Another Year Passes

The end of 2014 is upon us. Another year has just flown by. I can still remember sitting at my dest in February wondering how I was going to make it through my spring semester classes. And here I am, challenging myself by becoming a full time student and excelling.

I continue to be appreciative of my job. I know I have it good there. The work is not stressful. My office is close to school. And there is downtime a couple of times a year where I can get school work done during working hours.

It was my goal last year to talk more this year. I’ve kind of done that. Occasionally. But my silence has been loud and pushed some away.

I’m learning new things about myself. That’s a life long process.

So, here’s to 2015. I hope to:
~ Continue to enjoy the classes I’m taking
~ Work to my full potential in both work and school
~ Talk more/write more/communicate my true feelings more
~ Lose weight the way I want to

Being Quiet

I made this New Year’s resolution to talk more this year and not keep things so bottled up.  And I’m failing miserably with it.  I’ve been slowly telling certain people certain things, but not one of my friends has the whole story on what’s been going on.

My divorce is final.  I got the official papers a few weeks ago.  Besides my immediate family, only 4 friends know.  I know my friends love and support me.  And they would never judge me.  But in the same breath I can say that I’m embarrassed and slightly ashamed that something I thought was going to last, didn’t.  That the relationship was so hurtful, but I couldn’t see that until I got some distance from it.  That I still have moments where I find myself missing him and wanting to see him again.

I started therapy again.  It’s bringing up a lot of feelings that I’m not comfortable with.  And I’ve been dealing with them by using some not healthy behaviors.  I get in cycles of bingeing and restricting.  It’s the only thing that really makes me feel better.  Or better said, it’s the only thing that helps me not to feel; to be numb.  And I’d rather be numb.  Numb is always better.  Then I can’t hurt.  I won’t feel the pain.  I won’t need something else to distract me. I can just be and focus on what I need to do.

Doors Closed

I’ve really been struggling with the eating disorder since my husband left.  It’s such a fight to eat.  And now that I’m sick, my appetite has disappeared.  I love seeing the number on the scale go down and am having a really hard time seeing the number go up, even if it’s less than a pound.

I can see myself going downhill quite rapidly.  I see little things creep up that I wouldn’t see normally until I was at a much lower weight.  Actually, they don’t so much creep up as smack me in the face.  Then I obsess and I have to find out more, even if I already know all about it and am rereading the same book/website.  Some of it is kind of worrisome.

I’m having trouble sleeping.  Last night, I barely got 3 hours.  I’m having a hard time paying attention and find myself spacing out quite often.  I’m depressed.  I don’t want to do anything, except lose more weight.  It take a lot to convince myself that it’s okay to eat.  Then it takes a lot to actually eat it.  I’m having a hard time with fluids, too.  The rules and obsessions and routines are becoming more intense and time consuming.

The eating disordered thoughts were really loud last week and in a moment of clarity, I called to see if I could find a therapist that is covered by my insurance.  (I wish I could see my old one, but I can’t afford her.)  The search isn’t going well.  I don’t have any out of network benefits and I haven’t been able to find anyone.  Then in a moment of clarity (weakness?), I called two treatment centers about their evening IOP programs.  It’s not looking good though.  These were the only two who would be willing to work within my school and work schedule.  Got a definite, “No,” from one and waiting to hear back from the other.  I’ll probably get the same answer though.  My insurance sucks.

But then I remember that I want to continue to lose weight.  I really don’t want to be stopped this time.  Not yet anyway.

When School and Real Life Collide

I absolutely love the classes I’m taking.  They’re very basic classes–Intro to Sociology and Violence in Literature–but I love how they intertwine how the information in one class is relevant in the other.  It’s just a great cohesion.  We talk a lot about violence in my classes.  Violence against a group of people and violence against an individual.  Actions aren’t the only form of violence.  Words can be violent too.

No one know everything that happened between my soon to be ex and me behind closed doors. I tend to find it easier to open up fairly anonymously than to my friends and family. There’s less judgement (hopefully) and I get a different perspective on things.

At the end of October, I told one of my friends almost everything that happened while I was married and it’s taken me this long to process and repeat what she said. She said he was emotionally abusive. And I have a hard time taking that to heart.

I’ve heard the stories and know the warning signs, but it’s not the same. He didn’t put me down (directly). He didn’t say I was stupid or worthless or good for nothing. He didn’t threaten me. He didn’t control me (again, directly). So because his behaviours didn’t fit exactly in the definition of emotional abuse, I’m having a hard time calling it emotional abuse.

But when I look at it, really look at it, I can see that it was.

  • He called me names.  Names that I don’t feel comfortable repeating.  He would call me names when he thought I was sleeping.  When I would confront him about it, he was apologetic and said he’d never do it again.  But he did.
  • He would say other hurtful things and after I was crying, he would say that he was joking and that I was being silly and over reacting or I was being too sensitive.  He would also say that when I shared my emotions with him.
  • He would “jokingly” threaten to beat me.
  • He would say that my thoughts/morals/ideals were stupid and I was going to hell for having them.
  • He would often say, “God is punishing you,” if I tripped, or something fell, or if something didn’t turn out the way I wanted.

I would get angry.  I would be hurt.  I would cry.  I would wonder why he would say those things.  I would wonder if he loved me.

I use school to escape my real life. I bury myself in school work so I don’t have to think about what’s really going on. And the rest of the time, I have the eating disorder blocking me of any real chance of dealing with anything. I don’t mind so much. But when the terminology starts to become applicable to real life situations, I tend to have a hard time accepting it. Those terms, those circumstances, belong to other people.  Not me.  But they do belong to me.  I was a target of domestic violence.

That is really hard to admit and accept.  And I’m not sure I do as of yet.  But I can see it.  Next I just have to say it.

Enough

The crying needs to stop. NOW. I don’t like being all teary eyed all day long. I don’t like it when I’m anxious and jittery that I can’t think about anything other than escaping. I don’t like that I haven’t been able to finish a meal without crying the past couple of days. I don’t like it that I’m slacking on my responsibilities but can’t find the energy to get them done properly (so why do them at all?)

I’m usually much better at handling my emotions. I’m really good at compartmentalizing everything. At least I used to be. Now, it’s like everything is bubbling and I can’t keep the lid down. I have no idea how I used to do it.

I tried writing in my journal over the weekend to help me process some of this stuff, but I got so incredibly angry that I started shaking and had to stop.

I don’t want anyone to think I can’t handle this because I can. But I’m sick and tired of people telling me that this is the best thing to happen and that I will be okay. Well, no shit. I will be okay because I have no other choice than to be okay. And it’s not that I want to talk about myself every single second of every single day, but it would be nice if someone other than my parents, 1 friend, and 1 acquaintance asked how I was doing. I just feel so alone. And sad. And angry.

I am having a hard time reaching out. I always have. I just feel like since everyone knows I’m normally strong and resilient, then I must be okay now. But it’s not true. I feel like I’m crumbling. (I can’t even afford therapy right now. I’m a mess.) All I want to do is hide away in bed.

This pity party needs to stop. I just need to pull myself up with my boot straps and dry my tears. I can be strong like everyone thinks I am. I can handle it.

No. Really. I can.

I just don’t want to.

Alone

My husband left me.

I had asked him to leave by the end of the month. But we got into another fight and he left the apartment while I was at work.

I found out through an email. Not a face to face conversation. Not a phone call. Not even a text message. Wait. I did get a text, but it was to check my email.

I know we had problems, but for him to walk out like that was completely cowardly and disrespectful. I never thought he could hurt me more than he already had, but he did. Whenever I felt there were issues between us, he always pushed me to talked about, no matter how uncomfortable I felt. And the last month or so, I’ve actually been voluntarily telling him. He never reciprocated. I wonder if he ever really loved or respected me.

I think he loved the idea of me. I think he want to be with someone who doesn’t really speak up; who takes what he says as gospel and doesn’t question it. And instead he got me.

I spent so many years in silence and it hasn’t really gotten me anywhere. I refuse to stay silent. I will speak up for myself. I will protect myself.

On Edge

I had a panic attack this morning at Starbucks waiting for my coffee.  Not cool.

I had my digestive issues again today because I consciously didn’t take my meds.  Really not cool.

But at least I can eat a fairly normal lunch.  Not that I really did.  And not that I don’t feel guilty, because I do.  It was just nice to have the thought.

Once again, I am procrastinating writing my essay for my midterm.  Say it with me now, not cool.

I have half a mind to just go straight home today after work, instead of to class.  With my full intention being to work on my midterm, but I know I would just procrastinate then go to bed early.

I should have stayed home from work today.  I felt the anxiety creeping in, but I felt I could push myself through it.

I didn’t sleep as much as I should have last night.  I was up (punishing myself) procrastinating.

I don’t want to be here at work right now.  There’s nothing for me to do.  Well, no actual work anyway.

Yesterday, therapy probably touched on a few issues I would rather not have it touch.  I was fairly honest with her.  I still could have said more.

I get really peeved when my husband says “we”, but it’s really an “I.”  Like me.  Not him.  I would still get irritated, but not quite as much, or in the same way.

I just want to go to sleep.  Or escape for a while.  With no phone, no computer, nothing.