Trauma Makes Everything Worse

The depression continues.  It is like I am overwhelmed by emotional pain right now.  I hate it.  And how do I talk about it with the new therapist?  I am trying so hard to push myself to trust her, but she is not Kyla and she is not Meg and she is not the AT.  And she isn’t attuned to me yet.  Yesterday, I tried and tried not to cry, but she wanted to talk about feelings and stuff and my stupid walls collapsed a bit and I cried.  I hate not being in control.

Today, my suicidal ideation started.  No, I am not actively suicidal.  One time Kyla asked me if suicidal ideation is a way of comforting myself.  I had never thought of it that way, but yes, my current suicidal ideation is a way of knowing that there could be relief from the emotional pain.  This is different from some suicidal ideation in the past when I felt like killing myself was the only relief from my pain.  But if I didn’t kill myself then (when I thought it was my only solution) then I won’t kill myself now.  Now, it is more of a litmus test as to how bad I am feeling.

I think a lot of it is the triggered PTSD.  Like, my trauma (as much as I choose to ignore it.  And btw, I couldn’t convince the new therapist that I hadn’t had trauma.) is right in my face right now and I am struggling to manage it.  As a matter of fact, I accidentally re-traumatized myself yesterday.  And I am still reeling from that.  TMI ahead…stop now if you don’t want to read it.

So, yesterday morning, I was putting in a tampon and I somehow managed to pinch the opening of my vagina and it hurt a lot.  It was the last thing I needed with my heightened PTSD; to cause myself vaginal pain (I actually cried because I was so traumatized).  Then the spot where I pinched myself hurt all day.  So, all day, I had this pain triggering me and every tampon I used re-triggered the already triggered me.  It was awful.  (And if you wonder why I kept putting in tampons…I am at that stage of my life where my period is sooo crazy heavy that not using tampons is not an option…And I am lucky if I get two hours out of a ultra tampon before I I bleed through and have to change it.  So..pads?  That just wouldn’t work for being out of the house. Heck, I don’t even like tampons but I have to use them.)

And today? My vagina still hurts.  My PTSD is still triggered.  My passive suicidal ideation is triggered.  I have a therapy assignment to write about shame and I don’t think I have the emotional stability to do it at the moment.  I have a dietition assignment to write about why I want recovery and my body image and recovery, which makes me feel like my dietition thinks I don’t want to recover.  And I am overwhelmed and depressed and starting to feel hopeless.

But, I am blogging to get some of this out of my head, I am meeting a friend at her place to have lunch with her (I am hoping she will let me use some of her Fluff and I can have a Fluffernutter sandwich.)  I have programming today.  I am going to go on a little grocery shopping trip.  I am going to force myself to be “normal” and get out of the house.  Even if I just want to climb back into bed and pretend I don’t exist. Hopefully, this all gets me through until I see my therapist tomorrow morning.

Speaking of my therapist, I have to figure out what to call the new therapist on my blog, because typing out “new therapist” every time isn’t the best way to do it.  Nothing pops immediately to mind.  I’ll have to think about it.

 

 

 

 

Lorazepam Makes It All Better

Yesterday was pretty close to the most miserable, awful day I have had since I got here.  I spent the morning having an anxiety attack and crying.  (This started within minutes or me waking) and basically having an anxiety attack with ranging severity for about 6 hours.  It was. not. fun.  I will spare you the details because it is sort of a long saga and too complex to explain. Plus, I don’t want to re-trigger myself into more anxiety.

The end result of my day of angst was that by bedtime last night I felt completely unsafe and just wanted to go stay in a hotel.  I just wanted to have a night of no worries, of safety and of actual sleep.  Since going to a hotel was not an option, I used better-living-through-chemistry to manage the night.

I have not taken any of my as-needed lorazepam (anti anxiety med) since I got here.  And usually when I have taken it at home, I take 1/2 to 1 whole tablet.  Last night, I asked for whatever the max dose was.  It turns out my max dose is two tablets.  I have never, ever needed to take two!  But I figured the only way to get through my anxiety about the night was to numb my nerves and be oblivious to the world.  So, I gulped down my two pills, while wishing that I could have taken a handful.  Then I got into my pajamas, turned the volume on my soothing-noise/white noise app up all the way to drown out anything that i might hear, and I turned so that I was facing away from the door-side of my room.  And I burrowed under my blankets.

I still didn’t feel safe, but pretty quickly I could feel the smoothing calm of the lorazepam wash over me and with the roaring of the white noise app, I was able to cocoon myself to sleep.  I don’t know what, if anything, happened during the night…But I had rendered myself oblivious.  As a result, I slept pretty much straight through the night, only waking up maybe once and again when my alarm went off.  I felt a little groggy from the meds, but that wore off pretty quickly once I started moving.

So, the night in which I was feeling the most unsafe turned into one of my better nights of sleep thanks to lots of anti-anxiety meds and nearly deafening white noise.  I can only imagine how much better my night would have gone if I could have taken more of the lorazepam and just completely deadened myself to the world.

Today is another day.  Most of my angst about yesterday is gone, though I still have a reminder on my arm where I self-harmed.  That will take a while to heal.  Maybe it is a good representation because even though I say my angst from yesterday is gone, it will take me a while to feel safe here again at night and a while for me to heal from the emotional trauma of the day.

 

Not Much To Say

I don’t have much to say today.  I feel really depressed, discouraged and hopeless.  I feel like I am not doing therapy the way I should be doing it.  I feel like I am not worth recovery. I feel like I can’t eat anymore.  I have hit my tolerance and am now crashing.

I hate myself for being sick and broken.  I don’t know why my team here doesn’t understand that everything we are doing here is pointless because I am never going to get better.

I just wish….I don’t know what I wish.  I just need something different than all of this, something that will give me some solace and peace.  Or some little something that looks like hope so I can latch on to it.  Right now, I don’t see any light at the end of the tunnel. I just see the tunnel caving in around me and trapping me to slowly suffocate in darkness.

 

I Hate Eating

How bad is my eating disorder?

Yesterday morning, breakfast was awful. As part of my safety contracts, I am supposed to eat all my food as per my meal plan, i.e. not restrict.  I was crying before I even sat down to eat.  And I cried while I ate. I kept feeling like I was going to throw up.  And eventually, I gagged as I forced myself to eat and just about threw up on the table. (Thank goodness no one was home, except me, so I didn’t have witnesses to this.)

The only solution for eating breakfast was to exercise after breakfast. (Which is a form of purging, not restricting, so is not in violation of my contract.)  So, me and the dogs went on a long walk and up a big hill.

Then I spent the rest of the morning crying on an off and feeling jittery and agitated and just crawling out of my skin wanting to use maladaptive coping skills.  It was ugly.

I had a lunch date with a friend that I desperately wanted to cancel…but she needed my help with picking up a rental car and I had told her I would give her a ride.  And I also kind of knew that I needed to get out of the house…So, I went.

Lunch was okay…Eating was the last thing I wanted to do and I felt kind of ill looking at the food on my plate.  Mid-meal, my friend got up to use the restroom and I thought to myself, “I could just hide some of this food in my napkin and not eat it and she wouldn’t know.”  I have never had those kinds of ED compulsions.  Never.  It’s the last fucking thing I need right now.  Anyway, I did not hide the food.  I ate it.

So, my friend and I spent a few hours together and then I dropped her off at the rental car place.  I got into my car and within about three minutes, my thoughts went right back to their dreary darkness.  It’s like I just can’t get a break.  I can be distracted (mostly) but as soon as the distraction ends, I am right back where I started.  So, I drove home wishing I was dead and trying not to use maladaptive coping methods.

And I think I have figured something out…I can’t handle alone time.  I kind of knew this before…but today just highlighted it.  And I am furious at myself for needing a babysitter. And for not being able to cope on my own. I am a grown adult, I should be able to be by myself and be safe.  I am soo angry that I am so weak right now.

But…back to food. Dinner was hard.  I got most of it down, but towards the end, I really had to keep from gagging on the food again.  It’s like my body just is rejecting the eating process.

And with all the food I ate yesterday, I feel disgusting.  I am obsessing over the calories and I just want to make all the calories go away.  However, I did meet my meal plan.  Or at least the B meal plan. Technically, I did not restrict, but I am really skirting the boundary.  How come I can recognize that, but am not able to fix it?

I really wish I hadn’t signed that safety contract with the AT and that I didn’t have the one with my PNP.  The pressure of the contracts is killing me and I am really afraid of the repercussions if I fail.  I don’t want the AT to fire me for breaking my contracts.  But I know that at some point, he (and my PNP) are going to get sick of me breaking contracts and not doing things right.  And I don’t know what will happen then.

Easy Come, Easy Go

And then my mood drops like a rock.

Last night I had nightmares.  One of them jolted me awake and I tried to keep my eyes open so that I wouldn’t fall back asleep and slide into the same nightmare.  The nightmare was about trying to keep bad guys out of my house and trying to close the windows and lock them, but of course they wouldn’t close. And there was stuff about the bad guys and my dogs getting loose and all sorts of weird and scary things happening.(This is the one that really jolted me awake.)  Another nightmare involved hanging onto rocks that were absolutely vertical, but craggy and right above some really deep and murky water.  I was terrified of falling in the water and I was clinging to the rocks and couldn’t move.  The dream transitioned to me on top of the rocks on the sandy beach and I knocked over a guy’s motorcycle, which made him really mad and he chased me.  I ran into buildings and tried hiding and then ran into some place with piles of clothes and blankets on the floor. I was going to try to hide under them, but suddenly my dog was with me and I couldn’t get us both covered in time.  There was no resolution, the dream sort of ended with the menace of being found.

Another nightmare was much more scattered and included a part about me helping a woman with her babies.  I was washing them in a sink because she didn’t know how to.  I couldn’t get the water warm enough and it was spilling and sloshing over the edges of the sink.  The littler baby slid under the water and I didn’t notice right away, I pulled him up and he sputtered a bit, but was okay.  Then I was drying them off  and dressing them and handed the little one to his mom and while I did that the bigger baby pooped, but was diaperless because I hadn’t gotten to dressing him yet. And he was playing in his poop and just covered in it. So, I had to bathe him again, but the water still wouldn’t get warm enough.  At this point, I had a huge mess of water and poop and towels around the sink and on the floor.  I had to take the baby back to his mom, who at that point was somewhere else….Which meant I had to leave the mess and I knew I was going to get in big trouble for leaving the mess. I tried explaining (not sure to who) that I would be back to clean it up…But I was terrified of getting in trouble.

Lovely, eh?  And baby dreams….I haven’t had “save the baby” dreams (in this dream, educating their mom how to bathe them was saving them, as well as keeping the little baby from drowning) in a really long time. It was one of my constant nightmare themes for years.  What is going on in my brain?

When I woke up this morning, my thoughts went pretty much immediately to suicidal ideation, urges to self-harm and intense self-loathing and shame.  Looks like everything is back to normal in my world.

And this is why I never count on my good mood lasting.  Because it never does.

Today, I see the nutritionist.  After the weekend I just had, I would rather crawl under a rock than go see her.  And then in the afternoon, I see the AT.  I am not sure I am up to emotional upheaval today….Or I suppose, I already have the emotional upheaval, I just don’t want to deal with it or really deal with anything today.

FML

 

 

Consumed and March Journaling

Consumed

The truth is that I am a good faker.  Because for the most part, unless I have told you, you would not realize right now that I am being totally consumed my my depression and pulled to dark places that I have not been to in a long time.  Everyday is a struggle. Being alive is more painful than seems worth it.  I have to drag myself out of bed in the morning, I have no initiative to run errands and I am close to tears most of the time. And…while I have now described here a bit of what is going on, I cannot properly describe how badly and how hopeless I feel.  Luckily, I am on increased therapy and Team Heidi support right now, because I really, really need it.

However, even though life is pretty bleak at the moment, I have to report something awesome that happened yesterday.  Yesterday, Biebs and I finally connected via telephone and we talked for two hours.  Yup, two hours!  I have missed her so much! It was really good to connect.

And this morning, another Renfrew friend is supposed to give me a call. It is nice to keep my friendships going.  Especially now, when I am having such a difficult time.

March Journaling

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[This journal entry had a very dismal and graphic picture that I drew of my ED]

The ED has me tight in his grasp, but I am trying to reach myself so I can pull myself back to me. The ED is hurting me and is going to molest me and make me do things I don’t want to do. But I just can’t reach myself and pull me back to safety.

3-15                                         

Morning vitals/bloodwork are a challenge.  I can get up and usually around 4, and I stagger down, less awake than seems possible for actually being moving and thinking.  Of course my BP and HR continue to be off so I keep having to get Gatorade.

My bowels are a wreck and I am so, so, so uncomfortable.  Partly because the constipation protocol takes a few days.  But, I am on day 6 with only two tiny BMs and I am miserable.  Today, I am getting the 1, 2, 3 punch. Milk of magnesia, prune juice and Miralax (which I started yesterday).  The nurse, S, says I have hypoactive bowels.  Yup, I kinda knew that.  However she is kind and caring and I like her.  Bloodwork is a nightmare—can’t get blood from a stone, or from me!!!

Saw the psychiatrist yesterday.  It was good. He seems really nice, seems safe/trustable.  Funny thing though, he observed something that the AT had commented on recently, that I have a distancing way of interacting, keeping him a bit off balance and using humor. The psychiatrist says it is typical of trauma folks.

Speaking of trauma, I start the trauma track sessions today. I am both nervous and excited. I am ready to do the work.  Trauma track just meets 1x/week and you increase frequency as you progress through the sequence (3 levels).

 

Saturday Meltdown

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Saturday Meltdown

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.)

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