Oh Dear Lord

I'm going to attempt to just rant. Most of the time that probably isn't a good idea; who wants to read that, right? But for now I'm jut trying to get some things out. So many thoughts swirling around in my head, most not completely formed but still they seem to have the power to drive me mad.

Heh, already I can't do it. I write, I rarely rant or ramble. Damn.

Just now a lot of it had to do with my weight, I think. Folks, especially family, telling me to not lose any more. Excuse me, there's still WAY too much fat on this body. Just because all (OK most, seriously, there's one or two adults in the family who are not overweight and many of those who are would be considered obese; I was, once) of you are fat doesn't mean I have to be any longer. I was once before; that doesn't mean I cannot be thin. There is no rule that states that once you have been fat you must stay that way to some degree. I want to be thin, that's all. OK so I know that a person needs some fat on their body and that's fine; they do not need the pockets of fat that I still have, the fat that I still want to be rid of. A lot of healthy people in this world do not have fat like I do. Ugh when I was home for Christmas my mom actually said something to me about it. She wouldn't have, had never before, if it were not for my stupid sister who was really not so much worried about my weight loss (I had not lost an unreasonable amount between Christmas and the last time I had seen her) as the fact that she is falling further and further behind; I am getting thinner (BMI wise I am no longer considered overweight even) and she is still fat. One cousin (whom I hadn't seen since the beginning of the summer) asked me if I was starving myself *rolls eyes*. There was no logical basis for that question. For all they should guess I'm losing it in a healthy way (we know that I am not but there is no reason for them to suspect otherwise). Even my step mom said something, though not to me directly, she said something to my brother. What the hell is wrong with you people? I've got the document on my computer to prove that there should be no reason for your suspicions! The fact that you're all more or less correct doesn't matter, you've got no reason to be guessing it to begin with!

Huh. Once I get going I guess it is not so impossible for me to rant. Good to know.

What else? This is where the thoughts become less completely formed and more just vague ideas and torturous feeling. Lord I'm going nuts.I feel awful. I'm very easily brought to tears (not that I give in most of the time but they are there). I feel really really really lousy. I'm so tired of this all, I don't want to do it any more. I feel hopeless, like I will always be stuck here. Like life will just be one long roller coaster; sometimes I'll be better than others but there will always be another plunge ahead, back to the Pit. I don't want to do that for the rest of my life! *tear* It struck me just recently too that part of why there may be no real hope is that it has been too long. Too long that I have been allowed to go with little to no treatment, and none of it adequate, none of it what it should be for someone such as myself. And I wonder if there isn't some sort of correlation between length of time before appropriate treatment and chance of recovery? I mean I know that personality disorders... you don't actually recover from them. But you can learn to live with them, deal with them, have a life in spite of them. But I wonder if at some point a person doesn't just get used to being &#$%ed up. What is it, a negative correlation?, where one thing goes one way and the other goes, well, the other way. So as length of time between onset and appropriate treatment becomes increases the probability of successful treatment decreases..? *@#%ing hell *sob*

Oh, somebody read this... somebody help...

The Question

I believe the question was 'Do you want anything to change?'. No attitude. No sarcasm. Just an honest question. My answer? I want a lot of things to change. What I didn't tell him is that I don't have a lot of hope for it.

I saw R- again today. I'm not sure I've mentioned but he now works at my doctors office as a 'behavioral health consultant'. All well and good but I'm afraid it will not do me much good. His job consists of behavioral activation sorts of things. You're depressed and not doing much? Get out and do something, regardless of the pull to stay in bed. All well and good, really, but not so helpful when you 'want a lot of things to change'; when you need a lot of things to change. Identifying, experiencing, and sharing emotions won't help that, at least not at first. And as he's suggesting this and that I'm already stressing out over the distress such things would cause. Lately it has been harder to handle distress, you see. The other day I swear every five minutes I wanted to pop a bunch of pills. Not enough that I'd buy the farm. Just some. Lord, just not giving in, wanting to so badly every five minutes... I thought I was going to die (and was honestly a little disappointed it wasn't possible).

Do I want anything to change? Of course I do.

But with the limited help available to me...

I'm running out of hope.

I Can't

No, I can't do it. If someone (and in this case I mean a medical or mental health professional) guesses that would be one thing. But I cannot tell someone myself. Going on a week my heart has been skipping a beat several times a day at least (no flutter here it literally stops for a second and then seems to remember that it is supposed to be doing something and then starts up again). Yesterday I experienced a not quite sharp (but closer to sharp than not) pain around my sternum that seemed to radiate back to behind my right shoulder blade (it might have lasted a few minutes). But oh my lord I cannot possibly answer some of these questions!

What to expect from your doctor

Your doctor or other health care provider is likely to ask you a number of questions, such as:

*How long have you been worried about your weight?
*Do you exercise? How often do you exercise and for how long?
*Have you found any other ways to lose weight?
*Are you having any physical symptoms?
*Have you ever vomited because you were uncomfortably full?
*Have others expressed concern that you're too thin?
*Do you think about food often?
*Do you ever eat in secret?
*Have any of your family members ever had symptoms of an eating disorder or have any been diagnosed with an eating disorder?

© 1998-2012 Mayo Foundation for Medical Education and Research (MFMER). All rights reserved. A single copy of these materials may be reprinted for noncommercial personal use only. "Mayo," "Mayo Clinic," "MayoClinic.com," "EmbodyHealth," "Enhance your life," and the triple-shield Mayo Clinic logo are trademarks of Mayo Foundation for Medical Education and Research.

I already know I'm mental, honestly, these questions could very well have me curled up in a corner, incommunicado.

Oh lord I can't do it.

I Don't Have an Eating Disorder. Riiiiight.

Wow, talk about fooling yourself.

Recently I was at a church gathering where I was 'lucky' enough to be used as an example. My friend (who also happens to lead the group) was talking about the power of words at that point and happened to mention my dislike of certain words. I dislike food words. (For the record I also really like certain 'odd' words, mostly words with a 'hard' sound to them) And not just any food words mind you. I dislike words that describe food in a positive manner.I mean, what ever happened to just saying 'This tastes good'? It's perfectly adequate. Why the need for all this 'tasty' (*shudder* my least favorite by the way) and 'delicious' and what have you. Don't get me wrong I'm all for expressing yourself and I can be very picky about word choice in other matters but with food... let's just call it 'good' and leave it along, shall we?

Now for the longest time my response to the question 'Why?' re:my dislike of positive food words has been 'I don't know, I just don't. You'd think I had an eating disorder or something -insert laugh here-' Makes sense, I suppose, if you're trying to throw someone off your trail, right? Except I wasn't. I was totally serious, totally genuine. And the other day I sat there thinking the same thing 'I don't know, I just don't. You'd think I had a ...' HELLO! How many times did I throw up just yesterday (I actually can't tell you... about half a dozen I'd say, give or take... there was some major binging going on)?? How often do I engage in such behaviors as purging (a binge does not have to be involved) or other compensatory methods? How often do I restrict? Are you freaking kidding me?

Now in my defense I'm neither that dense nor am I in that much denial; not completely anyway. This is the most of any of this sort of behavior I have EVER engaged in. Not even the initial episode when I first started University was this bad. Not even close(makes sense; bulimia, which is what this first started out as, often doesn't make an appearance until the persons late teens/early twenties and most of these things start off slowly). And once I stopped I very rarely engaged in any sort of ED behavior over the next six or seven years(nothing huge anyway, I know I 'flirted' with it throughout that time period). So I just figured it had simply been a 'phase'. 'Everyone experiments in college', right? My 'experiment' had been with inappropriate means of weight loss; it wasn't an eating disorder, it was a phase. It wasn't until these last couple years that I decided maybe I was wrong (though if I am to be honest it is probably more recent still that I finally admitted that I could fit the criteria for an ED).

It was actually yesterday that I realized the other day that my dislike of such words actually began about the same time as everything else did. So it has been with me all along, has it not? Oh sure, it has mostly lain dormant these past few years. A binge and purge there, knowingly taking in a few less calories than I should here; and a strange dislike of all but the most mundane words to describe food in a positive manner.

Interesting.

Who is this girl?

My name, my age, and my social security number. Of those things you can be quite sure. Oh maybe a few things more like my parentage, and my height and such. But who is this girl, really?

It came to my attention recently that my appearance changes with my mood. Not slight shifts in my mood. Not even from my 'normal' depression to those rare (and all to few and far between) moments of Normal. Drastic changes in my mood, however, come with a change of appearance. Of course this is only based on one and now two times this has happened. The first time was my last year of school. It was also a year, all melodrama aside, I almost did not finish, one I almost did not make it through.

For any real in-depth information regarding that Year From Hell you can look at my old blog, Thoughts and Musings of a Girl... Interrupted, if you would like.. For now I will try and be as brief as possible (which considering how long winded I tend to be might not be very, *blush*).

Before that year I was what I call Regionally Conservative (as I try my best to keep identifying information from my blogs I cannot tell you what region that is but I will give you that it is west coast USA). There's not a whole lot else to say about that. Actually a lot of my cloths tended to come from Old Navy. I wore very little (if any) make up, my jewelry was minimal, and body art (save for a piercing in each ear lobe) was nonexistent. I did dye my hair from it's original color but nothing outrageous. Color palate wise I did tend more toward dark colors though for no conscious reason I could ever put my finger on.

Fast forward to that last year of school. By then I had already added another piercing (nothing crazy for a young woman) and one tattoo (easily covered if I felt so inclined, and meaningful in several ways so that I would not regret it later). One more tattoo, another piercing in each lobe and one in my tongue, some fire engine red in my hair, black nail polish, rather less conventional clothing, and heavy make up... there exists one photo from that period literally my own mother said she would not have recognized me had she not known any better..

These few years since I have toned it down a little. The fire engine red is gone from my hair. So is the tongue ring (there's a bit of a story behind that... maybe I'll tell it one of these days. I rather regret taking it out to be honest) and I am once again back to wearing little to no makeup (too much of a hassle).

But I'm headed back down to the depths of the Pit again and I once again find myself wanting to change my appearance. I want to drastically change my hair and add more color to it (another unconventional color along the lines of the fire engine red I loved so much before). But really what with the 'big change' last time, the fact that I never really did revert back to my original Regional Conservative style from before and what I am leaning toward right now... I wonder, was the Regional Conservative girl really me?

Lately I am wondering if we children (those in my immediate family) had no choice but to grow up in to the adults we have become, style and all... even if that is not truly who we are. We grew up in what I have always referred to as a 'large town' and were really rather sheltered. Mom is conservative and dad is a controlling, abusive ass who has definite opinions about how his children should look (just telling it like it is, folks).

I am in my late 20s and I have really no idea who I am. Why not? This is ridiculous. I only know that I do not think I am who everyone else believes me to be.

Once a couple friends were over and one noted that it was a little funny (not his word but it has been a few years and I cannot remember exactly what he said) that I had a pair of Romeos on the same shoe shelf as several pairs of Converse. At the time I told him that of course it was not; after all, here I was with two distinctly different styles of shoes both of which I routinely wore.

If you still read my blogs friend... You were right.

"My true self remains hidden
In the depths
Where even now
I am crying
For I am lost "

~from The Masks I Wear, by girlinterrupted83
(OK so I took it out of context and from my own poem... but that bit works here *shrug*

How

How am I supposed to talk about different feelings when for the most part I only experience them as Good or Bad? How am I supposed to tell you about intensity when it rarely ever varies. They treat me with the Roosevelt attitude of 'Walk softly and carry a big stick'. They feel quiet, almost, but boy do they pack a wallop.

And how do I convey to you how hard all of this is for me? How I honestly want to tell you important things but so often find them stuck at my throat (anyone know the ASL sign for 'stuck'? It's very appropriate here, I suggest you click on the link)). How utterly humiliated all this makes me feel? How the ambivalence drives be absolutely crazy sometimes?

And how the hell do I live another 50-60 years with all this crap?

Once Again into the Pit

Was it this gradual last time? I think it might have been. If I recall correctly I actually felt as if I had both plunged to the depths of the Pit and yet at the same time found myself there almost without even realizing what was happening to me along the way.

That's a little how it feels right now. I'm not entirely there yet but I know that is the direction I am heading. Not to somewhere on a cliff just below the edge, more at the top than anywhere else; this time I am starting down and the only place to end up is rock bottom.

I've only done this once before. Oh I flirt with the edge of the Pit. Most of the time it is where I reside. But only once have I reached the depths to which I know I am headed now. And though I prayed to God it would not happen again it seems those prayers, for one reason or another, have fallen on deaf ears.

So once again into the Pit I go. I've told more than one person that I am certain, should I ever find myself in the place I was my last year of school, that I will not make it out a second time... after all, I barely made it the first time. I really had hoped to never find myself here again, to learn whether or not my dark premonition would come true.

I guess we shall see.