I know how to change my social anxiety and I'm sure that will help, but this seems to be something else as well. I hadn't really thought about it before now, not sure why, maybe I wasn't ready for the truth?
If I get excited about something, I will talk myself out of going for it. There are dozens of reasons I give myself to rationalize not doing something. This is what I've been living like. And now look at my life - I'm not living it. I mean I'm not experiencing and pursuing things and that makes me feel stagnant, useless, and pointless.
But enough about what it has done to me.
I don't want to focus on the problem - the problem has had enough time to thrive. I want a solution.
Last night on Facebook, I saw the Hamilton Conservatory For The Arts was giving classes. I thought about taking the beginners photography class because I've lately discovered taking photos is kind of enjoyable - don't know why I never felt that way before, but anyway... I thought it would be a good thing for me to do to expand my horizons, learn some things, meet some peoples, etc. The place is really close to where I live and the money isn't a problem. Aside from the fact that I don't think I have the right kind of camera, there was nothing stopping me from going for it - except of course, myself.
I didn't know what happened in that moment between enthusiasm and deciding against it, but I believe it kinda went something like this:
Me: ooh exciting! Myself: scary. Me: It's close by! Myself:Still far enough. Me:I can learn a lot and have fun! Myself: You're not a photographer, you have more important things to attend to before you go taking classes on subjects that won't even help your livelihood. Me:This would be really good for my social anxiety exposure therapy. Myself:That's too much to handle right now. Me: I never do anything. Myself:you can't handle it. Me: okay, I guess you're right.
*Sigh*
I've been "disabled" for basically my entire 20's. My issues changed me and the way I live my life tremendously. But unfortunately, I allowed it to define and devour me. Being enveloped in health problems for long periods is a great way to neglect every other thing in life. I wasn't able to do so many things I wanted to do or used to be able to do so I guess somewhere along the way I stopped trying and reinforced the belief that I can't handle things, even though I consciously know/or at least think I can handle many things, I block myself from living the life I want to live.
Sure, I have some challenges that make it hard to do everything I'd like, but that doesn't mean I can't at least do some. I'm afraid of social situations but I can fight through that. I am way too easily overwhelmed... so I don't have to do everything all at once... I am in pain a lot of the time... so take it easy? So why doesn't "myself" understand that?
And I know I have a lot of fear about being really far out of my comfort zone, and imagining that discomfort can be enough to make me do nothing.
How can I change this pattern? (not a rhetorical question).
I'm at Brian's place right now: he's gone to take D to her mum's for the weekend and then doing all kinds of other stuff. I'm staying home and making him a speshul dinner :-)
Our three-month-aversary was on Wednesday... it feels like a hell of a lot longer than that, but in the good way. I'm still 'getting used to' this whole being in a relationship thing - it's a completely new experience for me. I've been in, what you could call, relationships before, but none of them were actual relationships. Needless to say, I'm a very happy girl, life is grand.
Well, mostly. I seem to be having a hell of a time with the pain thing. There's my usual pain, and then there's the pain I've been having for the past few months or so. It seems to be easing up somewhat, but let's just say this masochist is in need of a safeword O_O
Most other areas of my life are improving: I'm seeing a lot of the fruit of my past labours and can see it wasn't all for naught.
Like I said, I'm still getting used to being in a relationship. He lives all the way across the city and is a full time dad, so working out my scheduling and transportation has been an issue. I need to figure out how to fit everything in, fit in seeing my friends, my family, that sort of thing. I wish I drove sometimes.
I am, what they would call, a Borderline in recovery. What that means is, I still have all the same emotional disregulations and hyper-sensitivities, and whatnot, but I have the skills with which to cope. This is quite the miracle, for anyone with BPD knows the hell your life becomes with this disorder. If I keep up on the skills, I should be okay.
I am also, it would seem, a rapidly recovering body-hater. I have been struggling with body image issues for years, even when I believed logically that there is no reason to feel down about my body, the filters of society and everything I've always been told to believe/think have won out. The influence is too strong. Most everything we're told and shown regarding our body size, shape, etc. is bullshit, but how are we to know the difference if that's all (or the majority) of what we've experienced through media and society?
I did a few things, sort of theraputic-type exercises in hopes of changing my stubborn beliefs about my body. Some of these seemed to have an effect. Then I attended an eating disorders group where I was taught the science behind weight gain/loss, etc. It was a life-changing experience. Why was this information not out there in our society? It was so eye-opening, I'd never heard these things before. I felt lied to, and regretful that I had not known these things before it was too late.
Among all the things I learned, one of them was acceptance. After knowing what I now knew, I had no choice but to accept things as they were, accept myself the way I was, right now.
It sounds depressing for someone who hates their body and has spend most of her life trying to, or stressing out about, losing weight. Waiting for life until I was the right weight. Putting things off until I was 'done my diet.' Not wearing what I really wanted to wear because 'when I lose weight, it will be too big and I don't want to waste money.' And when the struggle to achieve the impossible inevitably failed, again and again (no wonder we end up hating ourselves) the cycle just continues, getting worse and worse.
Well, it was depressing. Incredibly. But then some things started happening. I would go shopping and look at all the clothing I wanted to wear, knowing I could buy it now and not have to wait for a later date that would never come. This was fun, relieving, and very empowering. If I accepted myself at the size I was at right now, I could stop waiting to live. Finally. Sounds dramatic, I know, but it kinda is.
After a while, I noticed I was not getting down about my body nearly as much as before. This was happening less and less. I noticed that I had stopped obsessing. This was a huge deal, like a ton of weight lifted off my shoulders.
Many other things happened. I began to notice an increase in confidence. So did others. And it's so true what they say - once you start to believe you are beautiful, so will others.
I still have some major issues, but like I said, it's a work in progress like everything else. I'm just very proud to be able to add that on to my list of ginormous life accomplishments. Most of the things I've been working on endlessly for the past decade and seemingly getting nowhere with have been shifting in big ways in the past year or two.
One of my biggest issues in therapy, oddly enough, was problem solving my inability to follow any sort of routine or schedule. To do anything productive on a consistent basis. Much of this had to do with the fact that I've been out of school and work for so long and haven't had to be very responsible and the fact that I have very black/white - all/nothing thinking.
It seemed like I would never be able to do it, I would never be able to control my life! I am very easily overwhelmed. But in the past, I'd say, six months or so, I have been slowly, by trial and error, getting somewhere with this problem. It is very slow progress, but it is a very big thing to tackle and I am doing it!
Of course there are other areas in which I'm making headway... I just don't give up. So like I said, life is grand.
I still have plenty of problems to deal with, but they are a hell of a lot easier to face when many of the other ones are under control.
I better go start dinner n' stuff now... this chair is killing my back :-/
Do you ever get so irritated you feel that way? I sure do. When I'm dealing with stress, especially when I'm out, I sometimes get so irritable I can't stand it. I become hypersensitive to noise and my tolerance for stupidity plummets. The feeling is so severe that I sometimes feel like running and screaming out of whatever room/situation I'm in... or at the very least, saying 'shut the fuck up already!'
I've learned skills to cope with this kind of thing, but when it gets severe like that, it's all I can do to hold on to any semblance of composure, though I'm sure everyone can see the extreme irritability all over my face - I'm a horrible actor.
Tuesdays tend to be the worst days for this as I'm up early and out the door by 9:30am and off to sit for two hours in a room full of other BPD sufferers and have group therapy. I then have lunch in a crowded hospital cafeteria and head to another type of therapy group for another two hours where there are way more people stuffed into a small room. If I'm lucky, I get to call it a day at 3pm, but at least every three weeks I have to go downtown to a pub and run a writer's group meeting (after an already long day) from 6:30pm up to sometimes 11-12. It can be almost impossible some of these days to not go completely insane.
Oh the joys of hypersensitivity...
Thank the gods this Tuesday business isn't permanent O_O
I don't like the way my body/mind plays tricks on me during the light half of the year: what I mean is, every spring I start to 'come back to life' - I wake up from depression and low energy, I start to feel good and I start to really live the way I try so hard to live throughout the entire year but never seem to be able to during the dark half of the year. This is, of course, wonderful. The bad part about it this particular year is that never before have I worked so hard on improving myself than I have this past year and things are starting to really come together for me, slowly but surely. My worry is whether or not it is only because it's spring and not because my hard work is paying off. If it's only because it's spring, then I'm bound to fall once again when November comes around and that would really really suck because I'm so sick of the struggle. But if it's not just a coincidence, well then that's a huge deal for me.
After severe anxiety, worry, and fear I finally FINALLY started going to the YWCA to exercise. I almost passed out from panic just going there to sign up. But something strange happened when I actually went to the gym to work out - as I was working my poor neglected muscles/body, I came to the realization that I was actually enjoying myself... I've told myself my whole life that I hate exercise, that exercise and I never got along, that I was born that way. This is true in a way: I was, since birth, a very sedentary person, preferring to live in my head rather than do much moving. But now I realize why I thought I hated exercise so much that it was making it next to impossible to start and keep to any kind of regiment: I have osteoarthritis and fibromylagia - both of those diseases are about pain, pain, and pain. I'm in constant pain. So whenever I've tried to exercise, it hurt like a bitch! No wonder I didn't want to do it. Turns out though, that if I stay away from the high impact stuff (cause that damages my joints and makes my disease worse) and make sure I'm not hurting myself in the "bad way," then it's actually enjoyable! It still hurts, but it hurts in the way that it's supposed to hurt, the way exercise hurts any normal healthy person, that wonderful burn that tells you you're making your body stronger. I actually like exercise, who knew?
I'm very eager now, I want to do so much, so I'm having to force myself to take my time so I don't overdo it and hurt myself or set myself up for failure. I wish I had discovered this years ago, but you can't change the past. So far I'm spending an hour at the gym three days a week. Next week I'm going to start adding swimming (like aqua therapy, water jogging, etc) to my routine. Eventually I want to be working out at least five days a week and I'd like to do some of the yoga and pilates classes they offer as well. What a huge breakthrough for me!
I've been terrified for quite a few years now of starting any kind of routine in my life because in the past I have always failed and after so many times failing, you start to feel defeated and hopeless. I haven't had structure in my life since I was in high school, and even then it wasn't very structured so I'm having to relearn how to do it in almost every aspect of my life. I have severe "all or nothing" thinking, so that poses a challenge all on its own - it's like learning to live from scratch in a way. But I have a kick-ass therapist and she suggested having a plan for failure: a simple concept yet I never thought of it. I always thought I should just be able to pick up and start again if I failed, but it's not always that simple, and having an actual plan to follow is such a great concept and makes me feel more secure in being able to succeed.
So there's that.
In other news, I love plants. Every single spring for years and years I attempt a garden on my balcony and every single year I kill my plants. In the past I always thought it was because I end up neglecting them when I get depressed (which is true too), but this year I've realized, sadly, that I kind of don't really like gardening, and I'm kind of not very good at it lol. I wouldn't say I have a brown thumb, but I'm having to accept that I should stop trying to have a damn garden and just buy the organic produce from those who know what they're doing. I have a few plants out there now so we'll so how those do, but after this, I'm gonna go steal Sunny's tomatoes ;o)
What else is going on... my best friend is moving to another city :o( This is really hard for me, really really hard. A year ago I would be in bed crying all day and night planning my own demise over this, but I've grown a fuck-tonne and I will be okay. It's going to be hard though, he's more than just a best friend, if that makes any sense. And I guess after a year and half I should meet the girlfriend... I'm kind of proud of us though - we managed to stay close friends after all the turmoil and heartache and through such difficult circumstances when it really would have been easier ultimately to go our separate ways, we knew the value of our friendship and chose the path less traveled in order to keep each other in our lives. Who knew it could be done? The hard stuff is still not over yet, but I think the majority of it is definitely behind us. Here's hoping the future rewards us!
I am. duh. I was a chubby little girl until I hit puberty, at which point I naturally thinned out. To tell you the truth, I didn't really notice: as far as I know, I thought I was the same size the whole time (chubby or even fat, even when I was not). So anyway, I thinned out and was pretty damn hot (looking back, of course you never realize it at the time - don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got till it's gone?). I still thought I was fat though, not huge but definitely "big boned," which is why dieting was always in the back of my mind, always always always. Looking back I can't beleive how sick that was, that I thought I was fat when I was so not: I was damn fine and healthy too. Nonetheless, I remember putting a picture I'd cut out of a magazine on the fridge of a super skinny model - inspiration to lose weight, I said.
So then what happened? Well, first of all, at some point along the way ( think I was either thirteen or fifteen but can't remember at the moment) I "discovered" emotional eating. Well I didn't know that's what it was at the time, but I discovered it nonetheless. Luckily it wasn't something I did too often and it didn't effect my weight too much, probably because I was still somewhat active and healthy. It's no coincidence that this discovery of emotional eating came around the same time as I was becoming unknowingly depressed. I won't go into what was going on and why that added to the depression but just that it was something I was unaware of, I just thought I was weird and super sensitive (I am both those things, but I was also depressed lol).
What's weird about being depressed in my house is that every single person in my family has some mental disorder or another (usually various) but no one said anything to me about possibly being depressed, nothing. Not sure why, but I've always been a bit bitter about that. Back to the topic.
Now, when I was somewhere in my mid teens I fell disgustingly deep in love with a good friend of mine. This caused me a lot of turmoil and inevitably ended in heartbreak for me. How badly was I hurt? Let's just say I only just got over it a few years ago, and I am currently twenty-eight. I got so depressed (still didn't know I had depression btw) that I eventually left my job and school (on the same day) and slowly but surely began shutting the world out, becoming a hermit, pretty much.
And this is where that wonderful thing called emotional eating came in handy. I embraced that coping mechanism, consciously knowing that I would probably gain weight and not caring (because what's the point in looking and feeling good if you don't see any hope for the future?). With the mixture of inactivity and emotional eating, I, of course, did start gaining and I still didn't care. I'm sure I cared on some level but at the time I was too depressed to care. That's how hopeless I felt.
I eventually got to the point where I started to suspect there might be something wrong going on and made an appointment with the doctor. This is when I found out that I did indeed have depression. They diagnosed me with bipolar (because I would go into deep deep depression and then mania) and anxiety and gave me some pills.
By this time I had a full-out eating disorder and was discovering that even though I didn't want to gain weight anymore, it was starting to become out of my control (that's the best way I can put it I think). And I was still depressed. And I didn't know how to get control of my eating again, I just thought I was weak and pathetic. I kept gaining weight.
Then, in my early twenties I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia and osteoarthritis. No wonder physical activity was so hard, I thought I was just lazy. Try and lose weight when you're severely depressed, have an eating disorder, and have physical disabilities. Right, sounds fun eh?
So I became double the size I used to be - the size of two of me. And trying to lose weight the whole time by dieting dieting dieting and trying to exercise. The dieting wasn't so hard as the exercise, for obvious reasons, but the mental turmoil one goes through when struggling with body image issues is a sickness I wish upon no one - yoyo dieting, all diets that are extremely unhealthy, for years. None of them worked. Diets don't work. I knew that, I knew it had to be a permanent lifestyle change, but by then I was so deep into the cycle of punishing myself for failing by starving myself, then inevitably binging out of starvation and comfort. I now understand that this becomes a mental disorder that only gets worse.
And so I kept trying and the harder I tried, the more weight I gained. I know that doesn't make any sense, but if you're in such a sick cycle it just keeps making you sicker and making things more distorted and eating away at your self-worth and that forbidden comfort food becomes no different than a drug addiction. The only difference is that you have to eat, which makes it harder to avoid.
And that's why I'm fat. Mind you, I don't think being fat is necessarily bad - we all have some amount of fat on our bodies, it's just when you have too much that it can take a toll on your health. If I were able to lose weight (let's hope so!) I wouldn't want to be skinny, I'd want to be pleasantly plump, as they say. That's just me.
There are many judgments about fat people, and I can understand why: it's a simple scientific formula - burn more calories than you consume and lose weight. Unfortunately, when an eating disorder develops, when there's severe depression going on, when physical activity is limited, this simple formula is moot. Don't tell a fat person to just stop eating because you never know if they're like me and get anxiety attacks just walking into the kitchen because they don't want to have to eat but know they need to.
Ultimately I'm not trying to make excuses for myself because that does no one any good, I'm just explaining how I got where I am and why I'm here.
Some days I feel absolutely disgusting, nothing but a blob of grossness that no one would ever want to look at. In fact I've stayed in many times because I thought no one should have to look at me. Sick, no? Some days I actually feel kinda hot, like yes I'm fat but I'm still damn sexy bitches ;o) Both of those are true depending on who's looking. So what others think doesn't really matter. There are plenty of men who love fat chicks, it turns their crank, but at the end of the day, it's me whose opinion matters and I'm not comfortable being as fat as I am. This goes for aesthetics as well (and especially) health.
While it's true that you can be relatively healthy and fat, there are still things going on inside your body that are not good - things have to work harder because of the extra weight and that puts stress on important processes, resulting in adverse health effects. Thinking about what my body is going through makes me sad, I want to be healthy.
I was at a level weight for a few years, but in the past year I have gained a lot more weight (yes, another severe heart break by a man I love) and this has accelerated my distorted thinking about eating and my body and all of that good stuff. But some really good stuff has happened in that time as well: I finally started seeing a therapist (I know, after being depressed most of my life you'd think I'd have gotten one sooner, but that's a whole other story of woe) and she is fucking awesome. I've been in a DBT group (Dialectic Behavioural Therapy) as well, which has helped me so much. And in about two weeks, I will be starting in an eating disorder program at the hospital.
If this doesn't help me, I don't know what will. I recently went to an information seminar for getting gastric bypass surgery, determined that this was my only hope, I fully intended on going for it. But after the information session, there was no way, I was really disappointed at finding out what it's really like and that the only thing getting that surgery does is help you lose a bunch of weight really quickly (the way you would on a fad diet) and you have to change your lifestyle by eating right and exercising anyway, the same way you would without the surgery. There is no difference, well, except for all the serious health risks and permanent sacrifices, etc. I could get the same results going on a shake diet for a few months and then dieting and exercising - I think I've already tried that lol.
Just learning DBT skills in the past six or so months has already helped me immensely with how I deal with food. I'm hopeful that the next six months, plus my therapy, plus the next year in an eating disorder group will be just what I need to get healthy. I'm tired of everything being about my weight. Just the fact that I would never tell anyone the number on the scale tells me how shameful it makes me feel, cause as some of you know, I'm not the most private person, I tell all! lol I would like to think, after being rejected by a man, that it's because of my horrible personality and not because I'm fat :op There is some truth to wanting that, trust me.
I've learned a lot through the years of being in a fat body...
I've learned the importance of not judging someone by their looks. I've learned that it's still okay (socially acceptable) to say hateful things to or about a fat person, to discriminate against them for how they look. I've learned that the media is disgusting. I've learned that people can eat well and exercise and still be fat. I've learned that they should stop making polyester/nylon clothing for plus size women because it's the most unflattering, worst possible fabric for anyone with curves, lumps, or bumps. Oh, and I've also recently learned that there are ingredients in most of the food we buy, such as high fructose corn syrup and MSG that actually effect the body in a way that negates the scientific formula of natural weight loss (calories consumed/calories burned) - it is really sad to find this out because there are some people who try so hard to lose weight and they are unknowingly consuming these additives, not knowing it is likely making their struggle pointless. I've learned a lot more, but I think I'm about done writing for now.
There was no real point in writing this, I just felt like talking about it so thanks for indulging.
I totally lost it this weekend - something in me decided I didn't wanna deal with the pain I was going through (being reject #539 'er something) and so I didn't: instead, I pulled an old favourite and got myself and nice and wasted at around three in the afternoon on Saturday. Being drunk and angry just feels so much better than sober and pathetic and in too much pain to be conscious. I was quite trashed and decided I had to get out of the apartment, so, feeling nice and self-destructive, I narrowed my options and decided to head to Corktown to see Randy and Mr. Lahey (from the Trailer Park Boys). So I wobbled over there, flask full of whiskey hidden in my purse (and bottle of Ativan just in case?) and actually had a pretty good time - the show was funny and as drunk as I was, I remember some of it - even standing with the rest of the patrons to sing 'Oh, Canada' after the 'boys' poked fun at those silly people requesting the lyric change (it's not hard to feel at least a little patriotic after those beautiful Olympic games).
Anyway, after that a few guys I know from a band got up and played a set with a new band they're in (Radio Free Universe: members include fellas from Bombshell and the guy from King Clansey) so that was okay. Then closing time. That's where things got ridiculous.
Some dude asked if he could share the cab with me cause he lives just a few blocks from where I'm going so I said sure why not. That was a really stupid move apparently because all he did was get out of the cab at the same place as me and followed me into my fucking apartment building. So I was fucking stuck in my apartment lobby with this really creepy guy who wanted to come to my apartment with me and kept calling me a bitch cause I was saying 'no, leave' meanwhile trying to grope and kiss me. Then he drags me on the elevator! so I obviously refused to press any buttons cause I didn't want him knowing where I live (obviously). After I don't know how long (and after flashing me in said elevator) he got fed up with the elevator business and tried pulling me into a stairwell. But as wasted as I was, I was able to fight (thank gods). Oh did I mention he grabbed my keys from me and wouldn't give them back?
Finally after about an hour of this torture he left and I booted my ass up to my apartment and locked the doors.
The next day was a hang-over and that same yuckiness that was intolerable the day before, except this time no drinky poo (as Mr. Lahey would put it). I slept a good chunk of it away, then later on dealt with some unpleasantness and shed the damn tears I was trying so hard to avoid in the first place. What a train wreck. I'm pretty sure anyone talking to me lately thinks I'm a nut bag unless of course you already know me, then you already know I'm a nut bag. Well, at least I learn from it all, that's something.
So after little to no sleep last night I had to get up early for an assessment to get into the eating disorders clinic here in Hamilton. I pressed snooze at least ten times and felt like pure shit. The assessment consisted of me sitting in this psychiatrist lady's office while she asked me about everything from my childhood to my suicidal tendencies and everything in between for about two and a half hours. By the time we were done, I was completely drained and a little depressed because I had just talked about my life for two and a half hours and it was all really shitty stuff so it made me feel like I've had a really negative life.
As much as my apartment needs to be cleaned and that article needs to be written for Buttercup, there was no way. I slept pretty much all day and it was very much needed. And this is a big chunk of why I. am. exhausted. No wonder it feels alien when I tell people my age cause I sure feel like I've been stuck at 13 forever. I am so jealous of people who know how to live and people who know how not to fuck shit up and people who are reading this blog feeling sorry for me because they can't imagine being so miserably stupid. And now I'm starting to make myself sick with my whining so I'll move on.
I do have some positive things to talk about. I got a guitar! Sean brought it over about a half hour ago and I've decided to relearn. Yay! Maybe when I'm 40 I'll be a rock star ;o) I don't know how to read music - I learn by watching and listening because of course I like to do things the hard way. I used to know so many freaking songs - I knew almost every Hole song too! Damnit I wish I could remember.
What else, I needs monies. I'm usually good with monies but I'm so tight this month and it's a really bad month to be broke cause I have two writer's meetings and a few shows I just have to go to. Thursday I'm heading to 'This Ain't Hollywood' to see '13 Bags of Dick' and 'Allysa In The Apple Tree.' On the 20th I'm going to see 'Steel Mountie' at 'Bread And Roses.' 'Rackula' is having a CD release at the 'Casbah' on the 27th and I think that's it (I hope so cause I have no money! Please donate - I will show you my bra strap [no, I am not kidding]). I need to do my damn taxes.
Yeah, right. I'm listening to South Park Christmas songs to brighten my mood. I don't think people should be sad on Christmas if they're not dwelling on sad things and trying to focus on the good things - it doesn't seem fair - but for some reason, here I am, feeling like shit (though a lot less shitty than I did earlier). I started feeling down the day before Christmas eve and it has progressed from there. I guess it's a bit inevitable - I'm lonely so I'm going to feel it a hell of a lot more now than I would on any other day of the year. I know it's really just another day, but to be realistic, it's not - you know it's not. It's a time to spend with your loved ones: it stopped being a religious thing for most people a loong time ago. You can try to think of it as any other day but trust me, I've tried that one, it's almost impossible. I can even hear my neighbour enjoying her loved one right now.
I do have one very special thing to look forward to today, and that's my fourteen month old niece, Amelie. I'm going to try to focus all of my attention on her, after all, it should be about the young ones - it's a magical time for them, especially before they realize they want STUFF. I'm pretty annoyed that my camera won't work so I can't take any pictures of her, but hopefully one of my brothers will. I'm also really looking forward to Don coming over later.
I just need to get through to January 2nd and I'll be alright. New years eve will be hard, but who knows, maybe I'll have someone special to spend it with next year - gotta stay positive right? I'm looking forward to writing 2010 rather than 2009 - yes, I am a nerd, we know that.
Ways I have tried to cheer myself up today: singing, putting on make-up, watching Bush say dumb things on YouTube, came three times, did a half smile, and listened to South Park Christmas songs. See? I try, lol. Emotional disregulation sucks. Feeling incredibly lonely sucks. Loving people way more than they could possibly love me back - well, that doesn't suck in theory, but it does when you're not very high up on anyone's list of people to care about, such is my case. Being a downer and writing depressing things on my blog sucks. Okay, I got that out of my system. Oh, I forgot to mention that I am also PMSing.
Remember kids, you can suck all the dick you want and still be virgin.
I'm using notepad to write this due to LiveJournal having erased my damn blog the other day, right when I was done typing it, but before, of course, I had a chance to post.
I currently have zero drama going on in my life (thank gods) and nothing immediately worrisome or depressing going on.
That feels nice. Freeing.
Now I'm left with me to deal with! I'm doing a good job, considering, but I have a nagging feeling of... I don't even know... it's just unsettling.
Like, what's going to happen now?
Anxiety about the next thing that will trigger me because I know too well it kills me everytime: it's very black and white - right now I feel happy and hopeful... tomorrow, depending on what happens, I could want to kill myself (knock on wood).
A feeling of being lost, having no footing, being unsure of my self/life, feeling scattered and unfocused.
Oh the joys of mental illness.
The only explanation that comes to mind is that I'm undergoing such drastic change in my ways of thinking, behaving, and believing that I'm not sure who or what I'm becoming... unfamiliar territory.
That's an awesome thing. If I'm wrong, then I really don't know what's up. Do anxiety disorders have to be triggered by situations or can anxiety arise on its own accord?
That could be it. Who knows.
In other, not so unrelated news, I'm finally starting the DBT group next Tuesday. I've been on the waiting list for a couple of years for this! DBT is apparently the make or break therapy for people with Borderline Personality Disorder.
I used to be very bitter about not having had this therapy before... before any damage to my relationship(s) was done. But now I realize that whatever happened, happened because I needed to go through certain things and to learn certain lessons.
A bitter-sweet realization, but better late than never.
Anyhew, it's a thirteen month long intensive group therapy - two hours a week with a group and one hour a week with my therapist one on one. Lots of homework in between.
I'm really excited but a little nervous, to be honest, about walking into a room full of women who have the same illness I have... I wouldn't even be able to handle one of me, let alone a group of me! But I know I'm just being silly ;o)
Along with the DBT stuff, I'm also working with an Al-Anonsponsor and have been going to meetings.
Since I've started doing this, I've learned so much about myself, others, and a lot of things that apply to my life as both a person affected by alcohol and a person with BPD.
All I can say is I'm growing daily and my life is already so much better after only a few weeks.
I can only guess how much growing I'll do for the next thirteen months as I do the DBT and Al-Anon... they're very similar actually.
Okay, enough mental stuff! I'll re-touch on some of the stuff I wrote the other day that LJ erased...
The contest was a seemingly cool attempt to market their 2009 Nissan Cube using nothing but social media (twitter).
Fifty creative Canadians had a seemingly fair chance at winning and Sunny and Blake were among those fifty chosen.
I'm a lazy gal, so if I didn't believe the Crittendens to be exceptionally worthy or winning a car, I would never have posted about it on my blog, or spammed multiple online venues seeking votes for them.
They worked their asses off for months during the contest, I know how much time, effort, and energy was spent on their part: putting their lives on hold in the belief that this was a fair contest.
So by the time the judges were ready to announce the winners, most of us assumed either Sunny or Blake, or both of them, would be coming home from the event in a brand new car.
When that didn't happen, we were left scratching our heads.
These two entries in Encyclopedia Dramatica explain quite well why shit went down the way it did: A simple case of the worst execution of a marketing competition I've ever heard of, to put it lightly.
Speaking of Sunny: You're one tough lady! I'm glad you're doing okay (considering) and I hope they gave you a strong enough cocktail to not be in too much discomfort, and to hopefully get a decent high ;o) You are very loved <3
Completely random thought: I wish there was a healthy diet that didn't require counting, weighing, portioning, etc. of the food.
And shame on you, Winking Judge, for having the worst service I've possibly ever had the other night:
I arrived around 6:45pm, ordered a drink, and sat down.
The waitress eventually came over and asked if I wanted to order food, to which I responded that I would wait a bit, since my friend had yet to arrive.
At 7pm, friend arrived.
At 7:45pm, we were both wondering when in the world the waitress was going to come and take his order (yes he'd been there 45 minutes and no one had served him!).
So he decided to go to the bar and get his drink.
At about 9:30pm after we'd both long finished our one drink of the night and felt quite invisible and disgruntled (and hungry!), we concluded that we were not welcome.
I went to pay for my drink (no tip of course) and the waitress actually forgot that my friend had already paid for his drink.
We left, puzzled and not buzzed.
So folks, from 6:45pm to 9:30pm (two and a half hours I believe), we were approached by the waitress once and once only. She never came to our table. The place was empty. She was sitting and reading a newspaper!!! Horrid.
Anyway, to top off the lovely service, I went to the washroom and there was no fucking toilet paper in the stall.
Hmmm. Sometimes, when I'm doing well, I feel as if it's only a matter of time before sadness catches up and contains me. I'm not being emo, I'm just saying, I'm doing okay right now, on the right track it seems, but I feel so fragile - afraid of the next trigger - I don't know how to overcome such intensity.
Maybe I'm not supposed to fight it? Maybe if I accept it as part of my experience that sometimes I'm going to get really fucking sad and I should just take from it what I can. That sounds fucked up though. Too many questions, not enough answers...
The man I love is with another woman and I am reminded of that regularly because he's my best friend and I've chosen to stick it out with him. That's like living with a constant raw wound. It does get easier to cope, but when the pain comes, it still feels as fresh as it did when it began. But I've chosen that sacrifice. Accepted one pain rather than another. I don't recommend it. But I don't regret it either.
It will be okay though, somehow. I just hope she realizes how lucky she is.
And I'm filled with anger and resentment. I realized this not long ago, how pissed off I am in general. I've never been an angry person, but I am filled with it now. I'm angry at the people (the men in particular) who have treated me disrespectfully. I'm especially angry at myself for allowing it, even inviting it, unknowingly.
That won't be happening anymore. My eyes have been opened. Find yourself another doormat/victim.
Apparently, it's sort of good that I'm angry: it's given me the motivation and desire to start pushing/fighting back.
But the resentment that comes with the anger? What do I do with that?
If I allowed you to treat me a certain way and I now decide that was wrong and I won't play that role with you anymore, does the relationship end? Or does it continue in a new direction? And how can it continue in a new direction when I still feel so much resentment toward you? And how can I be so resentful toward you when I played a part in it too?
You are choosing the pursuit of a brand new love interest who happens to be my best girlfriend. If what we did have together had been healthy, this is still pretty fucked up territory - I'm thinking that me being bothered by this is quite called for.
Let me think for a minute: If I had something with a guy and decided (without so much as a word) that I wanted to hook up with his best friend instead, would the guy be upset? Well, unless he had absolutely no respect for me in the first place, he would be quite perplexed.
I think I'm angry right now and I think I'm going to say, in my anger, that is not cool.
There is a reason the resentment keeps popping back up, no matter what I do, it comes back, and I think it's for the simple reason that I have been fucked over. Makes sense?
I also have a hard time dealing with the knowledge that what I thought was a solid friendship turned out to be something not so real.
How do I begin to come to terms with it? The only thing I know is that after someone hurts you over and over, you should really stop giving them the opportunity.
I want my friends to be happy. But I also want my friends to be my friends and not expect me to be okay with things that no one but the Buddha himself would be okay with. I don't even fully know what I'm saying, but I'm saying it lol.
I feel like it's only a matter of time before people get sick of my emotional incoherency and leave me so they can be happy... wtf does that mean?
Having to second guess yourself all the time really makes it difficult to gain confidence ya know.
But I'm not gonna end this entry on a sullen note cause I'm not all tears and fears - I just tend to write more when I'm down.
I'm going through a ginormous learning/growth period and good things seem to be happening. Well, a lot of these good things are disguised as bad things, but I can recognize them for what they are.
I just keep having to remind myself to calm down and take things moment to moment, otherwise I'll lose my way in a big tangle of my own thinking. Mindfulness.
I am ever humbled by the power of the brain - I think the trick is to work with it, not try to take total control of it, if that makes any sense.
I went to the park today. I probably wouldn't have gone to the park if I hadn't promised my therapist I would. Ya see she's trying to help me have a better quality of life so that the work the meds are doing aren't going to waste. She wants me to take advantage of any energy and motivation I'm feeling, which is easier said than done.
She made me choose something extremely simple to do but it had to be something that I actually wanted to do and would benefit from, otherwise I would be overwhelmed and even if I achieved the goal, would likely not stick to it in the long term.
It's a really weird therapy process that I have never heard of, yet it's so simple and makes so much sense. It takes into account how hard it is for people to take action in their lives in whatever way necessary when they're so used to hiding away in their apartment, no longer capable of maintaining any real schedule, thus being overwhelmed by the simplest of tasks... not even the task itself, just the idea of it: it has to be done - it seems monstrous when it's really very small and simple. If I have to do two things in one day? Forget about it! That becomes so overwhelming that I usually end up not doing either thing... there may be no logic in it, but it feels as real as the air we're breathing.
My existence consists of spending the day and night in my one bedroom apartment, mostly doing something on the computer. Sometimes I have to clean. Sometimes I have to shower. Sometimes I have to cook! Sometimes I have to run errands (omg).
I go out to socialize occasionally, but not much, and it's usually places where I'm already comfortable being like a friend's place, or my writer's meetings.
(the phone is ringing - I'm too scared to answer it because I don't know who it is). I hate talking on the phone and only do so when absolutely necessary, so I'm sure that has some effect on my social interaction.
I've been living like this (well actually I'm doing a lot better than I was) for years now... most of my twenties have been a losing battle.
So to the people who are reading this and wondering why I don't just CHANGE already, it is because it's all I know. I have mental illness, it makes me act and react and feel in ways that are often completely void of logic. It is quite possible that if I had gotten the proper help years ago, I would be living a very different life right now... but that's not the way life works... things tend to happen when they're meant to happen.
What the hell was this blog post about again?
Right, I went to the park.
And for reasons I cannot explain, I was sick to my stomach with anxiety at the thought of actually GOING to the park. I have no idea why. That kinda made me realize just how serious this is: if walking two blocks up the street to the park and sitting at a bench journaling for a half hour makes me that anxious and afraid, I must really have a problem because I did not anticipate that happening. Why would I? I'm not agoraphobic and I'm usually fine going out by myself when I feel like it... so what gives?
And then I got to the park and I seriously felt like people were laughing at me. No logic.
I found a picnic bench and proceeded to journal. I journaled about what I was thinking about the whole going to the park thing. The longer I sat there, the more relaxing and enjoyable the experience was. I kept trying not to look up from my journal because I didn't want to see anyone looking at me (wtf) but when I did, I noticed a girl had sat down at another bench by herself to read a book.
I tried not to look at her because I didn't want people to look at me so I thought I'd give her the same courtesy.
So I laughed at myself for being such an idiot and continued my journaling.
I stayed for fourty five minutes and would have stayed longer if it hadn't been so chilly (I despise cold!).
The walk home was better, except I thought this creepy looking man was following me so that was kinda scary, but I was just being paranoid o_O
So I don't know what any of this means, it's too big for me to try to wrap my mind around right now, too overwhelming.
I'm being guided by a very capable therapist toward a better quality of life and I believe if she sticks with me, it just might work! But at the same time I'm still terrified. I'm still afraid to set any goals right now - if I make something a goal, I will be letting myself down for the millionth time if I fail. If it's not a goal and I fail, it's not as big a deal. It's stupid, but that's where I am right now.
Except for this going to the park business that I was tricked into doing ;) I'm supposed to do it two times this week and I'm afraid I won't be able to go a second time because it's supposed to rain all the way till Saturday. Or maybe I'm more relieved than scared.
Whatever.
I have a lot more to talk about but I'll have to do it in another post. More literary fun, film festival fun, stupid people doing stupid things, and creepy dates.
April is here: month four - a quarter of the year passed.
This year was to be the year of 'Marylin' - the year where I stopped moaning and actually acted on life. Because when last new year's came around and the question of "what are your resolutions for 2009?" started popping up, I realized that the resolutions I had were the exact same resolutions (for the most part) I'd had every year for pretty much a decade.
I am twenty seven years old. I cannot go into my thirties with the same energy as I've been spending in my twenties. I just can't. I know I wasted a fucking decade - I can't do it again.
It's not that I've done nothing, it's that I've done a very small fraction of what I have the potential and drive to do/achieve. I've only lived a small fraction of the life I've wanted to live.
Over these years I have made some progress. I've realized a lot of the limitations I was fighting against were not as controllable as I thought. Once I stopped fighting certain things, so much stress and sadness was taken away.
All my life I've suffered from sleeping problems, which have caused a lot of problems for me regarding school, work, appointments, and even socially.
I've strived all these years to take control of my sleep patterns, thinking I just wasn't trying hard enough.
Finally, a few years ago I had an over-night sleep study done that revealed I had what's called Delayed Sleep Phase Disorder.
The doctor explained to me that trying to fight it is fruitless because it is a neurological problem, it's just the way my brain works, and that I should try to work with it if I want to be happy. One of the best things for someone with DSPD is to do a job where you can set your own hours, like writing, for example.
Great! I thought. I am a writer!This just gives me another reason to justify writing for a living.
So after this new information was made known to me, I slowly stopped fighting against the sleep issues and that has made a world of difference. I don't feel guilty or stressed out anymore about it. This has made me a happier person in general.
Ask me how my writing career is going.
Well, just take a look at my ISBN collection and that should answer your question.
Isn't it funny what excuses we can make for our lack of productivity? Mmmhmmm.
Another obstacle that came about right when my twenties started was being "disabled."
Yes, I was about twenty when I couldn't take the pain and fatigue anymore. That's when they diagnosed me with the osteoarthritis and the fibromyalgia.
I can't even begin to talk about how weird that is/was for me. I've never been a very active person, so it left everyone baffled as to why I would get osteoarthritis, and so young too. I got the fucker all over the body too. The fibro is a little more understandable, my mum has that too, but still, at twenty?
Suffice it to say, these have factored into my life substantially. It is quite hard for me to walk very far, let alone do much rigorous exercise. It makes me an outsider to my peers, who sometimes don't quite understand why we can't take that twenty minute walk to "insert place." It's embarrassing, especially because I've never been very vocal about my issues, so it just makes me look really lazy to people, since you can't see my disabilities just by looking at me.
It's also hindered my ability to lose weight. Not only is exercise difficult, but the fibro effects your metabolism and also includes depression as a side effect, which I already suffer from. (But I'll get to the weight and the depression as well.)
I don't feel sorry for myself about my physical disabilities. I'm okay with adjusting my life because of them. I just still can't bring myself to accept that I can't exercise the way other people can and I know my refusal to accept this is only because of my desire to lose weight and be healthy.
I've finally accepted that I can't be as active as most of my peers, and I've been working on being more vocal about it, but I still have shame, and I hate that I have that shame, hence more shame. I don't want to be a pain in the ass ya know?
Anyway, I have come to a place where all those feelings of shame and of trying to fight the illnesses have lessened a great deal, which means, again, that I am a happier person with a lot less stress.
Then there is the mental catastrophe to talk about.
I honestly think I had depression as a child when I look back, but there's no way to know. What I do know is that when I hit my early teens, I had it. I had really bad depression and I didn't know it was depression, I just thought I was a really sensitive person lol. A misunderstood teen.
I didn't realize I might have a problem till I was nineteen, living in a bachelor apartment that I'd rented with no employment to speak of, where I spent the majority of my time filling binders full of get-rich-quick ideas and reading tarot cards over the phone for Miss Cleo (without payment).
If you don't remember Miss Cleo, let me refresh your memory:
Three months later I found myself unable to get up from my futon because i was "inexplicably" paralyzed with depression. But this was before I started hallucinating and being afraid to go outside...
The worst part of it was that my entire family suffers from a cornucopia of lovely mental illnesses and not once did anyone in my family suggest that I might also be afflicted - they all just thought I was the "normal" one. The one who would actually go somewhere in life.
Anyway, so I sought help and was diagnosed with bipolar and anxiety disorders. The little pink pill (paxil) they gave me made me feel better for about a year, but when it stopped working, things were a lot worse and this coincided with the worsening (and discovering) of my physical issues.
Since the initial diagnoses, I'd been seeking proper help in the form of therapy to no avail, and ended up being switched to effexor for a while (this made me worse), and then to celexa (which helped a lot and which I still take now) by a family doctor who I all but reported for malpractice for so many reasons.
I was monitoring my own meds and recieving zero therapy due to long waiting lists and a bitch of an ex-roommate who failed to deliver a very important phone message to me.
It wasn't until late last year that my name finally reached the top of a waiting list and I got myself a proper therapist, working under a psychiatrist.
The official diagnoses was Borderline Personality Disorder (which I knew) and they are keeping an eye out for signs of bipolar, which is tricky because you can have both, but it's hard to tell since people with BPD usually exhibit a lot of similar traits as people with Bipolar. Either way, I'm sick in the noggin'.
The good news is I'm finally getting help. There's a program that people with BDP can go through called Dialectic Behavoural Therapy that I'm on the waiting list for. This is supposed to help drastically with my issues and help me deal with things in my life.
As for what I can do to actually fight my mental issues, I 'm really not sure. Trying to fight them in the past, as if they weren't a reality, usually proved to create more guilt and so the cycle goes. I've learned that if I don't take my illnesses into consideration, it will lead to unnecessary disappointment.
The problem is that until I do what I need to do/learn what I need to learn therapy wise, I keep going through the same mental issues as always, and as always, they take me two steps backwards. It's always a matter of keeping my head above the water, and after so many years, that is very tiring and makes it more and more tempting to just let go, to give in, to drown.
My mental illness is the strongest force in my life - it paralyzes me and I can never get used to it, because if I did, it would mean being satisfied with not improving myself or my situation.
This is the obstacle in my life that fuels the other obstacles, the obstacle that prevents the other obstacles from being removed.
If the plant continues to grow, it's kind of hard to prevent the leaves from coming back, season after season.
I'm overweight because I was so depressed that I didn't care. I'm still overweight because I'm still depressed and I use food as a drug because I don't know how to manage my emotions properly. I'm still overweight because I have osteoarthritis and fibromyalgia, which fuck up my physical activity and metabolism.
I'm overweight, which makes the physical disabilities worse, because my poor joints have to carry all that extra weight, which makes physical activity even harder, which makes losing weight even harder.
I'm overweight, which makes me depressed because I'm not happy with my body, which has given me a low self-esteem, which has effected my social life, which has made me more depressed and withdrawn, which has made me want to eat more...
It's all mental though. My own mind has created my own misery and what will happen if I can't change my mind? I wish it was more of a choice. I wish I could just buck-up and get on with life. But it's more complicated then that. I can buck-up, but it's only a matter of time before it catches up with me again and the fall is always so hard.
I feel like a whiny baby complaining. But this is my reality. I wish I were just a whiny baby, so someone reading this could slap me in the face and show me my own stupidity, and then I could move on.
So this is my reality.
I have osteoarthritis and fibromyalgia that I receive disability for because I can't work. I have this delayed sleep phase disorder that prevents me from keeping a normal schedule, which is okay, because I don't work anyway. I don't work, which allows me the opportunity to actually write and follow my dream of being a successful writer.
All of this seems to work itself out... it almost seems like the universe planned it that way for a reason.
But my reality includes this debilitating mental illness, which seems to be THE obstacle standing in my way. It scares the shit out of me to think that I'll be this stagnant and unable to escape when I'm thirty seven. I can't deal with that, I have way too much potential for that to happen.
They're playing with meds (carefully) and I'm seeing a really good therapist on a regular basis. I should be getting into the DBT program thingy quite soon according to her, at which time I'll still be seeing her.
Aside from trying again and again and not giving up, I'm really counting on the program and the therapy to give me a lot of what I need to improve the way I live my life.
And it will be completed before I turn thirty.
Something else I'm starting to consider is gastric bypass surgery. I've obviously considered it many times before, but was always against it because it's unnatural.
But now the pros are really beginning to out-weight the cons: this surgery would make me lose weight, which would take stress off my joints, which would allow me to be more active, which would improve my overall health and lessen my general pain, which would make me more generally happy. I would not be so disgusted with my body, which would make me feel more confident, which would give me higher self-esteem, which would make me happier and improve my social life, which would make me happier as well.
It would be a huge thing to not have to worry about, which would free up so much energy. It would drastically effect my mental state and level of self-love.
I'm not saying that losing weight would solve my problems. I'm naive but not that naive. I just know that it would be a gigantic step toward improving my life.
The only concern I have is that getting such a surgery would not change my eating behaviours in itself, so I would definitely need to get help on that part of the deal.
So those are two gigantic things that will be happening before the big 3-0 (not sure about the surgery yet though).
I'm so tired right now that the usual momentum I'd have for "trying again, but this time better" is not showing itself. The thought of listing all of the things I need/want to accomplish is so overwhelming that I think it's best if I just try to keep it simple until I'm more capable of pondering more. Even the simple things are making my heart rate a little jumpy.
1. Take good care of myself.
That's my first job. I'll go from there.
I'm actually not done writing this entry, but my eyes are getting a lil' tired so I'll end it for now.
If you've read all this, well, you're a trooper! Thanks :)
I need to do the dishes. I need to do the laundry. I need to go to the market. I need to get a haircut. I need to do my taxes. I need to trim George's nails. I need to buy paint. I need to mail the book I sold almost a month ago. I need to shave. I need to make some phone calls. I need to get my prescriptions. I need to arrange for a new place to have my writer's meetings. I need to find out what's going on with my domain. I need to do my passport application. I need to buy some new clothes. I need to work on my book and my art. I need to meditate. I need to breathe. I need to do this.
I need to insure that the scars on my arms remain scars and I need to insure that everything I do from now on is going to be loud enough.
I need to be loud or I need to go away... rest. I don't want to become one of those people whose presence everyone dreads because maybe I'm not feeling so chipper. But what am I supposed to do? Everyone tells me what I need to do, what they think I should do, and they all say the same thing... but I can't do what they ask of me and I don't know if they really understand why.
But I am one of the most naive people I know so what if I am suffering for a cause I created in my own weird mind?
I don't know, but I can't do what you ask of me, not right now. Not while the cause still feels right. Because it wouldn't help anyway, it would take me to an even worse place.
Maybe I should just give in and get some pills. I hear you can just take them when you need them, which is much better than doing it regularly. I don't want to be on too many pills - I don't want to become a zombie who takes meds to medicate the ills of my other meds. I'll do some research online about them after I'm done posting.
Anyway, I simply refuse to let this take control of me again. I'm still fighting to improve my life from the mess it left before. I called my hairdresser this morning to make an appointment for next week and had a god damn anxiety attack over it. Fuck that! I'll do almost anything it takes to insure that that shit goes away... just tell me what I have to do please.
It's amazing how strongly my body reacts to what I'm feeling - a wonderful warning system indeed but an added nuisance, especially when I'm unable to resolve the negative emotion quickly.
Not to mention how fun this is when you're me and your emotions run a muck inside you, like crazed-mutant butterflies trapped and flinging themselves against me in a mad attempt to escape, unregulated, overwhelming, and inappropriate at times.
It's not that these weird butterflies are evil - it's just that they need structure, they need to check in with the wisdom that is my reasonable mind.
The more I love a person, the more crazy these butterflies become: they multiply, they grow fangs!
I'm learning to discipline them though, to let them come out of their cage only if they promise to play nice.
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