Four Years to the Day

Creepy that today was the day I decided to do my post. Then again, 4 years ago today I was one year into therapy and discovered this would be a great outlet and support for recovery.

Maybe things do happen for a reason.

💕

Advertisements

Too Much for One Title

I have kept myself alive.

This has been huge considering the events of the past few weeks.

I have not sabotaged. I have not succumbed to Ed’s voice let alone what I feel like the universe keeps trying to tell me.

I am struggling with the whole eating thing but I am doing some of it. There are days when I feel I have no purpose in life but I find purpose in the day.

I always thought I was at the lowest point in a career. I thought that it could not get worse because I never thought people could behave any worse than what I experienced.

My previous job was horrid. When I left it I thought, phew it could never be this bad anywhere else.

Universe was like: challenge accepted!

So the past few years, this lady, one who has never let anyone/anyplace/anything change who she is; changed by a department.

It literally ate at my soul.

Yes. They do exist.

Outside of this blog world, I am a very happy and positive person. I never want people to experience anything I ever had nor do I think that people deserve my “wrath” unless they truly do something morally injust or ethically wrong to get it. This place is the inside of my head.

My workplace? They thrived on trying to bring me down. For several years, I was bullied and harassed on a daily basis. Sometimes by staff who came and went, but always by these 2 people old enough to be my mothers. I always tried to understand what could drive someone to be so cruel; to do what they do. A psychopathic person has more rationale than these two. At least it’s in their head.

They thrived on making my life miserable from stealing my things to actually deleting my work [in Healthcare that’s baaaaad] and falsifying claims saying I did not do it. Mainly because I made them look bad.

I ignored it. But it got to a head.

We got a new manager. Because yes our entire department in the few years I’ve been there has gone through several FULL staff turnovers and 6 managers. Say something?

I stupidly stuck through it. I tried to leave multiple times but the patients begged me to stay. And there was something more complicated but my concern had me stay a bit longer at one point.

Well this new manager decided they hated me for who knows what. They made no effort to actually know me. Considering I kept their department afloat, started two committees, and was head of several massive board projects you think I’d be one to know.

They publicly threatened several times over my job.

For several months I cried every day.

Why was I not good enough? I work my ass off. I sacrifice myself. I follow all the rules. I am opening a new sub department for them.

I. Am. A. Good. Person.

But that doesn’t mean good things will happen to you. That is not reality.

This manager threatened to terminate me on falsified information by one of the older ladies who bullied me. While this manager was part of the constant bullying and harassing, they kept making me look like a fool even to our patients whom in return despised this new manager.

I quit.

It was the hardest decision, by far, I have ever made in my life.

I walked away.

I left patients in harms way. But I, too, was being threatened and harmed.

In trauma, we are taught to do what’s best for the greater good. If I can’t even take care of myself…how am I to take care of the greater good?!

My constant self sacrifice was taken advantage of and abused to the max.

No more.

My family and friends begged me to quit. One cried on the phone with me to quit. And so I did.

A week later, and more trauma from the event later, I realized why it’s been so hard.

I have been in abusive relationships: dating, family, friends. I have also grown up in a world of invalidation. This job was just that. It was an extremely abusive relationship. Until I was out, I could not see it. I tried to leave but it did not work. The cold cut quit is what did it.

Given my history of PTSD, this has been a rough few weeks. A TON of nightmares and terrors. I am barely sleeping.

The trauma exposure only recently ended 3 days ago…. And frankly it’s probably not over yet. I couldn’t even get a clean fucking cut.

But I am still alive. I am keeping myself alive. Fuck am I a survivor.

It would be nice to have some control over my life at some point in time, for once. I’m tired of having to be hopeless and let whatever happen to me happen.

For now, baby steps.

Don’t Sabotage Yourself

You know that moment when you’re blindsided and everything falls apart?

Literally everything. You think you have a shaky grasp on certain aspects of your life. The things you should be able to control.

Poof it’s gone.

How did it happen? How did you get here?

No. Really. It’s about what will you do.

Now.

Sabotage.

Sabotage.

Sabotage. My natural instinct. Well fuck everything else has shattered. It’s only time till those last shards fall. Why not just sweep them away on my terms.

I should be able to control something.

Sabotage and its seductive voice. Calling to me.

They say good things come to those who wait. The tortoise beats the hare. The good always prosper. Good trumps evil. Every other cliche.

Well what the fyzk. I’m here waiting.

Because having anorexia wasn’t horrible enough. And anxiety. Several kinds. OCD behaviors. Oh PTSD. Invalidating environments throughout life [including now]. Chronic pain.

Suffering from those alone is enough to make some people kill themselves.

So why, why does life or G-d or insert deity of choice keep throwing shit my way?

The one thing I have left is PC and our wedding. The wedding [date] I had planned was just taken away from me today by today’s events.

Because working in my hostile environment with a bullying and harassing boss wasn’t enough I’m being forced to quit. I need insurance so marriage is not going to be when I wanted it. Loss. This equals me questioning my life and existence.

How could someone be allowed to exist like that? And why targeting me?

Clearly I’m not worthy. Of life or existence. Because I keep getting up and the shot trying to knock me down keeps getting worse.

I can’t have control over even one aspect of my life like my own. fucking. Wedding.

Let’s sabotage what’s left: PC.

Don’t. Sabotage.

They have won with everything else. They got your wedding. Job. Money. Soul. Health.

But they can’t have PC and your love.

For One Night…

… Let’s pretend to be normal.

Anything but what we are.

OK life keeps happening and faster than I can turn out past posts to update.

Quick back story: please note this is not how I wanted to tell yall.

I am engaged.

Yes you read that right. Cassie is fucking engaged. For real life. MTV TRUE LIFE: I Am an Anorexic Who is Engaged.

Very mindfucking surreal. Derealization big time.

Anyways. The one thing of two I have dread the most about this whole wedding process is Ed’s voice and the combat that would ensue.

And when would it come up?

Two times to be exact: 1) wedding dress shopping and 2) walking down the aisle.

I do not….not want all eyes on me. People judging me. The dress makes me look fatter. Oh you see her juggling arms? She looks like a whore because I can see cleavage. Omg double chin?!

Honestly going naked sounds so much more appealing than the whole dress trying on.

My hand was forced and before I knew it there I was on 2.5mg of a benzodiazepam totally experiencing derealization.

Everyone else cries and is ecstatic and is pumped for this day. I’ve put it off for months. I cried going in. There is no “real dress moment” for me because none will make me feel pretty enough to be a bride. Ed and Edie are already on that.

I feel so unworthy. I watch as a skinny ass butch near me tries on the exact same dress I had on and of course she looks good. She has no books or hips. It fits perfect. She’s just having a joyous occasion. I’m trying to not cry.

Bridal gown shopping is not meant for girls/women with body image disorders. Period. And this needs to be fixed Stat.

I left exhausted and hating myself. I can’t deal with the world.

Of course I’m pmsing at the same time.

Fuck being a bride. Can I go toga?

Let’s Call It A Comeback

While I’ve been crafting my multiple tales behind the scenes to release unto you [ooo so fancy sounding] life clearly keeps happening. Anorexia and anxiety don’t just disappear. Those who are cured I am disgustingly envious of.

Again, I am a lifer.

I may have learned to cope with it and how to “interact” with anorexia and anxiety, but I will never be cured. Alas, my only cure is death. And while I have begged for it at times and needed it as well, I could never do it.

I digress.

I have been struggling a lot lately with stress and eating. I’m doing decently in the sense I’m eating at least one meal a day. This is major for me. It’s not like I’m actively trying to avoid it; I have no hunger instinct so I can go a whole day without even noticing I have not consumed anything. It’s bad.

My job is unnecessarily stressful. A post to come. But I also have a new stress trigger that is really driving Ed’s voice into overdrive. It will come out in another post, but let’s just say there is an extreme amount of pressure on how I will look and eyes will be on me.

OH heyyy Ed! Edie, you’re here, too?! Omg it’s a party!!

Let’s throw in all that PTSD training trying to counteract all that. Mmmm joy.

A few months ago I was cleared to return to the gym. After 2 years of physical injury. And 1.5 years before that of restriction for therapy.

Just a reminder, I have hypergymnasia: I have spent excessive amounts of time at the gym in an attempt to lose weight. It was my purge. And when I go to the gym, I lose myself and all sense of time. It’s a total mindfuck to be honest.

The last time I was in a gym, ugh I was so unhealthy!!! I had just broken my ankle and shoulder. And I was at the gym running on the treadmill while in pain. That was 2 years ago OH SHIT TO THIS WEEK!!!

Well, I made plans with one of my besties to return to the gym. Part of my recovery contingencies [for life] is I’m not allowed to workout alone. We were supposed to go last week and again Monday.

I got so anxious I panicked and canceled.

Between the stress of work and this pressure to be thin, I did the healthy thing and did not go.

I know if I went, I would be starting under the wrong intentions and it would be downhill from there. My bestie knows everything that’s going on and has been so supportive.

So today we went. And I was so anxious. And scared.

I was worried I was too fat in the gym outfit I had. I was honestly fearful of the judgment by people at the gym. I was scared I would lose control. I was afraid I would spiral; that Ed would slide into control.

What I was most fearful of? My injuries being so bad that they would incapacitate me from doing the exercises I know and love. And I would have lost my identity.

Good news: the broken shoulder has healed enough through physical therapy that I was able to do the exercises I have done in the past!! I actually cried at the gym. The ankle has as well.

Bad news: I can’t turn off the hypergymnasia. My beastie turned to me and was like we have been here an hour time to go. I honestly thought it had been 10 minutes.

Absolutely no concept of time. It’s scary. I could end up hurting myself again. Breaking something. Or, as Eddie points out, getting fatter because I am working out too much without enough caloric intake.

I gain weight when I stop eating. I am am atypical anorexic due to years of anorexia and no formal treatment till my late twenties.

I feel disgusted by myself for feeling pleasure in the muscle burn and stamina I have. It’s not because I’m healthier than I thought but for the idea I can keep pushing myself harder.

But dammit, this is a massive comeback!! Literally years in the making.

Cassie is back at the gym. My happy place. Under supervision of a bestie. Without therapy support. Trying to do this the right way.

Here’s a big challenge!!

Where to Start?!

This is my return.

I’m overwhelmed with what to say. Like where to start.

There has been so many changes in my life over the past 7 months. I wanted to write as they happened. It helps me process and feel. Experience the moment as they say in DBT.

Thanks to fear and trying to protect my anonymity, I had to give time in-between some significant events so that I cannot be identified.

I have followed of you and am so proud of you. Your accomplishments and strides you are making. These struggles are so. Real.

I guess the first biggest struggle, which will be my first focus, is I completed, and graduated from the Trauma Therapy.

As in I had no choice they basically told me, in one month we are cutting you free because that’s the end goal. After 4 years of intensive therapy. To nothing.

Oooo plot twist?!