Change is in the air

The last few days have truly been a whirlwind. I have so many big decisions to make/do that it is all terrifying to me. I've learned that no matter whether a transition will be positive or negative, I will still feel stressed and overwhelmed. Up until this point, there was still a feeling of "well, you can always change your mind." Now, there is no turning back, this is really real and going to happen. True, I know there is always the possibility to change my mind, but I really have to force myself to think this way. Otherwise, I will only have self doubts and second guess my decisions.

What I have to remember is this: “The only wrong thing is to do nothing.” This was a quote from the "Greater Good" 100th episode of House said by Dana Miller, a patient who had come to the hospital after collapsing. We find out later that Dana was actually a prominent cancer researcher now turned chef.

When Wilson, House's best friend and an oncology doctor, asks her how she could have left her renowned position as a researcher to be a chef, her simple answer was that she wanted to be happy, that she needed a change in her life. This episode revolves around this theme as all the cast members have to re-evaluate what makes them happy.

For Wilson, his happiness had been swept away by the death of his girlfriend, Amber. He remained stuck, not moving on, keeping the apartment just as it had been from the time she had died, including never washing a mug of hers. By the end of the episode, he decides to make a change and wash the mug.

This is just the condensed version, but it's a good episode, looking at this idea of happiness.

In my own life, I think about happiness quite a lot. It's always been a concept that has just felt out of reach due to my own sabotage and self-esteem. I somehow have this fear that my happiness will never be real, that it will be jinxed if I think I am happy. (illogical thinking I know) I wonder if this change will bring about happiness?

Change is so scary. Everything is new, different, the familiarity gone. Sometimes, I think of my life (or I should say others might describe it this way) as the decision-making process to move a piece on a chess board. There I am waiting, waiting, waiting to make a move, the best move, the right time, the move with the maximum security, the maximum chance at winning, thinking, thinking. But no move at all. I remain stuck there--too afraid, too fearful which way is the right way, the best way, the least scary way, the least disappointing way if something should fail. But at some point, I have to move my chess piece. I have to keep making those decisions to get to the other side of the board and reach "check mate." Because otherwise, I will forever just be sitting there like that chess piece.

Note--*At some point, I'd really like to give more background history. I cannot at this time but have thought in the next several months to make the blog private for a few days. I'd switch back to private and delete those posts. Does this make sense or does that seem stupid?

Recap of House episode

A lapse on a slippery slope

Sarah from Bearing, Eating, Being blog told Cammy in a recent comment: "Slips and lapses can be turned around if you recognize what you've done and take immediate steps (as in THAT DAY) to change them."

In eating disorder recovery, there are bound to be slips, lapses, and even relapses (though I disagree that that is a requirement). It truly does matter how we respond to each event in determining whether we slide down the slippery slope or continue to climb our way back to the top. Sometimes, it's an easy choice to climb back up the slope, while at other times, you feel doomed and propelled downwards whether it is a conscious choice or gravity simply pulling you down.

I say all this, because I experienced a horrible lapse Sunday after already being tipped on the edge of the slippery slope. I purged for the first time in over 8 1/2 months which sums only a handful of time in the last year in a half. Somehow, I feel the need to justify myself--was in crippling stomach pain, doubled over, could barely walk, but really what average person thinks about purging when they are in severe pain? Despite feeling much better afterwards, not like some euphoric high but just better physically, there were after effects. This after effect, I had forgotten about, one that has not happened to me in all my ED years.

Subconjuctival hemorrhage, the medical term for a rupture of a blood vessel in your eye.

Yes, that is my eye in all its bloody glory. Seriously though, I was shocked when I saw this the next day as I was leaving for my therapy appointment. At first, I was very concerned, but after talking to my optometrist, I realized there wasn't much that could be done except a cold compress, prescription drops if there was pain, and waiting 10-14 days for the blood to reabsorb. I spoke to a friend about how this could have occurred since it has not in my many years of ED. Her answer, "well, you're older, your body is older and reacts differently, and EDs are cumulative."

In essence, this proved to be yet another reminder at the ill effects of purging. I know subconjuctival hemorrhage occurs with other things like a violent sneeze or cough, but there is such an element of shame in the fact that it was purging that caused this. At least, this is the way I feel about it. A few people have asked me about it, and I admit, I make up an excuse that something hit me in the eye. I know I could very well say I was violently ill with stomach bug and vomited, but somehow, that feels too close for comfort.

I truly know it is useless to self abuse myself further by dwelling on this incident. I am positive that purging is NOT going to become a habit again. But the question remains now about what next? Do I dust myself off, climb back the mountain or let gravity pull me down? I know which answer is right and logical, and that is the answer I want to give of course. But do I really believe it?

Ultimately, I know I'm going through a rough patch with an overgrown number of weeds, and it is not wise for the weeds to continue to accumulate nor the patch to grow any further. Therefore, I need to use some weed killer and monitor the patch. Because, in the end, who really wants weeds anyway?

Note--*I have no clue whether that last metaphor actually made sense.
*That photo was really hard to take. Had it been my left eye rather than my right, it would have been much easier and the picture clearer. I guess you get the idea though.

"Baggage"

My therapy session today was a bit interesting. Last week, we veered off and discussed work, career, and relationships, all of which was very pertinent (still is) and held my anxiety at bay. This week, we refocused on the trauma issues. I tried just talking about it versus writing it as C. felt this just distanced me from the emotions too much. Overall, I don't think it went the way she expected as I had a much tougher time thinking about my thoughts and feelings of the past and present.

There was one instance where I was recounting an event. C. asked a question about it, and I paused momentarily. So small, I didn't even think she noticed. But she did, and then asked a "what else" type question. I spoke of another instance which happened that I had given much less thought to over the years. It was significant, but like an afterthought, "oh yeah, and then this other time..." The funny thing with that incident is that I remember it much more clearly, with all those cues like what movie was on, that there was an interruption, that it was dark, how I felt before and afterwards, etc. This is highly different from the trauma incident that felt the most traumatic. Those details are all blurred with my recollections unclear, making me wonder about my own accuracies or inaccuracies.

After recounting the not so thought about incident, C. asked if there was anything else. And then, I said, there was this time and that time, etc. My first thoughts about this as I left was "shit, no wonder why I developed an eating disorder."

But aside from that point, what this also reminded me of was "baggage." We all have it. It's the skeletons in the closet we rarely like to talk about or show. It's the dirty laundry that makes us feel unlovable, unworthy, ashamed, damaged. For some of us, it feels like our Scarlet Letter A.

I was reading Jenni Schaefer's post on the Huffington Post about Dating real people (after and eating disorder). She said how she used to "air out the dirty laundry" early in dating someone as an attempt to see whether the other person really liked her. Personally, as a general rule, I've always been opposite in not revealing the "dirty laundry" until after I knew the person better. Of course, there were certain instances when I offered too much information as well. But mostly, I've always been afraid of my own "baggage" even if I was carrying my own bags. My thinking was more along the lines of, "if I'm afraid of my own baggage, what would someone else think?"

I've known many people in both circumstances. Some people want to get it all out there, while others feel like it'll just make the person run. Neither way is right or wrong but rather dependent on you. I think the thing that is more damaging is when you are so fearful of your own baggage that you never let go of the handles.

When swimming is hard...

I took this photo today of a carpenter bee in the water bucket. It was quite sad really. There it was just flailing around in the water. I don't know much about carpenter bees and whether they behaviorally go towards water for a deeper meaning than just "taking a drink," but in my anthropomorphic mind, I like to think this was all it was doing. But then, it fell into the bucket and helplessly swam around and around in circles, unable to fly out. After some time, it got tired and could no longer flap its wispy wings. Its poor eventual demise was death, just floating on top of the water.

So what does this have to do with this post?

At my last therapy session, I told C. I had been entertaining thoughts of sliding towards ED behaviors. Restriction is always there in the back of my mind, but purging hasn't been on my radar for quite a significant amount of time. Like the carpenter bee with water, I feel like taking a "sip" of anorexia or bulimia. However, at the same time, I know just a "sip" of it is all it takes to spiral out of control.

So where do I stand? I don't know honestly. Part of me knows that, falling back into ED hell is futile, but another part of me wonders if it is just self sabotage--a way of saying "see you can't even do recovery right, you'll never be recovered." :sigh:

I know logically the best option is to swim, fighting all the currents along the way. It just feels so hard.

Cracked plates

I finished Handle with Care the other day. I didn't expect the book to end quite the way it did but my assumptions were correct in how the book was written. Overall, it was a good read and raised interesting points in a variety of issues. It really gives me more respect with those with OI and what their families have to go through both emotionally and financially.

There were two quotes which stuck out for me the most in the book. I'm only going to discuss one here and post the other one at a later time.

At the end of the book, Charlotte says: "Things that break--be they bones, hearts, promises--can be put back together but will never really be whole."

This reminds me a lot about the cracked plate analogy someone once told me. Actually, I've been wanting to post this for awhile but I could not find a cracked plate image, and I wasn't about to break a plate to just photograph. However, ironically, a few weeks ago, my favorite bowl broke. So that image will have to suffice, and then you can be at your own devices to think about a cracked plate if you want. ;-)

At the time I heard the cracked plate analogy, it was in reference to a dog. She had had trauma in her life which was irreparable. Though the owner did her best to help the dog overcome her trauma, and had successful management, it became too much for the dog. The dog continually tried to hold it together, but in the end, the pressure of the crack was too much to bear.

I think about this with myself and so many others. We all have cracks no doubt which leave indelible scars. We all try hard to put on a facade that everything is okay, that our cracked plates are really together. When in fact, they could break at any moment. Then, we are left with the shattered pieces, repairing ourselves which will never truly be the same.

I think about this type of thing a lot, because I think about "wholeness"--how I want to desperately be whole. Maybe I'm just chasing an illusion that will never be there. Maybe I'm tired of just repairing my cracked plate, just lying to myself that it can be the same, different, be something other than what it is.

Related post: succession of a nut

Succession of a nut

Some days, I'm feeling like a nut.

The nut was once whole, naive, and innocent

The nut falls, becomes halved, missing a piece.

It continues to halve, leaving more pieces.

The pieces stand on their own.

The nuts leave shells where they once were.


And then, there is only one shell left.

Will the nut ever regain itself to become whole once again?