December 16, 2005
Further Down the Spiral
Yeah, it's the name of a Nine Inch Nails album, but it's also the current theme of my days.
Pete found out about the meds.... the concerta, adderall, ritalin...... (whatever you wanna call it), and the Synthroid, 175 mg., the ephedra. He's not happy about it. i do understand where he's coming from, but we spent over four HOURS last night going over and over it. It was nothing short of redundant. He says i may not believe it-- but he honestly doesn't think my body can handle much more. i say-- well I'm still here, aren't i? i am very well aware of the fact that they are prescription meds, not prescribed to me. i am also very well aware of the fact that my last couple of finals were so incredibly easy for me. i was able to focus and concentrate on studying, and then remember it all the next day for the exam. In addition-- the energy level has skyrocketed, while the weight slowly (but steadily) resumes its downward motion. i am not exactly sure what percentage of the weight loss is from the amphetamines, or from simple starvation and excessive use of the gym. 50-50 perhaps. As if it really matters anyhow.
i saw Judy yesterday. i don't know why, but sometimes-- the weeks seem so incredibly long between sessions. It feels almost like an entire month has gone by, rather than just a week. We got on the subject of my family, and how they don't see any of this. In their minds, if they close their eyes and look away-- then it doesn't exist. "Like three-year olds in backyard games of hide-and-seek, if I can't see you then you can't see me. And I 've never. been. seen." i find it somewhat sad that poetry I wrote several years ago (or longer) are still just as relavent now as they were back then. i can re-read my own words at any given point in time, and know exactly what i was thinking or feeling at the moment pen met paper. i remember the exact situation in which the words were written--- on the back of a napkin sitting at the Coffee House in Lincoln; random pieces of paper stuck in textbooks; random lines of poetry on the edges of my notebook as I sat in class 'taking notes'. i dunno--- it's stuff like that i don't forget....
We (my family) are the epitome of dysfunction. We play our games, each one of us carrying out our assigned roles. Can't stray from that cause it would throw everything off-balance. And when you've got everything and everyone hanging on by a thread, the smallest of things can destroy it all in an instant. So no one dares to mess with it. Why the fuck am i the only one who sees that? Why am i the only one who realizes the stupidity, the absurdity, the fucking relentless nightmare we've created. Whether intentional or not-- we all had a part in it. i'm not placing blame-- and i know i, myself, have only furthered the existance of it by playing along. i know Judy is right when she says that i am "the healthiest one in [my] family", because i don't ignore it. But at the same time-- i hate it. Naivety has it's uses. Things are easier. When you don't know that things aren't 'normal', you don't know any differently. And so you never question any of it, never think twice about any of it. It's just what you do, and you leave it at that. The moment I turned around and faced the anorexia head-on was the moment the fight became a hell of a lot harder. That's when the division in my head became apparent. That's when the real fight began.
Sometimes i wish i could go back to the beginning of it all. Back when i didn't question anything i did, nor fight myself at every turn. It was so much easier then. i always say i'll be ok. i say that i am fine. But I'm never exactly sure of that. In all logical reasoning, it's only an attempt at convincing myself of what i perhaps, would like the triuth to BE, not necessarily what it IS. And each night is a run-in with survival. Hanging by a thread that's been unravelling for years.
Judy asked me yesterday to list "who" i was, eating disorder aside. That was a struggle. Everything seems more based on what I DO, not who I AM. And for some reason, i keep thinking that the *self* is something that can be found, like picking up seashells on a beach. And that i'll somehow magically just know. But it's not like that. I dunno-- it just seems like .....ugh. . i don't know how to explain it. And then Judy says that with or without the ED, i'm still that same person. Says to find the *self* i used to be, before all this began. And what i didn't say is while that sounds like a nice plan--iI've been "disordered" for as far back as i can remember. In first grader, 6-years old, i wrote on an "All About Me" assignment that i "liked my eyes", but hated "myself and the way i look". If one doesn't really begin cognitive awareness of self and abilities etc., until somewhere around the age of 3 or maybe 4--- that means, i had approximately two years of pre-disordered thinking. Doesn't really leave me much time to fall back on.
i dunno... maybe i'm just being totally unrealistic.
At some point during the session, I resorted to S.I in order to calm the anxiety... And as always-- Judy wouldn't let me. But sometimes I NEED that. It's what helps me "go away" at times, but other times-- it's what I need to keep myself there. Ok.. THAT sounds rather neurotic. And of course, i was in tears by this point-- though still trying hard to keep them in. And then Judy says there's a LOT more she wanted to talk to me about, but thought i'd had enough for the day. So then, of course--- i start worrying about what i did or didn't say or write or whatever the case may be. And i'm still thinking about it.... ugh....
Welcome to the wanderings of a chaotic mind............
Posted by Wendy on December 16, 2005 10:29 AM