Tag Archive | derealization

Never In My Life Thought I Would

**eating disorder trigger warning**

Well. We all have those things that we would never ever do. Like maybe never ever eat escargot because it is a snail. Or go skydiving. Whatever your jam us.

Mine is I will never purge via any method except exercise.

I know the medical ramifications of laxatives. And I hate the intestinal cramps and diarrhea. Same with vomiting. I also hate hate hate throwing up. Flu season and I yuck.

Well. So I thought.

Maybe it was the combination of factors. Maybe Ed’s voice is so loud that I can’t distinguish anymore. Maybe stress has gotten to me.

Between starting my new job [which is awesome and super easy and chill], the 24/7 medical care of PC after his surgery a few weeks ago [that has beyond gotten to me], and today’s family drama related to wedding prep added to I am tired…I guess I cracked.

I took my wedding dress in for alterations earlier this week. I was scared to death. Like extremely fearful. I was convinced it would not fit because I was too fat.

I put it on…and it was loose!! I lost weight!! I was utterly shocked!! It goes to show you that my anorexia recovery of actually eating helps me to lose weight. I mean I lost so much weight the dress was a size too big I was startled.

But then she fit it tight on me. And there is Ed popping up telling me to freak out because in a few months I will not fit into it! And Edie is like girl just keep eating and we will lose soooo much weight!

Today I come home from work and I have a ton of To Dos on my list it’s overwhelming. But I always manage to get it done. Not too worried I guess.

PC and I had a fight because well his family is rude and presumptuous. And they yelled at him and he tried to roll over. Uh no.

I ate. Food. It’s probably a normal portion to people. But to me and my stomach it was maaaaassive! It was technically the largest meal I’ve had in a few weeks.

I tried all my CBT and DBT skills. But the stomach pains were too severe. I was nauseated and my heart was besting extremely fast.

There I found myself. Over my bathroom sink.

You can do it, Cassie. A finger down the throat. You know where to go anatomically. You get the urge all the time…that feeling. Maybe PC will hear you and realize you really are not OK. That your eating disorder is bad. But after you evacuate like 20oz [the milkshake and something else].

The milkshake will make it smooth. It won’t burn. You won’t feel it. The acid is neutralized.

All Ed. This was all Ed’s voice I realize now.

I sat there for a few minutes looking down at my porcelain sink while my multicolored night light flashed between colors. Battling.

Then I did what I thought I would never ever do in my life. My right index finger made contact with my throat.

What’s disturbing, to me, is the relief it did bring. It didn’t hurt. Because you literally open the valve it all comes up and your chest muscles are not crunching like in the flu. It was disturbingly a smooth action. Granted I bit myself and the I know the signs are on my hand now.

It relelieved that awful pain I felt in my stomach.

This was not a calorie fear. Or a I’m going to be a fat fear. At least not that I could identify. I truly physically hurt in my stomach.

And that relief from evacuation!

I get it now.

Then after a few more times, I realized the not so pretty side effects. No one tells you that when this happens you pee yourself a little. Thanks for that heads up!!

It was so surreal. Pure derealization. Did not feel real at all. That’s why I had to blog right away. Because I would never believe it if someone told me I did it. I needed proof.

I think I’m still there. I’m watching myself because it’s not me who did it but me. Derealization.

OH fuck I think I just puked up my meds.

I didn’t see them….

Moral here is never say never ever.


Who’s That? Oh, ME.

Driving home today I had a moment of complete derealization.

I was thinking about how I was driving home, to my place, where I live with my boyfriend, and it was no thang. It was normal. And then I slipped out of body.

That’s not me. Who would think I was capable of actually sustaining a relationship and not ruining it? To go home to a shared bed. So foreign. Sleep in a bed that I share with someone. This should freak me out but it was not. To a home that was not my old home. A nest that I nested. A new safe. A real safe.

I have a safe place now? That’s possible?

I felt like I was splitting in half and it lasted for about 10 minutes.

What worries me is why it’s happening.

It’s happened before: when I was not medicated, from/during severe trauma, trigger [that is obvious], etc. This was random.

I think my subconscious is slipping through my avoidance…


I had a very traumatic day today.

I tried to play it off that I was fine. More like I was convincing myself of it so I did not lose it. But in the end that all back fired.

I am not ok.

I am traumatized.

I do not feel safe. I feel violated.

And I am panicking. I am doing what I do best: disassociating. I am taking everything and clumping it all together and hating it all at once. Because I can.

* * * * *

It still feels dream like. I took pictures of it while it happened to prove to myself that this isn’t derealization or a hallucination: this shit is real.

Mondays are my sleep in days. I work all weekend and work late Sunday nights. I sleep till usually noon and then wake up for therapy with Cherry. 

I had some horrible nightmares. I woke up and just felt really off. I decided that while I couldn’t put a finger on it, I wasn’t going to Cherry. I emailed her and told her I could not make it in today; I had a rough and horrible work weekend and reliving it was too much. All true. But something else was wrong. I just didn’t know what.

I sent the email and while lying in bed still half awake I heard this huge crack of my backyard fence. Now it took quite a beating in a storm we had and is kinda jacked. The backyard neighbors is a renter so the landlord doesn’t care. 

I have heard the young renter complaining about the fence being jacked and his side isn’t even half as bad as the other renter’s side. 

So I figured, shit there goes the fence. It finally died. After a few minutes I looked out my bedroom window. Surveying it looked fine. But there was the young neighbor looking at it and through the fence. And he had what looked like his shirt through it. I figured, oh his punk ass trying to bring it down. 

I took my time and got out of bed. The fence still stood. I went downstairs. Although I am not talking to my dad, I woke him from his nap. This is like 1130. I told him I heard the crack of the fence and he jumps up. I explain what I saw and how I can’t believe the neighbor is being territorial now with his shirt and left it there. Should we report it? I just had this itch we needed to report it. Nah we will watch it.

So I go and make myself breakfast–food what?!? I sit down on my couch and am watching Netflix when I see outside my window the Sheriff go by towards my front door with an assault rifle. 

Uh, excuse me?!?! 

I literally watch him walk back. I drop my bagel, grab my phone and run to my dad at the other end of the house. Where we live, this is  NOT common! 

I run upstairs to my parents bedroom and look out their window. At the top of our driveway is posted 6 squad cars from different varieties of police sectors and the SWAT team, even puppy police. All have assault rifles and guns out and aimed. 

What the fuck?!?!

I calmly tell my dad to get upstairs–safe return because less shots, etc. I call our city police station and find out their was an armed robbery in our neighborhood. He is considered armed and dangerous. 

What happened to the robo calls we were supposed to get?!??! Oh it came 3 minutes later at 1206. We watch it all go down. They move in.

The call tells us it is “black male who is 6’2, 24 years old [oddly specific if I do say so myself], wearing a black hoodie, armed and dangerous”. Shelter in place. Call 911 with information or to report suspicious activities.

So then my dad and I click. Oh fuck me. That fence? And sweater? That’s fucking evidence. Ya he went through our backyard and jumped our fence and he jacked it. The noise drew out the neighbor after the fact.

So I call 911. They hang up on me. I call back. “Yea I don’t know about your city issue not my problem *click*” ummmm I’m reporting evidence of an armed and dangerous person and you hung up on me?!?!?!?! Who are you?!?! How do I report YOUR ass??? 

I call the city number. At least they were nice!! After I hang up, fucking swarming my backyard. I watched them as they were clearing my backyard. Then they brought in the police puppy. He went ape shit.

Yup it was the perp’s sweater. 

I’m listening to my moronic sheriff be like, “no he is hunkered down here I know it” and the puppy police be like hella professional “I really think we need to clear that backyard and house because the dog is freaking out on the trail  over the fence and we have the sweater.”

My dad and I went down and talked to them and explained how I heard that crack… At like 1115ish. That perp has been looooong gone. It’s fucking 1255 at this point. Our sheriff department doesn’t deal with this stuff like ever.

I think it’s a drug deal gone wrong. Some guy was home and witnessed it. But how does he know this guy is 24. And why that house specifically. Just. Saying.

But I’m still freaked out. I could have been outside tanning naked. 

My house isn’t safe anymore. I feel so violated.

I’m fucking traumatized.

I took it out on PC. He didn’t call me he texted asking if I was ok. Why not call?!??! Seriously?!? How do you think I feel?! I’m holding it together for everyone else.

Our 5 month anniversary is tomorrow. I thought he was going to dump me after this weekend. I start to detach, especially with today’s activities. It’s easiest.

On the phone he thought I was going to breakup with him. 

I’m still freaking out. This is too much for me to deal with. 

I don’t know if I can put on a brave face and mask this. I’m so scared. 

I’ve accepted death. 

It can happen anytime, anywhere. I still don’t think I’ll live past 35. 

That doesn’t mean I’m not scared of the pain of being shot and killed because someone is being young and ignorant. 

PC and I are ok. I think. I need his physical hug for comfort confirmation. And I just need a hug and to cry. All this pent up masking to get through it all.

No I’m not ok. But I’m never allowed to not be ok. That’s just how it is. I have to be the strong one.

Well guess what. I am not okay people. I am traumatized.