||trigger warning||
I am currently blogging to make sure that I don't do anything bad.
Today we had pizza for dinner, so I had a pizza with no cheese, mushrooms, onions, basil, and peppers. It was okay. I also had a San Pellegrino, which filled up my stomach. I was upset and crying over eating that for dinner because it felt so unhealthy. Then I had a "fuck it you're beautiful" moment in which I decided to eat a couple oreos (which are vegan by the way). Carrying the oreos up to my room I felt victorious. It was the serving size amount, I was feeling good, I was feeling excited. Then I ate the oreos. And now I feel like ripping out my hair, purging, and self harming. Not the aftermath I was planning. Since I'm typing, my hands are busy, and my mind is occupied. So I'm just going to keep typing until these urges stop.
I wish I could just enjoy a treat every now and again like a normal person. It took so much fricking strength to eat a few mini oreos and this is the result I get? Feeling triggered and awful and wanting to curl up in a ball of tears? Because of a fucking food I ate? I don't want to live like this. I don't want to be overwhelmed with guilt if I eat something that comes from a wrapper instead of a plant. I don't want to cry every time I feel a little too full. I don't want to ruminate constantly on how much I hate myself. I don't want to be miserable because of my body. I'm so so done with it. I'm trying so fucking hard to love myself, I am, and it's not working. I wonder if it'll ever work. I bust my ass every single day in recovery, and this is what I get? A balding head, fingers itching to destroy my well being, thoughts that cripple me and cause me so much pain. I'm so sick and tired of this. I'm so tired of being in recovery. I'm so tired of not being normal. Part of me aches to relapse, to break down and let the illnesses and disorders run the show. It's so tempting. So tempting.
But I can't ruin all of this hard work. I can't. This moment of weakness can't define me. I can't let it. Someday I will eat a fucking treat and get over it. Someday I will eat something without a second thought. Someday I will be confident. But as I type these words I don't believe it. I just want to fucking believe it. I just want things to be simple in my life. I'm so tired of being me. I don't want to live my life like this.
I'm so close to giving up. But I'm so far from giving up too. I'm not fine right now. But I will be. Or so I pray.
Saturday, January 31, 2015
Friday, January 30, 2015
Update: School, Trichotillomania, Urges
Hello there. So as I mentioned previously, this week I made the transition from my therapeutic school back to my local public school! The week leading up to the transition was full of anxieties and worries. I was having panic attacks, crying myself to sleep at times, and I lost a fair amount of hair on the right side of the back of my head, which is really upsetting.
So when it came to the night before, I was a bucket of nerves. I felt a huge panic/nervous breakdown coming on, but somehow I managed to suppress it by going to bed earlier and just trying to block out all of the negative thoughts. I was really anxious the morning I started back at school, and I had a mini meltdown over messing up my makeup (silly, I know), but I made it to school without any other problems.
The day was overwhelming, but a huge success. It was so weird being back in the school since it's been almost a year since I was attending full time. It was almost like I stepped into a time capsule, and it felt in some ways like no time had passed since I was last there, which was both comforting and unsettling at the same time. It was a long day, as there was a lot more packed into the day than at therapeutic school, and I felt like there were a thousand things I had to think about. The day flew by, and before I knew it I was home again. Once I got home I did have a little breakdown, because I was so overwhelmed and I felt assaulted by all of the different emotions I was feeling at the same time. I'm not going to list them here, as I'll probably get upset just writing about it. However, I achieved my biggest goal, which was to get through the school day without a panic attack. And for that I am immensely proud. So that's all I'm going to write about school today, I'll do another post that's much more in depth. Changing topics now...
Trichotillomania. I don't think anyone can truly understand the emotional agony of this condition unless you've been through it yourself. For me trich ebbs and flows in waves over time. I'll have periods where I don't struggle too much with pulling, it doesn't occupy my every second, I'm pretty much good if I have a tangle or a fidget toy within reach. But then there's the awful periods where you're losing tons of hair, your fingers ache to go to your scalp, you can practically feel the hairs on your head that you need to get out. You pull when you don't realize it, and you feel consumed with frustration and anger that you can't stop, no matter how hard you try. This is also followed with an increase in both my anxiety and depression, which makes things worse. Not to mention what trich does to your self esteem.
I fully believe that acceptance is the route to dealing with many disorders, trichotillomania in particular. Sometimes I'm okay with acceptance, but right now I am far from accepting. I torture myself by looking through older photos when my hair was long and curly, or watching hair tutorials on YouTube. I look in the mirror and burst into tears because I just don't feel myself. I'm fully aware that acceptance is a key component to reducing pulling, but right now I'm really struggling.
My self harm urges have also been coming back in the past couple weeks. I'm over two months clean, but they're starting to affect me again. It mostly has to do with my awful self image and my trichotillomania. I crave the way it feels, the way it looks, how it makes me feel, which is awful. And I'm so frustrated with trich right now that I'm inclined to start self harming again, as it generally alleviates the severity of my pulling. I'm fighting the urges, I don't ever want to cut again. It's addicting, and once I start it's hard to stop. It's just been quite tempting as of late.
This has been a bit of an unorganized ramble, hopefully my next entry will be a bit better crafted. Goodnight world.
So when it came to the night before, I was a bucket of nerves. I felt a huge panic/nervous breakdown coming on, but somehow I managed to suppress it by going to bed earlier and just trying to block out all of the negative thoughts. I was really anxious the morning I started back at school, and I had a mini meltdown over messing up my makeup (silly, I know), but I made it to school without any other problems.
The day was overwhelming, but a huge success. It was so weird being back in the school since it's been almost a year since I was attending full time. It was almost like I stepped into a time capsule, and it felt in some ways like no time had passed since I was last there, which was both comforting and unsettling at the same time. It was a long day, as there was a lot more packed into the day than at therapeutic school, and I felt like there were a thousand things I had to think about. The day flew by, and before I knew it I was home again. Once I got home I did have a little breakdown, because I was so overwhelmed and I felt assaulted by all of the different emotions I was feeling at the same time. I'm not going to list them here, as I'll probably get upset just writing about it. However, I achieved my biggest goal, which was to get through the school day without a panic attack. And for that I am immensely proud. So that's all I'm going to write about school today, I'll do another post that's much more in depth. Changing topics now...
Trichotillomania. I don't think anyone can truly understand the emotional agony of this condition unless you've been through it yourself. For me trich ebbs and flows in waves over time. I'll have periods where I don't struggle too much with pulling, it doesn't occupy my every second, I'm pretty much good if I have a tangle or a fidget toy within reach. But then there's the awful periods where you're losing tons of hair, your fingers ache to go to your scalp, you can practically feel the hairs on your head that you need to get out. You pull when you don't realize it, and you feel consumed with frustration and anger that you can't stop, no matter how hard you try. This is also followed with an increase in both my anxiety and depression, which makes things worse. Not to mention what trich does to your self esteem.
I fully believe that acceptance is the route to dealing with many disorders, trichotillomania in particular. Sometimes I'm okay with acceptance, but right now I am far from accepting. I torture myself by looking through older photos when my hair was long and curly, or watching hair tutorials on YouTube. I look in the mirror and burst into tears because I just don't feel myself. I'm fully aware that acceptance is a key component to reducing pulling, but right now I'm really struggling.
My self harm urges have also been coming back in the past couple weeks. I'm over two months clean, but they're starting to affect me again. It mostly has to do with my awful self image and my trichotillomania. I crave the way it feels, the way it looks, how it makes me feel, which is awful. And I'm so frustrated with trich right now that I'm inclined to start self harming again, as it generally alleviates the severity of my pulling. I'm fighting the urges, I don't ever want to cut again. It's addicting, and once I start it's hard to stop. It's just been quite tempting as of late.
This has been a bit of an unorganized ramble, hopefully my next entry will be a bit better crafted. Goodnight world.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
What If?
It's the eve of my return to public school
And my mind is tangle of anxieties and fears.
The uncertainty taunts me.
My imagination is not useful tonight.
"What ifs" swirl around my head,
A typhoon of "not good enough" "never good enough."
They don't stop, these "what ifs."
They bounce off the walls of my cranium with a dull echo
And they whisper their doubts to me
And as I try to shut them out
Their whispers turn to shouts,
What if I can't do this?
What if I made the wrong choice?
What if no one wants to talk to me?
What if people stare?
What if they notice my scars?
What if they spot the baldness on my scalp?
What if my panic gets the best of me?
What if this provokes a relapse?
What if I'm in way over my head?
What if everyone has forgotten me?
What if they don't want to remember?
What if I end up right where I was a year ago..
Sitting on the dirty floor in a bathroom stall
Unable to breathe
Unable to speak
Limbs shaking
Tears rolling down my cheeks
Heart racing
What if nothing has changed in the last twelve months?
What if something has?
What if I didn't let my fears get the best of me?
What if I thought about the positives too?
What if I have a great day?
What if I see a friend I haven't spoken to in a while?
What if I love my teachers?
What if I feel comfortable in the school?
What if someone compliments my hair?
What if someone is happy to see me?
What if I'm okay?
What if I'm okay?
What if I can do this?
What if?
The Hair Dilema
So I'm starting back at public school tomorrow (crowd cheers), and there are a few things worrying me. Okay, a lot of things worrying me. But a big one is my hair.
Hair. Why do you cause me such distress?
Anyway, my hair is at a pretty good length right now in which I prefer going without my wig. However, I'm quickly developing a patch in the back, and one of the ways that I prevent myself from pulling is by wearing my wig. My wig can also be a big confidence booster at times. But the point is, I generally don't wear my wig consistently. It changes with my mood. And at the therapeutic school, that was fine, because everyone knew about my trich (the school only has like 30 kids), and they just accepted that some days I had hair and other days I don't. But at public school, people aren't quite as understanding.
I'm worried that if I wear my wig on the first day I'll feel obligated to pretend it's my real hair and wear it every day so that I don't draw attention to myself. And if I don't wear my wig, I'll feel like I won't have the flexibility to wear it when I'm having trouble pulling or when my self esteem is low.
It may seem like a tiny problem for most, but I'm majorly stressing about it. You see, I don't want any unnecessary attention on me. No thank you. So this is making me feel very conflicted. I'd love to wear my wig on and off like I normally do, but I don't want the attention.
I really don't know what to do with this one.
Hair. Why do you cause me such distress?
Anyway, my hair is at a pretty good length right now in which I prefer going without my wig. However, I'm quickly developing a patch in the back, and one of the ways that I prevent myself from pulling is by wearing my wig. My wig can also be a big confidence booster at times. But the point is, I generally don't wear my wig consistently. It changes with my mood. And at the therapeutic school, that was fine, because everyone knew about my trich (the school only has like 30 kids), and they just accepted that some days I had hair and other days I don't. But at public school, people aren't quite as understanding.
I'm worried that if I wear my wig on the first day I'll feel obligated to pretend it's my real hair and wear it every day so that I don't draw attention to myself. And if I don't wear my wig, I'll feel like I won't have the flexibility to wear it when I'm having trouble pulling or when my self esteem is low.
It may seem like a tiny problem for most, but I'm majorly stressing about it. You see, I don't want any unnecessary attention on me. No thank you. So this is making me feel very conflicted. I'd love to wear my wig on and off like I normally do, but I don't want the attention.
I really don't know what to do with this one.
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
Jealousy
Jealousy is not an attractive quality by any stretch of the imagination, but it's a real one. It's something that most humans feel every single day, so I think it should be talked about as much as any other emotion. I think it's important to say that jealousy and envy do not automatically make someone ungrateful for what they have. Someone might be jealous that their sister can run faster than them, but it doesn't mean that they're not grateful that they have legs.
Jealousy is a big part of mental illness/recovery for many people, including myself. It can be especially intense if you suffer from body dismorphia or an eating disorder, although it's certainly not limited to those two illnesses.
For me, the jealousy can get so intense sometimes that it debilitates me. I will sometimes feel so awful about my body that I can't bear looking at all of the other gorgeous people in the world, so I'll stay burrowed in my bedroom. It's even gotten to the point where I can't stand being around my younger sister, because she's so slender and beautiful. I know that's awful, but it's true. Jealousy is a really frustrating emotion, and I think we would all get rid of it if we could.
When you're really struggling in your life, whether it's because of mental illness or other misfortunes, you often can't help but look at others' lives with longing. When your life feels so unbearable, the idea of slipping into someone else's life is so attractive. I know that when my illnesses started getting really bad, I felt like my life just stopped. Everything came to a screeching halt, and I was just stuck. And when I realized that everyone else's lives kept moving, it hurt. To know that others can just keep going when you're paralyzed is a horrible feeling. You can't help but look at other people who you believe have it "better" than you and just feel this overwhelming frustration and sadness. Then come the "whats and the whys." Why does she get to be so skinny without ever working out? What did I do to deserve this? Why can't I be as pretty as her? Why do I have to be the one who suffers? Why does she get to have long hair and a great body when I'm stuck like this? The list is endless, and being stuck in this state of mind is a dangerous thing.
One area in which I really struggle is trichotillomania. The majority of the people in the world have hair, and it can sometimes feel like they're taunting me with their luscious locks when I have none. It particularly bothers me when I see girls with long curly hair, because that's what I used to look like, that's what I should look like, and I don't. When I see straight, thin hair it doesn't bother me as much because my hair was never straight or thin. But show me some curls, and my heart just aches.
I know that this is not an attractive quality, but it's something that a lot of people feel, and I know I'm not alone in this. Below is a video by my absolute favorite YouTuber, Rebecca Brown, known as Beckie0 on the internet. She suffers from trichotillomania and depression as well, and her video reflects how I feel in many ways. The only part I don't agree with is when she says that other people cutting of their hair can frustrate her. I totally understand why that would bother some trichsters, but for me when I see women, especially influential women, with short hair, it emphasizes that you don't need long hair to be feminine and beautiful, and it makes me feel less of an outsider. Anyway, please take a minute to watch her video if you can, and pop on over to her trichotillomania channel, TrichJournal, for more trichotillomania goodness.
Jealousy is a big part of mental illness/recovery for many people, including myself. It can be especially intense if you suffer from body dismorphia or an eating disorder, although it's certainly not limited to those two illnesses.
For me, the jealousy can get so intense sometimes that it debilitates me. I will sometimes feel so awful about my body that I can't bear looking at all of the other gorgeous people in the world, so I'll stay burrowed in my bedroom. It's even gotten to the point where I can't stand being around my younger sister, because she's so slender and beautiful. I know that's awful, but it's true. Jealousy is a really frustrating emotion, and I think we would all get rid of it if we could.
When you're really struggling in your life, whether it's because of mental illness or other misfortunes, you often can't help but look at others' lives with longing. When your life feels so unbearable, the idea of slipping into someone else's life is so attractive. I know that when my illnesses started getting really bad, I felt like my life just stopped. Everything came to a screeching halt, and I was just stuck. And when I realized that everyone else's lives kept moving, it hurt. To know that others can just keep going when you're paralyzed is a horrible feeling. You can't help but look at other people who you believe have it "better" than you and just feel this overwhelming frustration and sadness. Then come the "whats and the whys." Why does she get to be so skinny without ever working out? What did I do to deserve this? Why can't I be as pretty as her? Why do I have to be the one who suffers? Why does she get to have long hair and a great body when I'm stuck like this? The list is endless, and being stuck in this state of mind is a dangerous thing.
One area in which I really struggle is trichotillomania. The majority of the people in the world have hair, and it can sometimes feel like they're taunting me with their luscious locks when I have none. It particularly bothers me when I see girls with long curly hair, because that's what I used to look like, that's what I should look like, and I don't. When I see straight, thin hair it doesn't bother me as much because my hair was never straight or thin. But show me some curls, and my heart just aches.
I know that this is not an attractive quality, but it's something that a lot of people feel, and I know I'm not alone in this. Below is a video by my absolute favorite YouTuber, Rebecca Brown, known as Beckie0 on the internet. She suffers from trichotillomania and depression as well, and her video reflects how I feel in many ways. The only part I don't agree with is when she says that other people cutting of their hair can frustrate her. I totally understand why that would bother some trichsters, but for me when I see women, especially influential women, with short hair, it emphasizes that you don't need long hair to be feminine and beautiful, and it makes me feel less of an outsider. Anyway, please take a minute to watch her video if you can, and pop on over to her trichotillomania channel, TrichJournal, for more trichotillomania goodness.
Monday, January 26, 2015
A Little Realization
So there's this blogger I love on tumblr who is incredibly intelligent, witty, and just awesome. She's so knowledgeable on so many different topics and I admire her for it. Her main topic of expertise is mythology. She writes myths, reblogs posts about myths, makes jokes about myths, and since she's so smart and funny I just want to be in on the jokes, to understand what she's writing about and experience for myself how awesome mythology is. So I checked out a book from the library about mythology, and it's really quite dense and...thorough. I've been trying to enjoy it, but it just can't seem to keep my attention.
Then I came to the (somewhat obvious) realization that it's easy to be knowledgeable about a subject that you love. For example, I know quite a lot about John Keats, and I want to learn everything there is about him and his work. It never gets old for me. The same goes for women in literature and culture. That stuff is fascinating, and I'm passionate about it. So I kinda realized that that's how this person must feel about mythology, and that's why it's so easy for her to read and write so many myths and be so consumed in them, just like I can become so consumed in things that other people don't enjoy. For example, I spent a good hour last night trying to teach myself to write in iambic pentameter. I had a blast, but most people would have a crap time doing the same thing.
In conclusion, I realized that I shouldn't be jealous of other people's passions, because I have my own. I will be most successful if I'm doing something I love, rather than trying to get myself to enjoy something I don't. That being said, I am going to continue researching mythology, but I'm not going right into Robert Graves' Greek Myths. I think I'll start with one of those children's books, like Percy Jackson. I'm a beginner in that topic, so there's no shame. Meanwhile, I'll save the dense, intellectual texts for Romantic Era poets, Shakespeare, the Bronte sisters, and women's rights.
Then I came to the (somewhat obvious) realization that it's easy to be knowledgeable about a subject that you love. For example, I know quite a lot about John Keats, and I want to learn everything there is about him and his work. It never gets old for me. The same goes for women in literature and culture. That stuff is fascinating, and I'm passionate about it. So I kinda realized that that's how this person must feel about mythology, and that's why it's so easy for her to read and write so many myths and be so consumed in them, just like I can become so consumed in things that other people don't enjoy. For example, I spent a good hour last night trying to teach myself to write in iambic pentameter. I had a blast, but most people would have a crap time doing the same thing.
In conclusion, I realized that I shouldn't be jealous of other people's passions, because I have my own. I will be most successful if I'm doing something I love, rather than trying to get myself to enjoy something I don't. That being said, I am going to continue researching mythology, but I'm not going right into Robert Graves' Greek Myths. I think I'll start with one of those children's books, like Percy Jackson. I'm a beginner in that topic, so there's no shame. Meanwhile, I'll save the dense, intellectual texts for Romantic Era poets, Shakespeare, the Bronte sisters, and women's rights.
Dear Trichotillomania
Dear Trichotillomania,
We met when I was ten years old. I didn't invite you in, but you barged in anyway. You held my hand and told me that you were here to help me. Then you destroyed my confidence and my eyebrows. I hid my face behind my hands, drew on my face with a ballpoint pen, just trying to look like the other girls. You made me feel like a freak when I was barely a decade old.
You started to hibernate when I was twelve. You would pop up every now and again, but not enough to make any significant damage. I was ashamed of you, but I forgot about you for a while.
Until April of 2014. One of my most vulnerable times. My self esteem was shit, and I hated myself. One of the few things I loved about myself was my hair. And you fucking took that away from me. As if I didn't hate myself enough. As if I didn't have enough body dismorphia and self hatred. As if I wasn't already so self conscious that I barely wanted to leave my room. As if I wasn't in enough pain.
It's not fair, what you did to me. What you still do to me. You have made my life infinitely more difficult, and you pump shame and guilt into my veins. You took away my femininity without a second thought. You know that I hate attention, and you gave me a shiny bald head that attracted people's attention like moths to a flame. You convinced plenty of people I had cancer. You sometimes made me wish I had cancer, just so I wouldn't have to deal with you. You made me hate myself more than I ever thought possible.
You'll probably cause me more pain for the rest of my life. You'll probably cost me opportunities, and make me very unhappy. You might go away for a little while, but you'll probably never be gone. You might always be there, grabbing me by the wrists and forcing my hands into my hair. The more I try to resist you, the stronger you get.
So I'm not going to try and fight you anymore. You're in my life, and you're probably here to stay. That idea breaks my heart, but it's probably true. Most people that have you in their life will never get rid of you, and I'm probably among those unlucky people.
But I refuse to let you destroy me. I refuse to let you define me. I accept that you are here, but I will not let you take the wheel. I will learn to work with you, and in return I ask that you let my hair grow. Feel free to create a bald patch here or there--I expect it, but please, just let me have my curls back. Let me feel like a girl again. Let me look like Julia again. I know it'll take a few years, but please, work with me as I will work with you. I want long hair. I want a few dreads. I want to braid my hair and put it in a bun. I want crazy hair when it's humid and those days where I just love my shiny thick locks. I want what you took away from me. You can stay, but you cannot continue to make me feel like shit. I will not allow it. I never did anything to you, and it's time for you to stop punishing me for something I didn't do.
I'm going to start giving you the credit you deserve. It's not me that's making bald. It's you. It's always been you. And I'm going to stop taking responsibility for your actions.
I dont' like you. I don't think I ever will. I wish we could go our separate ways, and maybe we will someday. But for now I'll raise a middle finger to you and carry on. Because you shouldn't be able to control me like you do. I will be myself, trichotillomania or no trichotillomania.
Sincerely,
Julia
We met when I was ten years old. I didn't invite you in, but you barged in anyway. You held my hand and told me that you were here to help me. Then you destroyed my confidence and my eyebrows. I hid my face behind my hands, drew on my face with a ballpoint pen, just trying to look like the other girls. You made me feel like a freak when I was barely a decade old.
You started to hibernate when I was twelve. You would pop up every now and again, but not enough to make any significant damage. I was ashamed of you, but I forgot about you for a while.
Until April of 2014. One of my most vulnerable times. My self esteem was shit, and I hated myself. One of the few things I loved about myself was my hair. And you fucking took that away from me. As if I didn't hate myself enough. As if I didn't have enough body dismorphia and self hatred. As if I wasn't already so self conscious that I barely wanted to leave my room. As if I wasn't in enough pain.
It's not fair, what you did to me. What you still do to me. You have made my life infinitely more difficult, and you pump shame and guilt into my veins. You took away my femininity without a second thought. You know that I hate attention, and you gave me a shiny bald head that attracted people's attention like moths to a flame. You convinced plenty of people I had cancer. You sometimes made me wish I had cancer, just so I wouldn't have to deal with you. You made me hate myself more than I ever thought possible.
You'll probably cause me more pain for the rest of my life. You'll probably cost me opportunities, and make me very unhappy. You might go away for a little while, but you'll probably never be gone. You might always be there, grabbing me by the wrists and forcing my hands into my hair. The more I try to resist you, the stronger you get.
So I'm not going to try and fight you anymore. You're in my life, and you're probably here to stay. That idea breaks my heart, but it's probably true. Most people that have you in their life will never get rid of you, and I'm probably among those unlucky people.
But I refuse to let you destroy me. I refuse to let you define me. I accept that you are here, but I will not let you take the wheel. I will learn to work with you, and in return I ask that you let my hair grow. Feel free to create a bald patch here or there--I expect it, but please, just let me have my curls back. Let me feel like a girl again. Let me look like Julia again. I know it'll take a few years, but please, work with me as I will work with you. I want long hair. I want a few dreads. I want to braid my hair and put it in a bun. I want crazy hair when it's humid and those days where I just love my shiny thick locks. I want what you took away from me. You can stay, but you cannot continue to make me feel like shit. I will not allow it. I never did anything to you, and it's time for you to stop punishing me for something I didn't do.
I'm going to start giving you the credit you deserve. It's not me that's making bald. It's you. It's always been you. And I'm going to stop taking responsibility for your actions.
I dont' like you. I don't think I ever will. I wish we could go our separate ways, and maybe we will someday. But for now I'll raise a middle finger to you and carry on. Because you shouldn't be able to control me like you do. I will be myself, trichotillomania or no trichotillomania.
Sincerely,
Julia
A Pat on the Back
I spend a great deal of my time wasting away in hatred of myself. My love handles, my thoughts, my skin, my academics, my issues, my hair, my weight, my actions--I rarely ever have a positive thought about myself. And that's how it's been my entire life. For as long as I can remember (I'm talking pre-K here), I've felt inadequite. It's not anyone else's doing, it's just the crappy way that my brain is wired. Thinking positively about myself does not come naturally to me, to say the least. But today I'm going to challenge myself a little bit, because I deserve a little self-praise.
I have come so far in recovery in the past four months that it's almost hard to believe that it's been such a short time period. I am an extremely hard working person, I always have been, and I'm really grateful for this trait, as I believe it's been a huge contribution to my recovery. For most of last year my life was in shatters, and I was in a living hell. There were so many times where I was just ready to give up, ready to end it all. You won't understand the pain and misery unless you've been through it yourself. I don't even remember a good portion of 2014 because I was in such a dark place. I've read journal entries that I don't even remember writing, and there's little gaps in my memory when the times were particularly awful.
But despite the fact that my every attempt to get better failed for a long time, somehow I kept getting up off the ground and fighting to make things better. I went through plenty of periods where I gave up, but somehow I always fought the urges to stop trying in the end, and I was able to continue on with my recovery. At the beginning of October I was in the hospital for the fourth time, plotting ways to try to kill myself in the hospital, starving myself, scratching myself when I couldn't find anything sharp--I was more than ready to die at that point. It's hard to imagine now since I'm so far from where I was back then. I was in a prison of my own mind, and I wasn't myself, I didn't recognize myself in the mirror and I felt like a walking corpse, a dead soul in a live body. I don't know how I did it, but I somehow survived that darkness and began working really hard. I had therapy multiple times a week, I attended a theraputic school, I was supervised very closely for a while, and I worked hard to start living again.
Today, people tell me that they're starting to see a sparkle back in my eye that hasn't been there in over a year. I haven't been seriously suicidal since October, and I'm two months clean from self harm. I am such a different person than I was in April, or September. I'd be lying if I told you I was happy, and that I didn't have any problems. I still have urges to self harm, I still have depressive periods, I still have panic attacks, I have a new bald patch behind my ear, my body dysmorphia is going crazy--my life isn't easy. But I wouldn't trade it for the world. I am so happy that I didn't get what I wanted in October, that I'm still here and I'm still fighting to get better.
I'm proud of myself.
Yeah, I said it. I'm proud. They say that God doesn't throw something at you that you can't handle. I often question that, but in the end I know it's true. Sure I don't have it easy like some other people might. But I am so much stronger because of my struggles. I might not be captain of the sports team or in the national honors society like I thought I was supposed to. But I am facing things that most kids my age won't face for years, I'm on a journey of self discovery, I'm learning skills that will help me for the rest of my life. I am so much more mature and empathetic than I would have been if it weren't for all of my struggles.
I spend most of my time cursing my mental illnesses, because I hate them, and they drain my life away. But today I thank them, because they're shaping me into the woman I'll be for the rest of my life. For better or for worse.
I'll end this post with a quote that most certainly sums up my journey through recovery.
I have come so far in recovery in the past four months that it's almost hard to believe that it's been such a short time period. I am an extremely hard working person, I always have been, and I'm really grateful for this trait, as I believe it's been a huge contribution to my recovery. For most of last year my life was in shatters, and I was in a living hell. There were so many times where I was just ready to give up, ready to end it all. You won't understand the pain and misery unless you've been through it yourself. I don't even remember a good portion of 2014 because I was in such a dark place. I've read journal entries that I don't even remember writing, and there's little gaps in my memory when the times were particularly awful.
But despite the fact that my every attempt to get better failed for a long time, somehow I kept getting up off the ground and fighting to make things better. I went through plenty of periods where I gave up, but somehow I always fought the urges to stop trying in the end, and I was able to continue on with my recovery. At the beginning of October I was in the hospital for the fourth time, plotting ways to try to kill myself in the hospital, starving myself, scratching myself when I couldn't find anything sharp--I was more than ready to die at that point. It's hard to imagine now since I'm so far from where I was back then. I was in a prison of my own mind, and I wasn't myself, I didn't recognize myself in the mirror and I felt like a walking corpse, a dead soul in a live body. I don't know how I did it, but I somehow survived that darkness and began working really hard. I had therapy multiple times a week, I attended a theraputic school, I was supervised very closely for a while, and I worked hard to start living again.
Today, people tell me that they're starting to see a sparkle back in my eye that hasn't been there in over a year. I haven't been seriously suicidal since October, and I'm two months clean from self harm. I am such a different person than I was in April, or September. I'd be lying if I told you I was happy, and that I didn't have any problems. I still have urges to self harm, I still have depressive periods, I still have panic attacks, I have a new bald patch behind my ear, my body dysmorphia is going crazy--my life isn't easy. But I wouldn't trade it for the world. I am so happy that I didn't get what I wanted in October, that I'm still here and I'm still fighting to get better.
I'm proud of myself.
Yeah, I said it. I'm proud. They say that God doesn't throw something at you that you can't handle. I often question that, but in the end I know it's true. Sure I don't have it easy like some other people might. But I am so much stronger because of my struggles. I might not be captain of the sports team or in the national honors society like I thought I was supposed to. But I am facing things that most kids my age won't face for years, I'm on a journey of self discovery, I'm learning skills that will help me for the rest of my life. I am so much more mature and empathetic than I would have been if it weren't for all of my struggles.
I spend most of my time cursing my mental illnesses, because I hate them, and they drain my life away. But today I thank them, because they're shaping me into the woman I'll be for the rest of my life. For better or for worse.
I'll end this post with a quote that most certainly sums up my journey through recovery.
"Rock bottom became a solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life."
-JK Rowling
Friday, January 23, 2015
Things NOT to say to People with Trichotillomania
Trichotillomania is a very complex disorder. So complex in fact, that it's very difficult to describe to someone who doesn't have it. Many people who have trich or work with it even disagree on what it is. Some say it's an impulse control disorder that is on the Obessive Compulsive Disorder spectrum. The latest DSM definition (I believe) is that it is a Body Focused Repetative Behavior, or a BFRB. However, this is highly debated as well, and I don't particularly agree with it. It's so hard to classify even in the mental health world, so it's extremely hard to describe to, say, a random citizen on the street.
Here's my quick overview: Trichotillomania is a disorder in which the afflicted has the intense and sometimes uncontrollable urge or compulsion to tear out their hair, resulting in bald patches. People who have trichotillomania (often referred to as "trichsters") pull from a variety of different spots. Trichsters might pull from their scalp, their eyebrows, their eyelashes, their pubic hair, facial hair, and any other body hair. Trich is more common in women than men, and usually surfaces in a person's life when they are 9-12 years old. Often times people pull their hair unconciously, and they don't even know they're doing it It's often a lifelong condition that is very hard to recover from or cure. There is very little research done on this disorder, despite the fact that it affects up to 4% of the population. Trichotillomania is very highly stigmatized, and trichsters often suffer from a lot of emotional damage and distress as a result of trichotillomania.
Trichsters already suffer enough already, and ignorant/rude comments from other people only make things worse. So here is my list of things NOT to say to people with trichotillomania.
Why can't you just stop?
Don't you think we would if we could? No one with trichotillomania wants to pull out their hair and have massive bald patches, but it's something we often can't control. The urge to pull out one's hair is often so strong and difficult to resist that some trichsters resort to physically restraining themselves (tying thier hands to chairs/tables, etc) just to try and stop the pulling. And that doesn't always work. We try hard to "just stop," but it's like telling someone with depression to "cheer up," someone with anxiety to "calm down," or someone with an eating disorder to "just eat." It isn't that easy, although we wish it were. So telling us to "just stop" is showing how little you know about trich, and reminding the trichster of their failure to stop pulling.
Don't you realize that you're doing it to yourself?
This is one of the worst things that you can say to someone with trich. Yes, it's our hands that are grasping onto the hairs and pulling, but we would do anything to be able to stop. Placing the blame on the person, and not the disorder is like telling someone with cancer that it's their fault. It just doesn't make sense.
Have you tried sitting on your hands?
This one just makes me laugh sometimes. Trichsters try absolutely everything to stop pulling, and most of us can't stop it. Some of us (including myself) are on medication to help stop the pulling. We use tangle toys, we put band-aids on our fingers, we wear wigs and hats--we do everything we can to stop this horrible addiction, so yes, we've tried sitting on our hands. Again, this minimizes how difficult this disorder is. If sitting on our hands cured trich, we'd all do it.
You know one day your hair just won't grow back.
This is a terrifying idea to anyone, not just people with trich. Hair is often really important to us, and having a full head of hair is the ultimate goal for a lot of people with trichotillomania. So telling someone that, despite all their efforts to stop pulling, they will lose all their hair anyway is so frightening. It adds more fear, guilt, and shame to the situation, and is really not necessary. The scare tactic works for plenty of things, but this isn't one of them.
Doesn't it hurt?
Now, this is a pretty common question, and I don't think it's a rude one either. But it's something that trichsters hear really often concerning their condition. I won't speak for everyone with trich, but no, it doesn't usually hurt.
You won't be happy until you're bald.
Being bald will not make us happy, I promise you. Yes, I and many trichsters have gotten to the point where we have had to shave all of our hair off. Does it make us feel better? Absolutely not. This is just another one of those comments that are just not necessary.
Ew, that's so gross/disgusting/unhygienic.
I get that it may seem gross in your eyes, but please just keep it to yourself. This is just something that will not help the situation in any way shape or form.
You're looking for attention.
What? No! This goes for every single mental illness--we're not seeking attention! This disorder is something that causes so much distress and pain, and can even lead to bigger problems, like depression or other mental health conditions. Why on earth would anyone pull out their hair so that people would pay attention to them? I've been accused of this before and it hurts, a lot. This goes for self harm as well. If you see someone's scars or hear that they self harm, don't accuse them of being an attention seeker. Someone has to go through a lot of pain to do these things, and it is a serious issue, whether it's attention seeking or not.
You're getting hair everywhere, it's so disgusting, you have to stop pulling or you'll be in serious trouble.
Parents, please please try not to complain too much about the hair. Make your child clean it up, sure, but try not to make them feel awful in the process.
You're a freak.
Believe me, we often feel like freaks without you telling us. Remember, words hurt.
What on earth happened to your eyebrows?
Right now having perfect eyebrows is a bit of a trend, and believe me, the trichster knows what their eyebrows look like. Don't shame them for drawing on their eyebrows, for not having any at all, or for having patchy brows. They know what it's looks like, they don't need more attention.
No one wants a bald girlfriend.
I can't tell you how much pain this comment causes. You might be trying to motivate someone not to pull, but instead you're telling them that they're undesirable and inadequite. That's just wrong.
Are you a boy or a girl?
Honestly, who asks this? I don't care if you're on the internet or in person, do not ask someone this, it generally makes one or both of you feel really awkward or upset .
It's just hair.
Yes, it's just hair. It's also something that causes a lot of stress and emotional pain. If it's "just hair," then why don't you shave your hair off without feeling anything. Hard, right?
Your hair was so beautiful, why would you do that to yourself?
I miss my hair so so much, and this reminder would probably make me burst into tears.
You have no self control.
Again, very hurtful. Think before you speak.
No one will want to hire you if you look like that.
Thanks for the confidence boost. Now I'm not fit to work because of how my hair looks? How is this statement at all productive? Most trichsters have low enough self esteem as it is, and this statement will just bring someone down so quickly.
There's definitely a lot more, and if you guys can think of any, just leave a comment down below.
A few notes before we go:
I know that a lot of these questions or statements are often said with good intentions, and I'm not saying that you're a terrible person if you say these things. I'm just letting you know how these statements may affect the person you say them to.
Also, this is based off of mine and a few others' experiences with trichotillomania. I can't speak for everyone with this disorder. So if you have trich and you don't feel this way, feel free to let everyone know in the comments.
Here's my quick overview: Trichotillomania is a disorder in which the afflicted has the intense and sometimes uncontrollable urge or compulsion to tear out their hair, resulting in bald patches. People who have trichotillomania (often referred to as "trichsters") pull from a variety of different spots. Trichsters might pull from their scalp, their eyebrows, their eyelashes, their pubic hair, facial hair, and any other body hair. Trich is more common in women than men, and usually surfaces in a person's life when they are 9-12 years old. Often times people pull their hair unconciously, and they don't even know they're doing it It's often a lifelong condition that is very hard to recover from or cure. There is very little research done on this disorder, despite the fact that it affects up to 4% of the population. Trichotillomania is very highly stigmatized, and trichsters often suffer from a lot of emotional damage and distress as a result of trichotillomania.
Trichsters already suffer enough already, and ignorant/rude comments from other people only make things worse. So here is my list of things NOT to say to people with trichotillomania.
Why can't you just stop?
Don't you think we would if we could? No one with trichotillomania wants to pull out their hair and have massive bald patches, but it's something we often can't control. The urge to pull out one's hair is often so strong and difficult to resist that some trichsters resort to physically restraining themselves (tying thier hands to chairs/tables, etc) just to try and stop the pulling. And that doesn't always work. We try hard to "just stop," but it's like telling someone with depression to "cheer up," someone with anxiety to "calm down," or someone with an eating disorder to "just eat." It isn't that easy, although we wish it were. So telling us to "just stop" is showing how little you know about trich, and reminding the trichster of their failure to stop pulling.
Don't you realize that you're doing it to yourself?
This is one of the worst things that you can say to someone with trich. Yes, it's our hands that are grasping onto the hairs and pulling, but we would do anything to be able to stop. Placing the blame on the person, and not the disorder is like telling someone with cancer that it's their fault. It just doesn't make sense.
Have you tried sitting on your hands?
This one just makes me laugh sometimes. Trichsters try absolutely everything to stop pulling, and most of us can't stop it. Some of us (including myself) are on medication to help stop the pulling. We use tangle toys, we put band-aids on our fingers, we wear wigs and hats--we do everything we can to stop this horrible addiction, so yes, we've tried sitting on our hands. Again, this minimizes how difficult this disorder is. If sitting on our hands cured trich, we'd all do it.
You know one day your hair just won't grow back.
This is a terrifying idea to anyone, not just people with trich. Hair is often really important to us, and having a full head of hair is the ultimate goal for a lot of people with trichotillomania. So telling someone that, despite all their efforts to stop pulling, they will lose all their hair anyway is so frightening. It adds more fear, guilt, and shame to the situation, and is really not necessary. The scare tactic works for plenty of things, but this isn't one of them.
Doesn't it hurt?
Now, this is a pretty common question, and I don't think it's a rude one either. But it's something that trichsters hear really often concerning their condition. I won't speak for everyone with trich, but no, it doesn't usually hurt.
You won't be happy until you're bald.
Being bald will not make us happy, I promise you. Yes, I and many trichsters have gotten to the point where we have had to shave all of our hair off. Does it make us feel better? Absolutely not. This is just another one of those comments that are just not necessary.
Ew, that's so gross/disgusting/unhygienic.
I get that it may seem gross in your eyes, but please just keep it to yourself. This is just something that will not help the situation in any way shape or form.
You're looking for attention.
What? No! This goes for every single mental illness--we're not seeking attention! This disorder is something that causes so much distress and pain, and can even lead to bigger problems, like depression or other mental health conditions. Why on earth would anyone pull out their hair so that people would pay attention to them? I've been accused of this before and it hurts, a lot. This goes for self harm as well. If you see someone's scars or hear that they self harm, don't accuse them of being an attention seeker. Someone has to go through a lot of pain to do these things, and it is a serious issue, whether it's attention seeking or not.
You're getting hair everywhere, it's so disgusting, you have to stop pulling or you'll be in serious trouble.
Parents, please please try not to complain too much about the hair. Make your child clean it up, sure, but try not to make them feel awful in the process.
You're a freak.
Believe me, we often feel like freaks without you telling us. Remember, words hurt.
What on earth happened to your eyebrows?
Right now having perfect eyebrows is a bit of a trend, and believe me, the trichster knows what their eyebrows look like. Don't shame them for drawing on their eyebrows, for not having any at all, or for having patchy brows. They know what it's looks like, they don't need more attention.
No one wants a bald girlfriend.
I can't tell you how much pain this comment causes. You might be trying to motivate someone not to pull, but instead you're telling them that they're undesirable and inadequite. That's just wrong.
Are you a boy or a girl?
Honestly, who asks this? I don't care if you're on the internet or in person, do not ask someone this, it generally makes one or both of you feel really awkward or upset .
It's just hair.
Yes, it's just hair. It's also something that causes a lot of stress and emotional pain. If it's "just hair," then why don't you shave your hair off without feeling anything. Hard, right?
Your hair was so beautiful, why would you do that to yourself?
I miss my hair so so much, and this reminder would probably make me burst into tears.
You have no self control.
Again, very hurtful. Think before you speak.
No one will want to hire you if you look like that.
Thanks for the confidence boost. Now I'm not fit to work because of how my hair looks? How is this statement at all productive? Most trichsters have low enough self esteem as it is, and this statement will just bring someone down so quickly.
There's definitely a lot more, and if you guys can think of any, just leave a comment down below.
A few notes before we go:
I know that a lot of these questions or statements are often said with good intentions, and I'm not saying that you're a terrible person if you say these things. I'm just letting you know how these statements may affect the person you say them to.
Also, this is based off of mine and a few others' experiences with trichotillomania. I can't speak for everyone with this disorder. So if you have trich and you don't feel this way, feel free to let everyone know in the comments.
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Finding Faith
As anyone who practices religion can tell you, faith is not an easy thing. It gets especially difficult when you're going through a rough time, which is consequently often times when you need your faith the most. I've been a Christian all of my life, and having God in my life is very important to me. Faith is always a struggle, and it's gotten a lot more difficult as my struggles with mental illness took over my life. I spent half of this year angry at Him, believing that he just didn't care about me, that I'm just not worth any of his time. Other times I just thought He wasn't listening. And in the really, really awful times, I started to wonder if He was there at all.
Things have been improving in my life, and I'm gaining a new perspective on different things as I go through recovery and journey through life. One big realization I had is that I need to welcome Christ back into my life again. Going to church has been a struggle throughout this time period, so although I'm still going to go and recieve the Eucharist, I want to find another way of worship that better suits me. I'm not saying this as a replacement of going to Mass, just as another way to welcome Him into my life.
Nature has always been a place where I've felt the most spiritual. Not necessarily religious, but spiritual. It's as though I can feel the pulse of the universe in my fingertips and beneath my feet as I wander through the woods. Nature nd this earth is one of God's most beautiful creations, and it is something that has been of great solice to me throughout hard times. So I wish to take a moment of prayer every time I go hiking, or do something outside, for the wilderness is where I feel as though I am resting on the cheek of God.
I also want to start reading the Bible again. So I decided I want to start reading it at least once a week, and as I get back into the swing of things, hopefully it'll get easier and be part of my routine.
I know that not everyone agrees with religion, and to be perfectly honest, I understand. I know that I am sometimes bothered by some of the rules of the Church, and I sometimes feel as though the rules almost get between me and God. I'm only 16, and I'm still forming my opinions, so I don't want to say anything that I'm not fully educated on. That being said, I believe that we should all be women and men of Christ, and that does not necessarily mean a life of religion, no fun, rules, and denying yourself pleasure. It means a life of kindness, love, and joy. It means loving your neighbor fully, and thanking God and the universe for all that has been given to you. It means reaching out to God or a greater power when you are suffering, just as Jesus did. To a certain extent, being a child of Christ can be simple. Kindness, love, gratitude, peace, joy--all things that everyone can use in their life. I just plan on finding these things through Christ.
Hopefully this is an okay thing to post, I'm not one to shove my opinions down other people's throats, and I always respect the beliefs of others, as long as it's not hurting someone else. This is just how I feel today, on the 21st of January, 2015 (blimey, time flies doesn't it?).
Things have been improving in my life, and I'm gaining a new perspective on different things as I go through recovery and journey through life. One big realization I had is that I need to welcome Christ back into my life again. Going to church has been a struggle throughout this time period, so although I'm still going to go and recieve the Eucharist, I want to find another way of worship that better suits me. I'm not saying this as a replacement of going to Mass, just as another way to welcome Him into my life.
Nature has always been a place where I've felt the most spiritual. Not necessarily religious, but spiritual. It's as though I can feel the pulse of the universe in my fingertips and beneath my feet as I wander through the woods. Nature nd this earth is one of God's most beautiful creations, and it is something that has been of great solice to me throughout hard times. So I wish to take a moment of prayer every time I go hiking, or do something outside, for the wilderness is where I feel as though I am resting on the cheek of God.
I also want to start reading the Bible again. So I decided I want to start reading it at least once a week, and as I get back into the swing of things, hopefully it'll get easier and be part of my routine.
I know that not everyone agrees with religion, and to be perfectly honest, I understand. I know that I am sometimes bothered by some of the rules of the Church, and I sometimes feel as though the rules almost get between me and God. I'm only 16, and I'm still forming my opinions, so I don't want to say anything that I'm not fully educated on. That being said, I believe that we should all be women and men of Christ, and that does not necessarily mean a life of religion, no fun, rules, and denying yourself pleasure. It means a life of kindness, love, and joy. It means loving your neighbor fully, and thanking God and the universe for all that has been given to you. It means reaching out to God or a greater power when you are suffering, just as Jesus did. To a certain extent, being a child of Christ can be simple. Kindness, love, gratitude, peace, joy--all things that everyone can use in their life. I just plan on finding these things through Christ.
Hopefully this is an okay thing to post, I'm not one to shove my opinions down other people's throats, and I always respect the beliefs of others, as long as it's not hurting someone else. This is just how I feel today, on the 21st of January, 2015 (blimey, time flies doesn't it?).
Being a Little Selfish
So over this past summer (2014), I was in a residential facility for five weeks. Before that I was in the hospital for a couple weeks. And before that I was in a miserable, awful place, and couldn't function. About this time last year I stopped attending school, and finished my sophomore year via tutoring. So when I was discharged from my residential in late August, I was in no way ready to go back to public school full time. So I ended up going to a therapuetic school, and I've been there ever since.
There's a lot of great things about therapeutic schools, and I'm really happy that I went to one, because I don't know where I would be now without it. Without the everyday routine of going to a school that's a safe environment, it wouldn't surprise me if I was still in and out of the hospital. And for that, I am so so thankful.
My entire life I've been an extremely high achiever. Saying I'm a perfectionist doesn't even cover it. So of course when I was in school, I was taking all the honors and AP classes I could, was participating in multiple varsity sports, was training to play DI or II softball in college, was in several clubs at school--I was overdoing it. Some people can handle this lifestyle, and intellectually, I can. Just not emotionally. Anyway, the reason I'm talking about this is to set a picture of what my school life was like before I went to a therapeutic school. So it's an understatement when I say that I am not challenged by the classes at the thereapuetic school. The classes are at a slow, remedial pace, for the focus is not on academics at this school, it's more focused on emotional needs and recovery This worked well for me for a while, because I needed to focus on recovery without the stress of super difficult classes. But as things have been getting better lately, I'm finally going back to my town's high school after a year of being away. It's crazy. I'm so ready for some academic stimulation and just some normalcy.
One thing that was comforting to me about coming back is that one of my friends, let's call her Jane, is going through a lot of the same struggles as me. I was counting on her to be there when I need someone to talk to about what's actually going on in my life, when the normalcy gets too much and I need someone who understands. I never told her that this was what I was counting on, it's just what I thought in my head Unfortunately Jane is struggling a lot in the eating disorder department right now, and she's going to be in a residential facility for a few months. This makes my heart ache for her, and I'm so so sad that she's going through this, because I know how much it sucks. But the selfish part of me is also upset about her going inpatient because I feel like I'll be more alone without her.
I just have to remember that I've dealt with disordered thoughts for a long time without help, and now I have help. Yes, it really sucks that I won't have Jane beside me, but I won't be as alone with bad thoughts as I was for several years before I realized there was something "wrong" with me. I'm nervous to go back, and there's the disordered part of my brain that tells me I can't go back, that I need to relapse, that I need to act on the bad urges. But my wise mind is in control right now, and I'm know I'm doing the right thing for me
There's a lot of great things about therapeutic schools, and I'm really happy that I went to one, because I don't know where I would be now without it. Without the everyday routine of going to a school that's a safe environment, it wouldn't surprise me if I was still in and out of the hospital. And for that, I am so so thankful.
My entire life I've been an extremely high achiever. Saying I'm a perfectionist doesn't even cover it. So of course when I was in school, I was taking all the honors and AP classes I could, was participating in multiple varsity sports, was training to play DI or II softball in college, was in several clubs at school--I was overdoing it. Some people can handle this lifestyle, and intellectually, I can. Just not emotionally. Anyway, the reason I'm talking about this is to set a picture of what my school life was like before I went to a therapeutic school. So it's an understatement when I say that I am not challenged by the classes at the thereapuetic school. The classes are at a slow, remedial pace, for the focus is not on academics at this school, it's more focused on emotional needs and recovery This worked well for me for a while, because I needed to focus on recovery without the stress of super difficult classes. But as things have been getting better lately, I'm finally going back to my town's high school after a year of being away. It's crazy. I'm so ready for some academic stimulation and just some normalcy.
One thing that was comforting to me about coming back is that one of my friends, let's call her Jane, is going through a lot of the same struggles as me. I was counting on her to be there when I need someone to talk to about what's actually going on in my life, when the normalcy gets too much and I need someone who understands. I never told her that this was what I was counting on, it's just what I thought in my head Unfortunately Jane is struggling a lot in the eating disorder department right now, and she's going to be in a residential facility for a few months. This makes my heart ache for her, and I'm so so sad that she's going through this, because I know how much it sucks. But the selfish part of me is also upset about her going inpatient because I feel like I'll be more alone without her.
I just have to remember that I've dealt with disordered thoughts for a long time without help, and now I have help. Yes, it really sucks that I won't have Jane beside me, but I won't be as alone with bad thoughts as I was for several years before I realized there was something "wrong" with me. I'm nervous to go back, and there's the disordered part of my brain that tells me I can't go back, that I need to relapse, that I need to act on the bad urges. But my wise mind is in control right now, and I'm know I'm doing the right thing for me
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
A Ramble
One of the difficult things about recovery is quite hard to explain. You see, when you've been in pitch black darkness for a long time, even the smallest glimpses of light hurt your eyes and feel blinding. That's essentially how it is in recovery. It may seem strange, but being completely caught up in your struggles and illnesses has a certain comfort to it after a while. Don't get me wrong, being consumed in mental illness is nothing less than hell, but humans are creatures of habit, and we can essentially adapt to any sort of situation or lifestyle, no matter how uncomfortable and miserable it is. My "normal" day in 2014 (although each day was such a battle I can't really determine a true normal) was full of so much pain and suffering that was so difficult to cope with. Some days I would spend having panic attack after panic attack around the clock, meaning that I was so worn out and petrified that I couldn't leave my room. Then there were days where depression completely consumed me, and I retreated to my safe place, which is my room. I would lie in bed sobbing for hours on end, pausing only to resort to problem behaviors, such as self harm, overeating, or restricting. Unless you've had the extreme misfortune of experiencing it yourself, I can't even begin to explain what life with debilitating mental illness is like. I would wake up every single day and cry because I didn't die in my sleep. I would write essays in which I prayed to God for him to just take me away from this earth. I would sit on my bed by my window, staring down at the ground below my window, forever contemplating whether or not to jump. I don't remember a good portion of 2014 because I was so deep in my illnesses that I wasn't even completely conscious. My bedroom became my prison cell--it was one of the only places I felt safe, and at some points the mere idea of going downstairs or to other places in my house caused me extreme anxiety. Don't even get me started on what going out was like. When my mom dragged me out of the house to go grocery shopping with her, I would literally collapse, my limbs like noodles, because I was so overcome by anxiety that my body just shut down.
But I'm not here to reminisce on the hell that was my life this past year. My point is that every day was a living hell, and eventually the extreme pain I felt became commonplace. I went to bed knowing that the cycle of misery would repeat. I would collect sharp objects knowing that I would self harm again. So when you start to have successes in recovery, it feels really really strange. Often times when I feel happy it makes me very wary and suspicious, because it's such a foreign feeling. When I had those little moments of happiness, I would often end up being swallowed in anxiety because that emotion was so uncomfortable and unknown. I didn't trust the "happiness" I felt, because in my eyes it didn't matter, because I just expected my life to go back to darkness the next day. Soon it became sort of a twisted pattern. I would have a couple good days, maybe even an okay week, and then a horrible string of days would follow, as if to counter the good feelings with the bad ones I was so accustomed to. Even now, when the good days (well, "okay" days is probably more accurate) sometimes outnumber the bad ones, I still feel a little uncomfortable by the good emotions I feel.
Sometimes I also get the notion in my head that, because I have good days now, all of the misery and bad days I had in the past are suddenly invalid. When I feel fine, it's hard to imagine how low I felt, just as when you feel so down you can't possibly imagine being happy. I find that this concept applies to my trichotillomania as well. When I'm doing well and I have a dormant period, I get so upset with my past self for all the damage I did. I think to myself "if I can do it now, why couldn't I have done it then? I could have prevented all the hair loss and the mental repercussions that came along with it." I almost feel like I'm a fake, like I invented all of the bad days in my head and they never really happened. Now of course this is false, no one in their right mind would choose to be plagued with mental illness, but my mind plays all sorts of tricks on me, and this is one of them. When I have a string of good days, I sometimes feel guilty because it feels like I'm discrediting the bad days. In my wise mind I know that this is silly, and doesn't really make too much sense, but my mind is often so muddled that I usually can't see this.
I'm not entirely sure what point I'm trying to make here, or if I'm even making any sense. It's just that the good days in recovery can sometimes be very challenging as well, because it's such an unknown feeling. Just like I got used to the misery, I have to get used to the good days. The good that's in my life right now can sometimes make the bad days feel even worse. My mom made a good analogy about this the other day that's pretty spot on. She said that when you're driving on a bumpy road, each bump isn't out of the ordinary, and therefore each of the potholes and cracks don't stand out. But when you're driving on a smooth, freshly paved road and you hit a bad pothole, it feels like it's damaging your car because it's so out of place. I feel like that concept definitely applies to recovery.
Now, when I say I'm having good days, I'm in no way saying that things are all better. I still have depressive episodes, I still have strong urges to self harm, restrict, and purge, I still have bad panic attacks, I still get bald patches and thin spots in my hair--I'm still struggling. But the struggles I'm dealing with today are not to the severity that they were a few months ago. I'm not suicidal anymore, and I can't even begin to tell you how amazing that feels. To be okay with living, to wake up in the morning a little sad, but being able to cope with the fact that I'm on this earth and I'm not going anywhere is beautiful. I'm focusing more on the beauty and joy in life and the things I love, and it's truly helping. Things are still hard, but I'm functioning so much better than I used to. I'm able to get out of bed, get ready, and go to school, things that were completely impossible for a long time. I can resist the urges to self harm, I'm eating well and exercising, I'm focusing on self care and being kind to myself. One of my biggest struggles right now is body image, and the bad thoughts sometimes overwhelm me and stop me from functioning. But I'm able to bounce back so much quicker from the tough times, and I am so thankful that I didn't succeed in taking my life in 2014. I'm so happy that I have been resisting the self harm urges (I'm 2 whole months clean!), I'm not starving myself, I'm letting myself live, which is so amazing,
Life is hard, and I'm not happy, but I'm on my way. And for that I am so proud.
But I'm not here to reminisce on the hell that was my life this past year. My point is that every day was a living hell, and eventually the extreme pain I felt became commonplace. I went to bed knowing that the cycle of misery would repeat. I would collect sharp objects knowing that I would self harm again. So when you start to have successes in recovery, it feels really really strange. Often times when I feel happy it makes me very wary and suspicious, because it's such a foreign feeling. When I had those little moments of happiness, I would often end up being swallowed in anxiety because that emotion was so uncomfortable and unknown. I didn't trust the "happiness" I felt, because in my eyes it didn't matter, because I just expected my life to go back to darkness the next day. Soon it became sort of a twisted pattern. I would have a couple good days, maybe even an okay week, and then a horrible string of days would follow, as if to counter the good feelings with the bad ones I was so accustomed to. Even now, when the good days (well, "okay" days is probably more accurate) sometimes outnumber the bad ones, I still feel a little uncomfortable by the good emotions I feel.
Sometimes I also get the notion in my head that, because I have good days now, all of the misery and bad days I had in the past are suddenly invalid. When I feel fine, it's hard to imagine how low I felt, just as when you feel so down you can't possibly imagine being happy. I find that this concept applies to my trichotillomania as well. When I'm doing well and I have a dormant period, I get so upset with my past self for all the damage I did. I think to myself "if I can do it now, why couldn't I have done it then? I could have prevented all the hair loss and the mental repercussions that came along with it." I almost feel like I'm a fake, like I invented all of the bad days in my head and they never really happened. Now of course this is false, no one in their right mind would choose to be plagued with mental illness, but my mind plays all sorts of tricks on me, and this is one of them. When I have a string of good days, I sometimes feel guilty because it feels like I'm discrediting the bad days. In my wise mind I know that this is silly, and doesn't really make too much sense, but my mind is often so muddled that I usually can't see this.
I'm not entirely sure what point I'm trying to make here, or if I'm even making any sense. It's just that the good days in recovery can sometimes be very challenging as well, because it's such an unknown feeling. Just like I got used to the misery, I have to get used to the good days. The good that's in my life right now can sometimes make the bad days feel even worse. My mom made a good analogy about this the other day that's pretty spot on. She said that when you're driving on a bumpy road, each bump isn't out of the ordinary, and therefore each of the potholes and cracks don't stand out. But when you're driving on a smooth, freshly paved road and you hit a bad pothole, it feels like it's damaging your car because it's so out of place. I feel like that concept definitely applies to recovery.
Now, when I say I'm having good days, I'm in no way saying that things are all better. I still have depressive episodes, I still have strong urges to self harm, restrict, and purge, I still have bad panic attacks, I still get bald patches and thin spots in my hair--I'm still struggling. But the struggles I'm dealing with today are not to the severity that they were a few months ago. I'm not suicidal anymore, and I can't even begin to tell you how amazing that feels. To be okay with living, to wake up in the morning a little sad, but being able to cope with the fact that I'm on this earth and I'm not going anywhere is beautiful. I'm focusing more on the beauty and joy in life and the things I love, and it's truly helping. Things are still hard, but I'm functioning so much better than I used to. I'm able to get out of bed, get ready, and go to school, things that were completely impossible for a long time. I can resist the urges to self harm, I'm eating well and exercising, I'm focusing on self care and being kind to myself. One of my biggest struggles right now is body image, and the bad thoughts sometimes overwhelm me and stop me from functioning. But I'm able to bounce back so much quicker from the tough times, and I am so thankful that I didn't succeed in taking my life in 2014. I'm so happy that I have been resisting the self harm urges (I'm 2 whole months clean!), I'm not starving myself, I'm letting myself live, which is so amazing,
Life is hard, and I'm not happy, but I'm on my way. And for that I am so proud.
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