I Regret Everything

As most of you readers know, I’ve been struggling with a spectrum of eating disorders since an early age. I exhibited signs and symptoms of behavior from around 6, and actively began restricting knowing full-well what I was doing at age 11.

I’ve been in and out of treatment centers, inpatient, and have seen so many therapists and psychiatrists it’s a wonder I even think there’s hope for me at all. Especially on top of my many other ailments (both mental and physical).

Last September I started seeing an eating disorder therapist. In December she referred me to a psychiatrist. This has been my care team.

Today was the first time Matt came with me to a therapy appointment. I’m desperately trying to remember everything that I said.

For those of you who may not be aware, eating disorders are at least 95% lying and keeping secrets, avoiding the truth, over-justification, and investment in our own secret “safe” world inside our eating disorders. Some of us are more enmeshed in our secret eating disorder worlds than others. It’s to the point, after decades, that I literally do not know what’s my personality coming out or if it’s my eating disorder talking. About almost anything? I can make any life situation about how fat I am etc. And I always could! Not just since I’ve gained all this weight. All this fucking weight. How did I gain so much weight? “RECOVERY?!” You fat fucking joke.

I’m getting off track.

Today I spilled some secrets. Just last time I admitted to a friend that I’m not ready to give up my disorder. I don’t want to recover. I want to lose weight. Now that my eating disorder has swung from undereating and purging to overeating and purging it seems so hopeless.

My therapist tries to assure me that it’s a common swing, and actually confided in me that this means I never actually recovered when I thought I did. The disordered thoughts and thought patterns along with behaviors and mindsets followed me all this time and manifested itself differently over the years. So that’s real comforting, as you can imagine.

So what secrets did I spill? Big ones. My secret dinners. That when I joke around about food or “I went to the gym last week I deserve a treat” seemingly off-the-cuff jokes are really just me being good at making things normal and ok in appearance for what I think are others’ benefit.

I’ve talked about that wanting things to be normal before, too. In another post I qualified it with “I don’t want to be a drama queen” around friends, and I want to be seen as normal. Not broken. But…. I think I knew which side is showing its prevalence recently. Stupid fucking fatass piece of garbage.

Oops lost my train of thought.

I don’t want to let go of my secrets. Because once I start undereating full time again (restriction is easy until I feel pressured (mostly by my own self) to act normal or fun about food) then I’ll desperately need these secrets back.

They’re usually the cliche “I already ate” or “I don’t feel well” or “I didn’t even go to the gym today I can’t have toast” you get the gist.

Eating disorders are fucking impossible and I feel horrible. The worst part? “You don’t have an eating disorder. You’re just weak.” Not just from my own brain, but this happens in others’ minds as well. I know it does, because I read it online when I see mentions of Binge-Eating Disorder.

I think now I’m just ranting? I feel so lost. If eating disorders are part of my personality then I’m almost okay with it staying. I like to think I’m pretty down to earth and easy to hang out with. I’m empathetic and my-own-brand-of fun. I’m hardcore but nice? I don’t know I don’t know. Just like the anger. That’s me too.

My therapist called me defensive and I said “NO I’M NOT” as a joke, but…

This has become almost incoherent.

Happy Monday.

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Studyin’ Blogs

There is a specific group of blogs and Instagram accounts where lazy stationery lovers like me go to feel jealous and insignificant. I’m not sure what it’s called outside of Tumblr, but people there call themselves studyblrs. It’s gorgeous. Along with these blogs, oftentimes, are posts of Bujo – or bullet journaling. (BulletJournal.Com if you’re curious.)

If anyone from that community is reading this I’ll bet they’re cringing. Sorry! I’m trying to explain for people who don’t already know!

From a pretty young age I started collecting blank journals and notebooks because I would feel inspired by them. I was never a good writer, though, and only a slightly-above-average student, so they didn’t always get used to their full potential. I just love organization and office supplies.

First off I’d like to brag that the main point of the BuJo thing (“analog system for the digital age”) is a habit I’ve kept from early on. I’ve always preferred paper planners to electronic ones; except for when I had my Palm Pixi phone. That thing was perfect. But anyway. If you search for BuJo on Instagram or Google Images or whatever you’ll see some of the awesome things these people do. Mine are only okay – I’ve only recently started designing mine like people will see it, because I’ve started taking my own pictures to post online. Also my handwriting is shit.

Starting mid-high school I turned my regular planner over to a journal/planner combo. I would write important dates/make calendars/make lists and all that, but in between those pages I would use it as a normal journal. One of the ways I journal best is drawing? I’m an awful artist, so it’s difficult to explain. But I would use colors and symbolism in a way that pretty much just made sense to me. But it was very therapeutic. Especially because as you’re reading this blog there’s no doubt in your mind that I have trouble putting thoughts and words together. I’m basically an infant with a laptop and a lot of mental issues.

Even though I don’t follow most of the “rules” laid out by BuJo’s developer, Ryder Carrol, it’s still a really awesome base system and I recommend it to everyone.

I burned all the old ones. I should have kept some if only to post a “best of” or something. Or maybe it’s best this way. I think I took pictures before I burned them… but those are most likely long gone. I used a lot of reds and blacks. #emokid

So onto the second main point: Studyspo! (Study blogs, study inspiration… Tumblr has weird mash-up words for things. Tumblr is weird.)

If you know me IRL, chances are you’re aware that I do have a college degree. I’m pausing before and giving some space in between before saying it’s only an associate’s, because truth be told, I’m embarrassed of that. I fucking love learning. I love going to classes and taking notes and studying and drinking black coffee 4 dayz until I’m exhausted and go out with friends to unwind~

That was my life for a couple of years, but now that I work full time during the week days instead of spread out over double shifts in like 4 days (serving/bartending), it’s not really feasible for me to go back to school for my bachelor’s. Eventually I would have wanted a Pharmaceutical Doctorate, because pharmacology was my dream. Then I worked at Walgreen’s and got disillusioned because people are awful and terrible and mean and the pharmacists are just a cog in a money-making corporate machine; not healthcare and welfare. Just saying.

Pharmacology would have been the science and behind-the-scenes and clinical trials. But in this day and age my conscious couldn’t keep up with that goal. Chemistry is cool and all, but greed isn’t.

Did I just get too political? Oops.

Now though I’d be happy with a Bachelor’s or Master’s in something fascinating. I don’t even know what. I’m honestly pretty easily fascinated. I want to go back to school but we technically make too much for me to get grants and we’re just now almost out of debt. I’m not about to dive headlong first into it again. Plus we need to buy a house and all the extra furniture and maintenance that comes with that… I can’t afford it. I really can’t. I could make it work, obviously. But it’s not a necessity because I have a decently paying job that I actually like (plus a second job that I don’t really like but that pays me) already.

But back to the point?

Sorry. I’m home sick. My brain is even more absent than normal. Plus I know none of you come here for quality. If you do you’re wrong. Obviouslyl.

Studyspo posts such lovely photos of notes and note taking skills and pretty desk-scapes and flashcards and highlighters and pens ❤ My heart ❤

I still go through old textbooks, and sometimes even buy new textbooks for my non-existent classes, and try to learn things from them, but I’m jealous of all these youngins getting to go to school and college and take advantage of their better education system than what I had.

My high school rewarded mediocrity. It really did.

I still look at these posts with affection though. They give me inspiration to maybe one day be able to go back to school as an old fucking hag and be totally left out and weird 🙂

One day!

But, You Know, Whatever.

My bones are cold. There’s a constant, aching chill, and find myself shivering then try to stop myself. But I can’t feel warm.

My jaw hurts from the pressures of keeping it together. The urge to sob and scream and burst into hysterics all mingled into my ready smile should someone look my way.

It’s always the corner of my eye. Or not so much the corner, but just barely beyond perceptibility. Dark shapes, light shapes. Metamorphosing into some terrible nightmare fodder. Humanoid, demanoid. “It’s just my imagination” I tell the slowly-growing shadow. My jaw aches.

I’m quick, though. They’ve always told me I have “wit.” So while in the company of others I laugh and I joke and wow so normal until a moment’s silence and I remember everything terrible that’s ever been and ever will be while the shape in the doorway grins at me and reaches out then I think of a clever response and get a few laughs.

Silence is painful. There’s a hum, and it’s not just from all the concerts. I know. It physically hurts. Drives me to tears when I wake at night. Because they’re trying to reach me. That faint hum before the speech, the dying to say what can’t be said and I’m afraid of what they’ll say. So I put the pillow over my head try and snuggle up to the warm mass who snores and moves away from me and I’m forever left alone in my head with these new ghosts and the old ghosts who won’t leave me to a moment’s peace.

When I drink my cheap, fruity liquor I’m too engrossed in my phone and trying not to have drunk face that it’s peaceful for a moment. But heaven forbid I have to pee or go somewhere else alone because they follow me and they take advantage of my fear and my tears and they laugh and I have to pretend I’m not scared out of my goddamn mind because no one likes a drama queen.

I’ve hallucinated before. It’s been years. And I’m terrified.

I’ve been desperately trying not to be so whiney or dramatic (hence the infrequent posts) and even to friends I’m like eh I’m depressed but whatever but damn it even as I type this they’re brushing me on the shoulder and trying to whisper in my ear and I shudder and try and remember where I was in my thought.

And I thought being coherent was difficult before.

Is this the bipolar? The dissociation? The stress? Have all the many, many, long years of too-frequent nightmares started following me into daily life, desperate to be heeded?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

It’s almost the anniversary of my last utter descent. Makes me think it’s bipolar. I made a promise it’s almost impossible not to think about. Even now my pants are sticking to my hips and my sleeve to my arms and my jaw hurts and my usual hurts hurt because everything hurts but it’s “just stress.”

But you know lol everything fine it’s good 🙂  how’re you?

Video Games and Dissociation Disorder-A Clarification

This post was by far my most popular. It still gets hits all the time. I feel like I’m cheating people out of scientific research. All my posts are whiny hubbub.

Sorry to people who come here for that blog post. But thanks for reading.

As for as my experience regarding the content, I still experience this frequently. Dissociation disorder is one of the more forefront factors in my daily life. Unfortunately. I know when it’s happening like coming up for air after diving for hours. I realize “oh hey this day feels funny I’m so gone lol what’s a blue mean” and then back under I go.

These days usually house my extreme actions. Also they’re related to the mania (thanks bipolar) and lead to the over-zealous goals that are never accomplished and lead to the ever-present feelings of failure and worthlessness. Just, dissociation in general I guess. Also binge eating and basic poor impulse control. 

It’s a curious phenomena I don’t see referenced very often. Either it’s under-diagnosed, not usually an issue for people, or just kind of rare. I see borderline personality disorder a lot more often. Which is another one of the boxes I get to tick on health history forms. Now that’s a weird issue. Usually associated with the “temper tantrums” (my stepmom called them that when I was in high school. Really it was just a long-beaded-timeline full of acute psychoses) we think people who “just want attention” portray.

Anyway, this is why I have to usually put aside time to watch movies, play video games, or read books during the day. I have such a difficult time processing reality as reality at any given time as is, adding to that by incorporating unusual narratives, intense emotions, or generalized anxiety just exacerbate my already pathetic-ness.

What was I talking about?

The Recovery Shame

I’m ’bout to get real real with you guys. It’s been a while since I’ve made a post, and it’s because I thought about being less personal. But I just want to be frank with you guys.

I hate being “recovered.”

I’m making a pause now to let you readers who don’t know me imagine what I mean by recovered. Do I mean from drugs? Gambling? Porn?

It’s all 3.

No it’s not.

It’s eating disorders.

Now, I put the word recovered in quotes up there because though I don’t partake in the daily activities of an actively disordered eater anymore, I still have so many thoughts and bad feelings and bad self-esteem surrounding me that I feel like a cheaty faced loser saying I’m legitimately recovered. I’m more like, I don’t know, in remission. The behaviors aren’t there lately (purge free since May?) but it’s very much an undercurrent.

I’m sure lots, maybe most, of the humans who have recovered from an eating disorder of any kind often think “man, I could easily go back to that. That’d be great. I could be so skinny. Eh, nah.” But what I think a lot of the time isn’t “I could go back” so much as it’s “I should go back.”

Cuz I get a lot of hate. I hate being recovered because I’m chubby now. I shouldn’t care that I’m chubby. I should embrace it and whatever and be happy I’m healthy (not really but whatever) and whatever.

But I’m really upset.

I fucking hate myself.

And there are people who see me at work who may notice the panic in my eyes when I pass the snack bar, who may notice I eat lunch 3 times, and there are friends who I accidentally admit to having 2 separate dinners to… but they wonder why because I’m too fat and I obviously eat too much.

There are those IN THE SAME HOUSEHOLD AS ME who comment on what I eat being unhealthy or that I eat too much or that I should exercise more/better.

These comments come from a good place but damn. Let me pretend to be a normal American. Jesus.

I hate it. And I hate it.

I hate being a regular chubby first-world unhealthy loser. I hate liking fast food and beer. I hate thinking about food ALL THE TIME whether I’m trying to lose weight or not.

I hate how I let the idea of being a happy healthy person made me fat.

I’m legitimately overweight now. And it makes me so sad. And I try not to let it. I think, hey. I don’t have like serious weight-related issues, right? I’m fine? I’m smaller than some people, right? Does that matter? Should I even make that comparison? God what should I do? What is normal? WHAT IS RIGHT WHAT IS HEALTHY WHAT AM I DOING I’M KIDDING MYSELF I GOT FAT.

I meet new people and I just know they’re judging me for being fat. Like you don’t know me! I was skinny once, too! Shut up! Shut up those thoughts! Stop it!

This could be a post about how fat-shaming is bad but it’s not that it’s me hating myself for letting myself get to a non-disordered weight.

It was so much easier not kidding myself into thinking I had a healthy mind.

Right now, I’d take the bloodshot eyes, the inflamed esophageal lining, and the lying and wasting over this shame and remorse.

 

Flowers Are My Anti-Drug

*A more positive post than most. You’re welcome.*


There’s something so simple and purely “happy” about flowers. They don’t have to be cartoonish daisies or extravagant, geometric lantana blooms in order to be pleasant to look at. I enjoy being surrounded by so much vibrance and life. Especially vibrance and life that doesn’t tell me to “cheer up” or to “try lavender oil.” Vibrance and life can be pushy. But not in gardens. Gardens have bumblebees and butterflies, birdies and squirrels, spiders and wormies, pretty flowers and sprouts that you’ve been babying and willing to grow. Gardens are a peaceful, natural presence that I just love.

 

My mom has always been the gardener in my house, so much so that she owned her own landscaping company for a time. She mostly worked for well-off folk in the ritzy part of town. The 500k+ houses whose owners could DEFINITELY afford landscaping care. Then, she got pregnant with my sister, and then my brother, and now she works part time in  gardens for one of her horticulture instructor’s gardening business and works full time in her own home garden (on top of her home nursing jobs).

 

Now that I have my own space to garden, I’m finally getting to adventure in the world of gardening. There was a time when I tried to help my mom in her endeavors. She was always the landscaping genius. I mostly watered and weeded. We all know neither of those activities are fun. Now I get to seed and plant and pot and transfer and actually get my hands dirty. And now I get to germinate seeds on paper plates in layers of paper towels for MY garden! And get excited when I see MY seeds start to sprout in early April! (my sunflowers are going ca-razy.)

 

Now I know I’ve gotten really excited here about flowers, but grasses and shrubs surely have plenty of benefits. They’re great for carpeting and spritz of green in gardens and just bringing the whole “piece” together. I absolutely LOVE mixing colorful grasses and shrubs with lawn-green colored shrubs and grasses in a garden. Why have everything all white? Or all green? WHY NOT HAVE A LITTLE BIT OF LIKE ALL THE COLORS?! Just kidding. I’m a sporadic gardener. I see something and go “that’ll look great right next to my torenias/lantanas/petunias/etc” without ever really having a real plan. Just general ideas.

 

Currently, I’m converting a dilapidated sandbox in the backyard into a sunflower garden that I’ll be able to see from the kitchen/dining room windows! It will also include the taller strain of zinnias for a “fruit loops in my cheerios” effect.

 

HEY I’m thinking about making a blog specifically for my gardening because I’m still fairly new to it. Tips and tricks, I need help, how does this look, etc. Think I should do it? Let me know by leaving a comment.

 

Thanks!

Snuggly Wuggly

Remember back in the day when I made that post about how my daily routines really helped my depression?

Well why in the hell doesn’t that apply to me anymore?!

Since I’ve moved in with Matt my “routines” have been all over the place. Sure, I wake up for work at roughly the same time everyday, but it’s mostly a hectic mess just trying to get to work on time. I have a basic order of things, but the order of things doesn’t include breakfast or checking my stories or touching the cat or appreciating the pretty colors and bird sounds that come with early morning…

I’m a hectic spazoid now. Mostly because I can’t make myself get out of bed. I’m a nasty, habitual snoozer. I never really used to be except on weekends… Now I snooze 3, 4, sometimes up to 5 times before I actually start waking up. And “waking up” is basically just checking myfitnesspal food plan for the day and putting off GETTING OUT OF BED as long as possible.

Man this is unhealthy. I am in a rush every morning and I hate it but even when I try to change (set my alarm later so I can’t snooze as long, make Matt help me wake up, pop a mint in my mouth after the first alarm, etc) the efforts are usually futile. It’s frustrating.

Somehow, someway, I will become good at mornings again. It’d be so cool to have breakfast/cat/crossword puzzle time in the morning again.

To be fair, it was a lot easier when I worked at the restaurant at 10:45 in the morning versus my now 8:20 in the morning. Especially considering 8 was when I would wake up. I do NOT see myself waking up at 5:30 just to enjoy the mornings. Though, it’d be kind of nice…

At least I’ve been getting to work on time more consistently recently. Yay small victories.

This room smells like a mix of chocolate mint candle and bowl of caesar salad from dinner I’ve yet to clean up. I’d better hop to it.

Peace.