Archive | November 2014

Thanksgiving #2

Tomorrow is the second Thanksgiving since I’ve been in hardcore recovery.

And it isn’t getting any easier.

Last year, I made the entire dinner. My sister and her boyfriend helped out a little bit. But my mom coached me through making it all.

And let me tell you–in comparison to this year, last year was easier.

This year, I am not making anything. I’m going to try and finagle I to making the corn pudding and yams. But due to my crazy work schedule and the fact that we are going to my cousin/aunt’s house, we have less responsibility.

So let’s do a comparison here:

Last Year:
-Barely eating
-Made whole meal
-Felt more in control
-Exposure times a million: touching foods, interacting with food in front of family, etc.
-Just my parents, sister, and her boyfriend (Bro)
-Comfort of own home
-Able to wear comfort clothes
-Able to lie down right after and cope quietly

This Year:
-Making nothing
-Absolutely no control
-Eating with 12 other people; 4 of which know my situation and I’m comfortable eating in front of
-At my cousin/aunt’s house
-Not my own foods or safe foods
-Every year they all comment on how I should try this and that, mock me for my “picky eating habits” and focus on my food stuff
-Can’t lie down after

OMG I’m getting seriously anxious thinking about this.

I’m not ready for this.

Earlier this week I debated not going because I can’t handle it.

Handle being around all the food. Watching everyone else enjoy while I struggle. Listening to others complain about how “fat” they feel from over eating.

Me staring down a bottle of alcohol to make sure my glass stays full and my head drunk.

I don’t want to do that anymore. I’m so over drinking.

I don’t want to deal with the pressure. And I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.

I may be eating compared to part year, but in comparison this year is going to fail.

Ya I set myself up by having prime opportunities last year and trying tons of new foods. That won’t happen this year. And I still don’t have the support I need. And I really don’t want a bottle of alcohol to be my support.

I can’t even think of something I’m grateful for.

Being alive? When I want to not be? For surviving with anorexia? Ha right. For the job that pays my bills but perpetuates my self loathing, stress, and anxiety? For my support system–oh wait. For the boyfriend I don’t have?

The one I did come up with that will throw everyone off of my struggles–grateful for my opportunity to volunteer with sick kids.

Happy Thanksgiving to those who don’t suffer. It’s the one day you don’t realize that you suffer feelings those of us with eating disorders suffer on a daily basis.

Feelings of fat, full, tiredness after eating, stress, anxiety, overwhelm, bingeing (whether or not we actually do), self hate, spite, self loathing, guilt.

So really, Happy Unrecognized Walk in the Shoes of Someone with ED Day!!

Solidarity my sisters and brothers!


I have just had poor scenario after bad situation lately.

I mean I should be used to this because it’s pattern is very engrained in my lifestyle. But it still sucks.

I had an allergic reaction to the flu shot. It basically crashed my immune system and I got a severe bacterial sinus infection. I have been battling that for a month now. Today I went in to see an ENT specialist. They think it’s masking something more serious. Of course.

That’s just one.

With all the meds I’ve been on I’ve been forced to eat. It’s been horrible. I feel so fat and disgusting. I am also too weak to dance.

That’s two.

So after having taken a week off from life, I attempted to resume my job. While at work last night, tired and fatigued, I stupidly went on Facebook to post something funny that occurred. Great mood. Laughing so hard I cry.

And on my news feed: congratulations to mr and mrs [my ex’s last name].

My exboyfriend of 5 years got married. To the woman that I have prof he cheated on me with for the last 4 months of our relationship. But there is substantial evidence that it was possibly the last year of our relationship. Spending money on her never on me.

I don’t give two ducks about him. I’m not a violent person, but I’m so mad at him if I saw him I’d break his nose and then use his nuts as a punching bag.

But yet when I saw that post by a “friend” I broke down and hard. I ugly cried. Thankfully my savior work friend was there and she just held me. I excused myself and tried to call Cindy but she didn’t answer. Tried my NY bffl and she didn’t pick up. So I cried for another 5 minutes before I got my east coast comfort. She was exactly what I needed: we fat shamed him and her [he told me I was fat but his wife has 150lbs easily on me]. She wouldn’t let me see pictures which is better. But she just listened.

When I gchatted with Cindy all she kept doing was reminding me that I shouldn’t be upset.

I. Don’t. Care. About. Him.

I care that I’m not good enough. That I’m such a good person who couldn’t hurt a fly and the people around me who are cheaters and just hurt people get their happy endings. And I struggle with anorexia. Not my dream job. No boyfriend. No support. For fox sake Cindy is sitting here telling me to not be upset.

All I want is someone to tell me it’s okay to be upset. So I don’t hate myself more than I already do.

I mean how would you feel? Honestly?

Maybe no one gets it because, unlike me, there is no Ed’s voice running rampant inside.

I sent an email to Cherry immediately about the situation.

And then faced more fears because how I feel just doesn’t matter to anyone. I went back to the building. Panic and all. Just internalized it. It’s not safe there to be open about how I feel.

In Cherry’s office within the first ten minutes she handed me a poem. It’s called “Listening” and I will try and find it and share it.

She says she gives it to her ED patients’ parents.

I can see why.

It exactly said what I’ve been trying to say. How I just want someone to listen to me. Not give me advice. Just validate my feelings.

Because right now no one gives two ducks about my feelings or my concerns. It’s just me on my team.

Always has been and it seems always will be.

But, can someone maybe just listen?


My instructions on my sinus infection medications: seek medical attention and/or follow up care if symptoms do not improve or worsen in 7 days.

So today I did. Yup turns out being a healthcare provider, I might have caught the MRSA and it finally caught up with me. As my mom says, that might not be true, I could just have a really bad sinus infection that needs an extra kick.

Now I’m on higher more hardcore antibiotics, steroid, and an inhaler. Woooo upgraaade hahaah

I think I can safely say that I have officially had almost every single form of medication routes! Inhaler is new for me. I teach people all the time but never used one on myself! Silver lining: I understand my patients better! Yay for that! :]

Besides feeling utterly horrid, severe sinus pressure, and shortness of breath, after taking first round of all meds–wow I’m feeling better!!

Of course the steroid come with some risks. I am cracked out!! Hahaha I’m way ready to go–hypomania yesh!!

But the not so pleasant? They are concerned, especially with the little suicide flag on my chart, that my steroid increases anxiety, agitation, and irritability. I told my doctor–that’s what the Ativan was for. I straight up told her I didn’t care I would deal with the anxiety and agitation on my own because I was feeling it all already with the lack of sleep and sinus pressure.

Oh eating disorders. You reallllly mess with everything. Literally.

All my meds I have to take with a lot of food or there are severe consequences.

Ed’s voice is fighting me on that. Not happy with all the food I have to consume for medications and to keep me fighting the infection. SO not happy.

Right now, I feel the anxiety palpitations in my heart from the inhaler and steroid.

But trying to cope and talk myself through this extremely difficult situation. Because it also hurts to eat from the sinus pressure.

Ironic since I’m still feeling absolutely worthless still from Tuesday.

Ed’s having a hissy fit. Yay upgrades!!

That’s a First

It’s what one of the group therapy leader assistants said to me. Yup. I seem to be spot on for being the first for a lot of things. But patterns dictate first in worst case scenarios.

First to call Athena out. First to walk out in the first 15 minutes, leaving all her stuff behind because it was the flight instinct. First to spend half an hour crying in the bathroom because there was nowhere safe to go. Then to leave because there was suspicion I was vomiting. First to sit outside the building because I had nowhere safe to go. To continue crying. First to be fully triggered in “the safety of DBT Group” and by the leaders themselves. First to sit in the observation room, in the corner, crying the entire 1.5 hours of group until everyone left. All the while scratching and pinching my arm.

It’s crazy. I have been having a really good few days. Today I forgot it was a holiday and went to the mall–an issue on it’s own. My eating plans kept getting thwarted but I still ended up getting the fruit and cheese box at Starbucks–something healthy.

I went to group happy and chatting with my group mates; smiling and having fun.

We start group off with a mindfulness activity every week. One week, Newby group assistant leader led us on a body awareness. I straight up said I hated it because it made me extremely self conscious.

Today, her newness led her on the road to my demise. I finally have opened up about my struggle with anorexia in the group. So shit why not push me over the edge! Newby decided to do a mindful eating exercise.

Sidenote: we have rules for group. One of which is no food in group because it is triggering for some and this is a safe place.

So now, as if my internal struggles aren’t enough, everyone watched me as I don’t take the snack pack out. Then we all “eat together” so everyone keeps offering me their snacks to share.

So no one listened to me and my feelings on food when I straight up said two weeks ago I stopped eating again?

Then they eat “alone” and one lady keeps trying to offer it to me. I sit there BEYOND panicked. All are looking at me not eating. No one else is struggling. Just me.

Isolate me. Fear of judgment. Not good enough to be part of the group.

Then mindfully eat the snack.

I can’t even do this with my therapist without dry heaving and passing out in addition to tears. Ya group setting will be easy.

Newby asks us to share. I sit there panicked and quiet.

She asks if there are any questions. I wasn’t going to say a thing. Out of nowhere my hand is in the air and I hear my voice saying, directed at Athena, I thought we weren’t allowed to bring food to group; that it’s a rule.

Pretty sure I’m death glaring her as she explains that it slipped her mind and how she apologizes for breaking the rules. She’s looking at me. Someone next to me tried to defend Athena. Fuck you suck up. No excuses. Safe environment my ass.

But no one else gets it. Their fears and problems haven’t been forced down their throats to confront in a VERY large exposure session. Nope. Theirs won’t ever be. But it’s cool, Cassie, you’re worthless so your feelings don’t matter. You even fly under the radar in regards to your concerns and fears with your group therapist. Validation: worthlessness. Begin hopelessness.

Athena admits she forgot and basically tries to defend her actions–like I’m the bad guy. I’m the bitch for being hurt in my safe place. I broke the rule. I fucked up. But I’m the one who still isn’t good enough to register on her radar. I’m worthless!

The lady who kept offering me her snack says she appreciates me voicing my discomfort. Fuck that.

Athena keeps looking at me and asks what I need.

Panic is still coursing through me. I have to run. I want to go somewhere safe but at this point anything is better than there.

“I need 10 minutes”

I walked so fast out that door, Nalgene in hand because it was all I could grab in flight, that the therapy leader can’t find me. I head straight to the bathroom, drop my pants and cry. Just cry.

I didn’t know why at first. I silently cried when people would come in. When they left I let it out; blew my nose. After 30 minutes I heard the clerk start to ask about me outside. So I actually peed, washed my face, and walked out. I was mortified. I had to get out but didn’t know where to go. Tears were falling on their own and people just stared.

I was AMA but no one gave a shit. Who cares about me? Well I thought 2 people but now down to one: Cherry.

Without my stuff I couldn’t leave and go home like I wanted. So I sat on a bench, crying. A leaf floated into my lap and I took some comfort from it. I felt like it was a sign that one of my deceased loved ones was watching over me, feeling for me, reaching out to give strength. I held that leaf.

I don’t know how long I was out there, crying. Felt better than the bathroom.

Oldie, experienced group assistant leader, came out to talk to me. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. The only one would have been Athena but she beyond hurt me and didn’t seem to care.

Oldie and the rest couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t go back in. I told her they broke my trust, it was no longer safe, and all my fears were in that room. That I was trapped because I wanted to leave but couldn’t.

Somehow Oldie finagled me to stay thinking I would talk to Athena. I wasn’t going to but I wanted my stuff. So the only open isolated place? The observation room. So I went to the farthest corner, put 3 chairs around me, sat on the floor in fetal position, and kept crying.

Because, ya know, it’s great to leave an anorexic to herself in that crisis moment.

wtf Athena. You’re an eating disorder specialist. You pulled that shit. Then leave me alone? Guess what happens?

I sat there scratching and pinching my arm. I was trapped, angry, distraught, in crisis. None of the therapists who KNOW my harm behaviors, looked at my arms. The time flew by. I had no concept of time. I guess crying does that to you. And Ed’s voice sure does. Reminding me how I’m worthless and how even my therapist validated I’m worthless.

When group was over, Oldie came for me. I asked if all were gone and she said no she’d come back when they were.

Lies again.

Athena came and asked to come in my room. I said no. She wanted to talk. I said I have nothing to say: she broke my trust.

I went in the room to pack my things and leave. She tried to talk to me and Oldie and Newby ran out. She thought I was coming back. I told her nope. I want to go home. She says she is hurt and upset [something that implies I’m hurting her because I refuse to talk this out]. I tell her well that’s how I felt as I cried for the last 1.5 hours because of her. That I just want to go home.

I grabbed my stuff and ran out past her. Obviously still crying. I think I might make her cry tonight.

Good. She tucking deserves it.

Her excuses about how shit is good for others. I told her she could have warned me and she has excuse after excuse like I don’t fucking matter. Thanks again for validating those thoughts. Ed you full yet?

I had made my mind up while crying: it’s over. I give up completely. I’m calling out tomorrow for Cherry’s session. And again next week. I’m not going. What’s the point?

I can’t even do a stupid task in a safe place. I’m selfish for being upset by this task and not brushing off something that’s difficult to me that no one else understands. I’m a horrible person.

Thanks Athena. Nailed your job!

I came home and got straight into bed. Frankly I’m still crying.

My dad texts me “you still alive?”
My response? “Wish I wasn’t. Why?”
Him: “haven’t heard a peep from you”
Me: “you must be excited”

He comes up to see what’s wrong. I tell him I’m not ok. His immediate comment: did you get fired–oh wait can’t be possible since you didn’t work today and won’t work.

I said no this happened and show him my arm. It is nothing but redness and inflammation. It’s cut up and bruised.

So he storms away: “well I guess we won’t have a Christmas tree up again three years in a row” (referring to how I was supposed to help clean).

Cool. I just opened up and showed him how I hurt myself and he just walks off and worried about himself.

My mom comes up and yells at me. Tells me to knock it off. “Stop your pity party you’re fine”

Wow. No one even asks. No one bothers. This is beyond atypical behavior for me. No one even flinches.

If someone even bothered to ask me, “what are you thinking?” I knew my response: finding reasons to stay alive.

No one asked. No one cares. Made me regret not having ended my life in August.

I’m apparently a fucking imposition. I’m not appreciated. I was staying alive for 2 people: Athena and Cherry. Now it’s just Cherry.

Part of me wants to die from anorexia with a note to Athena–thanks to you. Make a point.

I can’t hurt others so I can only hurt myself.

I’m not going to Cherry for the foreseeable future. I sent her an email telling her if she has questions ask Athena.

My last strand of hope to hold on? Just cut. Why bother?

Shit. That’s a first. I seem to be great at those.

Those Who Have, Complain

I pretty much despise those of you who have support.

You’re ingrates.

I sit here, sinus infection, feeling so bad, struggling. My parents yell at me I need to get another job, work more, etc. that I’m lazy and there’s no real reason I should be sick. That I shouldn’t volunteer and dance because I’m wasting my time on that and not working.

Work kills me. Dance and volunteering help me feel a little piece of joy.

Fuck this.

I’m too sick to deal with this bullshit. I can easily understand why people with mental illness snap and kill others. If people were constantly berating them and telling them they deserve nothing, what should they do?

I see their two options: kill themselves or hurt others.

I could never hurt others. So myself would be my option. Oh wait. Already do that. It’s called anorexia. Ed, take over. I ain’t got time for this shit.

And the Diagnosis Is…

Well where to begin. October 11 I got the flu shot. My workplace lied to me and swore they gave me the preservative free. My body proved otherwise. I had an allergic reaction. It was a ride. 1.5 weeks of feeling so lethargic, gross, cranky, just blegh. I fought Ed’s voice the whole time–not easily might I add. Right after that? I got another virus. I was super sick. Why? Because thanks to the allergic reaction, my immune system was shot. And the. After that I got a cold. So since October 11, I have been sick. About 1.5 weeks ago, I found myself rerelapsing. I was heading down the path of liquid diet…the gateway food. Hahah sounds so silly.

Well I barely ate at work. And I had a huge dizzy spell, faintness, severe headache, and swore I needed glasses.

Last night, I was waiting for dance to start and I felt this sudden pain in my neck–lymph node style. It radiated to my lower jaw line. At first I thought, I’m having a heart attack–I really did it! Anorexia is killing me and it’s a heart attack! I took my pulse. No issues. It continued. I got home and was convinced it must be sinus infection but it’s atypical presentation. But it hurt!

Popped a Tylenol, hit the sheets, woke up with interrupted sleep. It felt better this am. Took a shower and out heat on it and it was feeling much better. Driving to therapy it just progressed to worse. I had an earache, my face feeling swollen on one side, soreness everywhere.

Of course my big comeback show is this weekend.

I decided to go to the doctor [I HATE GOING] but intuition told me to.

Ladies and gentlemen, I was right. I have a full blown acute bacterial sinusitis.

Thanks to the struggle with anorexia, all my senses and sensations are off. Pain? I’ve managed to somehow distort it and ignore it. So this whole time my achy throb sore is really supposedly super horrid pain. The doctor was trying to prescribe me pain pills. I was like nopes I’m good just give me the antibiotic.

I’m supposed to be resting and pushing fluids for 10 days, 7 minimum.

Cherry kept telling me to slow down and rest. To sleep. That my body rerelapsing was a sign that I needed to sleep and get back on Cassie track.

Well my family thought I was full of it. Being dramatic and lazy.

Now when I slapped that form with the diagnosis on the table, they were like “oh.”

And then my mom turned around and told me to work more.

Support team? Nopes!

So I have to work on what I learned in group last week– objective vs relationship vs self respect. Right now, my priority is self respect. Have the damn backbone because it is how I will get better.

Stand up for yourself, Cass. Tell work no extra shifts. Friends need to chill out. Boys can wait.

Get sleep. Relax. Destress. Drink a TON of fluids. Pee it out.

Ready. Set. Go eff yourself Ed’s voice. I’m not selfish for taking care of myself because it seems my body is fighting back. Again.