November 13, 2005

Insomnic Ramblings

The nights are long and seemingly unending. I don't sleep much these days and haven't for some time now. I lay there awake, my mind running in endless circles. He's next to me, lost in some alter dream world that I'm not a part of. And I lay there awake, wishing I could sleep. But the thoughts keep me awake. It's 2:13 in the morning and I'm wide awake.

Can't sleep, once again. Then again-- I haven't really even tried. There's no point, cause eventually I get up out of bed again. Watch pointless late-night infomercials selling everything from jewelry to vacuumes. The ones on weight-loss are always fascinating though. I study the "before" and "after" pics, trying to determine if the two pictures are really the same people. Hair color, face shape, eye shape, smile. Wonder if I could be one of their spokespeople, modeling my "before" and "after" pics. But, as usual, I determine that my "after" photo probably would not look much different from the "before". Figure that I'll always be fat, no matter how much weight I lose. I wonder how many other people are up late, falling into the trap, trying to picture themselves 50 pounds lighter-- though the fine print on the bottom of the screen says "results not typical". Wonder how many people ignore that, thinking they too, will be one of the success stories, realizing that very few people are. It's all about motivation, determination and how willing one is to work towards such a goal.

Maybe the reason I've been able to maintain within a 10 -15 pound range is because I've never had a specific, set number. No magic goal weight. Getting back to 97 has always sounded like a good idea, but not one that I've ever specifically set my mind on. What better time to do it than right now? Like they say-- don't put off till tomorrow what you can do today. So maybe I should just set a specific goal weight... 97 pounds. And I know Judy will probably ask what that sort of goal will do for me. I can just hear it... "and where (or what) will that get you?" I guess at this point, my only answer to that is "satisfaction in knowing I was able to do it again. By my own will. Last time I got there-- I know I was totally controlled by the eating disorder. I didn't even realizing I was heading there until I was there. It's not something I consciously did, or decided on or worked for. It just sorta happened.

But, whether I'm 5'8 and as high as 130 or as low as 97, I still feel fat. It's like the lower the number on the scale goes, the higher the number reads in my head. Reality says one thing. My thoughts say another. What is real? Is anything? Is anyone? Are we all just pawns in some morbid game of life. Game over. Sorry-- you lose? Pete looks at me and says I've lost weight. Nic has said it. Heather actually said it today (which, is odd, as she would have an extremely difficult time telling me that, cause of the whole competition thing). Pete says my clothes don't fit anymore. Says he notices everything. Notices that I don't eat. Notices that when I do eat-- I purge. Notices when I cut. Nothing gets by him. And I wonder why-- if it's so obvious to other people-- I don't see that I've lost any weight at all. The scale says one thing, but I only believe it for a split second. I wonder if it's calibrated right, wonder if I'm just dehydrated or... or some other reason. I wonder if everyone else is just lying in order to "scare" me. It won't work though. I fell for that the first time around, but not this time. This time-- I get to choose. But either way, whatever the number-- it's not low enough yet. And then I begin to wonder just how low I can get before Westwind.

I called Westwind on Thursday afternoon. I actually didn't hang up this time-- even when it was ringing. I sort of hoped I'd get voice mail again, like I did Wednesday, but no such luck. Someone answered. I have the intake interview on Tuesday morning at 10 a.m. and then from there I'll know my 'entrance date' into the program. I asked about a waiting list, assuming that it would be at least 6 or 8 weeks, but again-- no such luck. Turns out that a number of girls are leaving soon, and they'll have openings. I don't want to go 'soon'. I was planning on going mid-to-late January and had gotten used to that idea. I was somewhat o.k. with it-- or at least as .ok. with it as I'm ever going to be. But the possibility of going earlier than that threw me off balance and so I spent the remainder of the evening pacing the house trying not to cut. I called Judy but she was in session so I just left a message. I tried painting, but it wasn't enough. Too much going on inside. I called again a couple of hours later, and then Judy called back.

In a way, just hearing a familiar voice-- besides the one in my head-- was enough to get me through it. I know I'm not going immediately-- but at the time, it was too much to deal with. Too much to process and I couldn't handle it. Shortly before I got off the phone with Judy, Pete got home from work. Although I didn't end up cutting Thursday night, the thoughts are still here. Still in my head. Still tempting me. I've got a blade in just about every room of the house. In my school bag, my purse, my car. Obviously, taking them away will not do much, as I'll just use my own fingernails. Sometimes-- I actually prefer that route though, as the scars are bigger. They don't bleed as much as using the blade, but they're bigger... And it's nothing but me hurting myself. No blade or other object in between my own hands and my own skin. Just me.

In a strange sort of way though, the big cut on my arm from Wednesday is oddly comforting. I'll think about cutting again, pull up my sleeve and see it, and it's at least enough to keep me from doing it again. Not because of the fact I'd have another mark on my arm, but simply because it's there. I don't know how else to explain it. It calms me down and eases the anxiety... the intense feelings that I can't name.

I am hoping this new job will keep me busy enough that I won't have as much time to sit and think. At Disney, I could step out of my own little world for awhile. My focus was entirely on the kids and on my job and I simply didn't have the time to think about other stuff. I'll be working pretty much full-time as the 'residential coordinator' for one of the residential homes. As of right now, I'll just have two clients on my caseload, though there are four who live in the house. The two guys that live downstairs have their own staff 24/7. The job is rather extensive-- a little more than I expected going into it, but I already love it. Not only am I in charge of 'running' the house, but medications, assessments, finances, medical appointments and therapy/psychiatry appointments, as well as all the paperwork/documentation for each client. This also includes being on each clients' IPP team with their dr's and psychs. and other staff, and planning their behavioral programs. Since I'm the one who will be doing their assessments of behavior and skills and progress, I'm pretty much the one who will play the biggest part in each one's progress plan, other than the client's themselves. Now I'm beginning to wonder if going to Westwind right now is a good idea. How can I work with them for 2 months and play such a huge part in their care plan, and then leave myself for two months.... Then again, maybe I'm only coming up with excuses just as I did with Denver. I couldn't go then because of the kids and my job and... any of a number of other justifications.

I've already spent most of the week in training classes-- IPP team and Medications training. Due to that, I am now considered a "medication aide" by the state. Not that it means much, but just one more thing to add to the resume later on, I guess. I've still got Mandt training (the behavioral program), updating my CPR/First Aid and AED certification, as well as Abuse and Neglect and a couple of others.

The class on Friday was rather interesting. It was the IPP training, which was rather interesting. It's very much like the IEP's in the educational setting, so I was already somewhat familiar with some aspects of it. Even more interesting though was the discussion we had on medication, and when it was or wasn't appropriate to use medications as a means of changing or altering mood or behavior, due to the restriction of personal rights, eg. restricting one's freedom of free thinking. Maybe it was my own personal experience that kept me highly interested in this fascet of the program. I dunno. But the one thing that really stuck with me was when John was talking about the way medications affect the brain. Apparently all medications, whether antidepressants or antipsychotics all affect the frontal lobe of the brain, the creativity center-- first. So, thoughts and ideas are limited, due to meds. They may affect the brain at different levels, but all of them have an effect. After hearing this-- I finally came up with a term to describe how I've been trying to explain my reasons for going off the Effexor. It's nothing more than a "chemical bandaid". A bandaid only covers up the wounds. It keeps them from being visible. More specifically, at least for me, it keeps the feelings from being visible. Not just to other people, but to myself as well.

On the Effexor-- though it does elevate my general state of mind-- I'm somewhat... numb. I don't feel things as much, I don't feel as though I'm able to really say what I'm thinking... cause the words aren't there. I don't feel as creative. Case in point-- the last 6 months or so-- since going up to the 225mg of Effexor, I haven't written nearly as much poetry as I used to, nor have I been as creative artistically. Since reducing the Effexor, I've felt more (even if I can't explain how I feel), and I've definitely been more creative. I think I've had a total of 8 or 9 new paintings in the last 4 or 6 weeks, and I've been writing more. Not just journaling, but poetry as well. The words are coming back again. The ideas. The thoughts. I'm starting to make sense to me again, and I do that through my writing and my art. Strange though, how the times I sit down and write, I feel more like ME, because I know exactly what I'm writing, what I'm saying... what I'm trying to say in the first place. even though Judy often says the eating disorder is very apparent in my writing. But I don't see it that way.

I don't feel like anyone else but me is writing those words, those thoughts. What I write is exactly what I'm thinking or feeling at any given moment. If I say that I've decided that I'm going to consume nothing but one or two protein drinks a day until I go to Westwind, then that is what I--Wendy-- have decided. As they say, "a good anorexic never dies". Maybe that sounds irrational to some, but it's really quite simple. The ones who don't die are the one's who learn to manage their E.D.'s. They learn to manipulate and control it. They learn to control their own bodies, via the mind. The one's who "lose" (for lack of a better word) are the one's whose E.D.'s control them. Or the ones who let parents or friends or whoever control them. I don't know how else to explain it.

I'm thinking I'll just go off the Effexor completely. I was able to make it almost a full 48 hours of NOT taking it before I gave in tonight. The last dose I had was Thursday morning. Dr. Keller just had back surgery and will be out until January. So-- no chance of getting another couple of months of sample packs. Dee-Dee and Ashley are not able to write prescrips., and I'm not going to go in and see some other doctor. Dr. Keller is really the only Dr. I've had that I've actually liked and trusted and felt I could be totally upfront with. So-- forget that. And I'm not gonna waste almost $200 on myself just to 'elevate' my mood. I'll deal with it. Getting off the effexor sucks though. Even at the lowest dose possible, I still have the withdrawl effects. Not nearly as extreme as on the higher doses, but they're still there. I just have to keep pushing past it. I figure if I just add about 12 hours each time I'll be completely off it before December. 48 hours last time, this next time I'll wait 60 hours, then 72... etc. I know that Judy's not going to agree with me on this one. I already know that. We've discussed it before, and I agreed to stay on the 75mg for awhile. And I did... For a couple of weeks. They say running increases the level of seratonin (or whatever the 'good' chemical is) in the brain, so... I'll just go to the gym more if I need to.....

Judy asked on Wednesday why I spent the whole weekend last week down in Lincoln with my sister instead of up here in Omaha with Pete. She asked, "wouldn't you rather spend as much time as possible with Pete before you go [to Westwind]?" Yeah, I would. And I told her that. But what I didn't (or couldn't) say was that at times, I'd rather be in Lincoln or with other people, not just me and Pete. And I know it's avoidance. I know that. It has nothing to do with Pete or who he is or anything-- but simply for the fact of the whole.... er.... physical part of the relationship. If I'm not here, I don't have to deal with it. Everything about it sends me into panic mode. Anxiety at its finest. I can't explain it, nor can I deal with it. The majority of the time-- I don't want any part of it... anything to do with it. I pull away, make excuses... anything to avoid that situation. I can't even be specific with myself, let alone explain it to anyone else. Anxiety just by writing it; just by seeing this on the screen in front of me. All Judy has to do is mention anything remotely suggesting the subject and I immediately shut down, retreat back inside to my "safe" world of self-injury and escapism. I hate that I do it, cause I know it plays a big part in mine and Pete's relationship. He doesn't like the fact that I'm often gone on a Friday or Saturday night in Lincoln, or Heather's up here for the day. He doesn't like that I stay up so late at night and go to bed hours after he's asleep, or that I'm "unresponsive" to his.... er.... advances...... damn. not going there right now. I can't. get outta my head.... outta my head... I feel like beating my head against a wall... like holding my head in my hands and screaming.... like.... doing anything but thinking about this.....

Posted by Wendy on November 13, 2005 6:16 PM

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