Tag Archive | worthless

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?!

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A Pocket Full of Fails

Well it’s just how it feels.

And will keep feeling as long as I’m in my invalidating and toxic work environment.

Funny how I flit from one toxicity to the next.

I tried to leave for the better to only end up worse. Ya, it was possible. At least here I’m not throwing up and crying before shifts. Maybe because I’m so numb?

Well, needless to say, by chance of miracles or what, I landed an interview recently.

I feel like it was due in part to a favor to my mother but I’m grateful nonetheless! For it was an interview in a position I’m trained for.

I nailed the phone interview. Felt rock solid. And I usually rock interviews. Never have had an issue.

I always get the offer in the end….it’s just the whole wait for a contract that was promised and it never come.

Well, the timing of this couldn’t be better. Everything is spiraling at work and no amount of DBT skills can salvage.

Yet when I had the interview, face to face, I just feel like I failed. Like I was throwing fails around by fistfuls out of my pockets.

My answers were not as solid as I usually have them. I couldn’t focus it.

I couldn’t sell myself.

Especially when:

“Your resume is very impressive, seriously, but I see here you were licensed in xx so how come you have not held a job [using said license]”

OK too complex to get into it on here without giving away a lot of identifiers… But just know this… No it is not me. Basically society fucking sucks and so does the economy. My resume would make you vomit because it’s so impressive.

But I sacrificed everything and couldn’t get the job because I wclearly as the wrong place wrong time. And in some cases, had some employers tell me I was too fat [while they had 100lbs on me] yes it’s illegal but California gets away with a looooot of shit mang.

I also had to keep working to pay, you know, bills? I have never had anyone to take care of me like that. But California apparently expected that.  It’s ridiculous. It’s ludicrous.

Thus my job intimidated others because they thought I’d be bored….

Why doesn’t anyone ask me?!

Wellllll here I sit. I had to delicately and politely answer the question. With couth. Head held high as I was yet again reminded of allll the times I was never good enough.

I walked out just knowing that when I needed something the most, again, I failed. I can’t have it.

And all because someone does not believe in me.

Again.

Stay tuned I have not been officially rejected it’s just how I’m feeling. Don’t want to get my hopes up because I would be beyond devastated to lose it again.

Hiding for Fear

I have so much to say. Multiple topics. Lyrics to post. Images to relate to. 

But I feel like whatever I am to post will not be good enough. 

Ya. It’s that phase. 

The not worthy. Not good enough. Why can’t I be accepted. Phase.

Leads to:

I am feeling fat. I am fat. 

Why am I not good enough. 

Smile. They will never know.

It’s My Birthday and I’ve Been Crying But Don’t Want To

It’s been a long week.

A long and unpleasant one. I want to get as far away from my birthday as possible.

PC made it amazing and gave me what I wanted that he was capable of. [he is still physically recovering himself]. Emotionally showered me and spoiled me.

I had hopes, high expectations it turns out, that this year people would remember my birthday.

The only phone call: just one of my sisters. That’s right just one.

I avoided Facebook for two days.

I was seeking validation for my existence, though. Since no one seemed to remember on my birthday. Or after.

I should be used to it; the let down and disappointment.

People graduate. It’s summer. Oh I can keep creating excuses. But it still hurts and I still cry.

I was excited for work, though. We go all out for birthdays. Decorate each others’ cubicles/desks. Balloons. Fancy cake of the birthday person’s liking. Card. Someone always does flowers. At least this would demonstrate that I am appreciated; validate my existence in this world.

I showed up to work and no balloons. No flowers. The decorations I did have came solely from my friend. I am so grateful for what she did. And I cannot wait to do her birthday!

But no cake or card from the office came. They didn’t care. They are all wrapped up in their self entitled problems and drama.

They wonder why it’s toxic and people are quitting? It’s their own damn fault!!

I was weepy all day. And the next. And the day after that.

But I lost it when they decided to throw a party for the 4 of us who have birthdays this week and the 4 people who graduated. With a cake that said congrats grad. For 8 people.

Total shit. I don’t exist. I am nothing. My feelings don’t count.

For once I stood up for myself. I didn’t go to the party.

It was beyond hurtful! I had to share? And with graduates?! No. I am on the social organization committee. I am the reason those spoiled brats get what they do for their birthdays. And they had the audacity to tell me it hurt their feelings that I didn’t go to the party.

So they have tried to denigrate me and say I am entitled/childish/bratty for wanting my own cake.

I spend over $30 of my own cash on each of these brats so they can have a special day so they never feel the way I do. And they get a $50 specialized cake. I got a fucking $10 graduation cake that was dedicated to 8 people…I’m sorry but how am I not supposed to be hurt?!

I went back to my black and white scale: I’m done doing this shit for others when they can’t do something simple for me.

It’s left me crushed and crying. It plays on all my fears and Ed thoughts.

“But they have a lot going on.”

And the war in my head, struggle to survive, fight with food, and clash with society is clearly nothing. 

Not the Failure

In therapy right now, which has been so strict and regimented, each week I have to do three goals.

Considering she should still be getting to know me it’s been a kick to the face. 

I thought she would get to know me, be gentle, ease in, then rip me a new one. 

Hahaha no, no!! 

Alright so I might be having hypomania this week. Even if it has been awkwardly offset by anxiety and self loathing all courtesy to work, it’s still there I feel it.

And it might have been taking me on tangents in therapy last week.

But she kept my butt in check!!

Even when I was trying to explain myself so I didn’t feel judged! I was like damn let me finish my fucking story bra!!! I don’t want to feel judged this is my routine and ritual let me do it ish!

Anyways, she keeps me on these three goals.

Part of me thinks it’s because I’m not  at a good place with my eating, even if I feel like it isn’t that bad–good old Ed’s voice!

She’s really driven to try and correct my eating patterns and thought processes. Doesn’t seem to care about my anxiety issues too much.

I really miss Cherry.

So I make a goal, each, in these categories: Eating Disorder Related [EDR], Self-Care, and Relationships.

These goals have to be things I can do in one week’s time.

Come to think of it it’s really stressful!!!! I’m thinking of lying about my EDR ones!! The hell I can make those happen that fast!!

Straight up honey wanted me eating three full meals and two snacks a day immediately. I laughed in her face. Ya I have “two meals a day” right now and one is protein shakes while the other is a bar.

Hence my refeeding syndrome.

My Relationships goals I felt like I’ve been failing because I’ve been isolating with anxiety, not feeling good enough, feeling too fat, feeling ugly, scared I’ve destroyed the relationships, feel like I let them down, etc.

So I made goals and worked so hard to do them!

And then I still feel like I fail at my relationships!

After having a really bad day at work with Dramama bullying and harassing me–me being counseled by my boss–because somehow it’s my fault and Dramama is the victim, I nearly cut myself for the first time ever. I lost it. I cried.

I left a toxic work environment to be right back where I was.

I don’t understand what I do that attracts these negative people and their negative energy.

I have enough going on with Ed’s voice and anorexia and anxiety!!!

Well I then get a text from Cindy that our personal vacation she just invited some of her friends and family on. Lost my shit on her.

And Badgyr who is in town this week? Well she sent me an email and the two days I blocked off for her she seemed to make plans with other people in the middle of ours.

I lost my shit.

Tears. Worthlessness. Fat grabbing. Fat feelings. Picking.

I’m failing my relationship goals.

Then I remembered: it takes two and I am always giving and giving. I am flexible and pushed over and taken advantage of. I guess I’m under appreciated.

I’m not the failure at my relationship goals; they are!! They are expecting me to carry the relationship.

To quote the funny YouTube clip, “not today!”

For once, I’m not the failure!! Goal: met!

The Intake Interview

Everything was so slow up until the actual intake. Panic attacks happened. My anxiety just blossomed into full on panic.

I was fearful that this was my last attempt at help. What if it didn’t work out? What if there is nothing wrong with me? What if it truly is all in my head? What if I’m too fucked up for her to help me?

I didn’t take any Ativan because I needed her to see me in the raw state–me at my worst. That is the whole point of this I take interview. It sucked going at it that way.

Leaving work early also was not fun. I still have fear that there was gossip about why I left early. All that nasty whispering that has been going on.

When I arrived to the clinic, during check in, another patient had seizures. So, naturally, I stepped in to assist. I don’t think the clinic handle them well, but now I’m all jacked up on adrenaline and panic juices. Fab combo.

Of course my new therapist is cute. Tiny, petite. I swear it’s like a requirement.

She has a close relationship with Cherry which makes me ecstatic. They talked about me which to most people is upsetting. To me it’s a relief. Cherry is a Cassie expert. Cherry can and will be an excellent resource as needed. Cherry was apparently proud of me for telling my boss about my struggle with anorexia. I’m still not sure if I regret that or not, but it felt wonderful to hear that from Cherry.

I had to take 3 assessment quizzes. One stated I was depressed. I said the last month it’s hard not to be when I’ve been bullied at work and home and I am unable to exercise because of my fall. I still don’t think I’m depressed–anxiety filled for sure!!

Then I had to do the usual in depth questionnaire that I hate.

Purging habits. Restricting habits. Explanations of how I truly have no desire to eat. My earliest memories of dieting desires and compulsions were 5th grade. My need to not eat was as early as 6 or 7 years old; yes I’m a lifer anorexic. I really hate food.

Then the conversation about how I’ve started to get the baby belly back again because I haven’t been eating so I’m agitated. That I’m having confusion and excessive sleepiness and it’s because I get out of meals and don’t eat not depression. But forcing to eat sucks. But I need to to lose weight.

Vicious fucking cycle.

She is tabling the idea of me working with a dietician. Ummm I will fight that. None of that.

After two hours, all I kept thinking, and still think, is I am not that sick. I don’t have a problem. When she asked about how many breakfasts/snacks/lunches/snacks/dinners I have eaten in the last 30 days, I just felt really fat. Like too many. And way too many to qualify.

But she wants to see me effective immediately. Definitely once a week minimum. She thinks maybe twice but she knows how hard it was to get once a week off for work.

She proceeded to give me a pamphlet of the labs she wants completed with my doctor as well. So while I still feel like a huge fake, it seems I’ve triggered something to indicate further and closer follow up.

It’s a relief in a way because now I can stop fighting on my own. I have someone on my team and someone who can validate me and my experiences.

Be thankful if you have friends and family who support you in your recovery. Some of us would kill for that. It’s part of what’s killing me.

My parents today told me I’m too fat that I’ll never be able to fit into a certain size. They also constantly tell me that PC must be grossed out seeing me naked. Both of my parents are more overweight than I am.

Glad to have someone remind me that what they say is not ok. Because Ed’s voice still latches on. And I’ve been crying all day over this.

Two Days.

Two days until the intake interview for the potential newest therapist.

Part of me is so desperate I want it to work.

But then I think back to how the social worker and I just did not mesh or gel and I think it exacerbated everything. She is sweet and kind, but anorexia and anxiety are so fragile that the wrong help is just like handing an already cracked glass item to a toddler.

So now I wait.

Longest two days of my life here we come.

The thought of just having a support system is anxiety provoking in a relief sense; like I just want it to start someone can validate me. Yet I’m so scared of the rejection. The “this isn’t a good fit” or “I can’t give you what you need” when you desperately need it.

Just someone to believe in me.

Two days is a long time to wait to find out if you have someone on your team or not. Especially when you already suffer from anxiety disorders.

Alright, Ativan, you’re up!