On a roll!

Hey y'all! I've had two more purge free days, if you count today. The day isn't over yet, but after a lot of tears and some Ativan I managed not to purge dinner, and I don't plan on eating anything else today. So yeah, I'm feeling pretty good about that!

The other side of this that I haven't really addressed is that I'm trying to lose weight. So before anyone freaks out on me, just hear me out. A lot has changed. I am now officially overweight, but just barely. I'm also waaaay outside my target weight range set up for me in treatment. This is due in part to me being very sedentary I my depressed states, and also the abilify, which made me want to eat everything that wasn't nailed down.
So....I'm trying to lose weight. Restricting, but in a healthy way? But this makes the fight against purging that much harder. Tonight as I paced in the hallway outside my bathroom with my dinner in my stomach the urge was so strong....just knowing I could lose weight that much faster if I got rid of it. But I don't want to do that. I want to be healthy. It was a struggle, but I came out on top. I want to lose weight and get healthy, not crash and burn and wreck my body.
Today I sat with the full feelings and did not purge. Today was a victory :)

Success!

Hey! Guess what? The day before yesterday (day of my last blog post) I didn't purge! The whole day! I'm feeling good about that:)

It's still really cold here; the high today is 0. It's awful. I've been in bed huddled under the electric blanket most of the day. I did get up and make pancakes this morning for Chris and Annie before they left for church. When I turned on the oven to keep the pancakes warm I heard this popping, hissing sound. I looked inside and the heating element was sparking like crazy! It's an electric oven and the heating element runs all around the bottom. I turned it off of course, but it still sparked and flamed. The spark travelled slowly around the whole element, kind of like how a sparkler burns down. It was crazy! I kept the fire extinguisher out, just in case. But once the spark went around the whole thing it fizzled and went out.

So that was my big excitement for the day. Now I'm just waiting for the landlord to come put a new element in the oven. Cuz I like to bake. A lot.

Soup's On!

Well, I've survived another day, and I guess you could say that I've calmed down a bit. I made it through the day yesterday managing to purge only once, so I'm a bit encouraged by that. A barf-free day WOULD be nice, though.

It's freezing here in Iowa! I have an electric blanket on my bed and it keeps it so ice and toasty that I never want to leave it. I stayed in bed a good part of the day yesterday and most of this morning as well. I did have to venture forth this afternoon to call "Bingo" at the retirement home, where I'm barely hanging on to a job as an activities assistant. It was nice getting out, and my job gives me purpose. I love brightening the days of the senior citizens that I work with. I put on a smile, and someone there always says something nice that makes me feel loved and appreciated.

I'm working on keeping up a regular intake of food. I write everything I eat down, which I am not sure is helpful, but at least I will have something to show the dietitian when I see her. She'll be able to get a good idea of my patterns and so on. I'm having some low sodium Progresso soup right now, because the low sodium varieties  have a lot of potassium in them. It's been a really long time since I have had labs drawn, but my legs were cramping so bad yesterday I wonder if my potassium could be low.

I don't have much else to write about, except that I'm getting off of abilify and that's a real bitch. Today is day 3 of absolutely no abilify. I'm not having any physical withdrawal symptoms but my mood is pretty low. If it gets too bad Dr Kamran (my psychiatrist) says to call him and go back on the abilify. We'll see what happens. I don't want to go back on it because I gained soooo much weight while taking it, and I also have concerns about getting type 2 diabetes. But I'm not going to let my depression get so bad that I end up in the hospital again.
I guess we will see.

Hello? Anybody there?

I haven't posted in a really long time. I guess I felt like I had run out of positive things to say about recovery. And for awhile there, I really was on top of the eating disorder (never mind the severe and crippling depression and anxiety).


But things have changed. I can't identify a specific trigger or reason or cause. Maybe it's all the weight that I gained while taking abilify? The disappointment in watching myself fail at and have to give up my first and only real adult job? The depression that I cant shake, that voice in my head that tells me that I was always just a loser anyways so why not go back to the only thing I have ever been good at.

And it starts by purging only if I ate a little too much and got uncomfortably full. Telling myself "it will just be this once". Then there's the horror of my weight, that I'm really, truly, textbook overweight now and I can't really justify keeping any food down. The depression settles in like a sick, sticky fog and I really stop caring. I'm have wishing the next purge will kill me. I'm not taking care if myself and I know it, I'm not even trying, because if I keep going maybe it will take me in my sleep. It will be quiet, and sweet, like a release.

Then I shake myself awake and get honest in therapy and get some help. I've been in the hospital for depression three times in the past year. Shock treatments. The med merry go round. I come home feeling better, hopeful, but still purging. That's one thing that the general psych units can't really help me with.

I've finally decided to see a dietitian who specializes in eating disorders. Because it's bad. Like, out of control. I've finally gotten honest with myself about it. For the past year I've been saying to myself "it's not a problem because I'm not underweight". But that's not true. Purging everything you eat is a problem. Throwing up 6 times a day is a problem. So is throwing up blood. Losing 5 teeth. Taking your phone into the bathroom with you when you go to throw up in case you have an incident (esophagus rupture, heart attack) and have to dial 911.

So yeah, I look normal on the outside. You can't tell just by looking at me. But I have an eating disorder and its severe.

My assessment with the dietitian isn't for two weeks. I'm pinning a lot of hope on this one. But two weeks...that seems like a long time. Because I'm not really counting in days. I'm counting in purges, in number of times spent retching my guts out into the toilet bowl. I'm conservatively saying 3 "episodes" of vomiting a day, but it's usually 5 or 6. But let's be optimistic and say 3. Three times a day x 14 days. When I think about that I feel sad and scared and overwhelmed. I crawl into bed and cry. I take an Ativan and try to cope. This illness is trauma to me. It's a trauma I face every day. Maybe I'm being overly dramatic but I'm kind of worried I won't make it to my appointment.

I'm going to take it one day at a time, and just do the best I can to take care of myself. I'm not sure what will happen at the appointment or if it will even help. But I'm not worrying about that just yet. First I have to get there.

Xolisa

thanks, bulimia

 I just had two (2!) teeth pulled. That makes 3 lost so far this year. They are all molars, which is good because you cant tell from the front that I am missing teeth. But it is bad in the sense that it makes chewing difficult. The dentist was talking to me about partials and *gasp* dentures....I'm only 35!

I could really go for some ice cream right now. Or some rum. An ice cream-rum sundae. Shit....she sighs and re-packs the gauze...fun times.....

paystub

Soooooo.......this lady from the social security office keeps calling me. She has been calling since February (as she pointed out last week when we were on the phone). She wants my paystubs, my husbands paystubs, and other random assorted shit. I know I need to copy this stuff and send it off to her so she will leave me alone, but I keep avoiding. Well for one thing, it would be a lot easier if I had, say, a place where I kept my paystubs and important papers all together. But I don't. There are paystubs in my car, under my bed, in my various purses....you get the picture. There is no way I can find all of them.
Ugh this has to be the most pointless blog post ever. Why am I sitting here bitching to the interwebs about this...like anyone even cares. Someone please comment and say "Get your ass off the couch...take a shower...and find your damn paystubs....betch!".

California!

Hey there! This is the first ever post from my phone and it is gonna be short. I am excited to say that I    overcame my fear of flying ( with the help of some Ativan) and I an in California visiting the awesome Erin of the blog " go go bananas"! I am super psyched to be here; mama needed a vacation really bad! We are goin to San fransisco today or tomorrow to visit the Golden Gate Bridge and ghirardelli square! Chocolate! And a bridge!
Oh, and since I have been here I have had to pee about every 20 minutes. It is seriously embarrassing.  Like, seriously considering some adult diapers.  It is probably just because I am in a strange place? And now of course I am worrying about whether or not I will have to pee....which makes me have to pee!!! Argh!

hell O

anybody there? I haven't posted for a long time. Over a year! Yikes! A lot has happened in my life since then, and the biggest/worst thing is something I can't write about. At least not now, and possibly ever. Suffice it to say that in the past year I have managed to screw up big time and now I am sort of picking my way through the rubble.
I am severely, severely depressed. It hurts to breathe. I really just want to lay down and die but I keep on going, mostly for the sake of my children. And I DO have a tiny speck of hope that maybe things might turn out alright eventually. So I just keep going. I still see Scott, my therapist, weekly; I go to a DBT group every week and also to a dual diagnosis group. I am still working but only about 8 hours a week; just enough to say I am still employed. If any of you are long time readers you will know how important my job is for me and how hard it was for me to get there. I don't want to surrender that accomplishment to the depression. I just don't.

Another thing that happened in the past year is that I spent the month of November in inpatient substance abuse treatment. My drinking had really gotten out of control over the summer and......I started smoking pot! Silly, I know. I am not completely convinced that a little mary jane is so bad, but per my usual all-or-nothing style I getting high several times a day, every day. My therapist threatened to call DHS if I didn't go to treatment. so I did IP and several months of outpatient and I haven't smoked or drank since Oct 24. I am not a huge AA'er but I go usually once or twice a week; I actually kind of like it.

I have also managed to gain a TON of weight and start purging again. I am way over my target weight and very uncomfortable and it sucks. Purging sucks also and it is really not even helping me lose weight. I know I am being totally stupid and I need to stop purging and I even think that I could if I tried just a little, but I don't. I am not sure why. Part of me feels like I deserve to be miserable with my head in a toilet forever....

I was in the hospital for two weeks in February, for depression. I think I was in the hospital another time last year but I don't really remember. Anyways, I was in the hosp in Feb and had ECT (shock treatments). I only had three treatments but had improved enough to leave the hospital and I didn't want to do any outpatient. The ECT's messed with my memory really bad. Much of the time I was in the hospital I didn't know who I was or why I was there. People had to remind me and then I would just cry. Realizing that you are depressed and in the hospital and have fucked up your life sucks, especially when you have to realize it over and over again throughout the day.

My meds were all changed when I was in the hospital. They put me on nortryptaline, trazodone, and liothyronine. The last one is a thyroid med. I did not have an underactive thyroid but they put me on it anyway because I was not getting out of bed. It has really given me some energy and I have managed to lose a tiny bit of weight, but I am freaking out a bit at the moment because my bloodwork from last week showed my TSH was at .02, which is extremely low. I am too lazy to explain what that means but basically my thyroid is super hyperactive right now and according to the interwebs I am at risk of a thyroid storm, which is often fatal. Also, according to the interwebs, I could be just fine. I called Dr. Sean freaking out but he says I am completely fine so oh well.....

Hmm well I am just about out of thoughts for the moment. If anyone wants to comment and say "hi" I would love it :).

XOLisa

How is it I am Depressed Again?

Ok, 8 days later and I am STILL hiding in my room....not good. I have never been one of those people who takes to their bed when they get depressed (although I have logged a fair amount of couch time) but lately my bed seems to be the only place I want to be. I get home from work, go to bed, the girls come home and I ask about their day and then go back to bed. Get up, get up, serve dinner, back to bed. I go lay down again after I put Annie to bed at 7:30, and I generally stay there until it is my actual bedtime. I will get up, wash my face, take my meds, and go back to bed. That's about 7 hours spent in bed in addition to sleeping overnight. If I am not working I usually have therapy at 10:00, then I will run some errands and do housework, and get back in bed around 1:30.

I am still trying to decide for myself if this a problem. I DO know that I am spending eccessive amounts of time in bad and that is not healthy. But it seems lately that the only time I feel safe and ok is in bed. I also think I am depressed again (still). I have been crying randomly and that is a pretty good sign. I have been thinking about giving Chris the keys back to the box 'o danger (locked box containing prescription pills and my revolver), but I just got them back like 2 weeks ago! Maybe I am just stubborn and prideful, but it is just humiliating to admit that maybe I am not safe with them again. It feels like a failure. Maybe I will talk with Scott about it in therapy tomorrow. I am also going to call Dr. Sean tomorrow to let him know I am feeling this way again.

XO
Lisa

*in case anyone reads this and wants to freak out about the gun and call the police and/or child services I want to be clear about something :I would NEVER hurt anyone else with the gun or anything else. EVER. Never even considered it. I am only referring to fears about self harm as I sometimes struggle with suicidal thoughts. I DO NOT pose a risk to ANYONE other than myself. Given today's climate I thought I should point that out.

spam

What is up with these stupid comments that I keep getting from like Asia and the Middle East and crap? The ones where they are trying to sell something? Anyone know how to NOT get those anymore?

In other news, I finally cleaned my side of the bedroom and made myself a little sanctuary there. I have candles and a water fountain, rocks and seashells, and one of those "zen gardens", you know, with the sand and the rake and stuff. I also planted a terrarium and it looks awesome! In case you haven't realized, I love nature and my relaxation spot has kind of a nature theme. I just love it!

The problem is, I go into my room and don't ever want to leave it. I want to stay in my little corner forever. Maybe I did too good of a job.

So Scott thinks that I might have something called Sensory Proccessing Disorder. I will write more about that later, but just let me say that I was reading about the symptoms/behaviors and it was like reading about myself. I am going to see Scott to talk about it more today. But here is something funny: Scott actually ASKED me to research it on the internet! If you have been reading my blog for awhile you will know why that is funny ;)

Peace out.

med changes

I didn't mention in my last post bad I have been in a pretty bad depression lately. Last December I was depressed and saw Dr. Sean and we decided to keep the wellbutrin, discontinue the Lexapro and start taking Viibryd instead. Viibryd is a newer drug that I haven't tried and it has an action that is a little different form the other SSRI's/SNRI's. And lets be honest, its pretty hard to find a depression med that I haven't already taken so I was all for givng it a shot. After titrating up to the reccomended dose I was actually feeling better (this was December and early January). Then my mood started dropping quite suddenly and I became really depressed for about a week and was also suicidal. I took steps to keep myself safe and let people know what was going on, and I also had a few extra appointments with Scott. I started feeling better and was good for about a week, but now 10 days ago or so I started getting really depressed again and was basically in the same situation: suicidal, Chris had to lock up my meds, had to get an extra appointment with Scott.  

     Scott told me that what he observed was that the viibryd wasnt working very well for me and that I should call Dr. Sean. I didn't really want to believe that the new drug wasnt helping and I just kept thinking that the sadness would pass, but over the weekend I was crying alot and feeling very suicidal so I did have to admit that things are not going well. I got in to see Dr. Sean today. Even though Dr. Sean told me that he would have liked to have seen a response to the Viibryd by now, he respected the fact that I didn't want to give up on it yet. But he was concerned and wanted me to make two changes. One was to increase my wellbutrin from 200mgs to 300mgs. I know that is still not a large dose and I am trying not to worry about it, but the increase is triggering my health anxiety and I am worrying about having a seizure.

 The other change Dr. Sean made was adding abilify, which I am very nervous about, but he is only trying it on me for a week and I will go back next week and we will go from there. I swore I would never take antipsychotics again. I hate the weight gain and the other side effects. I only agreed to try abilify because I haven't tried it yet and I have heard good things about it from other people. I have been on seroquel and risperdal before (seperatley and together) and I wasn't crazy about the way they made me feel, although the seroquel was great for stopping my anxious thoughts. The downside was that it made thinking and concentrating about almost anything pretty hard.

So that is where I am at right now. I will be starting the new dose of wellbutrin and the abilify tomorrow so we'll see.

long time no blog

I kind of sucked at blogging in 2012. I didn't post a lot, mostly because I didn't have much to say. Or maybe I just didn't feel like writing about it. I miss blogging, though. I miss getting things out on the page, and I miss the connections to everyone I have met on here.

Well like I mentioned earlier I had a short hospitalization last october for my depression. Shortly after that, Dr. Steenblock (my psychiatrist) decided that he wasn't comfortable treating me from an hour away. He felt that he wasn't accessible enough when I was in a crisis and he thought it was just too risky. I get his point, but it still stung. I really trusted Dr. Steenblock and he is about the best psychiatrist I have seen in years. He was so knowledgeable about everything I struggle with, and he also seemed to really care, which is important to me. Now I am back to seeing Dr. Sean (my PCP) for my psych meds. I know Dr. Sean, and I like him, so I guess its ok.

I also had to find a new therapist because of an insurance problem. That was hard because I had been seeing Kim for 2+ years and had worked through so much with her. When I talked to her about how I felt about something she didn't have to ask me why I felt that way, she just knew, because she knew me so well.

I am seeing a therapist named Scott now and it is going ok. It's hard to start over with someone new, to go through the whole history and start from scratch. Plus, I started seeing Scott shortly after I got out of the hospital and was still quite depressed, so I felt like I wanted him to be "up to speed" fairly quickly. He was very accommodating and saw me twice a week for awhile, until I felt that we had established a good rapport and I was feeling better about things in general. I find that starting over with someone new actually has some benefits. Scott brings a fresh perspective on things. He has also challenged my thinking a bit more and while that is sometimes difficult for me I think that i need to be challenged in that way. I really liked Kim, but I think that therapy with her had gotten a bit too relaxed and I need to be pushed a bit.

Another things that has changed is that I cut back on my hours at work. I am only working about 20 hours a week now and no more 7 day stretches! I might go back to full time at some point but I don't see it happening any time soon.

Lastly, I am getting a ton of spam comments! Does anyone know how to stop getting those? I think that I have word verification enabled but if you do leave a comment and it doesn't give you one of those funky words to copy to prove you are not a robot, will you let me me know?

XOLisa

Hope and Change

Gotcha! I bet you thought this was going to be a post about politics or the election or something. Nah
(well maybe the first paragraph is but the rest is politics-free, I promise!).

I have a friend who has different political opinions than me and sometimes we talk (argue) about stuff but I try to keep it light most of the time. I don't like getting in contentious disagreements over politics. My opinion is pretty much this: everyone has the right to their own convictions. The end.

So anyways, this morning the friend said to me "I don't see how you can vote for Romney when you live off the government!". Ouch.

I was stunned, hurt, and embarrassed (there were other people in the room). I said "I don't think I live off the government...I work....."

"You don't want to work...you told me you don't want to work", she said.

Well I was shocked by that. I don't remember saying that and if I did I am sure I was joking. Working and getting off of disability has been a goal of mine for awhile now. Nobody MADE me contact Vocational Rehabillitation to start the ball rolling. Nobody made me get training and find a job. Social Security wasn't kicking me off anytime soon. Bottom line: I do not have to work; I am choosing to work.

Work to me isn't just about a paycheck. It is about pushing myself to do something that for years I thought I would never be able to do. It is doing what several social workers and doctors told me I would likely never accomplish. It is about gaining self-confidence and self-respect, and feeling like I am being a good role model for my children. I believe in the value of working for what I have, but for much of my adult life my mental illness had kept me from living this value.

I have been working almost a year and I still sometimes wake up and think to myself "hey, I'm working! I'm actually doing it" and it feels so unreal, but in a good way. It feels so good that hear my family and people who have known me a long time tell me how far I have come and how proud they are of me. Its not a feeling I have experienced much in my life (which is so wrong...when people are afflicted with cancer or MS people gather around them and cheer them on and run races for them and shit. When you have mental illness you are just a big dissappointment. Whatever).

Anyways, back to this morning. I am sad to say that at the moment I was too upset and humiliated to come up with a good defense. About the best I could do was try not to cry until I found a quiet place, alone. As I cried, my mind went to that negative place that it so often goes to when I am hurt or upset. Thoughts were running through my mind....."fuck this, just fucking quit already.....why even try...this is how people will always see you.....this is who you will always be....you are just kidding yourself to think that you can change....that you HAVE changed....you are still the same worthless loser and everyone can see it and everyone thinks so...blah blah blah". I think that my friend's comment hit me harder because this is the first week of my reduced schedule. Basically I feel like my hospitalization last month was a wake up call to me that I was pushing myself too hard and not taking care of myself. I felt terrible to ask to cut back to part time because we are really short staffed right now. But I would rather do that and preserve my ability to work than continue to push myself and risk another breakdown and a longer hospitalisation, which could result in a loss of my job. I am really sensitive that people at work think that I am lazy or just dont want to work. It is just the opposite. It has been a real blow to me to acknowledge that right now I am not well enough to work full time. Even though my family and my treatment team say I am making the right decision it feels like a failure.

Ok this is getting wordy. What I really want to say is that some times it is hard to believe that things will ever change. It is hard to keep that hope alive. It is hard when you sometimes feel like the whole world (and even your mind) is against you. It's is hard when you feel judged for what you lack rather than celebrated for what you have accomplished. But despite everything, I found a bit of hope today. I experienced shame, hurt, and anger. My mind was torn apart my the negative thoughts which in the past have led to me making self destructive choices. I experienced all of that but you know what? I let myself feel it, then I got up, pulled myself together, and went back to work. Such a simple thing, but such an accomplishment for me. So different than the way I might have reacted even a few years ago.

Such a change.


XOlisa

good times....

Today I found out that I am for losing both my therapist and my psychiatrist. THIS IS REALLY NOT A GOOD TIME FOR THAT!!!!!!!!!!!









*commence freakout in 3...2...1..............

setback

Sadly, my 2.3 year streak of not being hospitalised has come to an end. But on the positive side, this was a short stay, I still have my job, and I will get back on track.

On Monday my depression was really bad and I had tried several things to help myself feel better. I took the girls out to a park with bluffs and trees to see the fall colors. usually being out in nature can ease my depression a bit but by the time we got back I actually felt worse. I called a crisis line at my psychiatist's office and spoke with a therapist there. I am not going to get into it, just going to say that he was NOT helpful. The receptionist told my that my psychiatrist had an opening that evening, so I decided to go in, even though his office is an hour away. At my last appointment he had added a small dose of wellbutrin, with plans to increase it. I was hoping that after seeing him he would agree to up my dose.

That is not quite what happened. Dr. S was very concerned and said he wanted to walk me over to the emergency room at the hospital across the street. I totally freaked out...I did NOT want to go into the hospital and I had to work the next day. I was really worried that all my hard work would be ruined by a hospital stay. But the Dr. wouldnt really take no for an answer. Once we were at the ER he called my husband. I guess he told Chris that this was the worst he had ever seen me and he didnt feel comfortable with me going home. He put me on a 48 hour hold and I was checked into the er to wait until a psych bed was found. I spent the night in the ER and the next day two sheriff deputies drove me to a hospital about 2 hours away, which apparently had the closest psych bed. We have a shortage of psych beds here in Iowa and sometimes people have to go to the other side of the state for one. It really sucks.

Since I was so far away I didnt get any visitors, there wasn't anyone to bring me a change of clothes or anything like that. It didnt really matter because I slept most of the time, and hospital scrubs work just fine for that.

It wasnt too bad. I talked to my boss and she assured me that my job was safe. My wellbutrin got increased so that is good. My 48 hour hold was up at 10:30 last night and I wanted to go home so they discharged me. I was suprised they would do that so late at night but I was glad that Chris could come get me and take me home. Today I have kind of felt like a zombie. I am still pretty depressed and wonder if I should have stayed in the hospital a few more days. But I dont feel suicidal, and I guess I can be depressed at home instead of in the hospital. At least here I have my own things.

I am really apprehensive about going back to work tomorrw. I think I will just feel akward. Also, tomorrow starts a 7 day stretch at work and I just dont know if I am up to it. I need to talk to them about not scheduling my for more that 5 days in a row. They are really short staffed but that is not my problem- I need to take care of myself before things get out of control and I cannot work at all, you know?

Well that is about it for now. Just trying to make it from moment to moment.

public

well I am not sure if anybody noticed, but I went private there for awhile. I had some concerns about people at work finding my blog and the possible fallout from that. But you know what? I decided that I just don't care. I mean, I can't imagine that I have written anything in here that could get me fired. I don't write about work, at least no specifics. I have never said where I work or anything about the people I work with or whatever. So that would leave....firing me because I am mentally ill? I am pretty sure that is a no-no. Especially because I am Officially Disabled and all. And there are some rules about firing someone because of a disability. So there. I am confident that my mental illness has not affected my work performance. In fact, I think I am a pretty damned good employee.

I miss this blog. I miss the support, and just the feeling of getting my thoughts out there, out of my head. I haven't been writing much because all has not been well in Lisa Land. I am having a rough time and my mind has been in a pretty negative place and I guess I just don't want to bring people down. BUT I have decided to start writing again and to be REAL, even if it isn't pretty. It might even be triggering. The last thing I want to do is drag anybody down, so this is your warning. If you need to look away, look away. I won't be offended.

So here is the big ugly truth: I hate my body and I miss my eating disorder. There, I said it.

I have been gaining weight steadily and am now actually .4 bmi points away from being oficially overweight. And dont try to make me feel better by telling me that bmi doesnt take a muscular build into account, because I do NOT have a muscular build. I have rolls. Lots of them. And I just want them gone.
Let me be clear: I am NOT Pro-Anorexia. That is just stupid. Eating disorders are horrible, painful, dangerous, deadly mental illnesses. They are torture. So why do I miss mine? Maybe I am so far removed that I have forgotton how bad it was. All I remember right now are the so-called benefits. Being thin. Feeling special. And, as much as I hate to admit it, the attention. Healthy Lisa looks just freaking fine and oh so...healthy...therefore she must be fine, right? Wrong.
I am still depressed and anxious as hell. Add to that the distress of living in this fat suit and the stress of working and all of the expectations that come with being well and you have me, stewing in my cauldron of misery. I hate feeling like this. I HATE IT! I hate feeling this desperate. I want to just be able to walk by a mirror without wanting to shove my fist through it. I want to be able to get dressed in the morning without having a panic attack. I just want to be comfortable in my own skin.

This isn't the whole story, of course. There are other things going on that I am struggling with. I will have to write more on that later. Mostly tonight I just wanted to get SOMETHING out, you know? Even if just to say that I am still here.

XOLisa

party animal

I was a wee little bit tipsy late last night so guess what I did? I emailed the local chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution and requested information on how to join.

Apparently vodka lemonade brings out the patriot in me.

dr seuss

I do not miss those skinny jeans
And how I used to fit inside 'em
I said, and said, and said those words
I said them.....but I lied them

Life is hard

Life is hard, folks. It's hard! Don't get me wrong; I'm thankful and greatful and happy that I am doing so well with my eatingdisorder/mental illness recovery and I am able to work and have more responsibilities and all of that. But with that stuff comes: work and more responsibilities!

Here are the negatives in my life right now:
  I am tired, all the time. I cut back my hours to 3-4 days per week, but getting up at 5am those days and working 8 hours at a physically and emotionally stressfull job is still alot for me. I feel like a zombie alot of the time. And I still have my responsibilities at home, cooking, housework, shopping, ect. And I am watching my neighbor's kid after school which is really too much for me, but I am not brave enough to tell him that I want to only watch this kid like 3 days a week instead of five. I am doing it for free, and I need to be assertive and tell him it is just too much for me right now, but I just can't. But then again, if I end up in the psych ward my neighbor won't have after school care for his kid at all, so there is something to think about.
Ugh, there are more negatives, but I am tired of thinking about that stuff. So on to the positives!!!!
Positives:
I am working! Still! Sometimes when I am at work it will hit me: hey, I have a job! I am working! I am doing this!!!!
Guys, this is such a big, huge deal for me. For years it was assumed hat the best I could hope for was just to stay stable and out of the hospital. My big goal was "staying in the community". Even when I first started contemplating having a job it seemed so out of reach. Even the simple act of calling Voc Rehab was a huge step. And silly me, I thoughtthat they would just DO everything for me, call the school, register me, tell me when and where to show up, and set me up with a job when my CNA training was over. Oh no. I had to do all of that myself. And that is a big deal for someone who a) does not call strangers b) does not do paperwork and c) does not to anything on the computer but blog/FB/surf. Yeah.
So, as hard as my job is, the thought of quitting it does not even enter my head. Some days I don't even want to go back, but I know that I will, because when I work I feel successful, and that is a new feeling for me, and I like it! Oh, and they pay me.
Another thing that I have wanted to do for awhile that is now coming to fruition is that starting next week I will be co-facillitating a NAMI Connections support group. Ever since I found NAMI I knew I wanted to be a part of this great organisation. Because of my experiences I have always wanted to be involved with helping the seriously mentally ill. I used to think that I wanted to do something in the professional realm, but lately I have realised that I want to be involved as a peer. I want to be able to meet people where they are at and support them without the constraints of a budget or hours or program guidelines or liabilities. I don't want to be responsible for someone's care. I just want to be there for them. Does that make sense?

So two things: work and NAMI. At some point in the past several years I thought about these things and thought "hey, I would like to do that" and now look, I'm doing it!

Do I sound braggy? I hope not. Mostly I just needed to give myself a pep talk, because today was a rough day, and I need to remind myself why I am doing what I am doing, and why it's a good thing.

on being a friend

Let me be the first one to say that I have absolutely no authority to be writing this post. I have very limited experience in the friend department, because for much of my life I was isolated by anorexia, bulimia, and depression. By the age of 19 I had cut ties with most of my highschool friends (all 3 of them) and was immersed in "being sick". At the time I had deluded myself into thinking that I didn't need friends, that I just wasn't a "social person". That was total bullsh*t. We all need friends. Even just 2 or three good ones. People need people. That's just the way we are made.

Looking back now, I can see how deeply lonely I was. I remember one incident in particular. It was winter; I was 19 and living by myself in an apartment across from a Dairy Queen. I was not working, and due to the fact that I was AWOL from treatment I was not in therapy of any kind. I spent my days alternating between bingeing, purging, and restricting. I kept 2 bottles of vodka in the freezer and when I needed a break from the eating disorder I would drink. I would go for days without talking to anyone.

Periodically I would leave the house to go to the store for binge food, laxatives, and Diet Coke. I hated doing this. It seemed strange to be out around people. The store was so bright. There were people everywhere. People...talking to eachother...living real lives. What if somebody said something to me? What if I saw someone I knew?
One day I was in the store, at the checkout, and the checkout lady said to me "You have a nice day now!", and I honest to goodness started crying. I choked up, and had to turn away before saying "thanks, you too". By the time I gt out to the car I was bawling. I thought I might be losing my mind, for real. It was that simple act of human kindness, someone talking to me, wishing me well, that broke me down. It was the way she said it, like she actually cared. Maybe it was just that I hadn't talked to anyone in a REALLY long time. Maybe (probably) I was going through a serious depression. I know, looking back, that I was desperately lonely and afraid, but at the time I just didnt want to go there. So I went back to the apartment and ate and puked and starved the feelings away. For several more years.

That's all behind me now, and hopefully for good. I have fought, I have perservered, I have fallen and got back up again. I have learned how to laugh, and that it's ok to cry. I have relationships, I have friends; not a ton of friends, but enough. I am able to BE a friend, which is huge. I am not a perfect friend, but who is? I like to think that am doing ok, I have people I can count on, and  my friends know that I will be there for them when it really counts.

Which brings me back to the title of this post: How to Be a Friend. Notice I didn't say: How to be a Good Friend. In my opinion, you are either being a friend, or you are not.

Sometimes it is easy to be a friend. Sometimes it is not. I think of my 19 year old self, alone and self- destructing in my apartment in the dead of winter. What difference would one true friendship have made? Was I even capable of being a friend? How would I act now toward a friend if she was reduced to a similar state?

I will tell you what I would NOT do. I would not abandon her. I have been there. I know what that hell is like, and in my opinion, one of the worst things that you can do is leave someone alone (crying in the grocery store because someone spoke to her) in that state. It goes beyond being a "bad friend". The word inhumane comes to mind.
That doesnt mean I have to save a friend who is struggling. I leave that to the professionals. Let them do their job. The "job" of a friend is simple: be there. I will tell my friend, through actions and words, "you are not alone.".

Dear Friend,

You are not alone. I won't let you face this alone. Yes, sometimes you can be frustrating. It's hard to see someone you care about hurt themselves. It makes people want to turn away. But I won't.
I know there is so much more to you than just your struggles. I know you are funny, smart, and brave. I know you can beat this. But even if you don't, even if you never do, I will still be your friend. I know you are not your illness. We don't even have to talk abou tthe serious stuff if you don't want to. Maybe, by talking about silly things and cracking jokes, we can remind each other that there is more to life. We can talk about books, movies, our families, whatever. But if you need to talk about the hard stuff, I can be there for that, too. I might not hav good advice, but like I said, I can't fix you. AND THAT'S OK! I will simply do what friends do best: just be there.

Had someone been there for me in this way, back then, would I have recovered sooner? I don't know. Likely not. But I wouldn't have had to face it alone. I thought that because I was sick, I was bad. I thought that I was unworthy of friends. Telling myself that I didn't need friends was my way of dealing with it. I spent all that time feeling unlovable, untouchable. Toxic. But I was none of those things. I was just a girl who needed a friend.

I would like to close this post with one of my favorite passages from the New Testament. Even if you are not a believer, you might still enjoy the beauty of this simple message about friendship:

Love is patient, Love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perserveres. Love never fails.

1 Corinthians 13:4-8



*this post dedicated to my friend 'nanas.