July 21, 2005

Internal Chaos

I haven't written in here in quite some time, and most of that is due to avoidance on my part. If I don't write about things, then I don't really have to face them or deal with them, and sometimes it seems so much easier that way. I've been running from feelings my entire life. I'm aware of it-- yet I still do it time and time again.

I moved in the last month, and my boyfriend of 16 mo. and I live together now, with our two "furbabies" Oscar (a big husky/shepherd mix dog), and Callie (my lab/terrier mix). They get along great. It's going good--- but it's still an adjustment. I'm not used to being with P every single day. All the time. Don't get me wrong, I love him-- but sometimes I want my own space. I don't know. I say that, but at the same time-- too much time alone is NOT good for me.

I am taking summer classes at the university, and right now-- for 3rd session, I only have one class. I start my day at 7:30 a.m. and I'm out of class by 9 a.m. P leaves for work by about 6:30 a.m., so then it's just me and the dogs at home. All day. It gets lonely sometimes. Ok-- a lot of the time.

I've been puking more the last couple of weeks than I have in years. If I'm not completely fasting, then I'm puking anything that goes in my mouth. Even stuff like pretzles-- which used to be on my "safe" food list. I feel so guilty eating anything solid. I just can't stand the feeling of being full or of food just sitting there. I do drink protein shakes every now and then, but mostly drink coffee and diet mt. dew all day.

I've also been cutting more. P noticed the ones from Monday. I did it about 8 times with a pair of nail scissors, cause I wasn't at home, and so I didn't have my blade at hand. I hate that I do it. I hate the scars that remain, but at the same time, I need them. It's not that I'm proud of the fact that I cut, or that I have scars all over my arms/wrists, but in a way, they're comforting to me. I can see the wounds, and watch them heal, and as it happens, it's like whatever happened or whatever feeling caused me to cut in the first place, slowly goes away. The scars that remain are little reminders to me of all that I've been through. But I don't look at it in a negative way. To me-- it's proof to myself that I've made it this far, and so-- even when the bad days come-- I can make it through the next one. I have the scars to prove that I am strong enough to handle the bad days. Maybe that only makes sense to me. I don't know. But for whatever reason, it works for me.

No-- I hate the fact that I cut and starve and purge. it seems I'm doing one of the three on a daily basis. I went up to 225mg. on the Effexor XR, but in a way-- I almost think the behaviors have gotten worse, more intense, since I went up. I thought the reverse was supposed to happen. My therapist suggested trying Remeron or Risperidol (both anti-psychotics), due to the constant barrage of thoughts that circle around my head on a daily basis. My mind won't shut up. But, I know both of those drugs have a common side-effect of weight gain. One of my autistic students is on Risperidol, and they actually had to put her on another drug to CONTROL her appetite, because it was so out of control. She's 5'5 and outweighs me by a good 55 pounds or more. I flat out refused.
I told her I'd like to try Ritalin or Aderall (sp?) first. I'm finding it so much harder lately to study and concentrate.

I used to be able to sit there and study for 3 or 4 hours at a time, no problem. Now, I struggle to stay focused for 30 minutes. My mind wanders during lectures as I'm trying to take notes, or I start dozing off. I never used to be this way. Even at my most anorexic point, at 97 pounds, I had a 4.0 GPA. Now I'm lucky if I'm pulling at 3.0. And that, I believe, is a high guess. Then, getting less-than-acceptable (for me) grades only lowers the already-rock-bottom self-esteem to non-existant levels. Her stipulation for approval though, is that I had to agree to try and eat regularly. Not necessarily full meals or anything, but just regularly. Both ADHD drugs are class 2's, and can cause wt. loss. My T is worried about that-- naturally so, I guess.

P and I had a "discussion" tonight. He saw the newest scars on my arms. I try not to let him see. I don't go out of my way to hide them, but I hate it when he notices. I know how much it hurts him to see the scars. He just put his arms around me (from behind), held my arms and then turned them over to look. When he does that, when he covers the scars with his own hands, I want to cry. And it's not from fear-- but from something else, though I'm not sure what. It's the same way when I'm in session with Judy, and I start to disassociate (by digging my nails into my arms or wrists, as a form of cutting since I can't exactly whip out a razor blade). When she comes over and sits down next to me, and then takes my hand, or covers my arm-- I'm instantly terrified. Not of her, really-- but.... I dunno.... it's like in that moment--, I'm not really ME, so-to-speak. This other side of me takes over. And every muscle tenses up. I guess in those moments, I'm so... vulnerable... and soooo not used to being that way with anyone.... that it scares the hell outta me. I don't want to fight her-- but I still do. I try to pull away. The harder I fight though-- the harder she holds on. And yeah-- I get angry sometimes. Well, not angry.... frustrated, I guess. At her for keeping me safe from myself, and at myself for being in that place to begin with.

I don't know.... it seems everything is spinning so far out of my control these days. And I don't know what to do or where to go. P doesn't get it, to the extent I need him to--- and I can't find the words to explain it. He told me tonight that "you created this place that you're in, so you are the one that can get you out". I know he didn't mean it in a bad way, but it's sounded like he was making it all so simple. If it were really that easy, I'd have done it long ago. It's been 16 years since I first started walking down this path. Obviously, it's not just as simple as saying, "nah.... I don't think I want to be this way anymore." I can tell myself that as much as I want. I can tell myself that I want P more than Ana, that I want my running, or school or any of a number of other things more than I want Ana, but it just doesn't work that way. I know the logical answer. I know the answer other people want to hear from me. But there's a part of me that chooses Ana over anything else in my life.

I guess I keep thinking that I can some how have both-- if only I were strong enough to find the balance between the two (as though a balance existed in the first place). Half the time, I don't know which side of me is thinking-- the ED side or the "Wendy" side. Both of them sound like me. I can justify anything and make it sound rational and perfectly normal. Even when I know damn well that the things I do and the way I live, are far from normal. Half the time in session, it's not really ME there. It's the ED side. Sometimes I can tell that-- but it's voice is so much louder. Stronger. Like last week in session. Judy and I got on the subject of food/weight/etc. And it's like I instantly became defensive about it. I'm more.... defiant... with my answers. Disagreeable. Stubborn. But I'm not sure how much of it was me... and how much of it was the ED side. I feel like pulling my hair out right about now! GRRRRR..

How can I want sickness and health to the same degree? I want a life--- a REAL life, just as much as I want to hold onto the ED. Health scares me. It does. It really does. Even the words 'healthy', 'better', 'good' all freak me out. If someone says I'm doing better, or I look good, or I'm "the healthiest one in my family"... my head instantly translates that into "FAT".

What's the real fear? I dunno..... Losing the one thing that's always been there for me, through EVERYthing. The one person that has never walked away. Ana is the only one who constantly encourages me to keep going. There have been times when I've wanted to just give up. Times when I was too tired of life itself. But somehow, losing another pound or two was like this instant fix. It kept me going. Kept me alive. It's the one thing I've always had to focus on. To me-- the idea of staying the same exact weight is incomprehensible. Although I've been "maintaining" within the same 10 unds or so for the last few years, it's not because of me. It's cause my body keeps fighting back harder than I fight against IT. But to me, it seems one is always working at either losing weight or gaining it. But to stay the same??? What would I do with my time? What would I have to focus on, as intensly as I focus on the ED?

It's not just about me though. Heather and I--being identical twins-- are always being compared to one another. Neither of us wants to be bigger than the other one. So we workout together, starve together... be eating disordered together. Communication in my family is nearly non-existant. At least on any sort of emotional level. So even my twin and I don't have that emotional bond really. There's this sorta twin thing we have, where we're closer than other sisters/siblings.... but not on a real heart-to-heart level. If I give up the ED, I'll be giving up one of the only real connections that H and I have. We already have gone different ways in our lives, living an hour away from one another. She's married and has a 2 yr. old daughter, while I'm attending college and dating. It's just different.

Also-- with the way my family is so perfection/looks/standard oriented, I fear that giving up the ED is to no longer be accepted. As long as I'm losing weight, as long as I'm thin-- then I feel more accepted as part of the family. It's rather noticeable how much appearance matters in my family. It's sick. It really is, but yet--- I can't make them change. I figure it's best to just play their game when I have to, and not fight it. You have to pick your battles. My mom's side of the family is the only family I have left. I'm terrified of losing that side too. Family is family, no matter how neurotically, f-ed up and co-dependant they all are. They're still my family.

I'm going camping for the weekend with some friends. I'm looking forward to it, though I'm already nervous about the food issue. I'm bringing my baby carrots and mustard with me.... so that should be safe. I just wish food didn't exist in the first place, then I wouldn't have to worry about it.

God, I really should get to bed. I have to e IN CLASS in a little over 6 hours.

Posted by Wendy on July 21, 2005 10:15 PM

Comments

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