Posts Tagged ‘confused’

Remember when,
We were friends?
When I came to you and you came to me, and
Everything we did together was in near -perfect synchronicity
I miss those days, those times, those moments,
Most of all I miss you.
I should have known I couldn’t depend on you.
I should’ve known you weren’t for real.
All that glamour, too much appeal.
I was suckered in right from the start.
Actually thought your words and feelings were coming from your heart.
Instead, they were coming from your mind, and I was blind-or merely naive.
Looking back now, how didn’t I see that you’d eventually leave?
Nothing I did wrong, nothing in my control.
I became sick and you became, well, full.
Full of life, full of bs?
Doesn’t matter which, because I won’t get my wish.
To have you near, to have you around.
What I’d give just to hear that sound.
Of you answering the phone or opening the door.
To have you in my life, just once, no more.



“It’s Just Food”

That’s what “they’d” say/ Whoever the fuck “they” are. Eating with my host family has become awkward. I love everything about them aside from the food bit. Perhaps it’s my ED talking though I’m inclined to think otherwise considering my friends here have similar experiences without an ED. It’s possible that people here are just unbelievably strict regarding food and are somewhat hoarders in the food department. Anyway for me, the unsettling feelings around mealtime began about one month ago when I was restricted to a soft-food/liquid diet. I suppose because my host family was aware of this, I wasn’t “invited” to meal times. Though I imagine they had the best of intentions at heart, they likely didn’t want to tempt me with foods I’d be unable to consume.

When I decided fuck what the doctor says, I’ll eat whatever, things were still weird. Most nights I’d be around I wouldn’t be “invited” to dinner and meals were not cooked for me as had been in the previous weeks. I got sadly and uncomfortably use to this process and resorted to eating alone later, snacking on foods in the basement where my room is, or just not eating and missing meals.

Tonight, when I came home, I was asked if I’d be eating with them and I responded that I would. About 30 minutes later, I heard the usual plates clanking and laughter coming from upstairs. I believed that even though they acknowledged my presence for the meal, somehow they had forgotten. I began to snack on pretzels and cheese dip. About ten minutes later, my host dad opened the basement door and pops his head through, asking me if I was coming up to eat. Startled, and with half a pretzel stick in my mouth, I shook my head “yes”.

I was mortified, to the point that you’d think he caught me doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing, or something horribly inappropriate (insert fantasy here). Knowing or thinking that the adults upstairs (we have guests over) would be at least slightly inebriated (judging by sounds and speech heard), I decided that in order to be present at the table in the least uncomfortable way, I’d chug some sparkling cider alcohol prior to making my way upstairs, ease the nerves a bit you know?

Problem is, I don’t have a drinking problem, and rarely have I used alcohol to make myself feel better. The fact that I thought about drinking and followed through with the act makes me a bit uneasy, not now at least emotionally but in my logical mind. I felt embarrassed to be indulging in food that I “fixed it by indulging in alcohol. That does not clear things up. It’s just way messier. That is not normal, and it is not ok that I feel entirely embarrassed caught in the act of eating.

My emotions are usually compartmentalized and I can shut them off; I do not have the same efficacy when it comes to the larger picture though, my brain.

My educational pursuits and eventual career path of becoming a physician is the sole reason I am alive right now I wish it were the only entity of life I had to focus on.

These privileged students who scoff at me for trying to make a living during the end of term by buying books through a national company are upright snobs. Yes, this is exactly what I want to do during finals week, go around to friends and strangers and attempt to sway them to sell their books to me for cash.

I feel like a drug dealer most of the day carrying around way more cash than I’ve possessed in the last year, that amount it took years to be built up in savings and burnt through in months for health care costs. If I identify how I feel at this moment it is somewhere in between a cloud over reality and a shield made from black-box materials. I am entirely detached from reality, I can’t even grasp my present reality and I certainly am not handling well the pressures of three inconsistent buys jobs and an accelerated physics course on the weekend in addition to a full load during the week. About ten days more. Sure I can handle getting 5 hours of sleep. I’ve built the strongest tolerance I’ve ever experienced to medications right now. No dose knocks me out, even the strong ones at least not for more than 5 “quantity” hours of sleep, entirely lacking quality. My eye is twitching, I want to sleep. My brain is on fire. It keeps going, thinking. Turn off brain.

I don’t understand it, I don’t think we only get as much as we can handle because if I could handle all of this, I’d be getting straight A’s setting me up well for medical school. I’m not. You know why? Because there’s not enough time in the day to study work and sleep, and the compromise begins and ends with sleep. Sleep is my worst enemy. I never liked the night, always believed I’d be kidnapped or murdered at night. I was not consoled when I approached my parents with these concerns, rather shunned. Locked into my own room, locked out of everyone else’s. I was the only one in the house who didn’t get to have a lock on my door. Let’s talk about privilege and right and exclusivity. You don’t exist for me, because reality doesn’t exist for me. And that’s my brain.

secret shhh

I wish I wasn’t writing this post. I wish I could focus long enough to do homework; my focus is too muddled. I want to write more than about how fucked up my relationship with my therapist is. I want to be excited for life. Problem is, my emotions get in the way, especially when midnight came last night, as I was saying goodnight to C.

C came over for a while to chill last night, and extremely long story short, I ended up telling her about the situation with me, B and K. She was hurt, she does want answers, as we both do.

Regardless, even if this is explainable (likely by K), I’m not sure I can continue having a relationship with K. I’m not sure if B’s intention is to make me so jealous that I’ll eventually leave and she’ll have K to herself (assuming K is doing only therapeutically relevant activities with B (and therefore charging her for additional time outside of the office).

I can totally see how this would be extremely conflicting and challenging for K. She probably never expected her clients to have interactions with one another, aside from the preexisting one she knew C and I had. By the way, there hadn’t been any sort of problems between K, C, and me. Sometimes C has even allowed K to tell me things they talked about in session. I get it. I also am well-aware not that C’s aware of the situation that this brings a whole entirely additional element of conflict for K and I’d like to think that either she changes her behavior (if she has done inappropriate things again) or I think it makes the most sense to drop her.

I’ve no clue what I’d do without her as a therapist. I’m done starting over, it’s hard to find DBT therapists and even just a therapist I trust. I’m afraid to make the move, and I’m afraid K will and she’ll choose who to keep and who not to. Though it seems obvious she ought to drop the person with whom she has inappropriate interactions with, it also makes sense that she would be the last off her client list.

And again, I’m numb and disconnected from emotion, and another person has to choke down a heck of a lot more information; information I knew would be beneficial for her to know but that would hurt her if she knew. Now she knows, and she too confirms that it’s inappropriate, and especially inappropriate for K to tell B to not say anything.

Secrets amongst therapist and clients that impact other clients are worse than secrets; they’re verbal weapons, the worst kind. One these secrets are exposed, as weapons, they don’t even puncture the skin, they go straight for the gut, the glory and they slash deep. They slash fast and without warning, and they hurt forever.

I just woke up from a dream. I actually figured I’d have some bad dreams going to bed last night, and since I tend not to recall my dreams, didn’t fret too much on it.

I was in a parking lot, waiting to meet my family (first error because I don’t keep in contact with them). As I was waiting for them to arrive, I saw that I needed to lock most of my car doors manually (second mistake because I haven’t even owned that car in three years). As I was doing this, realizing I was in a sketchy neighborhood (third error), I saw a women holding up what appeared to be a gun to a group of people. Then when she shot them, it appeared like they were being tazed. At that point, I wasn’t able to locate my car keys to drive off and basically froze.

That’s when the lady approached me, asked me how old I was. I told her. Her reply? “You’re too young, just a baby, I’m not going to hurt you.” With that, she rested her knife in my car. She stood around, searching through some bag. Not wanting to do anything drastic, and eying the knife, wondering if I should just take it and stab her, I didn’t do anything. Next thing I know she slashes my thigh with the knife and tells me, “You’re going to need to go to the hospital”. I replied, “Nah, I’m okay.” slightly confused, and not actually in pain because the knife wound wasn’t deep enough to require sutures. Suddenly, she continues on, and slashes both sides of my neck, all with a big crowd around. No one did anything. I put my hand to my neck, said “hospital” and woke up.