Slip and not fall

As I sit here in the private clinic, my home for the moment, I have time for reflection. 

Thoughts of what I don’t deserve. That I’ve made such a fuss. Just get over it. Don’t be so drastic. What if they don’t believe me? What if they see BPD and chuck me out? My presentation right now might look too together. 

It’s ok. I’m not back in crisis where I used to be. I’m proactive. I have great insight.

The psychiatrist was warm and understanding. I didn’t have that new doctor awkwardness where you have to go through your whole life story again. He thoughtfully asked the right questions, discreetly understood my history. 

We have a plan. To get back where I was and functioning well. Medication with time. We need time for it to take. Regular outside support, so I can manage my strategies but keep accountable. And while I’m in here, get back to working with the strategies that were working. Back into exercise. Yoga. Meditation. Singing. All the things that I allowed work to gradually consume. 

I slipped, but I have not completely fallen. I have grabbed onto the railings, using the support to be there and keep me sturdy so I can confidently walk without them once more. 

The note (TW suicide) 

I’m losing it. I must be. It was my ‘good’ week and it has ended in tears once again. I think back over today and put it on replay. The early composure, the conscientious perfectionist that thrives on control and outcomes. I felt so ‘above it’ all. Like I’m walking on the highest of clouds, skipping from one to the next. Sorting them all, supporting them all, aligning them just so. Think about everything but how you feel. The thoughts run so fast it’s hard to keep up. So hard in fact that I miss patches. “Did I put my keys here?” I don’t remember finishing that drink, but I must have because it’s empty. Weird. Now why did I walk in this room? 

The frustration builds. I’m so savvy tho that I recognize it and go for a skill to bring that down a little. I can bring it down enough to face the music and continue on my charade. 

I listen to a guest speaker talk about her mental illness and ability to hold a full time job, and shine in her other performance job. I am jealous. I didn’t realize that till right now as I wrote it. 

I’m sad and I’m jealous. 

I want to be authentic and not have to hide my health struggle. I want that support. I wish to be able to have my calming piano music in my ear without worrying about losing my job. 

It’s so stressful trying to hide mental illness. It’s so heartbreaking when you don’t want to hide it but fear, yes fear what happens when you if you don’t. 

At the time I wiped away the tears and reassured my boss I was ok to go and present. I would have been if everyone had been nice and cooperative. It was unexpected that they weren’t, and I had to leave the room. 

I managed to gain recomposure again and go back and deliver the next 55mins. 

The result is exhaustion. And more tears. Tears that fall with defeating thoughts. Tears that seem to fall for unexplained reasons, in the middle of random places. 

Drip, roll, drip roll……

Wipe

Sniffle. 

And again. Over and over. 

So now I’m seriously considering going back on my medication. 

Or seriously considering writing a note. 

When I was suicidal in the past, it had never occurred to me to rent a hotel room. My mind goes there now. 

What if, instead of doing work and releasing stress by catching up, I just leave altogether?

I would hate for someone to have to find me. I could perhaps write a note and stick it on the outside of the door at the last lucid moment. 

Please do not come in this room but call emergency services. I have committed suicide and would prefer only paramedics to deal with my body

Or pre-record a message and call when it’s too late? 

I would ruin my children’s lives. Forever. I wouldn’t just be killing myself but my family too. Their lives would never be the same. No, I cannot do this to them. 

So I binge and purge, and this makes me feel better for now. That’s twice in 2 weeks. Another slip. For now, I fall asleep and nap and I feel a little relieved. 

Try not to think of the purge as feeling better…. That behaviour will just get more frequent and before I know it I’ll be relapsing. 

I can’t have that. I can’t deal with that again. 

Keep positive, keep perspective. Keep swimming. 

Just keep. For now. Just keep. 

Perfectionism

I was overcoming this, on the mountain top waving the conquer flag… Urgh. Rephrase. 

I was overcoming this, waving my flag as I climb the mountain with an occasional stumble. 

There, that’s better. Perfec….. 

Stop. 

Deep breath.

After a solid time in recovery, life is becoming fruitful in the ways I had missing. I am noticing now tho, my perfectionism creeping back in. 

I started feeding it in my work. It was fulfilling and at the beginning I didn’t see the harm. This was my project that I could control. My family can’t wreck this. It’s all mine I mistakenly thought. 

We have moved house and it’s temporary but I am not happy here. There a few things that are messing with my body and my head. So to manage my frustration and anxiety with how things are, and with my body off limits, I delight in my work. 

Perfectionism can be so rewarding until it’s inevitable wall smash. 

I cannot have control over my work. There are too many other people at play. Hundreds of them actually. My children also interfere. By delaying my start time with an hour long hypochondria stint making me late for work. Or perhaps the discipline applied which results in school refusal. The stress has risen to breaking point. 

I am doing a fabulous job dealing at acute times, using strategies to bring my anxiety down a little. Time takes its toll and this level of stress is not sustainable.

Making sure I take time to remind myself of the meaningful things in life is imperative. Taking time to express myself and emotions is critical. Writing, singing, advocating. If it gets bottled inside I will implode.

Even though my head is shouting toxic thoughts about myself and jumping on my self esteem I will reach out. I will go and have coffee with a friend. Even when my head is saying I am not likable. That people don’t want me as a friend. That people see me as weak. That I am fat. That I need to lose weight, to cut, to harm myself in some way to justify my existence. Even though I face this I will continue to face my fears and live with them. I will adjust my chameleon suit for another day. 

A reminder: You work to live, not live to work. 

Deeper and deeper

Internal turmoil as I play the wretched tug of war between wanting recovery and wanting the ED.
Due to life circumstances I cannot focus on recovery right now. A couple more weeks and my life will free up for that, but for now it remains at one foot in front of the other, one day at a time, as I sink deeper and deeper.
The weight loss is so reaffirming and comforting, yet it just maintains the ED because I then fear putting it back on.
I feel helpless while I wait for new treatment to begin.
😦

snakes and ladders

I said goodbye.
I thought I was a milestone ahead. I thought it would be easier now that I wanted recovery more.

So why have I been continually emotionally eating and purging again? I was going so so so so well! The environment had been emotionally charged, a more challenging environment to deal with. Using food as my coping and so ashamed.

I’m disheartened.

It’s a journey that even when you think you’re finally ok, the snake tempts. You listen, forgetting every wise thing you were taught and fall 12 feet deep in a hole.

Reminder…I have a ladder now. I’m not helpless. My ladder is the skills I learnt in DBT.

Climb the ladder again?

Crazy recovery moment. Humorous in hindsight

During yoga in the weekend just past, I felt like I said goodbye to the eating disorder. It was a very sad moment. Grief tore deep within. It’s so strange that you can feel loss over something that has brought so much pain… But it is there.

In letting go, I can look forward. Again I am trying not to look back and keep the momentum of progress.

So here’s to a funny recovery moment.
I have been emotional eating recently. Bingeing too and a purge sneaked in. The stress that was triggering is now gone and 2kg gained, I have a choice.
I am not happy with how big I feel. I am trying to not judge my fatness. I am not even looking. I would like to lose the fat gained but not actively measuring or restricting. I wonder if this can be done. I am trying.

Today I have been to the gym, almost an hour of cardio and then this afternoon I would like to go again. Because I want to burn this fat. So I justify it by allowing myself to go because it’s only a yoga class, it’s not like I’m doing any cardio. I had fallen asleep on my bed but up I get forcing my tired body to keep going.
I walk back to grab my joggers and realise if I’m serious about no more cardio today then I can leave my joggers at home. Damn. I have caught myself out. No, no joggers. Don’t even tempt yourself by wearing them. So I get in the car with my thongs (flip flops) and start to drive to the gym. I check my watch and I’m going to be a little late to the class.
I could go to yoga tomorrow. In fact, I think I had already planned to go tomorrow. Hmmmmm. Gym and yoga today followed by gym and or yoga tomorrow?

Pulled the car over, did a u turn and returned home. I can go to yoga tomorrow. Right now it’s time for a cup of recovery tea.

I can now see how disordered I was. I’m fighting it.

You know you’re in recovery when you can be amused by your success.

A leap of progress

The blogging gets put off till when you have time to ‘get it right’ because ‘what’s happened is so big’ … But time just gets eaten away.

A lot like food actually. Hello to the new reality of trying to find balance.
Here’s the progress within the last month or two:
* I haven’t logged a meal of calories for over a month and am not counting them constantly
* I am not logging my exercise of calories burned
* I am not exercising in excess
* I forgot to weigh myself one week

These are huge accomplishments! This is the stuff that my whole world was functioning on… And I am doing without.

I. Am. Doing. It!!

It’s early days I know.

ED was screaming at me tonight. To purge. I’ve eaten a lot the last few days and mini binged tonight. Having to tolerate the emotions, thoughts and sensations is freaking difficult…. But I’m reminding myself of the benefits of recovery. I have been connecting more deeply with my family. I am watching TV again. I am sleeping more, not forcing myself to the gym even when I needed more sleep.

I have leapt over a large hurdle and am perhaps even scared to look back. This is new. Being more scared of the disorder rather than the recovery? I feel like if I look back I’ll be sucked straight into the blackened disordered darkness. I just need to keep moving right now. Keep walking and switching on all the lights.

Keep it light. Keep it bright.