Hmmm….Lots going on in my mind. Let me put some here.
My safe place.
Another safety piece.
“Innocence Before Trauma”.
Some of my parts.
Hmmm….Lots going on in my mind. Let me put some here.
My safe place.
Another safety piece.
“Innocence Before Trauma”.
Some of my parts.
Wow! The social saga just continues. The two new admits have been spending most of their time in the living room partly because one is on couch rest. So…Yesterday, the living room was pretty much devoid of other people. The new two are so off-putting that people just plain can’t stand to be in the room with them. Really, it is sad…Sad that the new two are so sick with their EDs that they are colluding and making everyone else uncomfortable. Sad that they will make themselves sicker. Sad that they don’t realize what a negative influence they are being on each other. Just sad. Have I ever mentioned that EDs suck? Yeah…I guess I probably have.
Yesterday, I was busy doing more art. I have had such a fantastic artful weekend. I finished my book project and will share it with my dietician, Mac, tomorrow. I usually see Mac on Mondays, so maybe I can give it to her in the morning so she can have a chance to look at it by the time I see her. I don’t know if it will work or not as she is super busy, but I can at least try.
I had a bunch of finished assignments that I emailed off to Meg. I am never sure what to do with the finished assignments and I also notice they never show up as completed on my weekly contract. I figured maybe she needs to see them? I don’t know. I just want to make sure that insurance sees that I have been doing the work, iykwim.
I also started working on a safe place for my child self. This was a project Meg suggested after talking to the AT. I picked up a small wood box on my Michael’s trip yesterday, so am using that and some scrapbook paper I had brought with me to decorate it. It is only about half done…I mean in terms of decoration. I haven’t done anything yet to represent the child-me. But begun is half done, right?
Here’s the collage I mentioned yesterday. I really like the way it came out. It makes me happy. (And btw, any pictures I post when here may be kind of sketchy in photo quality because between taking pics with my phone and inconsistent availability of good light, I can’t always get good pics.)
I am just emotionally spent. The news that one of my friends from treatment killed herself is disheartening in a way for which I have no words to express. And when you are in residential treatment with someone, you get to know them on a more intimate level…You see them at four in the morning, half asleep, teeth not brushed, hair gone wild as you wait for morning vitals. You see them putting on their make-up in the morning, making their way through their days with laughing, crying and determined perseverance, fighting for recovery at meals and watching as they face their inner demons one forkful at a time…And then ending the day, exhausted, spent, waiting with them in pajamas in the med line before you both stagger to bed and crashing for the night, only to repeat the whole process the next day. There are not many people you get to know on that level and with that kind of personal intensity.
It is painful to me that her mental illness took her life. I wish she had felt like she had other choices, other options, other anything than to kill herself. But I understand the feeling of wanting to do anything to make the internal pain and turmoil stop.
This is a real blow to the recovery community of which I am a member. We are all so close to the edge and emotionally unstable already…A suicide just adds to the overwhelm.
I was lucky enough to get an extra appointment in with the AT yesterday morning. I sent him a one line email first thing, “Woke up to find out that one of my Renfrew friends killed herself Monday.” I don’t know what I wanted from him….Just acknowledgement or support. But he had an opening in his schedule, so I got to go to his safe office and work on my feelings. He had me do a piece of art as a tribute to my friend. And we talked a little bit and I cried. And my feelings just wanted to consume me.
After that, I had a quiet, numb day. I didn’t exercise at all, I didn’t garden, I didn’t really anything. And that was okay. I needed a “light” kind of day. I even took a little nap (good escapism) with the Big Dog snuggling me on one side and the Tabby cat snuggling me on the other. It was good.
But. I didn’t eat. I skipped breakfast. I skipped lunch. I did eat some fruit at 2:00…not because I cared, but because I knew that the Team cared. I did have dinner because dh and ds would have noticed if I didn’t. But I didn’t make much of an effort to eat my normal kind of dinner. The eating disorder is always there to help me manage my feelings and make me feel better. I love that. And I hate it.
Today, I am a bit more balanced. I made myself eat breakfast. I am still numb. I expect a quiet morning. I might walk the dogs, I might not. I have appointments all afternoon. Hopefully, I will be less engaged in ED symptoms. I already have a good start since I ate breakfast.
Why I Cried
Yesterday, I showed the AT a piece of art I made while in treatment. It was the day my lovely friend, Biebs was discharged. As a matter-of-fact, she left about half an hour before that particular art therapy group. I took her leaving really hard. I really grew close to Biebs (and still keep in close contact), she is smart and insightful and caring and we spent many hours together in the late afternoons walking back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the facility. When she came to say good-bye, I just totally melted. She and I had started the same day, and I was the last of us left. Everyone else I really cared about or who were from the core group I hung out with for the first month had already left. And now, my amazing friend, Biebs was leaving too. It was just too much.
By the time I got to art therapy, I had not pulled myself together. It was so bad that even people who never offered hugs offered me hugs. And there was nothing anyone could do to make me feel better. I was just broken.
So, I went into art therapy and cried. I cried for the whole session, even while doing my project. The art therapist running the group put a box of Kleenex beside me and I just grabbed tissues and cried and worked on my project. It was horrible. And then when we were done, the art therapist asked me to stay after the session and we talked a little bit and I cried some more.
It was just an afternoon of raw, unrestrained sorrow.
Yesterday, while I was showing the AT the piece of art from the day Biebs left, I felt that deep aching sadness again. Of course, not as strongly as it was a while ago but it was enough to make tears spring to my eyes. And for that sadness build and come right up to the surface.
And then, I realized something. Or…I didn’t realize it, it was something I already knew, but I guess it was just really driven home for me. One of the reasons I hate dealing with the childhood trauma stuff is that I can’t bear to feel all the feelings that come along with it. All the feelings that I had as a child who had been sexually abused. All the feelings that I refuse to feel and that has led to a life of stamping out and not allowing feelings. All those feelings are still there. And if looking at the piece of art from the day Biebs left evoked the feelings from that day, looking at the me child-me will surely do the same. And I can’t do it. I can’t feel those feeling. The overwhelm of pain and sorrow and all the rest of it is far beyond my ability to handle it.
I was able to articulate my concern about the art triggering the feelings of that day and how I am scared about dealing with child-me stuff triggering those feelings. And I did it between tears and dissociation and terror (and I am impressed that I was even able to be articulate in all that emotional mess!). The AT was very compassionate and reassuring. But I am still terrified of the mess of feelings I am going to have to deal with at some point. I don’t know if I can do it. However, it seems to be the key to everything….Or at least to lots of my dysfunctions. But how do I deal with the agony of it without engaging any of my maladaptive coping mechanisms? And how do I manage the feelings without restricting? How do I stay safe?
Ugh. Too much to think about!
This morning, I am off to Philadelphia. The treatment facility is having their annual reunion and I am going. I am really excited about it and looking forward to seeing friends and staff and feeling the safety bubble that is Renfrew.
Look out Renfrew, here I come!
You know about those triple-decker appointment days? Today was a quadruple-decker appointment day. I started at 12:30 and by 4:00 I has seen everybody on Team Heidi. <phew> I am tired!
Wow…Just when I think, “How could I feel any worse?” I have a day like yesterday. It was ugly.
I finally broke down and emailed the AT, here is what I said:
I finally figured out who the OTR is. She is the one that teaches the Life Skills classes (Of course! It is a function-based class on interacting with people.)
Today, a girl, A, was chatting with me in the hall. She said that I am an inspiration. I was really touched and also a bit surprised by her comment. Me? And inspiration?
And yesterday during Community Meeting, Glitter H said that I am really supportive and kind and basically a great member of the community. I was—I don’t know—I kind of felt all, “Ah shucks.” And then today I told Glitter H that she is awesome and she told me I am awesome too. And I looked at her. And she said, “If you aren’t ready to believe it, then I will hold it for you and when you are ready to believe it, I will give it back to you.” ❤ ❤ ❤
There is another young woman here, G. She is sick. Some of the girls here are sooo sick. She cries a lot, I know because she is my suitemate. I have been trying to connect with her and have been repeatedly rebuffed. She was crying in the hall yesterday and I said, “I know you are going to say no, but do you want a hug?” And much to my surprise, she said “Yes.” I gave her a big hug and I could pretty much feel every bone in her body and every vertebra.
Anyway, this girl is an amazing artist. She does these delicate watercolors of trees. It is hard to explain why they touch me so much, but I love them.
So…I kind of had a meltdown yesterday morning. It was ugly. No…It was really ugly.
I woke up with that emptiness and soul-crushing sadness.
Then my eating disorder started screaming at me. It didn’t want me to eat anything yesterday. And I was going to indulge it. But…I know that not eating anything would be really, really bad for me. I was torn.
When dh woke up, I decided I’d have some cereal. I usually have a bowl of cereal every morning (but I have been eating less and less…I used to eat a cup of cereal every morning, then three quarters a cup and now I eat a half cup) so I figured my mini-portion of cereal would be okay. Only…there wasn’t enough milk. <sigh>
The Nutritionist wanted me to try a recipe for protein pancakes and I found one online that I wanted to try. So…I made the batter. It uses egg whites, no yolks. And I was separating the whites over the bowl and the yolk fell in. I panicked. (Yolk=calories) So, I grabbed a big soup spoon and tried to pull the yolk out of the bowl, and the yolk broke. Panic turned to super panic. The batter was contaminated. Dh tried to reassure me it was okay…And the Eating Disorder was trying to tell me I had ruined the batter. In the end, I scooped about 98% of the yolk out and tried to convince myself it was fine.
Then I cooked the pancakes. And then I kind of lost it…Huge meltdown…Dh said something benign and I snapped at him and pretty much ripped his head off (poor dh!). I was soo angry and frustrated and irritable and sour…I had to remove myself ASAP before I got in more trouble. So, I grabbed 1.5 pancakes (approx. 100 calories worth) and my water bottle and went to my bedroom. (I don’t know why I took the pancakes…I never eat in the bedroom.) I set the pancakes on my bureau and crawled into bed and had a micro-moment of crying. Then I just laid there…overwhelmed by pain. I was not coping.
I thought maybe I should take some lorazepam, but I didn’t trust myself to not take too many. Then I started pondering…What if I took all my lorazepam? Would it kill me? Well…what if I took all my lorazepam and all my trazadone? Would that kill me? And on and on….Then I realized that I can’t take those meds inappropriately because when I get a prescription, I make an inner commitment to take them as prescribed…No more, no less. Not only would it be wrong to mis-use the prescriptions…but it would be unfair to my prescriber as well.
So…then I thought about various ways to soothe myself by self-harming.
And all the while, I kept thinking about that picture that I drew with my PNP that then went to the AT’s office and is part of a project I started on Thursday. And since the moment I finished the drawing, I knew it was wrong…Incomplete. And it had been really, really bothering me. And I didn’t know if I had the courage to draw it correctly and have it be “witnessed.” And this kept bothering me and bothering me and my mind kept flashing the drawing how it should have been drawn.
The incompleteness? The figure needed a big, menacing, erect penis. And then I realized that the drawing, which was supposed to be a representation of my eating disorder, was not about my eating disorder…Or if it was, it was not wholly about my eating disorder. And different images of the drawing (like new scenarios) kept popping up in my head…So much so that I thought maybe I was having flashbacks or about to have a flashback….The way the pictures were popping into my head…It reminded me of how my flashbacks happen.
And I wanted to call the AT and get support. And maybe I should have…but that is still so hard for me to do…Instead, I decided I needed to draw the pictures in my head and I climbed out of bed and went downstairs and drew…Ugly and nasty pictures. Four. Four pictures wanted to be drawn. Four pictures that I will take to Art Therapy on Monday and then leave in the bubble of his office…Safely contained.
When I finished drawing the pictures, I tore them out of the sketchbook, stacked them neatly in order and tucked them carefully in my mandala book.
And then, I felt better…Pressure was relieved. I could function again and the pain moderated and I was done snapping at people and wanting to self-harm….Well…except the eating disorder was still screaming at me not to eat.
After a walk with dh and the dogs, some fresh air and some chatting with dh…I settled down some more. Finally at about noon, the eating disorder’s screaming had dulled to a grumble and I was able to eat some lunch. I stuck with 100% safe foods and in my usual portions…So, lunch was uneventful.
The rest of the day was much more under control. I was lonely as dh and ds had an engagement allll afternoon and evening (left a before noon, were back about 10), but I kept myself busy. I set my mind and hands to a knitting project. I knitted for hours…And I even finished my project. It is a tiny wool soaker for SS’s new baby. I can’t remember the last time I really sat down and knitted something and enjoyed doing so. It was a nice way to spend the day.
Here’s a pic. I am not loving the way the leg cuffs came out…I think they will be too bulky on a petite baby, I am likely going to rip them out and just crochet a little bit around the edge of the leg holes…But here’s what is looks like now. (It still has yarn ends showing because I haven’t quite decided about those leg cuffs.)