Ok so I might have left y’all on quite a cliffhanger there… Seasonal anxiety has started what with this being the food months and all. And the whole starting a new therapist amidst wanting to die…
Let’s add a dash of continued work stressors, family drama, and other loss of control.
I had my first status asthmaticus [severe asthma attack]. Solid. Been super sick–the joys of malnutrition thanks to anorexia. Still dealing with the stress of my injuries.
Flew cross country to spend my first week ever with PC’s family on vacation. I was extremely stressed about this–would they accept me? Would I be good enough? All I want is to be part of a family and be accepted; to be appreciated. How was I going to go from barely 2 snacks and 1 “dinner” to eating meals in front of his observing family? Who, PS, are all thin like him and eat allll the time!
All in all the trip was amazing! We had a wonderful time and it was everything I have ever dreamed of in terms of acceptance from a partner’s family! Spent individual time with the parents, siblings, babies; even had double dates with the parents and the siblings! I felt at ease almost all the time except meals.
I did my cope ahead and tried to meal plan as best as I could. But the south is all meat based and a lot of fried foods. This is a stark contrast from California let me tell you!!
His family was also acutely aware and accommodating to my “vegetarianism” which made it harder for me to not eat and go unnoticed. I did, however, manage to skip breakfast every day to compensate.
I was constantly feeling sick. I had upgraded to 2 full normal people meals and 2 snacks with 1 dessert every day! Ick thinking back makes me sick again. My stomach wasn’t ready for that.
The only other significant thing has been therapy.
New style. I was nervous at first but when I thought about it, it made a lot of sense.
I am now in eating disorder and anxiety therapy that is trauma based.
Yes. Whaaaaaat?! Trauma?!
If you have read my about me page you would see one of my diagnoses is PTSD. Well, it seems it extends a lot further than realized. All the recurring nightmares and thoughts–reliving things triggered by people/words/events. That is what we are going to tackle.
The thought being, treat the trauma, break some of the anxiety which reduces a lot of the stress and anxiety responses which are tightly linked with my anorexia.
Right now we have been fine tuning my DBT skills so that they are “natural occurrence” when the trauma portion starts.
I will definitely blog through that.
Nervous but hoping it works. It’s been months since I’ve slept through the night. Work drama and stress is increasing the night terrors and nightmares. Poor PC. :[
And there I stand. Literally living hour to hour trying to survive. Hating many aspects but always looking for that rubbish silver lining.
Cassie is still around. She just shuts down when she is overwhelmed and there’s been too much new new.
And still fat because vicious cycle of not eating.
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.
I am not having a good week. At all.
I thought my luck had turned.
I fucking deserve goodness.
Why can’t I just have some?
It started earlier this week with Erin being in a car accident. And ever since I have had this impending doom that I am next.
Then last night I realized that my credit card was stolen. Fucking fabulous.
Where, pray tell, did I discover this?
Oh checking out groceries.
I had a full on panic attack. I called PC during said panic attack where I was forwarded straight to voicemail. Left him a pleasant panic ridden message about how it is his girlfriend and he needs to call me back because I was freaking the fuck out because I can’t find my credit card.
We talk during my panic attack and now he gets to see the other side of my panic attacks: the anger self defensive one. He has already seen the crying self harm one. See this one is the I have been violated one so I’m angry. A cultivated response from a life of neglect, invalidation, and not being heard.
Let’s add a dash of work is kicking my ass because it is just really busy.
And a pinch of PC cancelling our plans tonight because he is jetlagged. [this one is neutral–I’ll get more sleep].
Well PC calls me today even after knowing I had a ripe shit day yesterday and proceeds to tell me that for some weird reason when he gave his old phone to his parents my one voice message forwarded to that phone. So they heard it. He didn’t. But his mother mentioned there was a lot of cussing.
Guess who lost her sprinkles? This crazy having a shit week bitch. Right here.
Supposedly he placated the situation.
All I want is for a great first impression and he keeps pushing it off. Then this happens. So I lose it.
Then he tells me how I need to change me. And insert more rambling. And insert more commentary. Because all I really heard inside my head is: yup, Cassie will never have a relationship and I am not good enough. Then he said something about us being a better team. And I lost it and bawled. On the phone.
Obviously there is more to this story. Obviously, if you have read a few of my posts you know me well enough to know I said something… Including the “this makes me want to sabotage what is left of this” shpiel. And the honest “clearly I am not good enough” shpiel which led to him being upset because he was saying it is just a road bump we are going over.
And he was upset I cried and went on about how I’m everything he has looked for and I’m perfect blah blah who gives a fuck because Ed’s voice heard what was needed for self destruction.
So he has texted me twice. Called me again to remind me that he loves me a lot and cannot wait to see me tomorrow. I’m still numb from crying. Urges to self harm are high. I stopped my dinner.
I’m in bed and going to sleep.
Fuck the world. I am not having a good week. I am done.
Before I do serious irreparable damage.
Like flirt text with the guy who is crushing me but I know is all wrong for me. Makes it feel better to ruin my life because I deserve it.
Yupskidoodle. I am calling it a night.
Freaking out. Sitting in the procedure waiting room. On delay. Just having them come at me with a knife. To my eye. No big deal.
I just don’t do eyes.
And then the post image concerns…. scar tissue. missing eye lashes. ugh.
The other one being removed is upper corner and can’t see to get the picture.
Two eyes; two procedures. —> two needles and syringes; two blades; two cauteries.
And a prayer that 3mg of Ativan can get me through this. I’m really thinking I should have brought more…