Posts Tagged ‘eating disorders’

I thought I could do it. I thought it wouldn’t matter since I’ve spent plenty of time alone in the past. The problem or difference is that usually, I find ways to numb myself to the pain of being alone. This time, I haven’t done that. I become depressed and in a state of despair when alone. I’m just speculating here that the reason I do can be attributed to a long history of abuse and neglect. Constantly on my mind is the fact that my biological family is not present for me in any form. Tonight seems exceptionally hard. Instead of inducing harm or numbing myself tonight, I think it’s time I convey my message in words.

According to ongoing recent research, people who have a history of severe attachment problems tend not to do well in life. I’m sick of my disconnect from the world. I want to immerse into the world, not hide from it. A pit of despair formed in me throughout the day. A telltale sign that I’m starting to feel unwell is when I seek out triggering videos. For the past few weeks (or months?), I’ve been watching these sorts of videos or clips online.

Tonight, I needed to cry, and I’m watching something that’s fulfilling that need well. Yet, it began to hit home in how relevant it was to my current situation and I began to think. My thoughts just take off to the moon once prompted. I was reminded of how I don’t have a family, how I have no relationship with even the one person I want to-my brother. He’s sick, physically sick. It’s been an emotional roller coaster for over 20 years for everyone. He believes I’m sick, except that it’s serious mental illness.

The places I’ve been in treat people like animals. After a while people will embody the aspect that they are treated as. I’ve acted like an animal in the past. My brother has no wish to see that I am no longer that person. I feel a bit crazy tonight, but hey, I’m starting to think that’s actually something many people experience. It’s only when it becomes chronic that maybe it can have an attribution to mental illness. I’m not mental, I’m in the process of repairing my insane past. It doesn’t have to define me. My history will not defeat me tonight.

 

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Considering I’ve never been a fan of lying, I have to set some things straight on here. I’m currently studying abroad and it has been one of the best experiences of my life. I’ve dealt with some major issues, all within the first few weeks of arriving. To make this readable, I won’t include the gritty details right now. I will sum it up as such:

-I found out the day before coming here that my brother was going to have brain surgery in a few weeks.

-Right before his surgery, my biological family insisted that I see him, didn’t believe I was studying abroad and harassed me about not seeing him.

-I asked my biological father (the only person I talk to on occasion to not tell anyone that I was here as I didn’t think it would ameliorate the situation.

-Said person did in fact break his word and tell people I was studying abroad. His relaying this fact did more harm than good as I had initially suspected.

-Prior to the surgery, my grandpa became sick suddenly and died. When I asked my father if I should attend the funeral, his e-mail reply was “no need to disrupt school”.

-No one told my brother about my grandpa dying until after his surgery. My dad didn’t even make it to his own dad’s funeral.

It’s no surprise that my motility disorder only worsened throughout my time here. I fucking hate food. Every single time I eat I either become nauseated, regurgitate food, throw up (unintentionally) or have gurgling in my esophagus and stomach indicative of the spasms.

Over the break, I hope to see some therapists and doctors that I had over the summer prior to coming here. My friends already say I should be in treatment again. I know that I do not want to end up in the cycle of treatment. Plus, I’ve been offered an amazing opportunity to extend my studies here doing a neuroscience internship at a hospital. These sorts of opportunities don’t just happen upon someone in the States, they are hard to come by. When presented with the possibility that I could become sicker while here, my honest response is “so what?”.

Bluntly put, I’d rather die at least trying to get ahead in life then return to my basically nothing life in the States. I’m sick of missing out on opportunities because I’m physically or emotionally unwell. I crave having a family and the host family I have here is the closest thing I’ve experienced to a “normal” family. I just have no desire to appear sad in front of them or express my negative emotions. I judge myself, thinking that they expect me to be level-headed because of my age. After all, their two older kids are younger than me and out of the house and supporting themselves from what I know. One even has a two year old. I believe in my twisted world I must come across as stable and without issues and this is how I portray myself to most everyone.

Sometimes, I see the school psychologist and lately she’s been questioning my mood. I know she can pick up on my sadness even though I assure her repeatedly that I’m FINE. FINE = fucked up, insecure, neurotic and emotional. Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t want my experiences to be halted by psychiatric treatment. Not here, not now. I just don’t know how much longer I can keep this jig up.

 

In my decision on whether or not to remain at school overnight to complete a paper, these were the factors I contemplated:

-if I stay at school, I won’t be able to change clothes for tomorrow
-if I stay at school I save two hours of travel time and could use that most efficiently on this paper I’ve completely procrastinated on
-if I stay at school, I will likely have less adequate sleep than if I go home
-if I stay at school, I will have less distractions than at home
-I’m probably too tired to bike home anyway
-I’ll have to figure out a way to get food at low cost if I stay at school for many meals
The last brilliant aspect that popped into my head:

-if I stay at school, I won’t be able to weigh myself, omg I have to weigh myself if I’m going to actually eat

Guess which entity won out? You got it, the last one.
Never mind the fact that going home means I have a shot at making and attending a same-day doctor appointment for my esophageal spasms. Spasms which refuse to let me or those surrounding me eat in silence. “Gurgle, gurgle” goes my throat after every solid or liquid swallow of sustenance. My stomach growls constantly as the nutrients I put in it aren’t enough to last very long. Backed up throat, chest pains-apparently those pale in comparison to my obsession with getting home to use the white-plated almost-square piece that will reveal my weight in digital red numbers to the nearest .5 kilograms. Kilograms-the measurement I now comprehend full well-at least around 60-70kg. What a reason to learn the metric system-all to know my weight-such motivation!

Stupid fricking scale. Annoyed with my brain for believing a number is actually worth something. At this point, I don’t believe I’m worthwhile unless I’m trying to work on my physique. Thanks brain.

After the conclusion of school, K and I agreed that eating disorder treatment was within my best interest.
At first, I thought at most, I’d be attending a residential treatment center. In the week prior to my admission however, it was decided that I’d start out for a few days on the inpatient eating disorder unit. So here I am. Day 1, detached.

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. Tharnks, Rockstar Ronan’s mom Maya for making that an awesome phrase to use, fitting of many situations.

I got off the phone with B, and was finally able to clarify what she had said the other week about a double relationship with K. Well, that was odd, because I found out that her double relationship as she sees it really isn’t a big deal, rather consists of half of the session being therapeutic and the other half catching up on K’s life, talking about life as if they were regular people. However, B brought to my attention that even though K doesn’t want her sharing with anyone (of course B told me- who knows maybe she’s trying to stir up my emotions, evoke a bit of jealousy to feel as though she has something I can’t or don’t have).

When I had asked B about where they’d have lunch, B wasn’t sure but then said house or park. Didn’t K tell me just the other week that it was a bad move to go to B’s house on the day she was fired? Didn’t she regret that? Obviously not, or I guess regrets die quickly.

I watched baby videos today and yesterday. As a baby I had no reactions to when Barbara was touching me, and it makes sense now.

Friday sucked though, First, I wake up to an e-mail that someone at our school died early this morning, cause of death, unknown at this time (I suspect suicide). Then, I go to an intake at an Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP) for eating disorders.

I was first greeted outdoors by an unkempt man, only to be brought into the office and greeted by a lady who was so thin, I could absolutely imagine what her skeleton looked like. Next, the intake coordinator who is also the owner I believe, was totally impersonal and I felt really awkward around him. He put his hand out for me to shake and I REALLY didn’t want to and avoided it, and he kept it out until I shook it, and he shook it far too long and I felt contaminated after the shake that I didn’t want to give in the first place. Even today, it’s giving me the heeby jeebies just thinking about it and I feel dirty. 

I didn’t make eye contact with him. He wanted me to open up immediately about certain things. Here’s how the intake went:

Me: “just because you closed the door and have letters behind your name doesn’t mean I’m going to spill my life to you…. especially the first time we meet.”

Guy was an asshole and asked me to put my phone away even though I wasn’t doing anything on it. I just need to constantly fidget, thank you ADHD

Me: You don’t even know what I’m doing on it.

Asshole creep: What are you doing on it?

Me: That’s not something that’s any of your business. (The guy evidently had a complex and felt the need for power and control, made apparent especially when 2:00 came around and he said he had someone else to see and refused to answer my question.)

Me: So are you going to “allow” me to come here?

Asshole creep: I’m not sure this is the right place for you. I think you need someplace that has a more psychiatric component. I have a 2:00 appointment now.

Me: Really it’s a simple question with a simple answer. You’re judging my case by what  you’re reading on a paper and hearing from me, even though I’m telling you most of my treatments were mistakes and forced upon me as the Identified Patient. So, what are you going to do?

Asshole creep: I’m going to call so and so to see if there’s a more appropriate place for you and then call you. Sorry it didn’t work out (totally unsympathetically).

Me: Oh, well thanks, I’m used to it…  walked out.

Asshole creep deemed my case too complex.  He was bizarre, thought that I need more psychiatric level of care, didn’t look at the big picture like only two people have throughout my various treatments. It takes a special individual.

 

Then I saw K and that was horrible from the get go. I was devoid of emotion. I finally asked her why she didn’t respond to my text earlier this week:

“I’ve tried to do something about disconnection and nothing’s working. I’m really detached and idk why or what to do about it.”

K: I didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t specific enough, I thought “oh, thanks for letting me know”.

I started to get heated, thinking that no one really does understand me and no one ever will. K and I went in circles about how I logically know that I don’t have a family, I read Adam’s text to her (the one when he told me I’m not part of the family) I told her about the student’s passing.

K: How do you feel about all that? (nice, typical therapist response/question-I’m smirking internally)

Me: I don’t feel a thing about it, I don’t feel anything. 

She kept repeating that she doesn’t know how to help me in this way and that, and I kept saying

Me: I need support. 

K: What does that look like?You need to specify

You damn well know B didn’t ask K to have lunches with her. K simply rescued her, and apparently won’t rescue me.

K: What you want is unreasonable and you can’t expect everything to work out the way you want it to and for support to be there the way you want it. It doesn’t exist. There isn’t someone like that to fulfill what you want.

Me: Oh, ok (in sarcastic tone). It seems hypocritical because other people get it, and I just need support.

K: What does that look like?

Me:  I don’t know because I’ve never truly been given it.

K: Well ok, that makes sense. It’s because you don’t let people in.

Me: That’s because when I do let people in, they let me down.

K: That’s because you try to find excuses for why people aren’t good enough for you.

Me: I’m confused because for the longest time I would constantly go back to my family thinking they were good for me and I was the problem and then I finally realized that wasn’t the case and went away from them. 

K: You pick out people’s faults and then shut them out, like it gives you a reason to not connect or something.

Me: That’s not true. I know that my advisor has faults and I still like her. There’s plenty of people who I may have done that to, but not everyone (as she was insinuating).

I kept saying I needed support and was confused because it seems hypocritical to say one thing and do another (as is the case with her and B and how she’s about to have lunch with her everyday, though I didn’t mention it).

So why is K being a rescuer for B and not for me? She’s enabling her behaviors by going to have lunch with her the sicker she becomes.

K: You don’t need to have something drastic happen and be really sick to get the support you need.

Me: That’s not true, apparently I do because when others are, they get it.

K: Harshly, loudly, abruptly, she said, “Is all this about the B situation again?

I went into it. First I started staring, then my right hand began twitching and then I kept trying to fight off the seizure. K tried to get my focus and couldn’t. I knew everything going on, just couldn’t talk.

This was the first Psychogenic non-epileptic seizure (PNES A.K.A. NES)  I’ve had in well over 1.5 years. While trying to fight it off and not being able to talk, I realized that it really does stem from pre-verbal abuse. I couldn’t express myself as a baby, and I couldn’t talk at present moment.

K: Laura, Laura, Laura. If you won’t reply to me, I’m going to have to call someone to pick you up.

She said this a few times, and then grabbed her phone.

I tried to get my neurons reconnecting, anything to indicate that I heard her, and just couldn’t respond.

Well, she proved to me on a different level that getting sick does get one attention.This is not what I intended, this is just what happened for being in a heightened emotional state.

K: I can’t just leave you in this state. I’m going to have to call someone to pick you up.

I thought I knew what she meant, and I tried to get my neurons firing again to say no don’t summon an ambulance. I mean so many reasons revolve around that. I’d pay a butt load of money for something that’s not pre-authorized, and I’d probably know the people on the ambulance since I’ve done EMS work in that area. Plus, hardly any medical professional actually understands PNES.

I find it weird because I experience body sensations I can’t really describe. Speaking as someone who has suffered through long bouts of dissociation (months at a time), I’d say PNES’s are worse because I remember them and I feel a sensation that I can’t control and I can’t talk even though I’m fully aware of what’s going on.

Eventually I wrote notes on my phone to K and showed them to her. I stayed way past my original appointment time, and by the end was speaking broken, monotone, robotic-like sentences. At least the cloud of detachment lifted a little, almost like a fresh start to feel emotions. I put this shield up, and when having a slight seizure, the shield became a little less strong. This may be good, at least therapeutically for feeling emotions, even though it sucks to feel them.

K says it makes sense for that to have happened, especially if I haven’t been having emotion for nearly 2 years (I corrected that, saying it was only 1.5 years). She said it’s like I just push the emotions away immediately and then they get stuffed (like the teapot effect).

B called me as I was in K’s office. Earlier, I told her I’d be at her house around 4:30. She called me as I was fighting off the seizure and I wasn’t able to answer.

I did see B after K deemed me fit enough to drive. While hanging out with B, she asked me when my break would be, when would I be moving out there (for the summer). I told her mid-May and she tells me that  more lovely news. The house manager/owner of many sober livings told her I’m not to be living in her house come summer, and that I’d be living in the shitty house I lived at last summer and over winter break. This is the house with people significantly older than me, older people who are super unstable and a house manager who is constantly high on pain pills.

Um, no thanks! When was the owner going to tell me this? Probably never, pawned the task off onto B. 

Oh yeah, also it was my friend’s birthday earlier this week, missed it because I didn’t see her and found out that my group of friends I eat most meals with are going to celebrate tonight. I wasn’t invited. wtf? I really don’t have friends, the world is a cruel place.

Oh and I can’t get excited to study abroad because I have no guarantee that Ken will actually pull through and purchase my ticket, considering triple ex has constantly talked him out of things and he meshes with other’s personalities, instead of having an individual personality.

To sum up, I’m looking at another ED (eating disorder) program except I don’t think the timing works well on this one and I may not be able to go. K wants me to get the ED under control so we can work on things further like grieving.

Monday may suck… a lot. My step-aunt died nearly two years ago on the 8th and when calling my step dad (Michael) to say my condolences and saying I could come to the funeral, he told me pointedly that I wasn’t invited because I since I hadn’t been speaking to Barbara that would be hard and it was already hard enough. He talked to me like an animal just as he has done most of my life. I never felt true emotional connection with him, he’s a fake.

6 days later, I found out via Facebook that my best guy friend Morgan died on April 8. So both my aunt and he have the same death day.

K was talking about my need to grieve and then I said to her the grief isn’t so much an issue for my aunt as she and I weren’t close; it was merely the harsh response I got from Michael in regards to the funeral situation. With Morgan however, that’s a whole separate entity and I haven’t really had the chance to grieve like  should, because I’ve never really grieved anything.

She suggested that I do something in memory of Morgan, asked me what he and I used to do. We’d drive to places without a destination in mind, we’d watch movies until the wee hours of the morning, we walked the pier in Santa Monica. We hung out, we talked about anything and everything. Existential talks, I miss them. I miss Morgan. I did connect with someone, and that someone is no longer here. I get why I’m so disconnected, so detached.


I can’t say why I feel how I do, completely disconnected, completely detached…

Surprisingly, nothing terribly significant has occurred lately. I briefly mentioned recently that the study abroad committee overturned their decision and are allowing me to pursue studies abroad this Fall in Denmark.

A health care panel which I organized without being asked to is taking place next week. My favorite doctor is attending and speaking at this, I have no excitement.

When talking with my advisor about my course selection and other opportunities this Fall she said if I could afford to do so, I should stay to visit medical schools abroad.

My response-,“I’ll talk with my banker.”

She gave me a puzzled look and then I said, “Oh yeah, my dad”.

She was like “Yeah I was thinking, dang, I wish I had a banker.”

I replied, “You have a dad though right?”

She nodded her head.

Before thinking, I replied, “…and he loves you right? He gives you emotional love.”

She nods, smirking a little (not in a sarcastic way) “Yes, he gives me emotional love, no money though.

So my life security pot is intermittently filled with monetary love and hers is emotional love.

We win some, we lose some. It’s really perspective and framing it into context. I would love to have a parent I could go to for any type of emotional support. That does not exist. I can’t even talk with my brother, for one because he’s hard of hearing, only getting worse. For two, he doesn’t consider me a part of the family.

Passover has officially concluded and I figured with my extremely limited vegan diet, the change to non-Passover food wouldn’t be drastic. Yeah, I was wrong, and I completely lose control anytime I’m around any type of vegan food. You want to tell me that this has nothing to do with being horribly neglected as a young child, unsure of when my next food would be? I go into survival mode with food and then absolutely regret it. All of my hard work down the drain. Yes, there can be fat vegans and I am an example of one of those. Granted, I’ve just begun the lifestyle, however I just keep stuffing my face over the past few days. And I’m not ok with that. I’m not ok with the numbers on the scale or the total loss of control. So, I did what makes the most sense to me, something I regret far less than overindulgence; the word starts with an “l” and ends with an “e”. It’s one of the tags to this post if you still can’t get it.

I have constant word recall challenges. I’m not depressed. I’m distant, disconnected, numb. Another way this disconnect is apparent is by my absolute lack of consideration for myself in terms of divulging anything relatively pertinent to a conversation. I’ve told many people multiple aspects of my life I’d usually keep to myself.

I was reading that this could be attributed to narcoleptic symptoms, a problem deciphering reality from dream. Well, I do think I know where that differentiation occurs, and yet I still don’t feel right. I don’t consider myself a danger to myself of others, just lack emotions of any sort.

I’m estranged from all the world, myself included.

First to clarify, I am not swaying to any particular religion in this post. I identify as a Jew, and I chose the term “Apostle” because I find it hard to insert a more appropriate word, lest I conjure one.

I’ve been thinking about religion quite a bit lately. It has been in my face in minute amounts for a variety of reasons. I recently was accepted by the study abroad committee that overturned their initial decision and is allowing me to study abroad this fall. In my application to the program’s housing options, it is suggested to mention faith.

A friend on Facebook continually tries to convert me to Christianity, finally I’ve asked him to stop-we’ll see how that goes.

I tried a new temple last Friday for Shabbat. I haven’t attended a Shabbat service in quite some time (a few months) and it was a refreshing service.

I am currently taking a class called Ritual Studies where many religions and spiritualities are examined.

These are some of the instances which have allowed me to think more so about religion and life. In particular, my focus has been on circumstances and unforeseen or unfortunate events. Aside from the cliche phrase, “You’re only given as much as you can handle” (which I don’t believe anyway because then non-religious suicide attempts and completions wouldn’t exist), arguably, some people are dealt a pretty interesting Deck of Life cards.

As I may have mentioned previously, I once worked with someone who knew a bit of my past and present state. Something bad had recently occurred and while talking with me she said something to the effect, “Man I wish I had some significant life event happen, I think it would give me character”. I was flabbergasted to hear this from her, and oftentimes this thought circulates in my mind.

I believe that perhaps some of us are dealt a significant amount of hardships to decrease suffering in the world. If less people suffer, even if they suffer a great deal, would that be better? Out of the thousands (or more) people I have crossed paths with, only three of these people would be categorized for lack of a better term, “Small-Scale Disciples”. Also, I do not mean to say that each of these people lives a joyous life, far from that in most cases. What I do mean by this is that the mass of hardships these people have endured is practically astronomical in terms of what others endure.

stronger image

I imagine suffering of other to be considerably decreased with these folks enduring the brunt of extreme hardships.

Person 1:

Youngest child died at 1.5 years old from drowning.

Person 1 has a child with atypical autism. The night the drowning occurred, person 1 had been dealing with said child all day (rage attacks and emotional stress), asked husband to take child out with him at night to a softball game husband was participating in. Husband refused. Person was physically and emotionally exhausted by this time, and in a moment of absentmindedness, child was left unattended in bathtub.

Person 1 has a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder. This Axis 2 diagnosis is challenging enough to deal with in itself, never mind when you’re raising three kids, constantly reminded the fourth is no longer around.

Person 1 is now going through a divorce with husband. Husband has not lived with family for almost two years, mother takes care of kids on her own most of the time.

Person 1 has neglectful family that never attended to her needs.

Person 2:

Survivor of ritualistic sexual abuse/incest for four years.

At 16, witnessed best friend’s brother (2 years old) be hit by a car, while she and best friend were babysitting him. Toddler died as a result of the accident.

Former heroin addict, which was mainly attributed to severe eating disorder and keeping trim.

Severe eating disorder, in and out of hospitals, on the brink of death often.

Much more that can’t possibly be explained in a post (if I want to keep reader’s interest).

Person 3:

Me. I’ve pretty much summed up the majority of my challenges along the way.

To clarify, I’m not insinuating that any of us are martyrs; what I mean by small-scale apostles is that we take many of the burdens, burdens that generally could fill about five people’s lives and yet are compacted into our one individual life to effectively restore or maybe contain chaos to less entities.