Jigsaw puzzled thoughts.

The days seem to be melting from one into another. The summer heat swelling my thoughts making most things indistinguishable, quickly morphing from one thought into another. Four weeks of “should I go? Can I leave my dog? Do I even need this?” And so on, and on, and on. Memories played on an audio track stuck on repeat- playing the same old destructive and self deprecating thoughts like something recorded on old vinyl. Skipping and scratching at times…a true testament to the age that these thoughts have carried on.

I’m so adamant at the thought of going back to residential for an “eating disorder” especially when I struggle to see what everyone else does. Yet I continue to reach out, call insurance, confide in my treatment team, and manage to continue breathing. But it’s been disintegrating- my will power. The determination that was like the little engine that could…it’s quickly coming to a halt.

A process I imagined would take a week has now entered a month. Suffice to say, I have proper tan marks on my feet from daily usage of flip-flops on all my walks with my Howard and trips to the dog park. Sun kissed shoulders touched with a dusting of highlighted freckles. It’s been too hot not to wear tank tops…despite the amount of skin I put out there to bare.

Today, today I started to feel like my brain was swish swashing a head full of vinegar and somehow baking soda has entered this concoction- causing that child like experiment you once tested in your backyard, overflowing thoughts of despair, determination, anguish, anger, defeat, hopelessness, and everything visually appearing to my blue blood shot eyeballs.

Truth is, I’m fearful that no matter what I do, I’m not going to get better…or just “better enough”, be happy and merry like so many expect to see me after time spent in treatment. I’m not by any means trying to sabotage myself, I just don’t want to do something and put the efforts in with my tired heart and restless soul to only find out that this is as good as it gets.

I was laying on my bed earlier. Wishing someone that was unattainable was available, hoping that a friend would call or want to just “be” with me. I took my dog outside, in the July heat- stiff air at the end of a late summer day. You can feel the warmth as you breathe it into your chest. It’s heavy. My dog pees and then he’s over it- he’s completely satisfied in sitting in the shade under the bench that I occupy. Listening to music that brings back a flood of memories from what feels like three lifetimes.

I’ve contemplated taking my beloved dog, Howard, to someone else’s house. Where he’s safe. So that I can continue to contemplate the darkness I’m all too familiar with without those big brown eyes looking up at me, saying, “you can’t leave me.” Little does he know, he would go on to live a comfortable life, with an abundant amount of attention and affection…he would not go without. Maybe not as many trips to the dog park, or leisurely walks that he decides whether we go on or not…

This jumble is just another run on sentence from my jumbled brain (one in which I’m adamantly over.) So many sorries. Too much love to ignore. But, too many towers of twirling despair on desolate grounds. I don’t know who I am anymore. Even more, I’m not sure which step I’ll take next, and what direction it’ll be in. But as always, Godspeed.

Easier said than done…

I started this self proclaimed journey a few months ago- determined to gain the weight I needed to without going to residential treatment (again).

Not so easy. Turns out, gaining weight is pretty hard. I feel like I’m constantly eating, and making trips to the grocery store. Hell, I’m even paying to see a dietitian out of pocket…and I hate spending money.

Determined doesn’t do justice. But feeling defeated is starting to weigh down on me. I can’t help but feel overwhelmed with this mixed state I’ve found myself in, not sleeping, lacking hunger cues…and yes, I’m going to go there- Trump.

I find the current state of our country absolutely sickening. Just when you think it can’t get any worse, children are being torn out of the hands of their parents and put into cages. There’s SO much evil that this administration and its followers are doing. I don’t know how to deal. Hopeless has brought on a whole new meaning…

Pick up your spoon…

Thomas A. Edison once said, “Our greatest weakness lies in giving up. The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time.” I couldn’t think of a better thing to think of at this moment. My greatest weakness is giving up- when things get tough, when I’m not producing the art I want, when I feel like I’ve given it my all, and especially keeping food a routine and healthy thing in my life. With weight you can give up endlessly…every pound that drops off that number on the scale shows that giving up on all those cravings or hunger pains is an actual victory. Or so that’s what believe. Right now I’m trying to become a unbeliever in this mentality, because if I don’t, I’ll lose until there’s nothing left to give.

I spent last summer in treatment at Monte Nido’s Rain Rock residential program. A place where people that have dysfunctional relationships with food come to gather, to gain perspective on ones soul self as well as the things that drive our eating disorders. 

20121206-085509.jpgThere’s a lot of groups, therapy sessions, tears, and FOOD. It feels like you’re constantly eating food all day. There’s people there to support you, both peers and staff…to encourage one to face a difficult meal time or deal with a part of our past that we’ve dug down deep inside our deprived beings. Deep, deep down.

Just a week ago today I was awaiting a call from Monte Nido to evaluate treatment again at Rain Rock. I was lying down and had this inner dialogue about whether or not it was ok for me to eat a small cup of yogurt. I wanted to cry. I felt like I was in chains, locked to this desire to deprive myself of a very essential thing to live. Food. I started to tear up through a familiar frustration. I couldn’t do it, I was giving up. But it was through the evaluation process and the reality that I very well may go back that I started to realize how badly I didn’t want to go back, and not because of the staff (who are amazing) or the program (which is solid)…it was because I wanted to live. I had a motivation like no other. There are things coming up that I don’t want to miss. And I’m just too tired of feeling like I am walking around in this shell of a human being- no longer creating art, playing music, or doing the active things I love to do. I want to feel alive again. And that my friend was the fire that lit that motivation.

Today I spoke with a dietitian there (whom I was familiar with from working together when I went to Rain Rock) and I wanted her to tell me what to do. I had called and left a message day prior, knowing already what she was going to say. That my weight is too low for my height and my brain is not operating at it’s ultimate level, and that in the end, I have to make the choice of what it is that I want to do. Would it be easier to gain the weight that I need to when there is a chef that prepares all your meals and does the grocery shopping for them? That the snacks are all provided and you’re monitored while correctly portioning them out- that there is accountability around every corner you approach. It’d probably be easier on some levels, without a doubt.

But today I spoke with my therapist of five years who is facing retirement in just a week (…more change in my life.) Anyway, when we first started talking about it he jumped on my going- that I’ve been stuck when I hit the number I’m at right now and then just start the downward spiral of restriction. Although I sat there, and cried…fiercely determined to fight this battle outside treatment. He heard my dedication and desire to live a better life, he knew I wanted better for myself than where I’m at right now. And I wished that he was going to be around to watch me conquer this…but he wont and that hurts. But I have a new therapist I’m working with and that’s a whole new road ahead of me. No one will ever replace the prestigious and intelligent man I’ve been confiding in for the last five years, but the work must continue on.

So I left my appointment, replied to one of my friends via text that I lean on for support, and got me and my dog in the car. First destination: the grocery store. Not a place I enjoy always going to, nor a place I like to spend my money, but I went and I bought things that have not been in my fridge for a long time. I bought bread, okay!? Then I ate, cleaned, and told myself, “You can do this.”

So away I go…to try just one more time.

 

nothing's ever as it seems…

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