I have a hard time feeling the things I feel let alone articulating what I'm feeling to myself and others on my own. This has always been the case and I think it's why I have always loved music. When I was a teen I loved what my friends and family called 'angry girl music' and most of that was because I was in fact a very angry girl deep underneath. It didn't matter that I couldn't actually relate to the lyrics of passionate love and deep heartache that dominated the genre. I could relate to the pain and the anger. When I hear a song and I feel like I could have written the lyrics myself though, it stays with me.
I heard a song that I've had on my playlist for a couple weeks but today was the first day the lyrics really stuck with me. The song is by Karmina and the chorus is "All the kings horses and all the kings men, couldn't put me back together again". I know it was most likely written about a break up but it immediately brought me back to how I felt when I failed treatment the last time.
I very recently made a promise to someone that I'd address this shit again. In general everyone thinks I'm fine because I'm not skinny. Everyone always thinks I'm fine then when the truth is that this is when you should probably be quite concerned that I'm about to spiral. If I don't eat people notice so the bulimia is back in full force. I would like nothing more than to start treatment again and be successful but the thought of it brings so much anxiety.
Within 12 hours of making a promise I'm not sure I can keep, I bought 4 different diet pills online and took out my old food journal where I obsessively calculated and recorded calories a day attempting less and less each day. I said July would be the month I began again and it automatically awakened the survival instinct of my disorder. It's like I decided to see how much I can lose before July when I have to be held accountable to Dr. M again. And if I've learned nothing in the past ten years, it's that I can lose a hell of a lot in 2 months.
The person I promised, the only one who has acknowledged that they know I'm not doing good, hasn't been in my life that long. I contemplated today just distancing myself until they were gone and then I wouldn't have to try to get better. I've done that to plenty and I've been so guarded and cold the past year plus that I could totally pull it off but then I feel like I'm giving up and taking the easy way out.
But the idea of treatment is scary. I still have nightmares from the days of visits with Dr. M one night a week, another night with the current psychologist, the next with the nutritionist and the check ins with my general doctor. There for a while we even through in a neurologist when I started getting severe cluster headaches. It was a drain financially but it devastated me emotionally. I shudder to think how my partner and I survived work those days (she was bipolar) with her going off the deep end anytime they altered her meds and me a huge walking ball of anxiety prone to a melt down without warning over the smallest of issues. I wouldn't have made it without her though. I trusted her enough to know what my treatment entailed and that helped her predict behavior. She soon realized what to expect depending on which medical person I would be seeing that day because they each brought on a different kind of anxiety.
With Dr. M it depended on how I really was doing because she saw through me every time. It is why I hate her and respect her and continue to see her if I see anyone. No bullshitting that woman and she didn't hold back from calling me out on it. If it was psychologist day then I was usually wound tight and irritable already dreading bringing up the past and emotional pain I spent so many years burying. The worst, though, was nutrition days. That kind of anxiety was new last go around when I added this component for the only time. My psychologist promised me she wouldn't put me on a meal plan and then in session 3 she did. So every session thereafter I failed. I don't handle failure well and I perceive it even when I shouldn't. That was one of the worst things I've experienced. I tried it for as long as I could and then I just felt like I was going to explode and lose it, so I just quit. And then I got sicker than I ever had been.
So here I am again. If I don't want to start cutting people out then I have to attempt tackling the ED. I don't know which I'm more afraid of, being overwhelmed and failing treatment yet again... or that when I fail (because I feel like it's inevitable) that I'll get sicker than last time... or that I can't help but be somewhat excited with the idea of being sicker than I've ever been...
I heard a song that I've had on my playlist for a couple weeks but today was the first day the lyrics really stuck with me. The song is by Karmina and the chorus is "All the kings horses and all the kings men, couldn't put me back together again". I know it was most likely written about a break up but it immediately brought me back to how I felt when I failed treatment the last time.
I very recently made a promise to someone that I'd address this shit again. In general everyone thinks I'm fine because I'm not skinny. Everyone always thinks I'm fine then when the truth is that this is when you should probably be quite concerned that I'm about to spiral. If I don't eat people notice so the bulimia is back in full force. I would like nothing more than to start treatment again and be successful but the thought of it brings so much anxiety.
Within 12 hours of making a promise I'm not sure I can keep, I bought 4 different diet pills online and took out my old food journal where I obsessively calculated and recorded calories a day attempting less and less each day. I said July would be the month I began again and it automatically awakened the survival instinct of my disorder. It's like I decided to see how much I can lose before July when I have to be held accountable to Dr. M again. And if I've learned nothing in the past ten years, it's that I can lose a hell of a lot in 2 months.
The person I promised, the only one who has acknowledged that they know I'm not doing good, hasn't been in my life that long. I contemplated today just distancing myself until they were gone and then I wouldn't have to try to get better. I've done that to plenty and I've been so guarded and cold the past year plus that I could totally pull it off but then I feel like I'm giving up and taking the easy way out.
But the idea of treatment is scary. I still have nightmares from the days of visits with Dr. M one night a week, another night with the current psychologist, the next with the nutritionist and the check ins with my general doctor. There for a while we even through in a neurologist when I started getting severe cluster headaches. It was a drain financially but it devastated me emotionally. I shudder to think how my partner and I survived work those days (she was bipolar) with her going off the deep end anytime they altered her meds and me a huge walking ball of anxiety prone to a melt down without warning over the smallest of issues. I wouldn't have made it without her though. I trusted her enough to know what my treatment entailed and that helped her predict behavior. She soon realized what to expect depending on which medical person I would be seeing that day because they each brought on a different kind of anxiety.
With Dr. M it depended on how I really was doing because she saw through me every time. It is why I hate her and respect her and continue to see her if I see anyone. No bullshitting that woman and she didn't hold back from calling me out on it. If it was psychologist day then I was usually wound tight and irritable already dreading bringing up the past and emotional pain I spent so many years burying. The worst, though, was nutrition days. That kind of anxiety was new last go around when I added this component for the only time. My psychologist promised me she wouldn't put me on a meal plan and then in session 3 she did. So every session thereafter I failed. I don't handle failure well and I perceive it even when I shouldn't. That was one of the worst things I've experienced. I tried it for as long as I could and then I just felt like I was going to explode and lose it, so I just quit. And then I got sicker than I ever had been.
So here I am again. If I don't want to start cutting people out then I have to attempt tackling the ED. I don't know which I'm more afraid of, being overwhelmed and failing treatment yet again... or that when I fail (because I feel like it's inevitable) that I'll get sicker than last time... or that I can't help but be somewhat excited with the idea of being sicker than I've ever been...
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