I saw this awesome project on Pinterest. It involves a mini 3 drawer system in which you organize things. In this project, you organize your coloring things.
I LOVE coloring! It is my zen. My go to self healing self care thing.
It also is an OCD thing. Arranging my coloring utensil of choice by color. Coloring in the lines. You get the point.
This project requires one to put all crayons in one drawer, all colored pencils in another drawer, and all markers in the third drawer.
Sooo simple right?
I like my crayons to go back in the exact spot they came from. No one is allowed to use my box of crayons because they might use them wrong. I own 6 boxes of the same type of crayons [1 for sharing] so that I have backup if anything goes wrong. They are to be used a certain way.
Yes you are thinking, dayam Cassie is crazy. I am thinking, I have control and it is perfect and how I left it… Exactly how I left it and will be the way I left it.
With the little I have ever had control of in my life, it is this I have come to rely on.
Was my OCD behavior bred? It is possible. My invalidating environment definitely fostered the behaviors.
Tonight I did it. I bit that crazy hard bullet. I mixed 3 boxes of crayons: 2-24 packs and 1-64 pack in one drawer. 2 boxes of colored pencils in a second drawer. 2 boxes of fine tip markers and 1 box of regular markers in the third drawer. They have all been mixed.
It looks so organized! I can easily access my coloring now and color more. I might actually use them now!
I mean I have to because they are all cross contaminated by each other. They can’t go back into their original boxes… No way of knowing now…And they cannot be mixed because that is just wrong to put them with someone that is not their crayon family…. they belong together!
Omg wtf have I done……
I am glad I am lying down. I was so proud of myself for the past hour. Now I have a headache and this is almost too much to bear.
Bite size pieces to process….
Feeling pretty damn accomplished right now…
I completed one of my New Years Resolutions/goals.
At the beginning of the year, I made a list of goals for myself on my iPod Touch so I would always have it with me. To obsessively obsess over. 😀
Anyways. One of these goals was to get back on track with something that fell off when I went to college–pleasure reading. I never had time. I accumulated books over those extensive never ending years [hey working full time and school full time is no joke!!].
Almost all was lost and I forgot how to get back into it. So much so I had started about fifteen books and never finished one. That was partially credited to the whole first major relapse with anxiety, hypomania, and inability to focus.
This year I was determined to just finish things.
Goal: read 50 books.
Sounds stupid easy to some I know. But for me, there were months where my energy was so low or I was too anxious I couldn’t do it. I was too overwhelmed. I went a couple of months not reading at all. Those compulsions drove me crazy!!
But I am proud to say, today I finished two books [one previously started] and made it to 50!!
There were times where I really thought I was not going to make it. It stressed me out because I was missing out on literature and expanding my mind!
My job and its hours really limit me on a lot but I found my own ways to sneak in reading.
The best part? It builds on one of the DBT Skills–building mastery. This in turn provides confidence. And right now I’m feeling so high!
No fear work will crush that!
But I met a major New Year’s goal. :]
Another beautiful moment. I cried with Pennsatucky because in my therapy this moment and first quote has really been emphasized.
Is it DBT? CBT? Who knows because it’s very real and amazing life advice.
If you can, I recommend googling for this clip because words cannot capture the raw emotion that was captured so well by the actresses. Truly depicts my turmoil.
Sidebar [and spoiler if you haven’t seen past Season 2], Pennsatucky was raped and this is a moment where she reflects on that pain, suffering, and forgiveness.
Pennsatucky: Do you know the difference between pain and suffering?
Big Boo: Oh I can’t wait to hear this…
Pennsatucky: Ya well you should hear because pain is something that … Pain is always there because Life is freakin painful ok? But suffering is a choice.
And you my friend, it’s not my right to say, but you’re suffering!
Forgiveness. You need to move on Boo.
I forgave him for me. And I think you are capable of doing something like that.
No I am not avoiding you.
This is cathartic. It helps me process my feelings and thoughts. It lets me vent. And sometimes I’m validated by a reader.
I’ve been avoiding myself.
Ok we all ready know my feelings on the word crazy–I prefer either mentally hilarious or personality instead. But I agree that that aforementioned statement just sounds whack.
I am the master of avoidance. It is my go to technique.
In DBT group last year, I was the one who lead that lesson. Because I am pro.
But avoidance truly is a coping skill.
And damnit it got me through these past few weeks.
My therapist, you remember the newbie who is still fresh on the scene to the Cassie story, tried at one point to “bring me to reality” that everyone everywhere suffers and that I am not the only one who does.
First off, never said that. Secondly, I validate that, but I said that in my life I have recognized that my life is filled with nothing but horrors and is randomly speckled with positives which I’m constantly fighting to find; sometimes it’s too much.
She didn’t believe it.
Until she finally listened.
Like when I had RSV, that I got from coworkers [who got it from a patient], then had to take my car in for repairs and they lied about it and it was out for 4 days more than they said it would be, then was fighting for my physical therapy appointment because they cancelled for no reason, then told I had to go in for urgent eye surgery [again!!], all while fighting an elated Ed’s voice. There was more but I don’t remember because my memory is shot.
That’s just my life.
I have radically accepted it.
But sometimes I come back around and I’ll get sad by things.
Because it straight up sucks.
SO HERE IS CASSIE EN BREF:
- I had eye surgery, again, same shit different eye. Molluscum contagiosum.
- Turns out I have molluscum contagiosum all over my body. I had a full on OCD panic attack and clawed at my face. Hashtag fail.
- This has led to even more body image issues because I feel dirty and it looks like I am a teenager with serious acne all over my chest, torso, neck, shoulders, and face.
- And I haven’t worn makeup in almost a year. Not good for the anorexic trying to cover up and feel pretty. To not be seen as me all flawed.
- Huge melt down by Dramama. Somehow my fault.
- Other coworkers smelled my blood in the water and came after me. Trying to say I’m incompetent and can’t do my job. Didn’t matter that I had escalated asking for help and they all refused. They all played victim.
- I’m so sick of nonvictims playing victims in the situation. Because somehow it always ends up my fault.
- Then turns out my boss straight up had told my coworkers to not talk to me because they “distract” me and I need to do my job. So they feared for their jobs. I was isolated.
- I went to work angry and bitter. Couldn’t win. Well still can’t. Not sure how me wanting there to be a positive and happy work environment is such a bad thing. I throw parties and organize out of office events. I’m such a bitch. Quick ignore her!
- I fell in the shower, again.
- My breathing isn’t getting much better
In summary, toxic work environment. Cannot breathe and still injured from falls so unable to exercise. This leaves me feeling extremely fat and the door open for Ed’s voice. I have molluscum contagiosum [from someone else’s house towels or the massage place I go to] so I can’t wear makeup until it’s all gone. I can’t cover up my insecurities or make myself up with false confidence. Feeling really ugly. My trust is just so fucked up as if it wasnt to start with because of all the stuff at work.
So what did I do with all this in my plate?
I lived minute to minute because it was all I could process; all I could do from losing it.
Thus, I apologize for not being as bloggy and transparent through this whole process as some may have liked.
But this is how I do when I’m drowning.
Let’s just say it’s safe to say that I’m not on the same plane as my new therapist.
I did dive in thinking it would go a lot like Cherry. That is my own fault for expectations.
But I swear this new one keeps seeing eating disorder.
She don’t knooooow meeee. So she’s coming at my eating disorder and trying to help me with absolutely NO clue to what is happening.
This is another relapse, yes. You have notes to reference, yes. Your concern is my health, yes.minget it!!!
But how compliant am I going to be if you keep pushing me without listening to me?
Well it turns out not very.
PC and I have had some significant arguments these past few weeks. Mainly because I feel like I’m not being heard.
Ya he really isn’t listening to me, but it’s worse when my therapist is not either.
One of these two needs to. I can’t have them both steamrolling me. I lose my words.
And I’m already at a loss. This fucking RSV has messed with my memory!! I don’t think it’s the meds…I think it’s the virus itself. I have lost my short term memory.
Could it be from stress and anxiety? Oh I’ve been weighing that because I have been just run down at work–attacked from all angles. But that’s a different feeling.
So today I was pushed and pushed by the newb. I shut down. And our session ended early. Cool.
I’m tired of her invalidating that my life is shit. No, not everyone has shitty lives or gets shit on as much as I do. I am always looking for positives even as I’m being beaten down.
But she doesn’t get it and it almost seems like she won’t get it.
So it almost seems like it’s time to do what us anorexics and other disordered eating people do best: lie.
Ya I’m fine. Ya I’m eating. Ya it’s all going well. It’s wonderful.
I don’t want to talk about food yet she doesn’t seem to get that.
Can only be pushed so much.
Here I am again.
Second first appointment.
This time I kind of know what to expect. And yet, I did not.
I was nervous all week for it.
Well, I was until I got super sick. Ya next post to be posted.
I arrived, figuring the usual–game plan of what we will do. Me relieving my past. Torturous. Me detached. Avoidance of feelings. Me outside of my body telling the story as if it happened to someone else and I just watched it all happen.
What I did not expect was to be sent home the day before for being sick. So I was home sick before the appointment. And I ate nothing because I slept the whole time.
No. Not depression. The opposite has been happening-anxiety. But I’ve been so damn sick my body needs it so I gave it what it needed. And I have no energy. So fighting to eat well ha ha ha.
We start off our meeting with me sporting the sexy yellow mask.
Talking about how when I’m sick is when I need help and support the most.
I told her about the horrible situation I dealt with the weekend before with my parents calling me fat to my face maliciously. How it’s hard to deal with that to give her an idea of how it is always ongoing.
Then we started working on her plans and goals of treatment. Here it gets fuzzy because, well, I blacked out.
She said she wants to do weekly weights.
And I basically told her no kiss my fat ass. That I used to obsess over them they are triggering fuck that. Even blind weights I will find a way to find out what it is.
And then I proceeded to black out.
I remember tunnel vision happening. I remember the panic. I remember the rapid breathing. It doesn’t help that I have RSV and asthma so my oxygen levels are pretty crappy.
Who the hell knows what else happened.
At the end I know that I had homework. That I have goals every week. One self care, one eating disorder recovery, one relationships.
The homework came home with me.
I’ve already failed them.
They are so simple.
And yet I can’t even.
So even having done this before, knowing what to expect and what to do, being a professional in this field, and having a nutrition certificate, I still can’t even do this.
Because that is how powerful Ed’s voice is.
Second time around and just as rough as the first.