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.