee as long as I did without her. So, last night we were able to talk about our lives and all the crazy shit that's been happening. We ended up talking a lot about feeling unsatisfied right now for various reasons and looking at making major changes. So, we talked about values.
In treatment, I had a therapist that filled in on a week that my primary therapist was out of town. This therapist had me doing a lot of identity work. He and I went through my life's timeline. Then, he picked certain words and had me free associate to them on separate sheets of paper. Later, I had to go back and identify my emotions related to them. The last word he handed me was my name. I drew a total blank. I literally had no idea how to respond to that. He told me that it was because I was struggling with figuring out who I am. He said that the best way to start is to identify my values.
Values are the ideals that we strive to live by. For me, some of my primary values are honesty, loyalty, friends, family, and independence. I believe that if we stick to the things we value, all the choices we make will fall into line and we can be comfortable. If something in our lives conflicts with our values, it leads to anxiety. We know that these things aren't how we want to live life, so it creates this inner conflict. If one of our values isn't being fulfilled, it leads to depression, because there is a void that needs to be filled. If we don't figure out what value is lacking, we might turn to negative behaviors to cope but don't exemplify the ideal we want to follow. It sounds easy, but like all things in life and therapy, easier said than done.
So what do we do? I have created a list of my personal values and keep it in my journal. That way, if I start to feel anxious or depressed, I can look at those things and remind myself that if I have those, I am happy. It's not as easy figuring out if jobs, relationships, or other things fall in line with those values (especially if society goes against them); however, if we set those ideals for ourselves and strive to follow them daily, our identity will fall in line behind it, even if we don't realize it. In the end, our values and journey to follow them will always be remembered more than making the right choice about changing jobs or moving to new places. But if we follow our guts and values, we just might make it.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
War in My Mind
What do you do when you are fighting an internal battle all day every day? Every waking moment of my day, I am having all these different thoughts racing through my brain. ED thoughts. Healthy Mind thoughts. Work thoughts. Personal thoughts. More ED thoughts. Negative thoughts. Hopeless thoughts. Fight through it thoughts. Work thoughts. All of the thoughts. All of the anxiety. Every day is like a war in my mind. Those few moments of peace where my brain isn't racing are becoming harder to find. So, what do I do?
Every good soldier comes equipped with tools. As a therapist, I taught clients about their tool kits of coping skills that are all readily accessible. The only problem with this is that you can't always be doing coping skills all day every day. There's some level of coping with sitting with the war, but we all have other responsibilities that can't always be shaken off to focus on a coping skill 100%. Blogging has become one of my primary coping skills. It has become an outlet for me to put those thoughts out of my head, rather than letting them circle. It's also been really validating sharing my experiences with other people; however, I can't always drop what I am doing to write a blog. The battle continues.
Once I figure out what tool is best for me in that moment, I have to fight the hardest battle of all: challenging the thoughts in my head while using that skill to keep my anxiety at a somewhat manageable level. My biggest struggle is that many of my thoughts are irrational, which stem from irrational core beliefs. My own personal theoretical orientation is Rational Emotive Behavioral Therapy, which believes that mental health problems stem from irrational core beliefs, which impact our emotions and behaviors. It's full of fun phrases like "Should"ing over yourself (Telling yourself you "should" do something, even if it is damaging to you) and "Musts" ("I must be the best and win other's approval," "Others must treat me the way I want to be treated or they're terrible people," and "I must get what I want. I musn't get what I don't want. But if I don't get what I want, it's terrible.) All of these apply to me pretty well, especially the Shoulding. Most of these are pretty irrational. So, how do I challenge them?
Evidence is really important to challenging my irrational thoughts. I feel like I am doing a horrible job at work, and I am going to be fired, because I am doing such a bad job and can't keep up with it while at treatment. None of this is true. I'm definitely overwhelmed with trying to balance the demands of work and my recovery; however, evidence shows me that my thoughts are irrational. Proof: I got a raise this month. I get praise and validation from my coworkers. I have not missed a deadline on any assignments since returning to treatment. That evidence helps me challenge my irrational thought and become at peace with a rational one. This is a pretty exhausting process though.
The average person has about 40-50 thoughts per minute (Thanks Google). If every one of those thoughts I have is irrational, how much challenging do I have to do? An insane fucking amount. That's exhausting just thinking about it! It does get easier though. The more challenging I do, the easier it gets, especially for repeat thoughts. I have some of the same general thoughts everyday, which are not limited to: "If I eat that, I am going to get fat and be worthless." "That person in the mirror is fat and disgusting." "You're doing such a bad job, because you can't do this work fast enough." "You forgot to schedule these things for those kids, so you obviously suck at your job." "No one will ever love you, because you're gross and ugly." "You clearly can't take care of yourself, because you've let yourself go." "Don't feel happy. You don't deserve that." I could go on forever...
I think the most important thing is to continue fighting the war. There's that old saying that says something to the effect of "You might not win the battle, but you can still win the war." Each day is a new battle. We're never really sure what might hit us at any given moment; however, persistence in fighting each individual battle, even if we lose some, will help us win the war against our eating disorders and continue on a new journey in recovery.
Every good soldier comes equipped with tools. As a therapist, I taught clients about their tool kits of coping skills that are all readily accessible. The only problem with this is that you can't always be doing coping skills all day every day. There's some level of coping with sitting with the war, but we all have other responsibilities that can't always be shaken off to focus on a coping skill 100%. Blogging has become one of my primary coping skills. It has become an outlet for me to put those thoughts out of my head, rather than letting them circle. It's also been really validating sharing my experiences with other people; however, I can't always drop what I am doing to write a blog. The battle continues.
Once I figure out what tool is best for me in that moment, I have to fight the hardest battle of all: challenging the thoughts in my head while using that skill to keep my anxiety at a somewhat manageable level. My biggest struggle is that many of my thoughts are irrational, which stem from irrational core beliefs. My own personal theoretical orientation is Rational Emotive Behavioral Therapy, which believes that mental health problems stem from irrational core beliefs, which impact our emotions and behaviors. It's full of fun phrases like "Should"ing over yourself (Telling yourself you "should" do something, even if it is damaging to you) and "Musts" ("I must be the best and win other's approval," "Others must treat me the way I want to be treated or they're terrible people," and "I must get what I want. I musn't get what I don't want. But if I don't get what I want, it's terrible.) All of these apply to me pretty well, especially the Shoulding. Most of these are pretty irrational. So, how do I challenge them?
Evidence is really important to challenging my irrational thoughts. I feel like I am doing a horrible job at work, and I am going to be fired, because I am doing such a bad job and can't keep up with it while at treatment. None of this is true. I'm definitely overwhelmed with trying to balance the demands of work and my recovery; however, evidence shows me that my thoughts are irrational. Proof: I got a raise this month. I get praise and validation from my coworkers. I have not missed a deadline on any assignments since returning to treatment. That evidence helps me challenge my irrational thought and become at peace with a rational one. This is a pretty exhausting process though.
The average person has about 40-50 thoughts per minute (Thanks Google). If every one of those thoughts I have is irrational, how much challenging do I have to do? An insane fucking amount. That's exhausting just thinking about it! It does get easier though. The more challenging I do, the easier it gets, especially for repeat thoughts. I have some of the same general thoughts everyday, which are not limited to: "If I eat that, I am going to get fat and be worthless." "That person in the mirror is fat and disgusting." "You're doing such a bad job, because you can't do this work fast enough." "You forgot to schedule these things for those kids, so you obviously suck at your job." "No one will ever love you, because you're gross and ugly." "You clearly can't take care of yourself, because you've let yourself go." "Don't feel happy. You don't deserve that." I could go on forever...
I think the most important thing is to continue fighting the war. There's that old saying that says something to the effect of "You might not win the battle, but you can still win the war." Each day is a new battle. We're never really sure what might hit us at any given moment; however, persistence in fighting each individual battle, even if we lose some, will help us win the war against our eating disorders and continue on a new journey in recovery.
Friday, September 5, 2014
Before, During, and After
I've been thinking a lot about the Before and After moments of my life. At 23, I have had some pretty intense turning points in my life, and the ways I chose to cope with those things have also impacted what follows. This lead to me looking at my Eating Disorder. After my first major episode at 13, I have had 4 serious relapses at 15, 17, 19, and 22. All of these came as a reaction to some of the most serious, traumatic moments in my life. So, what happened before?
Before my relapses, I genuinely felt like I was in a good place in my life. At 13, I had had some really difficult moments, but I had finally settled in to a new school, new friends, and became very active in musical theatre. I felt like I was genuinely settling into what could be comforting for me. At 15, again, I had just moved to a new school in Maryland and was finding this amazing group of friends, who truly supported me through everything and still do. At 17, I had just started college. I was ready for my new start to find out who I truly wanted to be and what difference I could make in the world. At 19, I was in my final semester of college, about to embark on a new life with my fiance and looking to graduate school to become a therapist. At 22, I felt like I was in a great relationship, working a wonderful job, and becoming content with the idea of settling in Milwaukee.
Before my relapses, I was believed that the world wasn't such an awful place. I believed, even though all these horrible things that continued to build in my life had happened, that the good things in my life would stick around and that in some inconceivable way, I would be loved.
Before my relapses, I let the weight of my past build up inside me. I let the blame of things were in no possible way my fault sit on my heart, crushing it with guilt day in and day out. I let the shame of my trauma and my reactions to it eat me alive. I let my own self-hatred for my actions cycle in my brain in every quiet moment. I sat in silence and allowed this to eat me alive. I found solace in myself as people around me let me
Then, the things I saw as unthinkable happened... My dad went to Kuwait... My friend killed himself... My dad walked out on my family the day my grandmother died... My fiance left me... I finished graduate school and my trauma came flooding back.
And then, I relapsed.
During my relapses, I would restrict as often as possible. I weighed food to make sure that every serving size was to the correct ounce. I would count to 500 each day and hate myself if I went even 1 calorie over. I body checked incessantly. I would stand in front of the mirror for hours a day. I would pinch and pull and suck my body in, praying that the things I hated about it would magically go away. I yelled at myself for being so fat, disgusting, unlovable, and undeserving of this life. I contemplated taking the bottle of pills to make my peace, to make things easier on my loved ones who saw me wasting away. I would drink with my boyfriend, Jack Daniels, until I felt no pain. I rarely slept because the nightmares and anxiety would be so bad. I would do cocaine until my nose bled, feeling like I was invincible, knowing that my heart racing would help me lose weight. I skipped my heart medicine to have my heart race, not caring if I passed out. I isolated, hoping to just waste away in peace. I fought a daily losing battle against myself to the voice in my head saying, "You are not meant for this world being as fat as you are."
Then, friends and family reached out to help. Opportunities to bring me out of myself arose. New cities, jobs, and friends invited me to step outside of my mind. Happiness came in in a variety of ways, some that I didn't even know were possible. Learning that I was not alone and accomplishing things to better myself helped me focus on the positive. At 22, I entered treatment for the first time to process the things I struggled through the previous 10 years. The light came on, and I could see a way out of the darkness I had been living in.
After my relapses, I still struggle with thoughts every day. That little voice in the back of my head telling me how fat, worthless, and unlovable I am never goes away, but it does get quieter eventually. I see my body as a part of me, not some separate entity that my mind just lives in. I gained weight to become a healthy size, which makes things easier and harder all at the same time. I have to consciously make the decision to eat every day. I make the choice not to ignore my hunger cues. I talk about my emotions instead of stuffing them. I can say with some degree of certainty but not total absolution that I am not responsible for things that have happened in my past. I acknowledge that these things are not my fault. I am learning that my identity is an ever-changing thing, but I am figuring it out, because I recognize that I am not my eating disorder.
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My life has been largely colored by trauma and coped with by anorexia. Life is a constant series of befores, durings, and afters. Every moment we have is an after of another, but the before to the next big adventure. But by learning from our preparations for befores, our reactions for durings, and our solutions for afters, life in recovery just might be manageable.
Before my relapses, I genuinely felt like I was in a good place in my life. At 13, I had had some really difficult moments, but I had finally settled in to a new school, new friends, and became very active in musical theatre. I felt like I was genuinely settling into what could be comforting for me. At 15, again, I had just moved to a new school in Maryland and was finding this amazing group of friends, who truly supported me through everything and still do. At 17, I had just started college. I was ready for my new start to find out who I truly wanted to be and what difference I could make in the world. At 19, I was in my final semester of college, about to embark on a new life with my fiance and looking to graduate school to become a therapist. At 22, I felt like I was in a great relationship, working a wonderful job, and becoming content with the idea of settling in Milwaukee.
Before my relapses, I was believed that the world wasn't such an awful place. I believed, even though all these horrible things that continued to build in my life had happened, that the good things in my life would stick around and that in some inconceivable way, I would be loved.
Before my relapses, I let the weight of my past build up inside me. I let the blame of things were in no possible way my fault sit on my heart, crushing it with guilt day in and day out. I let the shame of my trauma and my reactions to it eat me alive. I let my own self-hatred for my actions cycle in my brain in every quiet moment. I sat in silence and allowed this to eat me alive. I found solace in myself as people around me let me
Then, the things I saw as unthinkable happened... My dad went to Kuwait... My friend killed himself... My dad walked out on my family the day my grandmother died... My fiance left me... I finished graduate school and my trauma came flooding back.
And then, I relapsed.
During my relapses, I would restrict as often as possible. I weighed food to make sure that every serving size was to the correct ounce. I would count to 500 each day and hate myself if I went even 1 calorie over. I body checked incessantly. I would stand in front of the mirror for hours a day. I would pinch and pull and suck my body in, praying that the things I hated about it would magically go away. I yelled at myself for being so fat, disgusting, unlovable, and undeserving of this life. I contemplated taking the bottle of pills to make my peace, to make things easier on my loved ones who saw me wasting away. I would drink with my boyfriend, Jack Daniels, until I felt no pain. I rarely slept because the nightmares and anxiety would be so bad. I would do cocaine until my nose bled, feeling like I was invincible, knowing that my heart racing would help me lose weight. I skipped my heart medicine to have my heart race, not caring if I passed out. I isolated, hoping to just waste away in peace. I fought a daily losing battle against myself to the voice in my head saying, "You are not meant for this world being as fat as you are."
Then, friends and family reached out to help. Opportunities to bring me out of myself arose. New cities, jobs, and friends invited me to step outside of my mind. Happiness came in in a variety of ways, some that I didn't even know were possible. Learning that I was not alone and accomplishing things to better myself helped me focus on the positive. At 22, I entered treatment for the first time to process the things I struggled through the previous 10 years. The light came on, and I could see a way out of the darkness I had been living in.
After my relapses, I still struggle with thoughts every day. That little voice in the back of my head telling me how fat, worthless, and unlovable I am never goes away, but it does get quieter eventually. I see my body as a part of me, not some separate entity that my mind just lives in. I gained weight to become a healthy size, which makes things easier and harder all at the same time. I have to consciously make the decision to eat every day. I make the choice not to ignore my hunger cues. I talk about my emotions instead of stuffing them. I can say with some degree of certainty but not total absolution that I am not responsible for things that have happened in my past. I acknowledge that these things are not my fault. I am learning that my identity is an ever-changing thing, but I am figuring it out, because I recognize that I am not my eating disorder.
On the left is December 2013 during my last major relapse and on the right is August 2014, 4 months after ending treatment.
My life has been largely colored by trauma and coped with by anorexia. Life is a constant series of befores, durings, and afters. Every moment we have is an after of another, but the before to the next big adventure. But by learning from our preparations for befores, our reactions for durings, and our solutions for afters, life in recovery just might be manageable.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
How Being a Military Brat Influenced my Eating Disorder
One of the biggest pieces of my treatment earlier this year was identity work. I have a very difficult time focusing on myself, because I feel very lost and second guess a lot of the choices I have made to end up where I am today. I also have a very difficult time accepting things that make me stay in place for too long, but that's part of being a military brat.
My entire life, I have had very little consistency. Growing up as a military kid, you're constantly moving and adapting to new people, situations, and lives. As a kid, I moved every 2 to 3 years. I switched schools three times in elementary school, twice in middle school, and three times in high school. Granted, sometimes I did end up back at the same school, but it's still change. Even if I didn't have my trauma, that constant change has severely impacted me as an adult.
The military has a funny way of saying, "Hey, guess what? Time to move again." As a kid, when you are settling into a routine and need that consistency in order to thrive, that abrupt change causes a psychological mind fuck. You begin to rely on the only thing that is consistent, your family. That becomes tricky when you have a fucked up family too. Things were never great in my family, but we "maintained" as a unit until my freshman year of college. So, in reality, there was no real constant. So, with no constants and the ever looming threat of moving again, it always feels like you have no control over your life.
That lack of control has left this void that I tend to fill with temporary things: people, alcohol/drugs, eating disorder behaviors, etc. That void drives me crazy. It drives my depression and anxiety to a more severe level. It also was a strong basis for my eating disorder to begin. In some way, it felt like I had some power in controlling my own destiny with visible goals. I could see my control working in the smaller sizes of my clothes, the lower weight on the scale, the more bones I could see. That skinny controlled person became my identity. So what happens when you have to challenge that identity, because it's not healthy?
When I challenged the sole thing that defined my identity, I quickly found that I was left with nothing. Underneath everything, my eating disorder, which made me feel like a person, was covering up my complete lack of identity. I had no idea who I was, what I wanted, or where I belonged. It wasn't until working through my values with a therapist that I had some picture of who I could be. When looking at my military brat upbringing, it had a major impact on my identity. I value change, because you can learn from it. It taught me about resilience, the importance of true friends and family, and that I truly can face anything that life throws at me.
While being a military brat did have a major influence on the development of my Eating Disorder, it also gave me important life skills that are vital to continue on my journey to recovery. Skills that if I didn't have today, I would never have survived the majority of my life without. So, while I am still trying to figure out my true identity, I know that Military Brat will always be a strong part of it.
My entire life, I have had very little consistency. Growing up as a military kid, you're constantly moving and adapting to new people, situations, and lives. As a kid, I moved every 2 to 3 years. I switched schools three times in elementary school, twice in middle school, and three times in high school. Granted, sometimes I did end up back at the same school, but it's still change. Even if I didn't have my trauma, that constant change has severely impacted me as an adult.
The military has a funny way of saying, "Hey, guess what? Time to move again." As a kid, when you are settling into a routine and need that consistency in order to thrive, that abrupt change causes a psychological mind fuck. You begin to rely on the only thing that is consistent, your family. That becomes tricky when you have a fucked up family too. Things were never great in my family, but we "maintained" as a unit until my freshman year of college. So, in reality, there was no real constant. So, with no constants and the ever looming threat of moving again, it always feels like you have no control over your life.
That lack of control has left this void that I tend to fill with temporary things: people, alcohol/drugs, eating disorder behaviors, etc. That void drives me crazy. It drives my depression and anxiety to a more severe level. It also was a strong basis for my eating disorder to begin. In some way, it felt like I had some power in controlling my own destiny with visible goals. I could see my control working in the smaller sizes of my clothes, the lower weight on the scale, the more bones I could see. That skinny controlled person became my identity. So what happens when you have to challenge that identity, because it's not healthy?
When I challenged the sole thing that defined my identity, I quickly found that I was left with nothing. Underneath everything, my eating disorder, which made me feel like a person, was covering up my complete lack of identity. I had no idea who I was, what I wanted, or where I belonged. It wasn't until working through my values with a therapist that I had some picture of who I could be. When looking at my military brat upbringing, it had a major impact on my identity. I value change, because you can learn from it. It taught me about resilience, the importance of true friends and family, and that I truly can face anything that life throws at me.
While being a military brat did have a major influence on the development of my Eating Disorder, it also gave me important life skills that are vital to continue on my journey to recovery. Skills that if I didn't have today, I would never have survived the majority of my life without. So, while I am still trying to figure out my true identity, I know that Military Brat will always be a strong part of it.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
All of the Stomach Pain
I met with a dietician this morning for the first time since I previously left treatment. It's always an interesting experience to meet with them, because everyone has a different opinion on what meal plan is best for you. After going through my history, we worked on a meal plan that would be comfortable for my healthy mind, but definitely not my ED mind. It's not terrible. It's only adding 2 snacks to the lunch and dinner I've been trying to do lately anyways. It's just incredible hard when your stomach and digestive tract feel like they are going to ripped out of your body at any second.
Gastroparesis is a nasty bitch. It basically feels like nothing is passing from your stomach to your digestive tract. I can still throw up chunks of food 2 hours after I'm done eating, because it just sits there. Then, it gets to my digestive tract and sits, because my GI system basically trained itself to move very slowly in order to keep the food and energy processing longer when I was barely eating. Now that I'm eating (what seems like) all the time, my body hasn't adjusted. So, the food is literally just sitting, and I am in so much pain that all I can do is lay down, cry, and wait for it to stop.
Today, it's been a battle. After lunch with my coworkers, I could barely walk back from being in so much physical pain. Now, I am laying on my office floor, trying to open up my GI tract with some yoga, and trying not to cry. I just need to be distracted enough to try and not focus on the pain, but this is fucking brutal.
I'm still not really sure how I can do treatment and work, but if this keeps up, I might just crack.
Gastroparesis is a nasty bitch. It basically feels like nothing is passing from your stomach to your digestive tract. I can still throw up chunks of food 2 hours after I'm done eating, because it just sits there. Then, it gets to my digestive tract and sits, because my GI system basically trained itself to move very slowly in order to keep the food and energy processing longer when I was barely eating. Now that I'm eating (what seems like) all the time, my body hasn't adjusted. So, the food is literally just sitting, and I am in so much pain that all I can do is lay down, cry, and wait for it to stop.
Today, it's been a battle. After lunch with my coworkers, I could barely walk back from being in so much physical pain. Now, I am laying on my office floor, trying to open up my GI tract with some yoga, and trying not to cry. I just need to be distracted enough to try and not focus on the pain, but this is fucking brutal.
I'm still not really sure how I can do treatment and work, but if this keeps up, I might just crack.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Alcohol, IOP, and What's Next? Regrouping
Yesterday and today have been very trying days. I have really struggled through meals, especially knowing there would be alcohol throughout the weekend. Typically when I know drinking is involved, I do not eat as much for a few reasons. 1) Because I want to numb out. 2) It's empty calories that I don't want to consume. So, it's been a major head battle the last few days.
Yesterday was the bridal shower and bachelorette party for my brother's fiance. I am a pretty anxious person normally, but adding in situations like this are really difficult for me when I am in a relapse. Luckily, everything turned out okay, and it ended up being a lot of fun. Today, I have just been attempting to deal with work and getting back on track. I have felt very off lately, which has made my work suffer. I am attempting to not get fired through all this, and I feel like, with the mass firing of a month ago, I am just teetering closer to that side every day. I really cannot lose my job right now, especially because then I would have to move back in with my parents. I am having a hard enough time without being hovered over. So, it's just a constant state of anxiety and trying to fight my demons, keep everything together, and not break down.
That's where the alcohol has come into play as well. When living in Milwaukee, I was going out all the time, because that was the social thing to do and it helped better manage my anxiety. I have caught myself drinking more lately, and I know part of that is with being social; however, I don't need to drink a bottle of wine in one sitting to be social. That's been happening more lately. Alcohol just helps me relax and gets my brain to slow down a little bit. With everything going on, I have been doing more solo drinking as well. This is a habit that I at least recognize this time. I just need to watch it and enlist the support of others to make sure it doesn't get too out of control. Again, this blog helps keep me accountable, so we'll see.
I've also been greatly debating IOP lately. It is a weird thing to enter treatment at an IOP level. The first time I was there, it was like getting to IOP was finally seeing the exit sign on the highway after being in the car for hours. Entering at that level, there is a random mix of people who are at that point, ready to leave treatment. Then, you have a very small group who are trying to work and keep their shit together to avoid PHP. It just leads to a very strange dynamic. Also, people aren't consistently there. By the time you get to IOP, you get days off. It just doesn't have that same tight knit group feeling that I thrived off of in PHP. I am not sure if this is the right next step. I don't want to get worse and go back to PHP, but I don't feel like IOP is quite right either. I'm not sure what to do right now. One day at a time.
So what's next? I was texting with one of my favorite ladies from treatment today about feeling like I am going backwards and even though I am trying to get help, nothing seems to be working. Her response was "It's not moving backwards, it's regrouping so you can continue forward." Simple, eloquent, and exactly what I needed to hear. I need to take the time to regroup and figure out what I truly want and need to be doing. Without doing that, I don't think I can move forward. I will just keep going backwards, and that's no way to live.
Yesterday was the bridal shower and bachelorette party for my brother's fiance. I am a pretty anxious person normally, but adding in situations like this are really difficult for me when I am in a relapse. Luckily, everything turned out okay, and it ended up being a lot of fun. Today, I have just been attempting to deal with work and getting back on track. I have felt very off lately, which has made my work suffer. I am attempting to not get fired through all this, and I feel like, with the mass firing of a month ago, I am just teetering closer to that side every day. I really cannot lose my job right now, especially because then I would have to move back in with my parents. I am having a hard enough time without being hovered over. So, it's just a constant state of anxiety and trying to fight my demons, keep everything together, and not break down.
That's where the alcohol has come into play as well. When living in Milwaukee, I was going out all the time, because that was the social thing to do and it helped better manage my anxiety. I have caught myself drinking more lately, and I know part of that is with being social; however, I don't need to drink a bottle of wine in one sitting to be social. That's been happening more lately. Alcohol just helps me relax and gets my brain to slow down a little bit. With everything going on, I have been doing more solo drinking as well. This is a habit that I at least recognize this time. I just need to watch it and enlist the support of others to make sure it doesn't get too out of control. Again, this blog helps keep me accountable, so we'll see.
I've also been greatly debating IOP lately. It is a weird thing to enter treatment at an IOP level. The first time I was there, it was like getting to IOP was finally seeing the exit sign on the highway after being in the car for hours. Entering at that level, there is a random mix of people who are at that point, ready to leave treatment. Then, you have a very small group who are trying to work and keep their shit together to avoid PHP. It just leads to a very strange dynamic. Also, people aren't consistently there. By the time you get to IOP, you get days off. It just doesn't have that same tight knit group feeling that I thrived off of in PHP. I am not sure if this is the right next step. I don't want to get worse and go back to PHP, but I don't feel like IOP is quite right either. I'm not sure what to do right now. One day at a time.
So what's next? I was texting with one of my favorite ladies from treatment today about feeling like I am going backwards and even though I am trying to get help, nothing seems to be working. Her response was "It's not moving backwards, it's regrouping so you can continue forward." Simple, eloquent, and exactly what I needed to hear. I need to take the time to regroup and figure out what I truly want and need to be doing. Without doing that, I don't think I can move forward. I will just keep going backwards, and that's no way to live.
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