Desperation is pushing me in the oddest directions, but a woman's got to survive, no?
xo
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Now That's Desperate: Paypal
I've added a paypal button to gweni's ghost. I guess I'm getting all Goodwill like; I'm taking donations. Apparently, it's pretty easy to donate. You don't need to create a paypal account.
Desperation is pushing me in the oddest directions, but a woman's got to survive, no?
xo
Desperation is pushing me in the oddest directions, but a woman's got to survive, no?
xo
90 - 95 lbs - It's OK!
My mantra of the day is: 90 to 95 pounds is ok. (Repeat. Obviously.) Oh! And: I don't want to end up in the hospital where they'll make me gain 15 pounds. (Repeat. Yeah, right.)
Look. It's the game I play with myself. This is how I cope. Over and over I'll do this. I get to 95 pounds - panic. I get to 90 pounds - panic.
In other words, nothing new happening around here.
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
Saturday, September 25, 2010
a break from this mental/eating disorder please
This is one of those days that I don't particularly like being friggin mental, not that I ever enjoy it, but I do have to accept myself on some level.
It's an absolutely gorgeous Fall day. What I want more than anything is to be outside hiking to a climbing spot or kayaking. I'd even settle for a nice long bike ride. However, none of these things are going to be done by me today. Weakened in body and mind, I feel little ability to move from where I sit.
For whatever reason, my anxiety is peaking. Within the threshold of a panic attack, I usually can't do much more than breathe, read light material, do sudoku, stretch or maybe, maybe exercise. There's no way I can leave the house like this.
I haven't been eating well. Obviously. My weight...sigh...my weight. If I keep this bull shit up, I'll be in the 80s probably next week sometime. I do and don't welcome the thought. I don't really want to make myself weak or sick, but I can't stop. All of the fears and anxieties I have related to the world at large are transferred into something else when I'm engaged in this behavior, but it comes at a huge price. This is my freaking life, man.
What am I doing?
It's not like I'm a teenager anymore. My body has been put through the ringer over the years and I wonder how much more abuse it'll take. People die from this like junkies die from overdoses. I'm not ok. My life is not ok.
Always, I've landed on my feet when met with life's more difficult challenges, but this; this last trauma I've endured has me out floating, freaking out and afraid like a cat in a tree. I wish I knew what to do. I wish I knew how to save my goddamn life. At the same time, I wish I could leave it behind.
I'm so fucked.
It's an absolutely gorgeous Fall day. What I want more than anything is to be outside hiking to a climbing spot or kayaking. I'd even settle for a nice long bike ride. However, none of these things are going to be done by me today. Weakened in body and mind, I feel little ability to move from where I sit.
For whatever reason, my anxiety is peaking. Within the threshold of a panic attack, I usually can't do much more than breathe, read light material, do sudoku, stretch or maybe, maybe exercise. There's no way I can leave the house like this.
I haven't been eating well. Obviously. My weight...sigh...my weight. If I keep this bull shit up, I'll be in the 80s probably next week sometime. I do and don't welcome the thought. I don't really want to make myself weak or sick, but I can't stop. All of the fears and anxieties I have related to the world at large are transferred into something else when I'm engaged in this behavior, but it comes at a huge price. This is my freaking life, man.
What am I doing?
It's not like I'm a teenager anymore. My body has been put through the ringer over the years and I wonder how much more abuse it'll take. People die from this like junkies die from overdoses. I'm not ok. My life is not ok.
Always, I've landed on my feet when met with life's more difficult challenges, but this; this last trauma I've endured has me out floating, freaking out and afraid like a cat in a tree. I wish I knew what to do. I wish I knew how to save my goddamn life. At the same time, I wish I could leave it behind.
I'm so fucked.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
No Sisley?
So I put the pants on and they're too loose. I can't belt them or roll them at the waist. They're not that kind of pant. In a daze, I hung them back up and chose pants with belt loops; however, I'm not pleased with the way these are fitting either.
I don't feel like I'm small. I just feel mental. Freaking fucking mental.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
keeping it small
I'm going to try to be helpful. 8) I know I bitch about my weight, but I have to be honest; I've always been small. I've always been an athlete and have eaten a healthy diet during the majority of my life. (healthy is such a relative term)
But I really think there are things I do that keep me small - starving and puking aside. So here's a little list of neurotic crap I do with my food/cooking.
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- I go for raw foods first, especially fruit.
- I don't use margarine or cook with vegetable oil.
- I use butter and cook with ghee or nothing at all, usually nothing at all.
- I use the crap out of spices and very low calorie condiments.
- I drink broth or hot tea when my stomach growls.
- I'm a diet pepsi addict.
- Coffee. Coffee. Coffee. (this is especially great for my anxiety)
- I use low fat creamer and cinnamon in coffee. YUM.
- I have a salad almost daily with vinegar and spices.
- I regularly have air popped popcorn with garlic salt, Bragg's liquid amino acids and hot sauce.
- I use bowls only for salads and popcorn.
- I use mugs for things like cereal and soup to keep portions realistic.
- I use small plates...when I use a plate.
- I do some kind of physical activity everyday (like walking to do my errands) and work out most days.
- I don't drag meals out. I get it over with, no reason to linger in the kitchen or dining room.
- I take vitamins. (I'm loath to admit that this has never really stopped my hair from falling out when my intake gets too low.)
- I measure my bod pretty much every day. (Insane. I know.)
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Friday, September 17, 2010
weighting weighting weighting
Thank freaking god. I'm away from the 95 pound sinkhole of doom. I was surprised to see that I'm 92lbs. Funny that I feel bigger than I have for a long time.
I just have to be smaller is all. Smaller. Emptier. Blank. Vacant. Going. Going. Gone.
Aren't I a pillar of maturity and stability...
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
fishing for institutionalization
I want to be hopeful. I mean that in the most sincere way. Sometimes I wish I were one of those people; people to whom the future seems inviting, exciting, promising. I'm just not. Lately, however, I find myself faking it for my children. Not so much that I'm cheery or anything, but I'm finding things for them to get excited about in their futures, i.e. science and technology-wise.
But that's not really what I want to write about. That's just me trying to validate myself as a decent parent even though I'm completely fucked in the head.
I canceled my appointments with my therapist and psychiatrist this week (not that I see the shrink weekly or anything). I had no choice really, but I wonder if underlying the drama that prevented me from going, I'm actually afraid of the results of my blood work. What if I look thin or unhealthy? I'm terrified that it's going to be recommended that I go inpatient or commit to a day program.
I'm just not doing well. That's all. Now that I'm taking benzos on a regular basis, as in overseen by a doctor, my OCD tendencies are a wee bit faded. I have nothing to put in place of my obsessions. I DON'T NEED ANY VACANCIES! I don't have room for vacant spaces within my psyche. It is there that the terror lies. Don't professionals get that about crazy people? I need my crazy, my insanity. It's all I know.
I don't know genuine happiness or contentedness. I don't know comfort or safety. I don't know how to simply be without feeling an undertow of panic and dread. I don't think I want to try being that way anyway. I could never trust those feelings. Never. Never. Never.
In a way, it makes retirement in an institution with endless thorazine seem rather inviting.
But that's not really what I want to write about. That's just me trying to validate myself as a decent parent even though I'm completely fucked in the head.
I canceled my appointments with my therapist and psychiatrist this week (not that I see the shrink weekly or anything). I had no choice really, but I wonder if underlying the drama that prevented me from going, I'm actually afraid of the results of my blood work. What if I look thin or unhealthy? I'm terrified that it's going to be recommended that I go inpatient or commit to a day program.
I'm just not doing well. That's all. Now that I'm taking benzos on a regular basis, as in overseen by a doctor, my OCD tendencies are a wee bit faded. I have nothing to put in place of my obsessions. I DON'T NEED ANY VACANCIES! I don't have room for vacant spaces within my psyche. It is there that the terror lies. Don't professionals get that about crazy people? I need my crazy, my insanity. It's all I know.
I don't know genuine happiness or contentedness. I don't know comfort or safety. I don't know how to simply be without feeling an undertow of panic and dread. I don't think I want to try being that way anyway. I could never trust those feelings. Never. Never. Never.
In a way, it makes retirement in an institution with endless thorazine seem rather inviting.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
where are the pro-ana peeps?
I haven't been blogging lately and I miss chat room/forum friends. There just isn't the time for it. I tend to spaz out a little at the beginning of a new school year. I want everything to be "just right" for the kids. It's been hard this year though because of my anxiety, acting out bulimic behaviors, and running out of savings.
I can not recall a time I had this much of this kind of stress before. Of course it would help immensely if ex would pay child support, but who the fuck am I kidding. The support I honestly need has got to come from the larger pro-ana community. I just don't have a place to fit in there anymore it seems. I'm getting too isolated in my sickness.
I just awful in my ED behaviors right now. It's as though I don't care about whether or not I live. And the anger I have is so palpable everyday. I can't take it.
Of course my weight is stable at fucking 95. I hate 95lbs. To me it represents my failures in every way (can't even control my weight).
I've been fasting by day and having a binge at night. Fucking stupid.
I absolutely hate who I am, the wuss I have become.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Eyesore - Maria Mena
I thought some of you would appreciate this one by Maria Mena. She's got such a nice voice and she's so young. I look forward to seeing what she does with her talent as she digs up more of her heart songs.
Eating disorders lecture given by, Howard Steiger, PhD
This is a recent talk given by Howard Steiger, PhD, the director of the Eating Disorders Program at the Douglas Institute.
That's new? Might I suggest scrapping all you think you know about eating disorders and beginning again. Most researchers blather on about this and that, but all I seem to hear is: "Sorry, but we've yet to learn anything conclusive about these mental illnesses. Thank you for your continued financial support."
That's new? Might I suggest scrapping all you think you know about eating disorders and beginning again. Most researchers blather on about this and that, but all I seem to hear is: "Sorry, but we've yet to learn anything conclusive about these mental illnesses. Thank you for your continued financial support."
Saturday, August 28, 2010
meds- trial & error
Image via WikipediaIt's been so long since I've been on medication for anything that I've forgotten the trial and error period. The past two days have been the error part of the deal. I was prescribed a small dose of lorazepam. Turns out that I'm a alprazolam gal. The Ativan has a sedative effect that the xanax just doesn't have for me.I spent all of Friday super anxious because I felt wasted and had to blow off so many responsibilities. I don't want to be wasted. I just want to lose the anxiety. So mister nice Doctor M will give the xanax, mild is all I need. Just a little to stop this crazy cycle of anxiety.
This is a work in progress. Weight is holding at 95. It could be worse. I'll be low again in a couple weeks, then I'm staying there. I must move on with things. Alprazolam, here I come.
Image via Wikipedia
Thursday, August 26, 2010
fuck off already
Image by sammzoo via FlickrI have nothing good to say about anyone. I feel like I live in a world inhabited by fucking retards, people who constantly be told to do something because they've not got the wits to think for themselves. I'm sick of dealing with idiots, and THEY'RE FUCKING EVERYWHERE!
I will never be alright in this life. I hate it. I hate people and their clumsiness, their wayward moral compasses, their lack of self respect. No wonder they get shit upon.
I really haven't a clue what I'm trying to express here other than frustration. It's the same shit over and over and over. People are a disappointment. People fail and fuck up all the time.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Not Bulimia. No Fucking Way.
I'm not going to go into that head space any further than I've already gone. Bulimia is so evil, so, so evil. I don't even get it. I figure it's related to anxiety and relieving said anxiety, but there are other ways.
I guess this is how I respond to extraordinary levels of stress and hardship. I've been barfing at least three times a week. And not just barfing. I've been eating things I normally wouldn't then barfing.
It hurts. It irritates my throat, leaves marks on my hand and it takes so long. Yet no matter how much time I spend getting everything out of me, I know there's always something left. Over time, I'll gain and gain.
Fuck no. I went down this road in my twenties. A road that left me feeling so desperate that I thought death was the only way out. I nearly succeeded. It's a wonder that I survived the overdose because I really shouldn't have. I have no recollection of the police, the ambulance or any medical procedures. I'm not sure how they found me in my apartment. Maybe a neighbor called? I'll never know.
I never want to feel that hopeless again in all my life. With determination, I'm squashing this shit now. I'm cleaning out my bod. I see the head shrinker for anxiety Wednesday. I'll have to see what he/she comes up with for treatment.
I'm so tired. Bulimic behaviors really zap your life force. Evil. Just like I said.
I guess this is how I respond to extraordinary levels of stress and hardship. I've been barfing at least three times a week. And not just barfing. I've been eating things I normally wouldn't then barfing.It hurts. It irritates my throat, leaves marks on my hand and it takes so long. Yet no matter how much time I spend getting everything out of me, I know there's always something left. Over time, I'll gain and gain.
Fuck no. I went down this road in my twenties. A road that left me feeling so desperate that I thought death was the only way out. I nearly succeeded. It's a wonder that I survived the overdose because I really shouldn't have. I have no recollection of the police, the ambulance or any medical procedures. I'm not sure how they found me in my apartment. Maybe a neighbor called? I'll never know.
I never want to feel that hopeless again in all my life. With determination, I'm squashing this shit now. I'm cleaning out my bod. I see the head shrinker for anxiety Wednesday. I'll have to see what he/she comes up with for treatment.
I'm so tired. Bulimic behaviors really zap your life force. Evil. Just like I said.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Where Is My Motivation?
You know, feeling like you're going to die is a big motivation killer for me. Now I feel like I'm fucked. I must be 95 pounds now and I'm terrified to weigh myself. I'm going by what I can pinch.
I'm so screwed. Something about getting in that realm of 90 pounds and under really messes with me. But is it in my head or does my body really start freaking out? Man, I wish I wasn't such a psycho.
Eating, as well as getting some of my needs met, causes me to feel so enormous, so huge, so out of control. Of course this anxiety just builds and builds upon itself. There is no escape. If I eat "normally" I feel disgusting and obese. If I get too thin, I feel ill and weak.
I really wish I wasn't caught in this eating disorder whirlpool. Or if I have to be here, I wish I'd just choose exactly how I want to be so I could do it and be done with it. I already know I can't be a strong athlete and be anorexic. So why do I keep trying to pull it off?
The problem is this: I am thin and I'm in incredible shape (for my age). ;) Actually for any age, but still... I already "have it," that thing that is suppose to make everything alright. So what happens when I stop playing this game with myself? What then?
I'll tell you what then. I sabotage myself.
I'm so screwed. Something about getting in that realm of 90 pounds and under really messes with me. But is it in my head or does my body really start freaking out? Man, I wish I wasn't such a psycho.
Eating, as well as getting some of my needs met, causes me to feel so enormous, so huge, so out of control. Of course this anxiety just builds and builds upon itself. There is no escape. If I eat "normally" I feel disgusting and obese. If I get too thin, I feel ill and weak.
I really wish I wasn't caught in this eating disorder whirlpool. Or if I have to be here, I wish I'd just choose exactly how I want to be so I could do it and be done with it. I already know I can't be a strong athlete and be anorexic. So why do I keep trying to pull it off?
The problem is this: I am thin and I'm in incredible shape (for my age). ;) Actually for any age, but still... I already "have it," that thing that is suppose to make everything alright. So what happens when I stop playing this game with myself? What then?
I'll tell you what then. I sabotage myself.
- I get my weight to 95. (check)
- I freak out about it. (check)
- I decide that I might as well enjoy a little more misbehavior and eat carelessly. (up to 1500-1800 calories a day) (check)
- I get sick of it. (check)
- I restrict to 800 calories again. (?)
Saturday, August 14, 2010
My Migraine, My Oopsie/Sorry
Here's one for the people who research migraine headaches. The day my headache was beginning is the day I lost it on my children. My anger was out of control, my patience absent, and a clear head was way outside of my grasp.
What I'm beginning to realize is that this happens nearly every time I get a migraine. It's preceded by anger, by a feeling of being out of control. I used to think it was linked to my menstrual cycle, but I'm realizing that I was wrong.
This time the headache lasted for about three days. Day one was spent flipping out. Day two I found myself unable to open my eyes for very long, nauseated, hungry beyond reason, and full of regret. I spent that day mostly in bed. Day three I was able to be a bit more active. The migraine lingered but was moving to the background. By day four, it had gone.
I'm too tired to pursue my ideas any further today.I hope to find a few answers soon though.
What I'm beginning to realize is that this happens nearly every time I get a migraine. It's preceded by anger, by a feeling of being out of control. I used to think it was linked to my menstrual cycle, but I'm realizing that I was wrong.This time the headache lasted for about three days. Day one was spent flipping out. Day two I found myself unable to open my eyes for very long, nauseated, hungry beyond reason, and full of regret. I spent that day mostly in bed. Day three I was able to be a bit more active. The migraine lingered but was moving to the background. By day four, it had gone.
I'm too tired to pursue my ideas any further today.I hope to find a few answers soon though.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
going rogue
Holy shit. I am off the charts with my anger. My world feels like it's crumbling. I hate to sound dramatic. Seriously, I do. This prison I'm in is falling apart though.
I thought I had a grip on my little family unit, but I'm so wrong. I called my daughter satan today; told both children they were like devils screwing up my world on a daily basis. When my daughter asked me why I had children, I replied that I had made a mistake.
Here's the sad part. I mean every bit of it. I'm so fucking sick of their nasty ass messes, their inability to follow through with responsibilities, their manipulation, their arguments, their physical fights, their neediness, their laziness. And I refuse to lower myself to "nag" status. I don't nag. Either they do what they need to do or they don't. The expectations are clear and reasonable, as are the consequences, but I lost it today.
What the fuck nightmare did I choose for myself? I told them to make a choice today. Either go rogue or be part of the family. I need to know where I stand; friend or foe. If they're going to keep working against me I need to know it. They need to know it. They chose family. In a way, there was no choice. They have to survive this. I feel so bad for them; so, so bad.
I thought I had a grip on my little family unit, but I'm so wrong. I called my daughter satan today; told both children they were like devils screwing up my world on a daily basis. When my daughter asked me why I had children, I replied that I had made a mistake.
Here's the sad part. I mean every bit of it. I'm so fucking sick of their nasty ass messes, their inability to follow through with responsibilities, their manipulation, their arguments, their physical fights, their neediness, their laziness. And I refuse to lower myself to "nag" status. I don't nag. Either they do what they need to do or they don't. The expectations are clear and reasonable, as are the consequences, but I lost it today.
What the fuck nightmare did I choose for myself? I told them to make a choice today. Either go rogue or be part of the family. I need to know where I stand; friend or foe. If they're going to keep working against me I need to know it. They need to know it. They chose family. In a way, there was no choice. They have to survive this. I feel so bad for them; so, so bad.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Safety & Maslow's hierarchy of needs
It's 2:15 a.m. and I'm taking speed. This tells me a couple things about myself. One, I'm completely out of control at this point. Two, I'm terrified. I literally live in fear almost every moment of my life.
So many times I've tried to imagine or remember times in my life when I've felt safe. With great shame I have to admit to an absence of such feelings. The times that I have felt safe have been so fleeting, so brief.
Did you know that having a sense of safety is at the base level Maslow's hierarchy of needs? Although his work is debated and criticized, one can not deny that he made accurate observations.
"Some neurotic adults in our society are, in many ways, like the unsafe child in their desire for safety, although in the former it takes on a somewhat special appearance. Their reaction is often to unknown, psychological dangers in a world that is perceived to be hostile, overwhelming and threatening. Such a person behaves as if a great catastrophe were almost always impending, i.e., he is usually responding as if to an emergency...
The neurotic individual may be described in a slightly different way with some usefulness as a grown-up person who retains his childish attitudes toward the world. That is to say, a neurotic adult may be said to behave 'as if' he were actually afraid of a spanking, or of his mother's disapproval, or of being abandoned by his parents, or having his food taken away from him. It is as if his childish attitudes of fear and threat reaction to a dangerous world had gone underground, and untouched by the growing up and learning processes, were now ready to be called out by any stimulus that would make a child feel endangered and threatened.[3]
The neurosis in which the search for safety takes its dearest form is in the compulsive-obsessive neurosis. Compulsive-obsessives try frantically to order and stabilize the world so that no unmanageable, unexpected or unfamiliar dangers will ever appear (14); They hedge themselves about with all sorts of ceremonials, rules and formulas so that every possible contingency may be provided for and so that no new contingencies may appear...They try to arrange the world so that anything unexpected (dangers) cannot possibly occur. If, through no fault of their own, something unexpected does occur, they go into a panic reaction as if this unexpected occurrence constituted a grave danger."
I'm bringing this up because I have to wonder exactly what the fuck I'm suppose to achieve when I can't find a sense of safety not only in the world that surrounds me, but also within myself. I don't feel safe being me, being in my body. This body is a battle zone. Every war I've fought has been because of this body.
Is it so hard to believe that I'd want to destroy it? In actual warfare would you not destroy the theater in which your enemy had the upper hand? You'd napalm the jungle, expose the enemy and kill them. This body is that theater. Shouldn't enemies and would be enemies be deterred from entering? Regardless, I'll be awake until the light of dawn guarantees that no stalker, no rapist, no molester will enter this retired seat of war.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
I wish it would feel good again
I can't do it; can't be submerged in eating disorder behavior all the time. It's like the more I chase after that feeling, the farther away I get from it. With accuracy I can tell you when I was last happy in my ED. There are times when it's a real high; it produces the best feelings.But it goes away, just like with drugs or alcohol. Why does it have to go away? Why can't it always feel good? Even if I repeat the same behaviors that produced the awesome feelings, I never seem to be able to get it back. It's not fair.
What I hope for right now is just a glimmer, a little light of hope. Something has to feel good again. There has to be something that will make me feel good again.
I did start therapy yesterday. I'll see a doc soon. I'll get benzos which is what my therapist recommends. Then maybe I can start to get a little bit of my life back. Maybe I can work toward feeling safe; something I have never really known.
Thursday, July 29, 2010
A therapist? For me? thankyouthankyouthankyou!
For the past couple days I've been doing the footwork to move myself toward help for my anxiety and adhd issues. Still, it blows my mind that I can't manage it anymore. I mean, I kind of liked the coping skills I worked hard to develop, but it doesn't matter. All isn't lost.
I consider the ability to ask for help as a coping skill, too, a survival skill. I've made calls, visited the websites of local mental health centers and talked with my friends that work in the field. By casting that net, I was surprised at what came back.
A few moments ago, I checked my messages. One of the more respected private therapists in my hood is willing to help me and he's able to offer a sliding scale fee. YES! He'll direct me to a proper head shrinking doc and other resources, as well. I'm so relieved; no crisis center!
The therapist and I are acquainted with one another, enough to exchange small talk, but he doesn't know me. He doesn't know about the problems I have. I'm really looking forward to this. I feel hopeful. The connection wouldn't have been made without the help of a mutual friend. To him, I'm so grateful.
I consider the ability to ask for help as a coping skill, too, a survival skill. I've made calls, visited the websites of local mental health centers and talked with my friends that work in the field. By casting that net, I was surprised at what came back.A few moments ago, I checked my messages. One of the more respected private therapists in my hood is willing to help me and he's able to offer a sliding scale fee. YES! He'll direct me to a proper head shrinking doc and other resources, as well. I'm so relieved; no crisis center!
The therapist and I are acquainted with one another, enough to exchange small talk, but he doesn't know me. He doesn't know about the problems I have. I'm really looking forward to this. I feel hopeful. The connection wouldn't have been made without the help of a mutual friend. To him, I'm so grateful.
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