I’ve been avoiding it since before Covid. Well I went once for a specific issue, but didn’t let her examine me at all. Only went because I have been having what feels like almost constant #bodymemories for a week or so. Didn’t let her do the whole exam just the check for infections and the top (torso) part of the exam. Yuck. 😶
Hey. I have a few new hashtags. I got out of the complex trauma unit 2 weeks ago tonight. I’ve been dealing with a lot of stuff both internally (strong reactions to being a little more intimate with my boyfriend, and a lot of dissociation and out of control brain chemistry/ADHD/anxiety/agitation) and externally (get everything situated for school—I’m only going online and only taking 2 Gen Ed requirements completely online—just so I don’t have to take a medical leave), lots of treatment and staying off social media.
It was very hard in the hospital between the extreme if I may say so myself anxiety and the constant eating disorder and weight talk. 4 of us were actively anorexic (although I personally was in a LOT of denial about being in active relapse since a month or more before going in) and the other 5 were talking about having had weight loss surgery or how much weight they’d lost. It was pretty constant but mealtimes were really rough. I am currently overweight/borderline obese/in a larger body (actually, not “just in my head”, I used to have typical anorexia and sometimes bulimia and I completely get body image issues 100%). I gained a lot of weight from being mis-medicated on high doses of very bad weight gainer antipsychotics (sometimes several at a time) and slightly overeating (never bingeing) for a long period of time. Then I went on stimulants for ADHD (which are not good for people in recovery from anorexia! But I literally need them to be able to function in engineering school at all. My ADHD is now confirmed severe combined type.) So when I went on Adderall for 2 years I stayed roughly the same size for awhile, then very slowly started losing the excess weight, in a very healthy recovery focused way. I’m now on Vyvanse instead, and also on Zoloft which makes me kind of very disgusted by the smell of food. I also went (almost) completely off all the antipsychotics in the hospital. See where this is going? A lot of bad relapse-y active restriction type stuff. Actually it’s the worst and longest relapse in 14-15 years. I thought it was going to get better when I got away from all the ED talk but umm…no. It’s actually getting a lot worse. I’m losing weight very fast (I’ve been through anorexia since I was 13 or 15 depending what day you ask me, and a lot of treatment, and I know what very fast looks like.) and I’m definitely actively restricting. I can’t obsessively excercise because of #dishydrosis I can’t sweat very much at all. My very trusted nutritionist who I worked with for 20+ years has retired, but she recommended someone and I have an appointment on October 7. But she can only get me in every 3 weeks. I have a hard time taking my ED seriously, because I’m in a larger body. Any pro-recovery support is welcome and requested! My boyfriend and I gave eachother promise rings and my promises to eachother included mutual commitment to recovery at all times and getting all help needed. I don’t make promises I can’t keep. Struggling.
I am not saying this to be dramatic. I am saying this because I need to be held accountable for my actions.
I went over the edge of something bad Sunday evening. I was extremely upset and very suicidal with intent, and then I got extremely triggered at exactly the wrong moment. And I did something (not my usual self harm but something totally different). Luckily it did NOT end up physically harming me in any way, but I’d consider it a passive suicide attempt. I tempted fate pretty badly for about 15 minutes straight and prayed really hard for the necessary external force that would essentially break my body and I prayed harder than I’ve prayed in probably years, that it would kill me and not leave me quadriplegic. I acted impulsively and what I prayed for actually came close to happening but my plan wasn’t airtight and it went actually very right, and I am physically fine and healthy except for all the #Selfharm or #NSSI I’ve been doing. I was honest with my treatment provider I saw today and I was honest with my safe parents and my sister and my boyfriend, who took the time and had the unbelievable empathy to talk me down afterwards. He saved my life the last two nights in a row. He’s very kind. I think I scared the crap out of everyone including myself. :(
Now for the really good news, I heard from the complex trauma hospital and they were going to check out my insurance right after I spoke to them. They may be able to get me in this week! To be honest I had a rush of gratefulness and hope while I was on the phone with the lady and then a very short (less than an hour) depersonalized or derealized episode during which my muscles were all completely armored and frozen and I didn’t know what my name was or basically anything and could only move my thumbs to type. I don’t lose time when I dissociate usually so it was kind of like being conscious behind a glass wall in my head and unable to communicate with any other part of me including the part that was typing. As yet whatever this dissociative thing that’s going on is undiagnosed except for the CPTSD related stuff but I’m hoping I get some answers in the complex trauma/dissociative disorders program because I seem to “switch” even if I do not lose time and turn into several different “versions of myself” or I don’t even know if that’s what’s actually happening or even if anything is “actually happening”. But at least there’s a treatment center bed open soon, and if my insurance clears they’ll even save the bed for me (it’s 7 hours away or so). So maybe a little hope here and there? :)
The service this morning was supposed to be a service of healing after the collective trauma of the past 15 months. I attend a very progressive church and the pastor and pastoral intern led a very powerful service, but I am not sure it was healing per se. The children’s sermon was great, they had the kids fold up little paper hearts—one fold for each thing that happened in the past year that made their heart sad or scared or worried or lonely. Then they said things that helped their hearts heal and the kids unfolded their hearts. They even talked about how their hearts weren’t quite the same as they were before the pandemic, now they have folds in them that will take time to heal. It was very beautiful. Then the kids were sent to Sunday school.
Once it was just the adults, they read a picture book that was definitely an intense read. It was an ecumenical Christian book about healing from trauma, but honestly it was too much for me this morning. I don’t remember much of it but I remember hearing something about #Selfharm and my heart broke, that Jesus, who took suffering upon Himself to heal the world, had to feel that kind of pain. It made me so sad. The book kept going after that but I got up and walked away. My sister followed me. I was dissociating I guess because she kept asking me what her name was and what my name was and where we were and what color the sky and trees were and telling me to look at her, and I didn’t recognize her at all. I should mention that she’s a nonbiological sister who I met ~2 years ago, and some of my parts are too young to know her so that’s how I know I was dissociating, also I couldn’t remember my name. She told me to look at her and I said “I’m sorry but I don’t recognize you.” I am trying to figure out what the deal is with all my parts because I don’t lose time and my parts are all “me” just different ages and developmental stages. Anyway I don’t remember the rest of the service except there was Communion after she and my “safe” Dad got me to go back, and my Pastor (female) anointed us with lavender scented oil, and my Pastor must’ve seen me leave and come back and figured out why because she took extra time with me and gave me a huge hug and kissed me on the head and told me that she loves me. She also gave me a copy of the book and specifically told me she wants me to read the end. She has been a huge support person for me for the 7 years she’s been my Pastor and I love her a lot and respect her. She was the first person to ever tell me (years ago) she would never give up on me and she still hasn’t. So I trust her as much as I am capable of trusting any human, and I will finish reading the book. She is no stranger to trauma herself and she knows me better than most people, other than my chosen family. I guess I am on slightly better terms with God today because God gave me my “safe” parents, my sister, my beautiful niece and nephew, my Pastor, and a whole community.
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