library books

stopped at a traffic light last night in an unusually dark part of covington, i suddenly reminded myself to return my library books and to lock my van doors. the midnight undertones of the color of my van no longer felt like camouflage, as my lit cigarette seemed to spotlight my van's small-statured, female driver. i haven't felt afraid in the city in a while. library books and fear were a welcome relief of distraction from the incessant need to vomit....and from the nagging, muscle-stretching pain in my left calf.

the reluctant journey to deliver my kids to their daddy is always bittersweet. a very successful dinner left us full, warm, and snuggly, and the innocence that only children can posses kept my mind on them rather than the fullness in my tummy. as they drove away with their daddy, the melancholy of a mother without her children washed over me. thus commenced the battles....

i feel like hell.

just vomit.

gawd, no!

you know you want toooooo.

maybe i'll sneak some laxatives, instead.

or maybe just do both.

shit amy! no laxatives!

maybe just one.

fuck, my tummy hurts.

i drove straight home. no stops. no purchases. no vomiting. no laxatives. oops, one stop: to return my library books...

it may not sound like the grandest of vanquishments. i'm sure the average human avoids vomiting and laxatives like the fucking plague. unfortunately i am no average human, and overthrowing the demonic omnipotence that has haunted me for too many decades is a touchstone acquisition each and every single, god damned time.

my defensive proclivity is a formidable force as it commands my instincts, as it imposes fiction over facts resulting in my helplessly believing in its innateness. subhuman habits mistaken as innate, instinctive intuition- the raping of my soul. but there is nothing innate about refusing food. no matter how natural it feels to me, it is not instinctive to starve oneself.

eat.

i can't.

i beg you.

i hate it.

i'll make you eat.

i'll vomit.

i'll make you eat again.

i need laxatives.

food is life-giving.

fullness feels like the swollen bloating of death.

eat.

no.

sisyphus.

every day is a new beginning, a chance to roll the stone for perhaps the FINAL time.... willingness, unwillingness, battles, choices, illness. again, unfortunately i am no average human, and my cerebellum echoes with the vexatious barking of the demon. i am thankful, however, for the timely return of my library books.

today's appt

my status quo is comprised of allowing ideas and suggestions to *compost* somewhere in my cerebellum.  it is rare that i have a strong opinion or solid point of view UNTIL this rumination occurs.  also, i am not a fan of unedited text [read: amy's thoughts and feelings].  i choose carefully the words that i ALLOW to flow through my fingertips.  today, however, feels different.

it is now moments after my dietition appt.  i will normally fidget and twist for days b/f i allow myself to even THINK about the session.  but the compost-vining has already begun....or?  i am simply filled with opposition and explosiveness.

usually, in hindsight, i will recognize that i was restless and full of angst during the appt.  today the awareness of my inability to sit still was colossal.  the more i tried to sit still the more her sandpaper questions rubbed me raw- more questions pertaining to behaviors such as biting into foods, where i prefer the bite in my mouth, texure, and swallowing.  unexpectedly, she began talking directly about weight.... and i started to cry.  YEP!  no no no, it's not that time of the month, ladies...where i usually break down for little reason.  i suddenly felt scrutinized and ugly and [please excuse this next adjective- although offensive, it IS the exact word that screamed at me] dykey.  it was painful to try to explain why i was suddenly so weepy.

i avoid feeling that shit as much a possible.  i will do ANYTHING to avoid, distract or RID myself of feeling that those adjectives apply to me.  she asked me if i thought i was attractive.  JESUS!  WHO ASKS SUCH POINTED QUESTIONS?  i said no,  b/c i DON'T think that i am attractive.  don't misunderstand, i understand that i am not *stereotypical*.   i could have lied and said yes.....but i am trying very diligently to be as honest as possible.  but telling the truth, like in this case, prompts people to counter, you know?  and i don't want to hear it.

with few minutes of the appt remaining, i am teary and defensive and overflowing with discomfort- she assigns homework.  my hands started to shake and i could feel my teeth slightly chattering.  she stated that i am to eat every four hours and not go longer than six hours b/t meals.  she also stated that i need to eat more for breakfast. this next week...but backed off and agreed to only four times this week. 

fuck.  i have a hard ENOUGH time trying to get in the god damned breakfast that i MAKE myself eat NOW!!!!!!!!  [wailing] i don't want to consume m-o-r-e.... [tears]

the moment i stepped out of the fucking building, i could feel the weepiness overtaking me.  but my *logic* kicked in and delivered a fitful message that i couldn't ignore.  i was suddenly ANGRY with myself---- b/c for gawd's sakes, amy, this is just food.  a basic fucking need, remember?  i was all in a twirl about feeling so unstable and shakey while the dietition suggested i eat more breakdfast and more frequently.  had i really become that distressed over those suggestions?  get it together, amy! 

i can't help HATING myself for my resistance and high anxiety.  there are people IN MY COMMUNITY that are literally starving.  there are people IN MY COMMUNITY that are *bigger* than i am.  why do i TORTURE myself over all this?  just eat as frequently as i was told- and get in more breakfast!  fuck, i hate this.

my alter-ego that PUSHES me to release my secrets here in this blog is bubbling.  i have to attend *group* tonight....  blahhhhhhhhh.  my therapist informed me that we will have three new-comers....and that all three have conditions to FOLLOW THEIR MEAL PLANS.  she told me i will not be alone.... fuck.  fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!  they are probably young, little, skinny twits who probably still look amazingly thin at the gawd forsaken goal weight.  i want to cancel....................  but i have commited to two things: going to all my appts and to being as honest as i can be.  so????  i will be attending.  so watch out: that alter-ego is bubbling....i'm sure i won't be disappointed by having NOTHING to write about.  group stirs up shit, let me tell you.... 

i guess i'll see you tomorrow then, eh?

thank you for reading.  the frightening unpredictabilty of this fucking monster is quieted from knowing i am not alone.....
namaste, my sisterhood
amy

crackers and raisins

dichotomous frustration.  i hate what i love.  i don't want to take a bite.  i need to fucking eat.  i'm losing weight, but i feel HUGE!  i'm S-T-U-C-K.

this past session with my therapist left me fuming, as usual, but this fuming was all-encompassing.  fuming anger.  fuming frustration.  fuming at her.  fuming at me.  fuming at this fucking FIGHT i have going on constantly!

in a nutshell: my therapist told me i need to see my gp every couple of months for a checkup and bloodwork.  she went on to say that it would be unethical of her to treat me if i *fall below a certain level*.  she claimed that she needs me to see my gp, the dietition, and her so they can all communicate ABOUT ME.  she said she felt that i was NOT commited to recovery.....  and suggested that i saw my time in tmt as temporary and that i premeditated my discontinuing following recommendations.

holy hell.  i allowed this professional to talk me into attending a fascilitated , 12-week group costing $1,000.....and i allowed her to talk me into seeing a fucking dietition....and i allowed her to talk me into scheduling an ADDITIONAL FUCKING APPT during the week.  i have participated, done the fucking worksheets and activities.  i am looking at myself from completely different suggested perspectives.  i am HONESTLY journaling in the ways the dietition has asked.  and i am NOT COMMITED????????

cut to the chase:  i am angry and confused and just sickened about food.  i have completely stopped meal planning.  i was cheating on it... then i was faking the numbers....then i decided it was a waste of my time.  I KNOW WHAT MY THERAPIST IS SAYING.  she wants me to commit to a fucking meal plan.  and if this were any of YOU, i would stress that you meal plan also.  but i tell you, sometimes my nausea is over the top.  sometimes it morphes into poison with no antidote.  sometimes the fucking mess that food is to me is just not worth trying to get it in my mouth.  and when i TRY to get the fucking mess of a bite into my mouth, it's a fucking freak show.  if i'm lucky enough to get the god damned bite into my mouth, chewing can be problematic as can swallowing.  sometimes i have a fucking knot in my throat that the fucking food mess can not pass!  it's torture.  and it's hit or miss if i feel *better* once i eat-- or if i feel WORSE!

presently, i feel WORSE.  i had four crackers with peanut butter and 1/4 c of raisins.  i swear i might vomit!  my tummy is too full and sticking wayyyyy out!  THIS IS TORTURE! 

so WHY, i ask you, would i ask for help with the meal plan when it is clearly PAINFUL AND TORTUROUS for me to eat.  i truly HATE the overwhelmingly jealous feelings that i have toward people who ENJOY food.  IT'S NOT FAIR!

i don't want to eat.  I DON'T WANT TO.  it doesn't feeeeeeel right.  it hurts and haunts me.  but i know i NEED to fucking eat so i can ....oh i don't know.... LIVE!  this low, cryptic, worrisome way of life is not LIVING--- it's fucking shitty existence.

who would want to build a life with someone who refuses to eat food?  who would trust that person with taking care of children?  who would want to be in the presence of someone so fucking consumed and crazy?

I WENT TO FUCKING TMT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  THIS SHOULD NOT BE HAPPENING TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i know i need help.  i KNOW this.......  but i can't bring myself to ask for help so i can try to do this THING that i HATE!!!!!!!!  i hate the process of eating!  i hate the way it feels inside me!  i hate the weight gain that results!

so, yes... dichotomous frustration.  investing so fucking much of my god damned time into appts and trying to do ask i am asked is exhausting..... and i know that none of it does much for me when i won't eat. 

i just don't get it.  i really don't.  just eat, amy.  really?????  come in out of the cold!  there's the door!  don't tell me you don't know HOW!!!!!  omg, i am pathetic.  it's a basic fucking need and i hear myself down deep in a hidden, secret place claiming that i will never eat again.  i know this isn't true.....but it is frightening hearing myself make such a bold claim.

i don't know that i can do this recovery-thing without a lobotomy.  tears.  please, just re-program me.  please replace my repulsions with enjoyment.  please dump my brain of the incessant worry.  please help me- but don't make me eat.....

i hate myself so much right now....................

as always, thank you for reading.  i am lost..... stuck..... just sick.
namaste, my sisterhood
amy

the dietition experience

i would like to begin by thanking all those who have been reading.  loneliness is a curious monster.  thank you for helping me to tame it just a bit.

i haven't mentioned much about my experience with my dietition.  that purposeful omission is due to the infuriation that flares during and after each appt....along with the swirling confusion and pain that accompanies the flaming infuriation.  i don't know about you, but i thought the dietition would monitor cal amts and try to *balance* my diet.  and while monitoring and balancing are on the itinerary each visit, many OTHER aspects are also included, much to my surprise [and DISLIKE]. 

i've always been VERY cynical about keeping a food journal.  i've been asked a couple of times in my life to try it.....and i did: TRY IT....  but i lied.  i couldn't make myself write down what i really ate, or i couldn't write down how few cals i was eating.  so i'd omit or stretch the truth.  during this time of journaling, i was usually asked to write about how i felt.  *how i felt*: pretty vague and all-encompassing.  so i would write about hating food or hating feeling full or wishing i didn't like potato chips.  i might go on to bitch about how it affected my day- putting me in an all-day bad mood.  never really deep or specific.

what i am participating in now????? is SPECIFIC!  and b/c i didn't want to see a dietition in the first place....and b/c i did in fact feel pressured to do so....and b/c i hate to waste my money and time- i told myself that the least i can do is to be honest- FOR ONCE!  even if i refuse EVERYTHING ELSE about the experience....i have begged myself to at least be HONEST.  sooooooooo, i have been writing down everything that goes into my mouth and trying to be as accurate as i can be with the cal cnts.  but??? in addition to that, i am to journal specifically about each bite.  she adds a new facet on each week. but it began like this:  i was to write down how it *tasted*.  that's it.  the next week, i was to add onto that how texture plays a role in what i will eat or *not like* to eat.  then, she asked me to see if i can recognize the times when i want something to eat, but won't let myself have it, and will choose something *less* for myself.  and this week, i am to try to find patterns and to really notice the times when i have no use for chewing, to really zero in on how food TASTES to me and how i feel after i'm finished eating.....blah.

during these appts, she asks a lot of questions about my relationship with food.  she asked why i don't like to chew?  why i don't allow myself to taste things that i know i like?  why do i like to be *empty*?  what does it doooooo for me?  why is dairy so offensive to me?  why i won't bite into anything?  why i wipe my mouth so much?  what happens if i DO bite or DON'T wipe my mouth?  why do i have a certain placement in my mouth for food?  why do i like teeny bites? 

when she asked about *behaviors* [hate that fucking subject], i was honest about the things that i do.  some of the behaviors she asked me b/f i could even offer them up: do you little smaller bites?  when i reluctantly offered up other behaviors, she immediately said that it sounds like i'm trying REALLY hard not to taste my food.  [mouth gaping open]  i would have NEVER come to that conclusion.  TASTE has never entered my mind in terms of how i go about forcing the fucking bite into my mouth.

but i have wondered WHY i do some of the strange things that i do..... and why it hurts me so terribly if i DON'T DO my strange things..........  trying not to taste my food- really???  it makes sense, sadly..........

so when she asks these specific questions about food, i swear a bigness swells in me and gets the best of me b/f i know what's happening.  it's a *panic* of sorts.  it's like having to explain the details of a hurtful sexual encounter.  no one wants to talk specifically about sex, the details, or how it may have hurt them.  talking about taste and texture and behaviors and feelings all directly related to food FEELS JUST AS PERSONAL AS TRYING TO TALK ABOUT SEX.  it's humilating, so painfully personal, and just not what i want to share with others.  i'm shocked by how much this hurts me, shocked by how much i am learning about myself, shocked by how much of it devastates me..........

i avoid journalling.  i will end up trying to do 3-4 days at a time.  trying to look at it all from such a different perspective confuses me and hurts me.  and the result is that i always learn something about myself-  i might not know what to DO with what i've learned- but i am forever continuing to learn.........  the learning aspect intrigues me.  so when i DO venture into the land of food-journalling, it's difficult to come up for air.  i get sucked down INTO the process.  my curiosity pushes me further and further....and when it IS time to come up for air, it's difficult for me to transition back into reality. 

who knew that food had such an emotional, super-fucking personal HOLD on me?  who knew that it was MORE than wanting to feel empty????  and it is....it is so much more....so much more complicated.  and it just hurts me to know that i'm DOING these kinds of things TO MYSELF.  and that i didn't even realize it.

cts: in group, we set weekly goals and SHARE them with the group.  blahhhh.  mine have been flimsy and easy to accomplish.  my goal for this week was to try to STOP comparing myself to others and to give myself what I REALLY NEED, to try to STOP my freakish solidarity with those who have less- thereby only allowing myself to have less.  my concrete way of getting to this goal was to..... [you might want to sit down for this one] to get in more calories.  I SWEAR THAT'S NOT WHAT I WAS GOING TO SAY IN GROUP!  i was going to say that i wanted to give myself something each day....something that i wanted but normally don't allow myself to have.....like maybe suggesting we go out to eat so i don't have to cook and clean up- or having an extra cup of coffee B/C IT TASTES GOOD.  you know, little shit like that.  but this word-vomit spewed from my mouth and i said...*get in more calories.*  WHAT A FUCKING JOKE!  i knew the second it blurted from my throat that i wouldn't do it [but i suppose something in me WANTS me to really do it, eh?]. 

so i have stumbled through this week, having no intention of upping my cals.  so where does that leave me in terms of a goal? well, i could say fuck it.  but i don't really want to BE THAT PERSON in group.  sooooooo, my mind has been wrestling lately with the possibility of adding another thing to my no-option list.......  and as this idea flashed brighter and brighter, i was able to see that if i add this *thing*, then i am considering what I REALLY NEED, and am not comparing myself to others, and i am shedding my freakish solidarity. 

today, i reluctantly BUT OFFICIALLY add the SIXTH thing to my no-option list!  i have not engaged in this particular behavior in a very long time---- so it is easy to add.  but i don't WANT to add it....b/c i like it in my back pocket- just in case.  but????  i added it- so it is truly now off the table.  i am nervous but somehow excited to see where this takes me.  plus???  it is a concrete action that allows me to work TOWARD that weekly goal that i chose.

i am grateful for you attention.  thanks for hanging in there with me.  sometimes i just have this swelling bigness of **FEELING**, and i don't know what it is or what to DO with it.  confusion is lonely.  thanks for reading.....
namaste, my sisterhood---
amy xoxoxoxoxo

loneliness, aftercare, and a ladder

namaste, my sisterhood----
the gaping hole of absence from my last blog until now is a direct result of loneliness.  i have been lying to myself, telling myself that i like my solitude.  and while that is a half-lie, my *solitude* regarding less-than-enough interaction with like-minded sisters is the most bothersome. 

u-p-d-a-t-e:
i have attended three dietition appts [she prefers to be called a dietition].  although i was pretty high and giddy during the first appt- the interview/ assessment [yep, you read it right.  got to talk ALL ABOUT how much i love veganism and why], the high quickly progressed into a nose-dive crash when the dietition told me i was a challenge.  and then she said [and i fucking quote]:  *i won't lie, you scare me.*  once the reality of dinner with CHEESE hit me, the words began to seep like poison into my bloodstream.  eating cheese and being a continual *challenge and scaring people* lowered my motivation to a new despondent level....

and then- oh yay for me- i had to attend *group* right after dinner that day also.  and then, as if the day couldn't progress anymore, therapeutically speaking, my therapist wanted to meet after group to *process* how it all went for me that day.  yep, nothing says *you might be crazy* like three fucking appts in one day.  so, post-group i was kept after class with NO OP FOR A CIG [which i made pretty clear: that's not cool!], i started to cry like a blabbering toddler.... whining over not wanting people to see me as such a scary challenge.  her response???  *i thought you'd be used to that by now.*  such a soul-crushing, unexpected response that left my ears bleeding.  she asked me what i WANT to hear.  i told her that i want someone to say that they've seen the likes of me before and that they've *got my number*.  she agreed that this particular response would be more settling.

group was decent.  it is what it is.  i will do my best to extract what i need from it all.....  opening up is difficult- that whole *starting over and telling my fucking story AGAIN* bullshit, you know?  and?  the entire time i've been participating in this group [three times thus far], i am thrilled to say that i have gotten away with not saying one single word about MY illness and how it affects me.  everyone else has offered up all kinds of shit- whether it's the a-word, the b-word, etc...  and b/c i don't offer up that information unless specifically ASKED to, i have remained stoicly within my voyerism- revealing nothing while still having the priviledge to get a peek at others' painful secrets.  so unfair of me, i know.

remember me saying that nothing says *you're crazy* like three appts in one day?  well, it's been topped.  my therapist has ADDED an additional time for me to see her each week.  two times a week for therapy- once a week with the dietition- and weekly group.  sighhhhhh.
**************
i can only speak for myself when it pertains to this whole business of recovery.  but i am interested in how others are responding to their *aftercare*....  i truly believed that being IN tmt would be the most painful aspect of this entire process.  i believed that if i could actually meet the criteria for graduation from the program that i would be able to easily transition what i'd learned into my daily life.  i thought that i'd learned what i needed to know about myself- i thought i would BUILD upon what i'd learned.  not believing COMPLETELY UNREALISTICALLY, i suspected it would be an uphill climb....but that it would continue in its FORWARD MOBILITY. 

i'm shocked that i am continually learning more and more about myself- things that i didn't even know existed!  i'm shocked by how painful it continues to be.  i'm shocked- that instead of digging deep for the skills that i have learned, i feel myself behaving so impulsively.

for me, pre-tmt, the more i talked and learned about myself, the more crazy the illness became for me.  perhaps i was misguided or just had too high of expectations for myself post-tmt, but i just thought those days were over.  when this orbiting mess cements my true need for action, i find myself shutting down.  my crazy logic: talking and learning makes it all worse for me...so just stop talking and working on it all.  but doing nothing is truly worse than pushing to move forward despite the nose-dives in which i find myself experiencing.  BUT THE NOSE-DIVES HURT!  and doing nothing hurts less.  my ability to make sense of this diguises itself as avoidance.

is anyone else experiencing this sort of messy orbiting?  why is it that some people learn about themselves, develop skills, and put it all to good use to GET ON WITH THEIR LIVES?????....  and i seem to learn about myself and crumble.  dig deep, amy, for the skills.  stop allowing symptoms and behaviors-of-old intoxicate you...........  climb the fucking ladder!  it's RIGHT THERE!  stop running circles AROUND it and start CLIMBING it!

dizzy from the frustration and endless circling of that existential ladder, i am making a grand effort today to dig deep.  thank you for reading.  loneliness and the feeling of hopelessness are truly isolating.  knowing i have sisters that are simply reading this comforts me.  many thanks.
namaste
amy xoxoxo