Saturday, February 07, 2009


D. And I are at the mall before we go see the movie, Rachel Getting Married. Everyone at the mall seems so normal. They walk around drinking fattening coffee drinks and munching on delicous smelling pretzels. I'm so jealous. My life is so so out of control. But I still feel day and worry over my calories, even though I worked out for an hour and purged lunch. I don't want to do this anymore. I deserve more out of life. I don't want to be afraid of food.
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Friday, February 06, 2009

To be, or to be better. How is the question.

Do we ever face more than one crossroads in our life? I'm at one now, several actually.

Meeting with our T. today provided a reason for us to stop and take pause. There are many unanswered questions where he is concerned and I, myself, don't know where to take this.

For starters, another eating disorder program bites the dust. The PHP we began on Tuesday elicited some, shall we say, combative behaviors from us, and we were told in certain terms to shape up or we'd be put in-patient. We shaped up all right; shaped up and out the same day. Not having that shit. We will not be incarcerated behind lock doors at a facility that can't help us and could teach the Gestapo (for a grave lack of a better word) a thing or two. My apologies to those I've offended by the reference. Bottom line, I lasted one day in the PHP. Now, we up to our old tricks, which isn't necessarily good or healthy.

So the question on the treatment team's mind is, "What do we do with her? Lock her away? Make her see her T. 3-4 times a week? Maybe she is untreatable and we just medicate her sorry ass into a coma-like state. Maybe we could go all the way and kill her off."

My vote was for the latter, but I don't seem to count. I guess when you fuck up so many times you become less and less deserving. At least that's the feeling of the moment: undeserving. There will be a new mood shortly. Our emotions and moods are set to a metronome and rhythmically pace back and forth.

Several items of interest were brought up with Dr. Therapist. First, whether he is an appropriate T. for us. Can he really lead us to the Promised Land? The pendulum swings provocatively with the answer. He doesn't specialize in trauma or D.I.D. He says he has, and I paraphrase, a good amount of experience working with adolescents with eating "issues." Which made me wonder why he kept saying "issues", why not say eating disorder or anorexia or bulimia? But whatever, I don't subscribe to the ideology that one's T. must be an expert in the field in order to treat one effectively. I posit one must have complete trust in the T. , have a sound working relationship, and be able to let oneself go in the idea the T. will help pick up the pieces when you are on the floor, writhing in pain and your own messy tears.

It's the last part that makes me sad. We've never been able to let go and get down, dirty, and messy with any T. but our residential T. That makes me sad and frightened. Now, we live in a metropolitan city, replete with T., I hope are competent, so it may just be that we haven't found the right fit.

To be sure, I don't want to change T. But if I have to be totally honest, we aren't pushed hard enough. I find in disconcerting that the changes we've made and the work we've done and the education we've received regarding our inner world all came in just a couple months of residential treatment. We've been with our current T. for 3-4 years (not good with dates) and we didn't learn as much. We need more from him than his obtuseness and his fumbling around for ideas on how to treat us while we do down in flames. We are losing time and ground. Daylight is burning. The body isn't twenty years old anymore. We need to see real progress under his care.

It's been my contribution over and over that T. doesn't listen to us. I've had huge fights with T. about his not listening but, of course, he didn't listen to that.

And I find it very telling that littles were able to come out and tell parts of their story to our res. T. and to the res. group than they have with our current home T.

The last thing I'll say over the "should I/shouldn't I" find a new T. is a comment he made today that leads me to still believe he just doesn't get it. Again, the conversation was regarding whether to reenter residential treatment. T. wants me to do all the work here. See him more often, throw a dietitian into the soup, do assignments, and "build" on what I did in residential treatment. First of all, doesn't T. have assignments or ideas of his own on how to treat us without cheating and looking at the assignments and work completed in Res. Treatment?

Secondly, he brought up a comment we have made many, many times before. The comment is basically that we would rather be sick so we can get attention. What can I say? I'm pathetic.
But the more I thought about it the more it stuck in my craw. Anyone with an eating disorder knows how fucking miserable it is. We're done with it. I can't say some are committed more than others, but we know we need help and realize how important at this point to listen to a treatment least one that you trust. What a low blow to say fundamentally say res. treatment is contraindicated b/c we want/need attention. Excuse the fuck out of us for never receiving anyone growing up and trying to make up for it now. BUT I will say this, there is nothing comforting or soothing about the attention you get in an eating disorder or trauma program. My res. treatment was nothing but hard work and tears and bad moods. For me to suggest the possibility of going back can ONLY indicate how much we're hurting and how desperate we've become.

We hid the patches. Ha ha ha!

Lastly, T. also argued that we couldn't live in res. treatment all our life. Well, whoopty-freaking-duh!!! When did we ever see that as an option? We gave our cons as being away from D. and god-daughters. We don't want to go to res. treatment, but we also don't want to live like this ever again. Enough. But being so determined here in Georgia doesn't mean it can be done on our own, even with excessive therapy appts., dietitian, and Dr. psycho-iatrist.

So, we're at a crossroads in so many ways. How do we know what to do? Go to res. treatment, stay home and continue treatment with current T., stay home and find new T., just say fuck it all and spend another two hours straight on the elliptical? I don't have the answers, but I sure didn't like leaving the T. office today more screwed than I already am.

When I think on these matters it makes me feel so utterly hopeless and helpless. D. is convinced we will kill ourselves. He's resigned to that fact. I don't want that to happen. I just want to feel better.

So sue me if the only place we felt better and hopeful was in res. treatment. As Timmons said in Dances With Wolves, "Put that in your book."

Wednesday, February 04, 2009

How to Save a Life

I don't know what to say or how the last twenty-four hours have been. I know we're in deep and will rely on song lyrics to say what we might say if only we could. Anything bold or in italics is our own and does not beling to the songwriter.


Spend all your time waiting for a break that would make it okay.
There's always some reason to feel not good enough.
And it's hard at the end of the day.

Let me be empty, and weightless and maybe I'll find some peace tonight.

It don't make no difference, escaping one last turn
It's easier to believe.

Sarah McLachlin

Fed up with my destinty
This place of no return
Think I"ll take another day
And slowly watch it burn
Doesn't really matter how the time goes bye
(Amanda Marshall)

It always ends in the sorrowest of goodbyes.

You're a mystery
Always running wild
Like a child without a home

You're such a secret
Misty eyed and shady
You got the best of me
You're bringing on the heartbreak.

Hard to see the life inside
Wane as the days went by
Trying to preserve each word
He murmured in my ear
Watch part of my life disappear
(Mariah Carey)

I'm scared and I'm alone...
I'm ashamed
And I need for someone to know

Will anyone get close to me?
I'm damaged as I'm sure you know.
There's mending for my soul
An ending to this fear
Forgiveness for a man who was stronger
I was just a little girl, but i can't go back
I can't go back.

Only night will ever know
Why the heavens never show ...
Night has brought to those who sleep
Only dreams they cannot keep
I have legends in the deep
Paint the sky with stars

All of my life
I've been waitin' in the rain
I've been waiting for a feeling...
that never, ever came
It feels so close, but always disappears....
and I'm left dying with unused years

I woke up late
Guess I'm never really early
I hesitate
Only to fail
I get so tired
Of procrastinating
I need a change

I can't pretend
That I'm fine
I get so ill
Crazy, agitated
When I'm not really dying

I don't wanna talk about things we've gone through,
though it's hurting me,
now it's history.
I've played all my cards and that's what you've done too,
nothing more to say, no more ace to play.
The winner takes it all,
the loser standing small
beside the victory,
that's her destiny.
The winner takes it all,
the loser has to fall,
it's simple and it's plain,
why should I complain.

I'm so tired but I can't sleep
Standin' on the edge of something much to deep
It's funny how we feel so much but we cannot say a word
We are screaming inside, but we can't be heard
(Sarah McLachlan)

everything you think you know baby is wrong
it´s all over but the crying
fade to black I´m sick of trying
took too much and now I´m done
it´s all over but the crying

These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real
There's just too much that time cannot erase

Solid wood will rot
If you don't keep it from the rain
We were surprised when we found out
That love feels just like pain
(Ks choice)

Look at me
You may think you see
Who I really am
But you'll never know me
Every day It's as if I play a part
Now I see If I wear a mask
I can fool the world
But I cannot fool my heart

Who is that girl I see
Staring straight back at me?
Why is my reflection
Someone I don't know?
Must I pretend that I'm
Someone else for all time?
When will my reflection show
Who I am inside?
(Christina Augilera)

It seems we meet
In the spaces
In between
We always say
It won't take long
But something's always wrong
(Toad the Wet Sprocket)

Hello darkness, my old friend,
I've come to talk with you again,
Because a vision softly creeping,
Left its seeds while I was sleeping,
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence.

"Fools" said I,"You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell,
And echoed
In the wells of silence
(Simon and Garfunkel)

What'll I do
When you are far away
and I am blue?
What'll I do?

What'll I do
when I am wondering how
you feel just now?
What'll I do?

What'll I do
with just a photograph
to tell my troubles to?
When I'm alone
with only dreams of you
that won't come true,
what'll I do?
(Judy Garland)

Gloomy is sunday,
With shadows I spend it all
My heart and I
Have decided to end it all
Soon there'll be candles
And prayers that are said I know
But let them not weep
Let them know that I'm glad to go
(Sarah MacLachlan)

My voice and my thoughts have been taken refuge. These songs are the only thing that comes close to anything I might feel.


Personality disorder examined tonight - News

Personality disorder examined tonight - News

Monday, February 02, 2009

Nothing to laugh at

I totally forgot! For the first time in I don't know how long, we didn't purge tonight! Small victories are nothing to laugh at.

Paint our secrets a different color

Hate days like this. We are so sad we don't know where to begin. Don't know what to do when we get like this. The inertia is so pronounced there is nothing to be done. Our heart is broken and visions of the past perform before my eyes. Our secrets percolate under an eating disorder. We need help. We need for someone to do for us what we can't do for ourselves. We want the reward, but our heart is too heavy to let us seize it. Like this, we shall surely perish in our colored secrets.

It's official. Tomorrow, February 2, 2009 I start a partial hospitalization program. Bugger. This is the same program I entered last year who said I needed a higher level of care and didn't believe in D.I.D. They can't treat me. How do they propose to get my alters with the anorexia to eat if they don't believe I have alters? My one saving grace is my psychiatrist believes in it, but I've only seen him twice; hardly a relationship built on trust yet. On the plus side, one of my teens thinks he's hot. Go figure.

I've decided I want a tattoo. I guess the pink hair of 2008 wasn't rebellious enough or the piercings of '06 and '07. 2009 is looking ripe for another one as well. The teens are rambunctious. I think we are all feeling claustrophobic and trampled on right now because NO ONE wants to go to this damn program. It's quite hard, as anyone with an eating disorder might imagine. The lines are drawn and the battle begun. One side refuses to comply with any procedure, policy, or course of action set by the hospital. The other side knows the stakes and the fervent need to gain weight, get on track, work on trauma issues, and take care of business. Before tomorrow was firmly set, we could tell we were losing weight. Even our "skinny" jeans were falling off and belts didn't have enough holes in them. Now that we know our resolve will be tested by the mean 'ole dietitian tomorrow, a review of our body makes us see fat where there probably is none and curves we thought we had denied. Ironic the mind tricks that tease one.

After our intake at the hospital, we came home and was too tired to breathe. So, I put in the DVD of "The Notebook", my favorite movie. D. always knows when I'm in a bad place because I always play this movie when I'm sad or depressed. I love the movie. I want to move to Charleston, South Carolina, United States so badly I can taste it. I've visited it twice and have fallen in love with everything about it: the history, the culture, the coast, the locals, the schools, etc. It's my goal to get there one day. I have a bangle bracelet I always wear that has a palmetto tree and a crescent moon on it; the bracelet gives me hope that things will get better and I'll make it to Charleston and be an awesome eight grade Language Arts teacher. Pipe dreams.

I am hungry. The pangs of an empty stomach provide solace and comfort. They make me feel clean, unsoiled, faultless, and pure. I know in my head that food can't make you dirty, but when I eat, I feel disgusting, dirty, nasty, and worthless to name a few adjectives. That's why a shower before or after food is imperative. I must cleanse the filth that I have become.

It pains me to write that because I think of my littles and I get angry for them. One of my littles holds parts of the e.d. and I would never consider her dirty. She was a victim and I'm so tired of all of us revictimizing ourselves because it's more tolerable and it's what we know. I know where the blame goes, so why do we hash ourselves to death?

As we were on the elliptical machine today I kept thinking how stupid, how pointless, how senseless to keep pushing us like that...out of breath, back pain, knee pain, chest pains, pain under the right rib cage, etc... There are very good reasons for us to have a life. True, we live in a sub-par house that is in constant need of repairs we are ignorant to undertake, we live paycheck to paycheck, have no savings, and I'm out of work. However, there are five good reasons to try to find reasons to make it through just one more day: a husband( I shan't sing his praises but I hear good things about him and he's put up with my tirades for more than a single moon), 2 god-daughters (twins, age 13, who would be lost with out us), and two very beautiful dogs that know when to crawl into my lap to absorb my trickling tears.

That should be enough, but it's not. Right or wrong, it only feels good when it hurts, and now, our voice has been taken away. Sufficiently.