Reasons to Recover

As I discussed in my last post, at times relapse can be very tempting, and I forget why I am even recovering in the first place. So to help remind myself, here is a list of my reasons to recover.

• So I can be strong. When I'm restricting, heavily depressed, or overly anxious, my body is completely out of whack. I don't exercise, and I feel sluggish, weak and awful. I don't want to feel so uncomfortable in my body. I want to become confident enough to truly invest in my body and in my health. I want to be able to exercise freely without my mind getting in the way. Being strong and muscular makes me more confident, and I want to gain that confidence back. I want to learn to do handstands and arm balances, and really push myself physically. I want to have endurance and flexibility and power. I want to rock climb and hike and swim and explore the outdoors without my body holding me back. I can't do this if I'm restricting, hospitalized, or miserable.
• So I can spend time with others. When I am deep into my insecurities, I can't really be around people. I'm too jealous and self conscious, and my thinking is so disordered that I'm just miserable around other people. I want to be okay with opening myself up to others, and I want to spend time with friends like a normal teenager. I want to go to social events where there is food or a pool without freaking out and feeling horrible. I want to let myself have friends and have fun for once.
• So I can pursue the things I love. I have so many dreams, but when I'm deep into my illnesses, they disappear. I feel hopeless, and believe that I'm not going anywhere in my life. But in reality, there are so many things I want to do! I want to travel the world, exploring and finding beauty and encountering different people and cultures. I want to volunteer in third world countries and help people (especially women) who are less fortunate than myself. I want to work at rape clinics and medical centers and provide people with the care that they need. I want to fight the stigma against mental health, and work towards getting people the care they need no matter where they live in the world. I want to volunteer at psychiatric hospitals and tell people like me that there is hope, that they can get out of there and pursue their dreams. I want to do so much, and in order to do that, I need to recover first.
• To have a family. I want to fall in love, and eventually settle down and have kids. I want a little house on a big property with three dogs, some chickens, and maybe a few goats. I want to bring my children with me to places like Haiti so they can see that there are people in this world that need their help. I want to bring them to Switzerland to gaze in awe at the mountains and Australia to see animals they've only dreamed of. I want to go to my kids' graduation, and hold my grandchildren. I want to spend the majority of my life with someone I love, bound together by marriage. So I need to recover, so I can provide for my family and let myself fall in love.
• For food. I want to be able to love food and nourish myself without guilt and pain. I want to go out to eat at restaurants and go to dinner parties and have dessert and feel comfortable around food. I don't want to stress out before going to an event because I know there's going to be food there. I want to be able to overeat without wanting to hurt myself. I want to be able to under eat without wanting to keep going. I want to have pasta and pizza and ice cream and chocolate and just feel good.
• For confidence. I want to wear a bathing suit someday without hating myself. I want to look in the mirror and smile. I want to approach someone and talk to them without fear. I don't want to dread the summer. I want to wear clothes that make me feel beautiful. I don't want to care about every stretch mark and awkward feature. I want to know what it's like to feel comfortable in my own skin.
• To put positive energy out into the world. I want to be a positive person. I want to be like Rachel Brathen or Jen Converso, spreading light and love throughout the world. I want to make the world a better place. I want to summon a smile in a second, and radiate love and joy in everything I do. I want to run to the hilltops and spin and smile and soak in the sunlight. I want to be so happy that I make others happy just by being around them.
• To be a yoga teacher. Yoga is so important to me, and it's something I want to share with other people. In order to become a yoga teacher, I'll have to keep eating so that I'm strong enough, and I'll need to gain the confidence to be able to be in front of a whole class and feel comfortable. It's a huge recovery goal.
• To love myself. I've spent my entire life consumed with self hatred. I don't even know what self love is, but I'd like to learn. It's got to be better than despising yourself day after day.
• So I can start saying yes to things. I don't want my mental health issues to be holding me back for the rest of my life. I want to be free. I want to say yes to opportunities that come my way, regardless of any anxiety I have towards it. I want to take each day as it comes, and stop living in fear. I want to do things that scare me, overcome my fears, and start living wildly.
• To watch the scars fade.
• To be able to look back and be proud I never gave up. I'm doing a hell of a lot of work right now to try and recover, and someday, when I'm happy and content, I want to look back on these days and thank myself for keeping going and never giving up.
• To share my story. I want to connect to other people struggling with mental illness and share my experience and struggles. I want to help someone else who is where I am now, and show them that recovery is possible, and that things get better.
• To be one year clean of self harm! This is a huge goal, and it's one I'm working hard towards. The longest I've gone is around three months, but I'm determined to kick this addiction to the curb.
• To go to the beach. Someday, I want to go to the beach and enjoy myself. I want to wear a bathing suit -- heck, even a bikini, and not want to cry or run away. I want to sit down and let my fat roll without covering it up with a towel. I want to run and play despite everything that jiggles. I want to lay out and tan because it feels good. I want to let people take pictures of me without running away and covering my face. I don't want to keep dreading the summertime.
• To be independent.
• For ice cream. For cookie butter. For chocolate. For nutella. For cereal! Cereal is a huge trigger for me, and someday I want to eat a bowl of special K red berry and smile.
• To go off my medications. I don't know if I'll ever be off my meds completely, especially since I'm on quite a few. But someday I'd like to go to bed without having to pop nine pills every night.
• So I can compliment myself and actually mean it. So I can accept compliments from others and actually believe it.
• So I can bake/make all sorts of vegan treats and feel good about it. I love baking, and I miss it. I'll still bake every now and again, but it's tainted with guilt and shame. I want to go back to the mindset when I was 8 years old and baking cookies. I want to be excited about what I'm making, and not feel out of control. I want to eat the treats and feel happy, but not go overboard and binge. I want it to be a positive experience.
• To be stronger than my thoughts and urges.
• To beat trichotillomania, and have long hair again.
• To be able to go to college and do well on my own. Right now, I'm right on the path to be able to do okay in college. But I wasn't always like that. Just several months ago I was in such a bad place that if I didn't get better, college would've been out of the question. I want to keep up the good work and eventually gain that independence.
• To feel confident about the future. Although I'm more optimistic than I used to be, often times when I look to the future I see nothing but darkness. I want to get rid of that toxic feeling and see light in the future.

There's definitely a lot more reasons than these, but these are a few big reasons to recover. I think maybe I'll make a part II to this that will be shorter, less elaborative reasons. So tell me, what are your reasons to recover? Share them with me in the comments.

Resisting Relapse

I'm really confused.
So for the past week and a half I've been doing really well. And I mean really well. I've been following my meal plan exactly, I haven't been restricting, I haven't been self harming-- I haven't really used any negative problem behaviors. In fact, I've been happy. Truly. I've been experiencing happiness in myself for the first time in years. There have even been moments where I'm starting to feel comfortable in my own skin. Not very comfortable, but glimpses of comfort. I've been working so hard to kick my disorders to the curb, and I've been succeeding. And that truly makes me very happy.

Yet despite all of that, despite the positivity, the joy, the good progress -- I have an urge to relapse. And I mean really relapse - restricting, self harming, everything. It's like my body wants me to collapse, to fall back down, to let misery and disordered thinking take over. But why? Like I said before, things have been nothing but positive lately. So why do I have this desire to destroy everything.

I think it's because I'm so used to the darkness. The light is beautiful, but it hurts my eyes at the moment. It's unnatural to me, it's not normal. My normal is destructive - it's depression, panic attacks, self loathing, nonstop doctor's appointments, hospital visits, relapse, pain. So as this happiness starts to sneak its way into my life, my illnesses, the disordered thinking, the darkness -- it's dying. And it's fighting to try and get its way. It's telling me I haven't suffered enough, that I don't deserve to be happy. It's trying to convince me that if I just collapse, just have one more relapse, then things will be better. It's like I have this weird concept in my brain that I have to suffer a certain amount before I can ever experience true happiness. Especially with my eating disorder. My mind keeps telling me that I'm faking, that I don't truly have an eating disorder, that I haven't experienced enough pain to recover. It shames me for never being underweight and never being sent to an eating disorder residential -- never mind the fact that I've been been in so much pain because of my ed since I was nine years old. It doesn't care that I've spent every pool party wanting to cry, that I've never looked in the mirror and felt happy, that I feel horribly guilty whenever I feel too full - my eating disorder mind doesn't care about all that. It just wants me to lose weight, to obsess over food, and to feel miserable. It wants me hospitalized with a tube up my nose, and there's a sick part of me that agrees with it. That believes that that's my fate, that that's where I deserve to be. And if I'm honest, it's hard to find a part of myself that disagrees. It's hard, because still, after all my hard work, deep down, I don't feel worthy. I don't feel like I'm enough, I don't feel like I deserve love. But I need to tell that part of me to go to hell, because someday I will love myself. Someday I will accept love from others without wondering what's wrong with them. Someday I'll go to a beach without feeling like I want to cry. Someday I'll get upset without automatically wanting to restrict or self harm.

I believe that I will be in recovery for the rest of my life, but I also believe that I can win. That I can learn how to live with my disorders and still be happy. That I can start to realize that not every thought that crosses my mind is law. Someday my distorted thinking will call my name, and I'll ignore it.

And in order to do that, I can't relapse. I need to keep fighting. I can't give in and go back to the darkness, no matter how sickly "comfortable" it is. I need to let those thoughts pass through my mind, and then kindly stick it up my disorder's ass. Because I'm not okay with the idea of me being an adult and still suffering. I want to recover, and I want to be happy. So it's time to take the initiative, and keep going. Sure, part of me wants to restrict, and wants to self harm. But part of me doesn't. And it's time to start listening to the latter.

Recovery Woes

 

 

So I had the appointment with the nutritionist, and it actually wasn't too terrible. It was only a half hour long, so there wasn't any in depth discussion, but she seems really supportive and willing to help me, which is a good sign. We didn't have enough time to discuss a meal plan, but we did outline a little mini guide of what to eat in the interim until I see her again. She agreed to let me stay vegan for now because it's what I'm most comfortable with, and our first goal is to just get me eating normally again.

If I'm honest, I thought that eating more wouldn't be that hard. I do truly like food, and I like trying new things. But the emotions that come with eating are pretty severe. This morning I was panicking over what to have for breakfast, so I had a glass of mango Naked instead. I packed some strawberries, chips, and guac for lunch, and it was hard. I eat in the guidance office so there's not a lot of people, but I only really felt comfortable eating the strawberries. The chips and guac were a bit too terrifying for me. Then after school I had a tiny snack bowl of peanut butter filled pretzels and a banana. It's a perfectly okay snack, especially since I didn't eat too much earlier in the day. I didn't have any trouble eating it, but afterwards I just felt awful. My stomach felt overly full and enormous, and I felt like I had gained 10 pounds and ruined any progress towards losing weight that I had. Looking back, it's a little bit disjointed. My reaction didn't really fit the amount of food I ate, but it was still quite difficult. Tonight I'm having a baked sweet potato topped with some rice and vegetables. I'm rather nervous, if I'm honest. I feel like I'm having so much food today, and it's hard to get used to.

Another not so good thing happened the other day. I relapsed and cut again. It was Wednesday night and I had just eaten a full meal. I couldn't cope. I didn't know what to do about all the food I had eaten, and I was so incredibly furious with myself. So I ruined my clean streak and self harmed. I'm disappointed in myself, and frustrated that it was caused by FOOD, something my body NEEDS. I've been struggling with self harm for well over a year now, and it's quite discouraging that I'm still relapsing after all this time.

I don't want to keep restricting, but I also don't really want to eat. I'm kind of stuck, in that regard. I know that restricting slows down your metabolism, and I'm scared that mine is too low and now the food I'm eating is giving me too much energy and causing more fat.

I dunno, I just really wish I could eat a meal (or even a snack) without any emotional trauma. It's really really frustrating. I've struggled with food for the past seven or so years, maybe more, and I am just so done with all of the mental pain it causes me. I just want to eat like a normal person, without there being any deep thinking or horrible consequences associated with it. So that's why I'm trying to recover, I suppose. But I still want to lose a lot of weight, and my mind is telling me that restricting is the way to go. It's such a constant battle in my mind, and it's quite exhausting.

Above is a picture of Thursday's breakfast, and below is Thursday's dinner. Have a lovely night, petals.

 

So Much Fear

So my mom sat me down yesterday to talk about my eating. I feel like my parents do this often, and it always makes me really really uncomfortable. But this time it wasn't just an awkward open conversation. She had a proposal for me, if you will. She knows that being in eating disorder programs with other girls is really triggering for me, and I'm pretty sure that neither of us want me to go to a day program, so she gave me the option of seeing a nutritionist first. If that doesn't work or I'm noncompliant we'll look into a PHP or IOP.
Now, I have a pretty bad history with nutritionists. It's like the dentist for some people - they scare the life out of me. If I had it my way I would never ever see a nutritionist/dietitian. I want to avoid them like the plague. I've had two pretty bad experiences with eating disorder specialists. One was when I was at a residential over the summer. I was in the eating disorder (EDO) program at the hospital, and it was absolutely awful. It wasn't even the other girls that were super triggering. I just hated the way the whole group was run. I was made to feel guilty for having snacks outside of my meal plan, most of the EDO staff were anything but warm and fuzzy - it was a bad experience. If I'm honest, I think they made things worse. Another thing that bothered me about that program is that every single EDO staff member was extremely skinny. And that's not an exaggeration. They were very thin to the point that I questioned some of their health, which for me was quite triggering. It's hard when someone who is stick thin is telling you that you need to eat more/less. It felt like they were being hypocritical.
I had another bad experience with a nutritionist this past fall, although it wasn't as dramatic as over the summer. Anyway, the point is that I generally do not trust nutritionists/dietitians/people who specialize in eating disorders. Perhaps that's narrow-minded, but it's how I feel.
My next point - veganism.
Being a vegan is something that's very close to my heart.  I believe in the vegan lifestyle very strongly and am fairly repulsed by the thought of eating animal products. Being vegan is a part of me - a part of me that I actually like. And unfortunately, I am 99% sure that the nutritionist will not allow me to continue a vegan lifestyle. And my parents are on the side of the nutritionist. If she tells me I need to eat eggs, they're gonna try to make me eat eggs. And that absolutely sucks. You can get ALL of the nutrients and good things you need through a vegan diet, no problem. Nutritionists don't care, they just brush it aside because they think it's a form of restricting. Guess what, it's not. I became vegan because I don't want to support the abuse, exploitation, and murder of innocent animals. I didn't do it so that I could limit my calories. And the restricting I'm doing now has nothing to do with me being a vegan. It's because I have an eating disorder, not because I choose to love animals rather than slaughter them.
But I have agreed to see the nutritionist. I know I need to. My ed is slowing tearing my life into shreds, and I can't let it continue.
So what will I do about the veganism? I have already told my mother that the only way I will eat eggs is if we get them locally at a farm or household I trust. I have worked with chickens before, and they can have wonderful lives if they are treated right. They are not just for eggs, they're animals before they're food, and I had no problems collecting their eggs and giving them to others, because I know that there was no abuse involved. As much as I'd prefer not to eat boiled chicken menstruation, I know that I will have to come to some sort of compromise with the nutritionist. So that is where I can allow a little bit of leeway.
But at milk/dairy, I draw the line. I cannot honestly justify what goes on in the dairy industry. I cannot support an industry that forcibly impregnates an innocent creature only to take their child away from them seconds after birth. That child is then tied to a post in order to ensure that they do not grow any leg muscles. Cows have a very strong mother-calf relationship, so this poor newborn calf spends four months crying for their mother, in agnoy, before their life is brought to a bitter end for the sake of veal. The mother who lost her child is carted away and hooked up to a machine where she can hardly move. She is fed with unnatural foods. She should be eating grass, but they force her to eat corn or hay so that they can fatten her up. She lives a life without ever seeing the sun again, crying for her child as a machine squeezes her udders and cause her pain. Sometimes they even drill a hole in the side of the cow so that they can shovel the food in, since it's not natural for the cows to eat them on their own. Seeing any red flags? 

This is only a sliver of the atrocities that exist in the meat/dairy industry. Humans seem to forget that animals feel pain, that animals have emotions. There is little evidence that their pain spectrum is any less severe than ours. If someone were to try and kill a human by slitting their throat or zapping them with a electroshock wand, that person would be locked up for life. Yet we do it to innocent creatures every single day. Just because animals can't fight back or defend themselves doesn't mean that we should torture them. And for what? For you to enjoy that hamburger of yours? So that you can put extra butter on your toast? It's a horrible, sick industry, and I do not feel comfortable supporting it. So many people turn a blind eye. There's a quote that goes something like "if slaughterhouses had glass walls, everyone would be vegetarian." And I believe that's true. It will take a lot for my nutritionist to convince me that eating dairy is okay. Who knows, maybe she will change my mind. But if she gets to inform me about how she's "right" about food, I get to inform her about everything that's wrong with the animal byproduct industry. If she can go home and watch Earthlings and Forks Over Knifes and still come back and tell me to eat cheese, then I will realize that she has a heartless element to her, and I will feel bad. But no good, self respecting person would be able to watch Earthlings while eating a steak. If you don't know what I'm talking about, click here to watch the documentary, Earthlings. It exposes everything we've been taught to shove under the rug. I'm not saying you have to be vegan after watching it, but it should give you some insight as to what you're really supporting when you're scanning the meat aisle at the grocery store.
Okay, sorry for the rant. It was unintended, I swear. I tend to keep my thoughts about veganism to myself, because people love to attack you when you say you're a vegan, but I needed to get that out.
So, moral of the story.
I have agreed to see a nutritionist. I want to fight it tooth and nail, but my desire to stay out of an IOP is motivation for me to at least try to trust them and go along with their plan. I am by no means happy about this, but it has to happen. I can agree to eggs, but not dairy. Not yet anyway. She might require me to eat dairy, which would kill me, but I'm going to listen to her. As much as I don't want to, I will. Wise mind? Maybe. But I'm definitely reluctant.
Goodbye my petals, I'll see you in the next one.

Update

So things have been tough lately, to say the least. My eating disorder has taken control of me in a way I didn't know was possible, and it's making me feel completely miserable. I've been restricting pretty badly, and when I eat anything - a boost, a pretzel, a strawberry, it doesn't matter - I feel massively guilty and am full of such a toxic self hatred that is hard to deal with. Then come the urges to self harm and purge, which are also difficult to deal with.
And as the past couple days have showed me, my eating disorder is starting to make me crack. I'm having a lot of trouble keeping it together, and things are feeling eerily similar to times right before hospitalizations in the past. That stresses me out like you wouldn't believe. I can't stress how much I do not want to go inpatient. I don't think I need to, but it still scares me so much. I don't want to do an IOP or day program either. I just want to be normal. I want to be able to handle things like a normal person, I want to be worrying about boys and prom rather than my eating disorder and other issues.
My anxiety has been through the roof lately, and this morning it was exceedingly hard to get out of bed. The thought of facing the world terrified me. Somehow I got to school, and I spent the first two periods in guidance, listening to my Calm app and trying not to have a panic attack. Not fun. I don't want my anxiety to severely cripple me again, but I don't know how to stop it.
I think I need to be more proactive with coping skills, so this week I'm gonna go out to Michaels and buy some art supplies. I'm going to get a big pack of colored pencils for mandalas, some watercolors to see if it'll be soothing, and some henna. I think henna will be a really good self harm substitute. I'll create beautiful designs on the places where I want to self harm, and hopefully it'll keep me occupied and prevent me from harming myself. I also have a huge obsession with henna (and Indian/middle eastern culture - I always say that I need to marry an Indian man so I can have the gorgeous wedding festivities and clothes. Also, Indian men are hot. Have you seen their beards?), so hopefully I'll have fun with this. The watercolors are a shot in the dark, I've never been good with painting, but we'll see.
I'm going to try and work on occupying myself with these coping skills instead of spending time online. I find myself looking for fashion pictures with skinny girls as "motivation" and eventually I just make myself so upset. I also spend way too much time on YouTube - it's an addiction. So once I've beefed up my coping skills hopefully I'll spend my time on those instead. It's so much more positive to create something beautiful anyway. And once it's warm I can combine them and do art outside in the grass, or go to the hiking trails and paint by the water. Being outside brings me so much peace, and I hope to be spending much more time out there from this point forward.
So yeah. That's a little summary about how things have been and my general plans. See ya later skater.

Mental Health as Adjectives

"Aw man, I'm out of breath, I feel so lung cancer today."

 

"I need sugar to wake me up, my diabetes is so bad."

 

"Look at that bruise, it's like you have leukemia."

 

"I can't remember, my Alzheimer's is flaring up today."

 

"Ugh, I'm so nauseous, it's like I'm on chemo."

 

Okay, hold up. Who in their right mind would say these sort of things if they don't personally suffer from the illness themselves? No one would use serious illnesses as adjectives, right? Wrong. It's something we've all done, and it's commonplace in our society. But it's not about diabetes or cancer. For some reason it's okay to use serious, debilitating illnesses as adjectives as long as they're mental illnesses. Let's see it again:

 

"I need to have the volume on an even number, I'm so OCD."

 

"Ugh, my mom keeps yelling at me, she is SO bipolar."

 

"Man, I failed that civics quiz. I feel so depressed."

 

"Wow, you scared me, I almost had a panic attack!"

 

"What the hell, you're psychotic!"

 

And that's only a few, there are so many more. I hear these every single day, and it frustrates me so much.

 

"I couldn't fall asleep until 2am last night. My insomnia is so bad."

 

"Gosh, that's so retarded!"

 

"That dress makes you look so anorexic!"

"Man, I need to clean my room, my OCD is getting really bad."

 

I think we get the point. It's very likely that we've all done this throughout our lifetime. Before I started treatment for mental health issues, I was a contender for this as well. I remember talking to a teammate about one of my coaches a few years ago, and I was complaining that she was "so bipolar." And these types of statements are completely accepted by society, while careless statements about physical illnesses, like cancer, are labeled as out of line.

 

There are a few reasons why this phenomenon bothers me. First is the stigma. Mental illnesses are more serious and important than most people know, and yet there is so much stigma around it. The stigma surrounding mental health prevents so many people from reaching out and getting help, which contributes to the amount of people who commit suicide every year. Using mental illnesses as adjectives trivializes them. If they're used as emotions that people experience on a daily basis, no one will realize how serious mental illnesses actually are. Stigma is hard enough to defeat anyway, and these types of phrases do not help.

 

Another thing that sucks about these statements is when someone with a mental illness overhears them. For example, the OCD references. I have met a lot of people with obsessive compulsive disorder throughout treatment, and it is a hellish, awful condition to deal with. It can be debilitating, it controls a person's every action, and it can make a person's life absolutely miserable. So when they hear someone talking about how they're "so ocd," can you imagine how trivializing that is? To hear something that you struggle with daily compressed into something as small as wanting a picture frame straight or your books in alphabetical order is so frustrating. This goes for other illnesses as well. When I hear people mentioning panic attacks or self harm behaviors in a casual or joking way, it makes me cringe. I know how horrible and debilitating these things are - I suffer from them myself. Hearing people talk about them as if they're nothing is really frustrating. How are we supposed to inform others on mental illness if people's only perception of mental health is either trivialized or completely misunderstood?

 

I hope that, as time goes on and people become more educated, these phrases will start to dissolve from our vocabulary. But only time will tell.

Life Lately

So I've been a bit absent as of late, and I do apologize for that. Things have been a bit tough this month, and I haven't really been posting anything, aside from tumblr and pinterest. My phone isn't working very well, and it often times refuses to take pictures or do what I want it to do, so I haven't been posting to instagram as much as I would like. To be honest, I haven't really felt inspired either.

So lets give a little backstory, shall we?

So at the beginning of this month (February first, actually), I relapsed with self harm after being almost three months clean. So that sucked. I also made the mistake of trying to keep it a secret from my parents and therapist, which made everything so much worse. I don't really want to go into details, but basically it's been a pretty sucky month. My anxiety has been through the roof and my moods have been all over the place. I did end up telling my parents and therapist about the self harm last week, and my quit date is February 20th. Whereas before I was actively hiding my self harm and not wanting to stop, now I am fighting the urges, and I've gone a week without cutting, which is pretty sweet.

On the trichotillomania side of things, I'm struggling. And it's unfortunately linked to my math class. I am pulling inordinate amounts of hair, the majority of which is done during math class, doing math homework, or thinking about math. I feel such a lack of control over my own body, and it's really been getting me down. We're going to try habit reversal therapy with my therapist, which, if I'm honest, I don't have much hope for, but I'm going to try. It's just so frustrating, because I finally have a full head of hair after being bald for months, and I'm always one step away from completely destroying it. Any bald patches I get are much more hidden, but knowing they're there really upsets me.

That's all I'm going to talk about for now, I have to do homework (math of all things). Have a lovely day, everyone.

Everyday Awards, the Mental Illness Edition

 

I don't need to tell you that recovery is hard. I feel like there's not even an adjective strong enough to describe exactly what it's like. Exhausting. Frustrating. Trying. Discouraging. Recovery is far from a walk in the park. I know that I often get caught up in the things that I used to be able to do and now find difficult, or the things that seem easy but are almost impossible. But we should really be proud of ourselves for all of the simple things we weren't always able to do. You got out of the house today? That's amazing! You couldn't leave your bed today? You're still strong and I'm proud of you. You did something that scares you?  You're a rock star. You were honest about your feelings? I applaud you. You made a proper breakfast this morning? Way to go!

All of these small tasks that other people don't think about are often times a big deal for those of us in recovery. I definitely need to keep reminding myself of this. I'm having trouble coping with school at the moment, and seeing my friends who have their life together and can do everything pretty easily makes me extremely frustrated. I feel inadequate, worthless. But a few months ago I would never have believed that I would be back at my public school. A few months ago I would have never believed that I have hair on my head. Speaking of hair, it's enormous today and I really regret not wearing a headband. It's ridiculous.

My point is, you shouldn't compare your failure to other people's successes. You are your own person, and you have your own battles to fight.  Just because someone else handles a situation seemingly "better" than you do doesn't make them any better a person. Just because you have a panic attack at a movie theatre when your friends are perfectly fine doesn't make you any less of a person. Start praising yourself for the small things. Because they're really not that small.

Helpful Quotes for Recovery

When you're suffering from mental illness and you're feeling perpetually down, it can be hard to find any sort of positivity or inspiration. And when other people try to cheer you up, they tend to say things that do anything but help. We've all been subject to the following (unhelpful) ways that people try to get you to think positivity. 

"Just smile and be happy, life is great!"

"Choose happiness!"

"Be grateful for all that you have. You have a roof over your head, food on the table, and people that love you. Why are you upset?"

"Just focus on the positives, you're too negative."

"Your life is a privilege, you shouldn't waste it by wallowing in self pity."

"But you're so pretty, how could you be depressed?"

The people who are directing these statements towards you are generally trying to help, but for the most part, it doesn't make things better. If anything, it can make things worse. I was writing to a friend who's inpatient right now, and I put together a list of quotes that I think can be helpful for depression/mental illness. I got a few from Beckie0's video, "Helpful Quotes for Depression," which is below.

So, without further ado, here is my list of quotes to help with depression/mental illness!

“Our wounds are often the openings into the best and most beautiful parts of us.”

-David Richo

“You are beautiful because you let yourself feel, and that is a brave thing indeed.”

-Shinji Moon

“Your present circumstances don’t determine where you can go; they merely determine where you start.”

-Nido Qubein

“To keep the body in good health is a duty, otherwise we shall not be able to keep our mind strong and clear.”

-Buddha

“And forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the wind longs to play with your hair.”

-Khalil Gibran

“I actually attack the concept of happiness. The idea that—I don’t mind people being happy—but the idea that everything we do is part of the pursuit of happiness seems to me a really dangerous idea and has led to a contemporary disease in the Western society, which is fear of sadness. It’s a really odd thing that we’re now seeing people saying “write down three things that made you happy before you go to sleep” and “cheer up” and “happiness is our birthright” and so on. We’re kind of teaching out kids that happiness is the default position. It’s rubbish. Wholeness is what we aught to be striving for, and part of that is sadness, disappointment, frustration, failure; all of those things which make us who we are. Happiness and victory and fulfillment are nice little things that also happen to us, but they don’t teach us much. Everyone says we grow through pain, and then as soon as they experience pain they say, “Quick! Move on! Cheer up!” I’d like for just a year to have a moratorium on the word “happiness” and to replace it with the word “wholeness.” Ask yourself, “Is this contributing to my wholeness?” and if you’re having a bad day, it is.”

“Only the weak are cruel. Gentleness can only be expected from the strong.”

-Leo Buscaglia

“I will endure sadness, for it opens my soul.”

-Og Mandino

“Having a soft heart in a hard world is courage, not weakness. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that kindness and gentleness and acceptance is anything less than scandalously brave.”

Love this one:

“Recovery is a conscious choice. It’s not something brought about by repeat hospital visits and pills and forced therapy sessions. Those things only supplement it. But what recovery really is, is a conscious choice to wake up tomorrow and want to live. It’s a choice to drive across a bridge and not want to jump into the water, but to admire the view.”

“Your heart needs to break open from time to time. It’s how we grow as human beings. If you haven’t had your heart broken open by loss and despaire, if you’ve never truly been in pain, if you haven’t walked through fire and back… You haven’t truly lived. You won’t know what it feels like until you’ve walked out into a ledge called Giving Up, wiggled your toes across the brim, looked down at the infinite fall below, and then, very carefully, taken a step back.”

Rachel Brathen

“When we give up dieting, we take back something we were often too young to know we had given away: our own voice. Our ability to make decisions about what to eat and when. Our belief in ourselves. Our right to decide what goes into our mouths. Unlike the diets that appear monthly in magazines, or the thermal pants that sweat off pounds, unlike a lover or a friend or a car, your body is reliable. It doesn’t go away, get lost, stolen. If you listen, it will speak.”

-Geenen Roth

“There is some good in this world, and it’s worth fighting for.”

-J.R.R Tolkein

“Feel the fear, and do it anyway.”

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you, and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope, and a future.”

Jeremiah 29:11

“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”

Isaiah 41:10

“The days you are most uncomfortable are the days you learn the most about yourself.”

-Mary Louise Bean

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

“Never apologize for showing your feelings. When you do, you are apologizing for the truth.”

-Jose N. Harris

“The great glory in living, lies not in never falling, but rising every time we fall.”

-Nelson Mandela

“It is hard to fail, but it is (even) worse never to have tried to succeed.”

-Theodore Roosevelt

“To the world, you may be one person, but to one person, you may be the world.”

-Dr. Suess

“Letting it get to you. You know what that’s called? Being alive. Best thing there is. Being alive right now is all that counts.”

-Matt Smith as the Doctor

“Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

Albus Dumbledore…. I don’t necessarily agree with this quote but it’s Dumbledore so…

“What’s coming will come and we’ll just have to meet it when it does.”

-JK Rowling

“You cannot depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.”

-Mark Twain

“Feet, what do I need you for when I have wings to fly!”

-Frida Kahlo

“I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo; the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end…because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was, when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines, it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you, that meant something, even if you were to small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folks in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.”

-Lord of the Rings

I absolutely adore that last quote, it's so powerful. It may be from Lord of the Rings, but it is so relevant and there is so much truth in it. "They kept going. Because they were holding on to something." It gives me chills. I think it's such an incredible representation of what recovery is. Anyway, this is my list of my favorite quotes, most of which are relevant to recovery. I'm a bit of a quote addict, so I will probably make a second part to this in the future, because words have such a beautiful power that it's hard to explain. Until then, stay strong, keep fighting, and never give up. 

School Anxiety-You're Not Alone

I'm currently sitting in the corner of my school's library, avoiding eye contact and trying to eat my lunch without any of the librarians noticing. But I'm grateful that this isn't like last week's lunch... Sitting in a bathroom stall, trying not to make any noise as groups of friends come in and out of the girl's room, chatting and giggling all the way. Too scared to face the noisy lunchroom, it was much easier to take refuge in the dingy bathroom, just me and a floor full of dust and stray pubes. Glamorous, I know.
This morning during Child Development I found myself completely overwhelmed with anxiety, so I escaped out of the classroom and went to the nurse for a PRN and some quiet time. Sitting by the window in that nurse's office, I had my headphones in. I was listening to a meditation app called Calm, trying to soothe my unrelenting nerves. As my mind wandered away from the guided meditation, I found myself upset over how difficult school is for me.
When you see the movies about high school, it rarely ever portrays what it's like for someone with severe anxiety. How everything is difficult. How you'll spend an entire week worrying about a presentation you have on Friday, and then you'll spend the entire weekend afterwards worrying about how you did. The movies portray easy classes, fun parties, interesting drama--everything that high school is not for a lot of people. But the movies aren't what get me down. It's the fact that everyone else seems to be coping with school just fine. No one else is sitting with me in the nurse's office, knees shaking and heart racing. I don't see everyone else running to the bathroom when the cafeteria is too much, or becoming so overcome with anxiety that I can't answer a teacher's question. I don't hear about other people ruining their weekend because they're worried about the coming school week.
But then again, I don't talk about these things. I don't discuss how much school stresses me out. I don't talk about how I'm close to having a panic attack right now because we're getting our quizzes back next period. And if I'm not talking about it, I doubt the majority of other school anxiety sufferers are talking much either.
So here's a message to all of my fellow anxious students. You are not alone. It may seem like everyone else has their life together, but chances are, they don't. Anxiety rules my life, but most people don't know about it. Chances are, if other people around you are suffering, they're hiding it too. You're not the only one sitting in the bathroom stall, feeling like the walls are closing in around you as you feel a panic attack coming on. You're not the only one who comes home from school and breaks down because it was so overwhelming. You're not the only one who feels like their life is ending because you got something lower than a 90. High school is a terrible experience for people with mental illness. But it's temporary. It feels like it's going to last forever, but it won't. I'm trying to remind myself that. Today I got a bad grade on a test, and I completely broke down. I went to guidance, sobbing and shaking, and I was so embarrassed. I didn't want everyone looking at me, I wanted to shrink into a hole, I wanted to disappear. So I'm trying my very best to remember that a grade is just a grade. It shouldn't dictate my happiness. It shouldn't destroy me like it does. I need to let it roll off my back and just keep walking. I'll let you know how it goes.

Sadness is Like a Blanket

Sometimes sadness approaches you like a soft blanket. It drapes itself across your shoulders, enveloping you in thick wool. It's soft and comfortable for a while, and you're content to curl up under your blanket and rest for a while. But then you start to get a bit hot. You're already wearing sweatpants and a sweater, and the blanket feels like it's starting to suffocate you. Your cheeks turn pink, you feel itchy and uncomfortable, and when you try to pull the blanket off of you, it just gets more tangled around your body. The more you struggle, the tighter it gets. So you just decide to live with it for a while. It's a bit heavy, and it drags on the ground as you walk, but you think you can deal with it.

It's alright at first, but you realize that you're living a bit differently with you blanket on you. You have to stop and rest after doing certain activities because the blanket is weighing down on you, making tasks a bit more tedious and slow. You trip over it as you walk, and eventually mud sticks to the bottom of the blanket, adding more weight to your shoulders. But you keep going, because the blanket is just too difficult to take off.

Soon you feel like people are starting to notice your blanket, notice how you're taking more time to rest and struggling with easy tasks. So now you're starting to become ashamed about the blanket draped around your shoulders, and you begin avoiding things you used to enjoy. You make less and less trips to the grocery store, you start missing school or work, and when your friends invite you out, you decline, too ashamed that they may find out about your blanket, and scared of what it might make you do.

Eventually, your outings become few and far between, and your friends stop asking you to spend time with them. You burrow yourself in your home, surviving off crackers and canned soup. You're feeling more and more miserable every day, and all because of this darn blanket. Now your family members are starting to worry about you. They tell you that they don't see a blanket, and they don't understand why you just can't get over it. You try and explain that this blanket is extremely heavy, hot, and impossible to take off. They tell you that you're just making up excuses. You try to tell them that this blanket is ruining your life, but they just tell you that they have blankets too, and they don't have a problem with taking them off. Soon you stop trying to explain, and they stop trying to help you.

Now your blanket is heavier than ever. You remember when it was light and fluffy, and you were perfectly content to curl up under it. But now it's not soft or warm anymore. It's ripped and covered in dirt, crusted mud, and pointy little objects. The corners have frayed so much that they scrape your skin when you touch them. You can't even stand to look at your blanket, it makes you so upset. But every time you try to take the blanket off, it just twists itself around your torso and refuses to budge.

By now, all you can think about is this blanket. How ugly it is, how much it's ruining your life--this blanket is taking up your every walking moment. Soon you can't find the motivation to leave your room, and you start forgetting how to function normally. You either forget to eat or gorge yourself, and you always forget to shower, because it soaks your blanket and makes everything so much more difficult.

You've started blaming yourself for this blanket, despising yourself for letting it get this far. You fantasize about burning the blanket, and letting the flames surround you and destroy you as well. Everything you do seems to take an enormous amount of effort. Even sitting up is difficult. You just lay in bed, unable to talk, unable to move, just crying into this awful blanket that you just can't get rid of. Life doesn't have much meaning anymore, and all because of a stupid blanket.

 

 Now that's more depression than sadness, but you get the point. We've been having a lot of snow days lately, and they're not doing good things for my depression. I'm trapped inside my house, and I feel so inexplicitly miserable. Everything sets me off, and I can't figure out why. I make my family members upset, and I feel absolutely terrible about myself. Today I spent far too long in my bed, either sleeping or crying, depending on whether or not I was awake. I cannot wait for this day to be over, so I can get to school and do something. I'm hoping that this bout of bad depression is unique to these past few days, but I'm not too sure. Depression is something that's always there, but for me it has dormant periods where it doesn't ruin my life. I'm hoping the dormant period continues

Vegans Indulge Too

 

It's a common misconception that vegan food is gross, flavorless, and hard to find. When many people think of vegan food, images of a smelly health food store comes to mind. It's also widely believed that being vegan is really difficult, and it limits your food options. So I wanted to prove those two misconceptions wrong by showing you what I've been eating as of late. So here it is! 

 

 

Smoothie bowl with kiwi

 

 

vegan burger

 



burrito bowl from chipotle



 

fruit and veggie platter with bread

 

 

smoothie bowl with pineapple

 

 

vegan buffalo pizza

 

vegan lemon fettuccini alfredo

 

 

mango!

 

noodles with fake meat and spinach

 

spinach and strawberry salad

 

 

chickpea avocado salad

 

 

Asian noodle

The Panic Attack Dilema

So I've been aware that I suffer from panic attacks for a little over a year now. But if I really look back, I've been experiencing panic attacks/panic attack like symptoms, for years. Like, since elementary school. It's been a long time. My panic disorder was at its worse for the first six months of 2014. I can't even begin to describe how bad it was. It got to the point where I was having around 10 panic attacks a day, all of which were so severe that I could not leave my room. And that lasted for a fairly long time. There are chunks of 2014 that I simply don't remember because my panic attacks got so bad. It was hell. I was scared to leave my room -- heck, I was scared to leave my bed -- because I was worried that I would have a panic attack. Everywhere I went I would have one, and I mean everywhere. School, grocery stores (it was really bad at grocery stores), movie theatres, the mall--literally everywhere I went I had one. And it crippled me like you wouldn't believe.

My panic attacks vary in severity. A light, mild panic attack usually goes as follows: feeling lightheaded, heart beating very quickly, breathing heavy/unable to catch my breath, feeling very claustrophobic, heightened senses, inability to talk easily, bulging eyes, etc. These mild panic attacks don't usually last very long.  It's hard to tell time during a panic, but they usually lasted anywhere from 2-10 or so minutes. For some people, this is awful. And it is. But when I have mild panic attacks I often feel grateful, or I'll laugh afterwards, because I'm just so happy that I didn't have a severe panic attack. Because when they're severe, they're absolutely awful. Here's a vague idea of what my more severe panic attacks are like: racing heartbeat; hyperventilation; inability to easily control my limbs; intense shaking; limbs moving and contorting uncontrollably; muscles seizing/tensing; crying/screaming; repeating a certain phrase over and over, unable to stop; throat tightening; feeling very disoriented; feeling like the world is closing in all around you; feeling very hot or very cold; body aching all over--the point is, they're terrible. After I have one of these big ones I'm usually so incredibly exhausted that I can't do much more than sleep. It's hard to talk, hard to move, hard to do pretty much anything after one of these. And here's the best part (not): they often happen consecutively. As if a 20 minute unbearable panic attack wasn't enough, they will happen one after another. This hasn't happened that much recently, but I would calm down just enough to stop shaking and feel exhausted before another one would hit me right after. The word horrible just doesn't cover it. So hopefully that little description gave you a little insight as to how awful panic attacks can be. It feels like you're dying--and I mean that literally. During the really bad times, I would pray during my panic attacks that it would just kill me and be done with it. Luckily, it's very rare that you would die of a panic attack, unless you maybe had one in the wrong place and fell off a cliff or something, so rest assured that it can't kill you. Oh, another "type" of panic attack I would have is when I was in public, like in a store, and I felt a strong one coming on, I would do everything I possibly could to resist it, and because of that I would literally collapse. I wouldn't be able to hold myself up, talk, or sometimes open my eyes. That happened a lot last spring when I would go grocery shopping with my mom, and she'd have to hold me up as I leaned against the cart--it was embarrassing and frustrating, but I haven't experienced that in months.

Anyway, there's a reason I'm telling you all about my panic attacks. So around October time I accepted that I might have panic attacks for the rest of my life. I accepted that they would happen, that I can't control them, and that I'll just have to live with them. And once I accepted that, my panic attacks got immeasurably better. I would have one a week, and sometimes even less than that. It was amazing. And the very severe panic attacks I discussed earlier were not nearly as frequent. They soon became few and far between. I can't tell you how great that was. A long while ago, when my panic attacks became more and more frequent, and I eventually had them about once a week, I was devastated, and felt handicapped. Now, I feel free. Or I did.

This past week, I've had several panic attacks. A couple of them were mild and easy, and I would get over them by myself in my room, and it wasn't a big deal. But I've had two enormous, awful panic attacks in the past week. The first one was on Wednesday, Feb. 4th. And it scared me. It had been over a month since I had a serious one, my last severe panic attack up to that date was on Christmas (of all days). I was on a good streak, and I think the combination of the panic attack and the anxiety over school this week combined, and I was scared. The next night I found it very difficult to fall asleep because I was just so terrified of having another panic attack. I just curled up in a ball in my bed, shaking in fear of having a panic attack. Now, getting into the cycle of having panic attack after panic attack, every single day requires a key element. Fear. Fear of the next panic attack, avoiding going certain places or doing certain things in fear of having another panic--this is what makes panic attacks so debilitating. So not only was I scared of having a panic attack, I was scared about the fact that I was scared of having another panic attack. Because I knew that that fear has the power to make my life so much worse. My fear persisted through Friday (yesterday), and sure enough, last night I had another terrible panic attack. It was bad, and it got to the point where my mom had to physically restrain me to stop me from hitting myself or hurting myself, simply because I couldn't control my limbs. Not cute, I know. So having another awful panic attack within a two day radius of the last one did not help my anxieties. In fact, I'm sitting here tearing out my hair between sentences because of it.

I know that I need to get rid of my fear of having a panic attack. I know that acceptance is what makes them go away, and that the "I don't want to do X because I might have one" mentality is only going to get me in trouble. But I'm still worrying about it. I'm still fretting about school and having one there. And I'm not really sure what to do.

Balls and Tangles

So fidget toys are a big part of coping with trichotillomania, so I figured I'd talk about two of my favorite ways to keep my hands busy. Pictured above are my Chinese balls (tee hee). They're heavy and smooth, and they each have a little bell inside of them, one higher than the other. You roll them around in one hand, and they make a beautiful noise. It also feels quite lovely in your hands, which is a plus. They're not really suitable for school or work, as the noise can be a bit distracting. But they're great for at home. I tend to pull when I'm reading or writing, so I play with these in one hand, and write or turn the pages with the other hand so that I can't pull. It doesn't make the urges go away, but it works pretty well

The next one is something that most trichsters have probably heard of/own. Tangles. They're plastic fidget toys that are really interesting and fun to play with in your hand. They're smooth or textured. and are good for keeping your hands busy. They come apart, they twirl around, they're just good, well rounded fidget toys. These are pretty good for being in public. The only problem I have is at school, or with groups of people, because tangles are brightly colored and catch people's eyes. Then everyone else wants a turn to play with it, and the next thing you know everyone else is using the tangle and your hands aren't occupied. I've taken to carrying two tangles with me for this very reason.

 

There are plenty of other ways to keep your hands busy (silly putty, spinner rings, etc.), but these are the two I wanted to talk about today. Good luck to my fellow trichsters.

The Ear Incentive

 

So my mom made a very lovely deal with me concerning school. One big aspect of me attending public school is that I cannot miss school, even if I'm having a really rough time mental health wise. I need to power through whatever it is and get to school, because missing school can become a very bad habit for someone struggling with mental illness. In February of last year I had to stop attending school altogether because of my mental health. Now, I'm at a very different point today than I was a year ago, so it won't be the same sort of issue. But attendance is still something we're going to keep an eye on. Along with attendance is the way I deal with certain situations. I need to use my wise mind and look at things reasonably and deal with situations the best way I can.

So my mom promised me that, if I can get through this first full week of school, I can get my ears pierced again. I already have my regular first lobe piercing, my helix on my left side, and my nose pierced. What I'd like to get now is a second hole on both sides, and a third hole on my right side. I've wanted this for a while, and I think that this is a pretty fair incentive/deal. Despite my general goody two shoes persona, I absolutely adore piercings, tattoos, and brightly colored hair. If it weren't for trich, my long curls would probably be a faded pastel blue or a silvery purple. And I'm pretty sure I'll have at lease three tattoos by the time I'm 25. But I'll talk about tattoos and colorful hair another time. The two pictures below and the one above are inspiration for my triple lobe piercing on my right side. 

 

 

The other piercing that I'm yearning for is the forward helix, pictured below. I don't think I'll get that anytime soon, but I absolutely adore it. I would either get two or three piercings in that place, and it's going to look amazing. Maybe I'll get it in the next year, maybe it'll be longer. But it's definitely on my list. Maybe this can be a little birthday present from myself when I turn seventeen. I'll have worked two jobs by then so I should have the money (right now I'm pretty much broke so I'm looking forward to working). Anyway, I'll be dreaming about this forward helix, especially the one pictured below. The circular stud paired with the teardrop one is so elegant and I love it.

 

 

 

That's all I'm going to waffle about today, I'll definitely talk more about piercings, tattoos, and things in that realm in the future. Until then, have a lovely day.

Bad Thoughts

||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.

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.

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 can do this?

 

What if?