this year has been strange. to say the least.
so as i sit here after dinner and everything, i think back on the year it’s been. i mean, it’s been good – but the bad has been really hard.
let’s take stock:
- finished my first year of grad school
- did a few storytelling things
- ended up in treatment for depression and my eating disorder
- lost my job
- came back from inpatient & residential treatment and did… well, more treatment
- got a different job
- continued on this whole treatment thing
there have been 2 major breakdowns- one that ended with me going to Rogers, the other that ended wth this entry.
i’m having a hard time. when things get rough – i revert to old habits: i stop eating, or i eat everything i possibly can. i shut down, because i’m so painfully afraid of feeling my feelings and being too much. and i feel like i am always too much. i feel guilty because i’m taking care of myself. i don’t listen – i’m just waiting to talk.
i’m thankful that i can see that now. that i know when my life is sliding sideways and i need to pull it together.
i’m thankful i have a husband, a good family and friends who will support me when i’m sliding off the rails and help me find my balance.
i’m thankful i have a mentor at school who gets it. who knows that this is hard, and is there to support me and make sure i succeed.
i’m thankful for my treatment team. i honestly don’t know where i’d be without them: being at rodgers changed my life, and i will always owe them a huge debt of gratitude. my regular team has been amazing at helping me keep it all together.
so there’s a lot to be thankful for. a lot to work on, but to be thankful in the moment and remember that’s all of us can do.
the world is an incredibly uncomfortable place to navigate. i’d like it to go back to something else.
the last month has been a veritable shit show. hurricane harvey. then irma. then maria. devistation across texas. florida. barbuda. puerto rico. earthquakes in mexico. then came what is being called the largest mass shooting in contemporary american history.
think about it. harvey went from august 25 to september 3. irma went from august 30 to september 16. maria went from september 16 to october 3.
that’s right guys. maria was still (is still) an extropical storm when (as) i was writing this. it just keeps going. the destruction has moved, but it keeps going.
we’ve just barely been able to take a breath, and then this massacre in las vegas happens. this thing – which no one is calling terrorism (which is was, in my opinion). the news cycle keeps on spinning. the sadness never has a minute to break.
the sadness never has a minute to break.
being awake is exhausting. reading the internet is exhausting. social media is fucking exhausting. watching tv, listening to the radio, breathing – all of it. exhausting.
i realize that i’m already a little emotionally ‘fragile’. i recognize that. most of the time i embrace it. i can’t embrace this kind of disorder.
i need a breather. i need a moment to pause and see that there are good things in the world, that it’s not all gloom and doom. that mother nature isn’t trying to fuck shit up (or, to quote a bunch of internet stuff i saw about getting someone to give te fiti the heart). that i can go out with my friends and not worry about some fucking madman shooting things up. that i can take a breath and be happy without the president making a me look like a moron because i live in america. that i can take a breath and be happy. that i can take a breath.
so we can all take a breath
it’s been so hard to breathe lately. it’s been so hard to do anything lately.
i know this can’t go on forever. but the last month has been sisyphean. the rock will be at the bottom of the hill again tomorrow. and it’ll be alright.
i’m having a rough time with the eating. this is bad. i spent a lot of time in treatment this summer, and eating has to happen for me. i’m trying so hard, and i feel like i’m failing so hard.
i’ve been fighting a headache all day, and when i don’t feel well, eating is even harder. i got my flu shot thursday, so everything hurts. i’m doing that thing where i’m both tired and wide awake.
i know this is the anxiety. this is everything screwing with me. this is me making progress and falling back. i go back to work tomorrow, and it’s new. i mean, it’s a department i’ve worked in before – but in an office i’ve never worked in. so it’s new and old and i’m spinning.
those are tires you hear folks. everything is spinning.
so i’m going to go to bed and remind myself that tomorrow is a new day, with new chances.
It’s been an oddly transitory week.
Friday marked my last day in php/iop. Insurance thought I’d made enough progress to be done, and rather than prolong the inevitable and going the self-pay route, I decided that stepping down was the move for me. So I said goodbye to Josh and the rest of my family at Rogers (hi everyone!!) and moved on.
Transition is always something. Sometimes it’s hard. It’s always interesting. This time it wasn’t hard, per say… at least it hasn’t been hard yet. It’s still early. Friday night was quiet, I was a little tearful because goodbyes are difficult for me. The weekend went well: we spent some time with family- Matt had a cousin in town who was running from Hurricane Irma- and I spent some time with friends, which as wonderful because they were missed. We spent Monday with Matt’s cousin before she made her way back to Florida… and then Monday came.
It’s been a transitory week. Monday I went to meet with my regular therapist – which was both good and nerve wracking because I haven’t seen her in two months.
As I was walking into her office, I got a phone call from my old employer. Offering me a job – my old position, in a different department. Working on the academic side versus working on the student affairs side.
So that’s where we are now. I haven’t made a decision yet – I need to talk to the person who will be my supervisor. I have some concerns… mostly about making sure I can leave for class and to go to my appointments; because let’s be very serious- I’ve come way too far forward to backslide now. And as much as I’d love to have a job right now, I need to take care of myself.
Because at the end of the day, I’m what matters.
Uncertainty is an odd thing, ladies and gentlemen.
I don’t deal well with not knowing things. Not in a ‘I need to be the smartest person in the room’ way, but in the, ‘OMG they’re looking at me, what are they thinking’ way and the ‘Oh shit – I have the short memory of a goldfish and I totally spaced and I hope I did this right so I need to check’ way. It creeps in in the ‘I hope they’re not mad at me, I should just ask and check’ way. And the ‘I know they said they’re not mad, but I should check again… you know, just to be sure’ ways.
Not knowing if I did something right or wrong kills me. It eats me up inside and just makes all the bells and whistles ring until the anxiety works itself into a frenzy… which it loves and I hate. Think of it this way, you know when you get a really shitty techno song stuck in your head and all you want to do is make it go away – that’s anxiety’s favorite song, and they turn it up on the biggest speakers they could get at Best Buy and boost the sub woofers until all you can feel is the titter of the high hat and that annoying whoooooomp in your teeth.
Uncertainty makes me second guess everything. It makes me doubt things about myself that I know are true. I mean, come on, we all know I’m funny. Yet the uncertainty makes me think things like -well, *I* think I’m funny… so that way when no one laughs at a joke, it’s because I thought something else. Or the uncertainty lets me not talk to someone because why would they want to be my friend, we we all know that I’m a fucking bad ass friend. And the uncertainty does things like ask me why I’m doing things like even bother writing this… because no one’s going to read it, and if they do read it, it’s all shitty anyway. Which is a lie- because if there is one thing I know I can do well (and lbvs, there are a lot of things I do well from make banana pudding to giving advice to just listening when someone needs to talk) and that’s write and tell a good story.
Which is how I know you’re all reading. And laughing (with me and not at me. Because I’m funny, not a laughing stock). And even if you’re not – that’s okay.
But that’s an entry for another day.
It’s been a while.
I know. That sounds incredibly reductive. But, it’s true. It’s been a while. Let’s do the readers digest version of a catch up, shall we? The last time I updated, I was in Oconomowoc Wisconsin, breathing the vaguely country air and trying to get myself back together. That was July. It’s now almost September. I’ve been home for about a month.
Since I came home, I lost my job at NEIU. It was no one’s fault, layoffs came and someone with more seniority bumped me out of my position. I actually found out in the car on the way home. The morning I woke up in my own bed, there was a certified letter from the university saying that because of reduction in workforce, I was being let go.
I started partial hospitalization (it’s a day program- sixish hours). I’ve been stepped down to what’s known as an intensive outpatient (same deal, only three hours a day). It’s all been an adjustment. A lot of who I am is wrapped up in other people (let me rephrase that. a lot of how I tend to think of myself is tied into who I am to other people, what I do for work) – now that I don’t have a job to identify as, I’m feeling really sort of lost. I’m floundering.
I’m still working on me. This week feels like it’s been a shit show. I came the closest I’ve been to a binge in almost 2 months. I threw the meal plan out the window and went back to eating so I wouldn’t have to feel things. There’s been a lot more crying (shout out to my therapist, Josh – who gets to watch me cry just about every day). People think I’m on some kind of vacation – I’m not “working”, I just go to therapy every day. But this is hard. Every day this is hard. Some of these days are harder than others. Today has been ridiculously hard and if I had it my way, I would’ve just gone back to bed and called a re-do. Or I would’ve gone through a few drive throughs and eaten it all.
Instead, I’m sitting in my living room writing. I took the dogs for a short walk earlier. I did some reading for class. Right now, I’m wishing I could take a nap, but I know that won’t help anyone, especially me. And I’m trying to help me.
So I’m still here.
so, maybe you missed me. you probably didn’t – i don’t get that much traffic around these parts – but hey, a girl can dream. i’m here. i’m probably not supposed to be doing this even, but i’m here.
here is treatment. i’m currently in residental treatment for my eating disorder- we’re working on the eating thing, along with the depression (which was WAY WAY out of control, even for me) and anxiety that was starting to bubble out of control. it was to the point that i couldn’t see the forest for the trees. everything was fucked guys- nothing made sense. food, something i generally love, was a chore. nothing sounded good. nothing tastes good. nothing felt good. i didn’t want to do anything, to see anyone. i just didn’t want anything.
it’s kind of amazing what as little as a week can do. three meals a day, plus three snacks is fucking difficult. like stupidly so. like i feel like i’m always eating. but i’m feeling better. i wake up earlier. i feel better in the morning (aside from the stupid headache i get from everything being so dry here and not being able to keep water in my room). i’m starting to feel not so tired all the time. it’s kind of night and day-ish and it’s been a week.
i don’t know how long i’m in. could be a month, could be a couple of months. right now, i just kinda smile and nod and hope to get better.
because that’s what i need. i need to get better. i need to figure out who i really am and find out how to take control of my life.
so i’m working on it. if i get a little quiet, it’s because things here have just gotten hard. don’t worry. i’m still here.