Malfunction. Need input.

One thing that I do a lot is "should" on myself. You know...I should eat more vegetables. I should take up running. I should go to yoga more often. It has been pointed out to me that this is not productive but can instead cause guilt and shame. Looking into what Dr. Google has to say about this, I found that "shoulding yourself" is a cognitive distortion that was first described by a psychologist named Clayton Barbeau. It basically often results in procrastination, as we try to "nag" ourselves into doing something. However, it can also take other forms (I should lose weight. I should stop spending so much money. I should vacuum my home. I should do the dishes. I should call the repairman about that broken appliance.), and it's more often the other forms that come to roost in my brain.

Something that I am really struggling with right now is maintaining basic, at-home, adult functionality. I do a passable job at work and school. I show up, I act like an adult, I interact with others, I get the job done, and I sometimes even excel. However, at home? I had my whirlwind cleaning frenzy before the repairmen came the other week. But things are starting to pile up again. I made a promise that I would stop unnecessary spending, and I have kind of done that, but I have let a few things slip through. I have not been eating to fuel my body, and as a result, I don't feel well. I am achy. My GI system is out of whack. I have headaches. I am tired.

There are also some things that I put off, knowing that I will feel "better" if I do them, but without that being enough drive to get me going. One of these things (more grossness...this one makes me feel like I am such a failure at adulthood) is showering as often as I "should." I know that a morning shower wakes me up and gives me an opportunity to feel fresh and clean throughout the day. I also know that, more often than not, although I set my alarm to give me plenty of time to fit this into my morning schedule, I often take a look in the mirror, tilt my head, decide I can get away for one more day without washing my hair, and spend that extra time on the Internet, mostly playing a variety of Facebook games. Another thing that always makes me feel better and more put-together is wearing make-up...and I have been averaging perhaps two days a week (and that number might actually be high) of doing that. But putting make-up on everyday takes all of five minutes. I "should" be able to fit that in. And on my days off...getting dressed in real clothes makes me more likely to spend the day relatively productively. Staying in my pajamas or staying in whatever workout clothes I wore to the gym that morning makes me more likely to while away the hours between wake up and bedtime sitting on the couch, surrounded by my time suck materials and wondering how long it has been since I got up to go to the bathroom. So those are three VERY CLEAR, VERY SIMPLE things that I could be doing to become less of an adult-ing dropout. But sometimes even those three things feel like impossible goals.

Hearkening back to the days of childhood, I am working on developing for myself a "chore chart." Daily goals will include showering, putting on make-up, wearing real clothes, eating three meals, drinking enough water, cleaning the dishes out of the sink, balancing my checkbook, and putting my clothes away. Non-daily goals will include physical activity (three times per week), vacuuming (weekly), paying my bills (weekly), grocery shopping (weekly), and cleaning outdated food out of the refrigerator (weekly). I have star stickers. I have a kids' reward chart for said stickers. I have an idea that maybe this visual representation of what some (very small) part of me wants to do as a path to rejoining society will help me end the endless loop of "I should" in my head and replace it with "I did." It shouldn't be that hard to turn the shower on and stand under the spray. But sometimes, to me, it's an impossible task and one that I put off for one more (and then one more after that and after that) day.

Turkey and sales and family, oh my!

And here it is, Black Friday, thought by some to be the busiest shopping day of the year (unless you have ever worked in retail, in which case you know that the busiest shopping day of the year is the Saturday before Christmas, unless that day is Christmas Eve, in which case it is the Saturday before that). And here it is, also, the day after Thanksgiving, a day filled with food and fun and family. It's like a one-two punch.

So if you have an eating disorder, Thanksgiving is a mine field dotted with triggers and good intentions. "Oh, look how good you look! You have lost so much weight!" (Yes, I have been starving myself. Thanks for noticing.) "Wow, you look so healthy!" (Yep, weight restoration worked, but now that you mentioned that, I think I will go back to restricting tomorrow.) "Why are you eating so little? Wow, you can sure pack it away! So now you're a vegetarian? Good for you!" Any comment can wake up the beast that we call ED. We might enter the dining room intent on enjoying our food and tasting everything we put in our mouths and stopping when we are full so that we don't have to hate ourselves later. But then the meal is over, and we aren't sure where the time went, and our plates are empty, and we are looking around to make sure we didn't eat everything, and that warm flush of shame makes its way up our chest and to our face, but it's easy to blame that on the wine.

And then, as a reward for getting through that day, you wake up the next day on Black Friday. Sales are EVERYWHERE. Maybe you will just LOOK. Check out the deals. There might be something that you "need." After all, Christmas is coming, and you have some gifts to buy. So you hit up one popular website, and there are deals galore. So you fill your shopping basket, mostly with things you don't really need. One of the things is a gift, but you have to spend $50 to get free shipping! So you fill the basket with a few more things to meet that goal...and just as you are about to hit "buy," you remember that you have made a promise not to shop. Cold turkey, remember? So you delete everything and close the web browser.

But then you think of something that you have been looking for, something that you could probably argue you need. And maybe the deal today will be worth making the purchase. There is a bit of wiggle room in the budget. The cable bill can be paid a couple of days late. So you make the purchase...a $200 item that will be here in two days. Amazon! Love it! Another great thing about Amazon...they have a "cancel" button. So nine minutes later, you are back on the website, cancelling that order because, although you do eventually need to make that purchase, it does not have to be today. And the deal is not really that great.

I wish I could say that all of my shopping endeavors went that well today. However, instead of spending $400 on stuff that I really didn't need to order today, I kept it to under $100, and I bought a couple of gifts, and I should still be able to pay my cable bill on time, so I guess that is a draw, even if it's not a win.

Anyway, that's a peek at the last two days of life as someone with an eating disorder and a compulsive spending disorder who is supposed to be avoiding all shopping (cold turkey!) and whose eating disorder has risen strong as a response to that plan. So the expectation is that I am working on changing my thoughts and behaviors and moving toward recovery. The reality is that I am back at home on my couch, hermit-ing the rest of the night away and wondering how I will make it through the rest of this festive season relatively intact. And wondering if this is something that I will talk about in therapy this week or if it might be time just to start "I'm fine"-ing everyone again.

Post-therapy thoughts...

I see my therapist once a week, and I often (always?) find myself with a LOT to think about when I leave her office. This week, she was fresh from a conference at an area eating disorders treatment facility and had some new resources to share with me, which the science and research nerd in me really enjoys. I think a part of me thinks that if I can learn enough about my eating disorder and related issues, I can wrestle it to the ground and kick the shit out of it and send it on its way.

However, right now, ED is going strong. One of my goals on my latest treatment plan is to be honest about my behaviors, and I mostly meant that to be with my therapist, but I think it's also probably important for me to honest with myself. I have been semi-restricting to restricting lately (my low days are in the 500 net calories range, with days ranging all the way up to 1200 calories net, and most of them hanging somewhere in the middle), so that was a big topic in therapy this week. I have referenced before in this blog that I know that ED is trying to kill me, so when the conversation turned to the fact that what I was doing is dangerous and could eventually lead to death, the first thought that came to my mind and right out of my mouth was, "I feel like it is worth the risk."

For what feels like my entire life, the goal has been to be skinny(er). In high school, I weighed about 80 pounds less than I do now, and I felt big and fat and conspicuous...but I can look back in photos and see I was not. When I was a child, I was taller than the other kids, and I had a lot of "baby fat" that my mom said I would lose once I hit puberty (I am still waiting for that "baby fat" to disappear.). I can't remember a time when I was not aware of being one of the bigger kids (even if the pictures I see of me as a child don't support that belief), and my entire adulthood has been one long battle with my weight.

A popular topic right now in the eating disorders community is the Health At Every Size (HAES) movement, which seeks to show people that it's not the size of their bodies that matter, that they can be larger and still be healthy. I can't wrap my head around HAES, however. I canNOT accept that the size of my body is "okay" and that I should not keep trying to change it. I understand, cognitively, that restrictive food behaviors lead to bingeing. I get that. I have lived it. And I have always said that I would never say to someone with anorexia, "Man, I wish I could do what you do." In fact, once, when in group, my therapist brought up this topic, and when asked if I was jealous of a then-member of the group who did restriction "better" than I did, I vehemently denied it. But as my desperation for a smaller body grows, and as my desire to have SOMETHING in my control increases, I do find myself wishing that I could do just that. HAES does not seem like an option for me. This body is NOT okay. I can't imagine ever accepting it as such.

I appreciate that there is someone out there who cares enough about me to want me to eat. And I am willing to make an attempt to "normalize" things a bit. But ED has me convinced that is not true, and I don't always  have the energy to ignore him right now.

Itchy

I am finding myself itching to spend money. On stuff. Stuff that seems like a need but probably (definitely) still falls in the "wants" category. I have perused a few shopping sites, added a couple of things to wishlists, but that is definitely not a replacement for shopping.

I look at my bank balance, and it is VERY CLEAR that I have NO MONEY with which to shop. None. I have enough in there to cover a bill that may or may not be paid in time by my DMP this month (which means I will be able to pay it if their payment does not clear on or before its due date, so YAY!), as well as enough money to pay two of three co-pays I have coming up before I get paid again. I also have a package on its way to back to one of my favorite clothing retailers because I made the wise decision that I didn't need the sweater and pair of pants that it contained. So will that money come through soon? Will it be before the end of this pay period? And what should I do with it? If it does come through, it offers me just enough comfort to think that it might be okay to treat myself to a little something. But I promised that I would stick to this shopping fast, and I don't want to go back on a promise. Man, it's busy up here in my head.

Update...I adult-ed!

I managed to make a phone call to have a repair made. I didn't even rely on email! I can't say I feel proud of myself because that was such an overreaction to something so benign. But the relief? It's overwhelming. 

Not doing such a great job of adult-ing...

I am in kind of a deep shame spiral right now, and it all has to do with a lack of functionality as an adult in some aspects of my life. There is something in my home that needs to be repaired right now. It will not cost me anything to repair it. Being without it is a major inconvenience and has resulted me needing to come up with creative ways to fulfill some very basic daily activities. However, I also look around my home and see nothing but a mess...the kind of mess that caused me to believe I fit the definition of a hoarder. And that leaves me paralyzed...unable to make the call that will result in this repair being accomplished. I have done some frantic "cleaning" this afternoon, in an attempt to make things passable enough that repairmen can come in without me being afraid of their judgment (and I do recognize that there is a very real chance that they will not give a flying fuck what my home looks like), and I think that if I vacuum and then close all the doors to the bedrooms and the bathroom (under the guise of locking up my pets because that also will have to happen for someone to come in but mostly to hide what a shithole it is in here), I may be able to bring myself to send an email tomorrow alerting the maintenance service to the issue and setting up a time for them to come in and deal with it.

I also continue to hang out on some pro-Ana sites, and one thing about hanging out on social sites filled with people who feel very much the same as you do about themselves is that you learn all kinds of other fun ways in which you can be reminded of what a mess you are. I was introduced this week to a word that I did not even know was A Thing, but it was not only A Thing, but it was A Thing That I Do. The word is "dermatophagia," and if you know anything about the roots that make up a word, you know what that means, and yes, it is as gross as it sounds. I asked my therapist quite a long time ago about the condition "dermatillomania," which is similar to trichotillomania, which is the compulsive pulling out of one's hair. I definitely am someone who picks at my skin, especially around my cuticles (although I used to do this on all my fingers and am able to limit it now just to my thumbs), and I thought it was a leftover habit from when I used to bite my nail, but now the idea that it is more than that has taken hold and is doing a great job of fueling my anxiety (which does not need help, really).

So this is not about me self-diagnosing (which is also sometimes A Thing That I Do), but it is about getting an idea out there and mulling it over and deciding whether to investigate it further. I get a little touchy about that because my psychiatrist once asked me, when I asked her about the possibility of me having some OCD-type behaviors, if I thought perhaps I was someone who wanted to have a lot of psychiatric disorders. But I am pretty sure that I don't have a large audience out there, so I guess that disclaimer is for myself...mostly.

Pocket full of kryptonite

So if you are someone with "food issues," you are probably well aware that there are these things we call "triggers" out there that can lead you to overeat, undereat, binge, purge, restrict, overexercise, or what have you, depending on your particular "preferred" behaviors. For me, I know things are not going to go well if I am going to some sort of social function. When I go to any kind of get-together, ED comes along, dressed to the nines, putting on his charming face, and he will not leave me alone.

"Oh, look, M&Ms. You LOVE those! Why don't you have some? You have been being so goooood."

"Those Hershey's kisses are special! They aren't just the regular old foil ones. Have some! You deserve them."

"Now, someone went to the trouble of making that cake. You can't just refuse a piece. That would be rude, and I know you don't like to make waves. You better have just a little slice."

"And make sure you clear your plate! You don't want to seem ungrateful...wait, is that kettle corn? When is the last time you let yourself have some of that? Better take the opportunity while you have it!"

Needless to say, my night last night did not go well.

I came home, feeling stuffed and bloated. I had heartburn (I still have heartburn). I was weighted down with shame. And I am determined to have a better day today.

Unfortunately, the only "better" that I can come up with at the moment is a day of extreme restriction. Water and carrot sticks and maybe a yogurt. Not a health balance...but what do I know about balance? All or nothing...that is my game.

I think that is why ED likes to spend so much time here with me. He has no trouble knocking me off balance, and which direction I go in each day is totally up to him.

Neurobiology

So the other day I got an email from my therapist that said something like this: "I want us to talk tomorrow about the neurobiology of the trauma response." She has said more than once that, while someone who has experienced a very clear event such as abuse or rape or homelessness in their past is usually seen as someone has definitely experienced trauma, it is also true that subtle, insidious events can also add up to lead to one big issue. When she first mentioned this to me, I was very resistant to the idea. After all, I had a good childhood, never wanting for anything material and from an intact family. I was raised with my one sister, and we took family vacations together to popular family spots. We went to college, on my father's dime, and we were given the opportunity to take dance lessons and go to summer camp and take part in extracurricular activities. It was your basic Generation X childhood.

So why did I spend so many years unable to cry? Why, when someone reached out to hug me, did I feel like I was doing it "wrong?" Why have I always let myself get swallowed up in relationships? Why can't I identify my emotions when I am experiencing them? Why do I feel like I have a vortex within me that I am trying to fill with food and stuff and internet games? Why do I feel about myself the way I do?

My therapist: "I think your amygdala is jacked up." So for those who don't know, the amygdala is a little walnut-sized part of the brain that is responsible for, among other things, emotional learning and reactions. As I usually do when something like this is introduced in therapy, I headed into the research to see what the "experts" have to say about this idea. Some studies have suggested that the size of the amygdala may be increased in cases of childhood trauma, as well as its reactivity. In addition, the corpus callosum, which is the primary pathway between the left and right hemispheres of the brain have been shown to be affected by such experiences. This can diminish the integration between the left and right hemispheres of the brain, which means that someone who is predominantly right-brained (which I believe I am) does not have her right brain as well-integrated with the left brain, which affects emotional regulation and expression.

Okay, so the research seems to say that she has a point. Jacked up amygdala. Diminished corpus callosum. Lots of thinking. Not so much with the feeling. Insidious, subtle happenings from childhood adding up to what has become a big problem. I come from a family of internalizers. We don't "do" emoting. We don't do communicating, either. We don't do hugging or comforting or feelings. We do grudges and judgment and passive aggressive behaviors. We do white lies. We do shame.

So the other thing my therapist said this week is that maybe we have been doing things a little bit in the wrong order. Maybe the neurobiology has to be addressed before things can get "better." Because right now, things don't feel better. Right now, things feels really, really hard. The money stuff is hard. The food stuff is hard. The emotions are hard because they are coming to the surface, and I am spending some of my time trying not to numb them, and feeling them sometimes feels excruciating. I am trying to stay busy roughly 99% of the time, but when I am in her office or in our group therapy sessions, when I am somewhere safe with people I trust, the emotions demand to be felt. And I am fortunate to have a little village who makes that possible for me.

Cold Turkey

As I recall, I have mentioned in the past that I have a lovely therapist (and I don't just say that because she is an occasional reader of this blog) with whom I am fortunate to spend time once each week for individual therapy and every other week for group therapy focusing on adults with eating disorders. In addition, I am fortunate that my employer provides a health care plan at minimal cost to me that does not place a limit on how many times I can access mental health services such as outpatient therapy in a calendar year. Seeking help in this manner has been life changing for me.

Anyway, it turns out that it is really hard to adjust to life without credit cards. My creditor accounts have been enrolled in a debt management plan, and all of my credit card accounts are closed. And I thought this would mean that I magically would stop spending money. After all, I believe I have said that I have enough self-respect not to allow myself to fall into financial ruin. Clearly, not having credit cards means that I will have to change my spending habits, but I can do it! I am an adult! This is what adults do!

So this week I was overdrawn on my checking account. I paid out NINETY DOLLARS in overdraft fees before I was able to come up with a plan (which involved a Coinstar machine and an old savings bond) to get my account back in the black. I was furious with myself. I had "allowed" myself some shopping after a stressful day, even though I know I have no safety net. My credit cards are gone. My savings account is empty, save for the money required to keep the account open. In a particularly low moment, I emailed my therapist because I needed to share with SOMEONE how absolutely awful and scary things were seeming to me. 

At our individual session this week, we talked about the shopping and the spending. And she asked me to consider giving up shopping. Cold turkey. Abstinence. No trips to the Target Dollar Spot. No Zulily orders. No Old Navy orders or Amazon purchases. No celebrating the arrival of my paycheck in my bank account with a special little treat. No shopping for wants. Using my money only for needs.

So. 

This feels impossible. It feels like my "favorite" coping mechanism is being taken from me. I am an online shopper and tell myself I love it. The thrill of the chase, comparing prices, placing the order, waiting for the package to arrive in the mail. It's a rush. I am sure it is lighting up the same pleasure centers in the brain that so many other addiction behaviors do. 

However, it also feels like my only option. Left to my own devices, I seem to be intent on destroying myself. My relationship with food is all or nothing. I am either eating to excess or eating not enough at all. My finances are a major source of stress and shame. The people with whom I feel I can share the details of my struggle are few and far between. And when my therapist asks me to name my emotions as I sit crying in her office, the only one I can come up with is "sad." I hate myself. And I punish myself by engaging in behaviors that could land me in real trouble. And then I present the story in writing, sounding (and feeling) like I am talking about the events in someone else's life...all while wondering how I will regulate my emotions without a trip to Target or a perusal of Nordstrom's website. 

So...cold turkey. I believe her when she says I need to do this. But I am not sure how I will be able to...

 

So this is how yesterday went...

Binge eating? Check!

Shopping? Check!

Self-loathing? Shame? Anger? Check! Check! Check!

Ugh. 

So yesterday, I had my plan to restrict all day because I knew that my ability to control myself at dinner was not going to be promising. And then I took a wander down to the cafeteria, with $2 in pocket to "try a little something." And then I walked back to my work space to get my debit card because "FOODCAFETERIAFOODNOMNOMEATEATEAT!" And that involved some food that was not part of my "plan." And a big dessert. And the stage was set for the rest of the day. 

I finished my workday...and headed to Target. And clothing was on sale for 25% off because of course it was, and I became like a kid in the candy store. I even reached out via text to a trusted friend to tell her that I was in Target, and that was not enough to stop me from releasing the shopping beast. 

And then I left Target and went right to Old Navy. 

So I was (am) already thinking about how much of a screw up I am. And then I proved it to myself by giving in to ED and spending money. 

Oh, and I forgot to mention the cookies I bought at Target to continue to feed the beast. 

Dinner was a feast. There was an appetizer. There was a meal. There were fries. There was alcohol. There was dessert. There was self-loathing. There was shame. 

There was a Xanax waiting for me at the end of the day. There was quiet in my mind. There was sleep. 

Today is another day to continue trying to trigger myself back into restriction. 

I have never met a cafeteria I didn't like...

So here I am, feeling kind of smug because, "Haha, ED, I know you like it when I stuff myself with food, but I am NOT doing that right now." But today brought with it a land mine. Dinner out. Somewhere nice. Where I have not been before. 

I carefully packed my food for today. Baby carrots. One serving of cereal. An apple. Sugar-free Jello. A lite yogurt. Yep, it feels good to have a plan. Tonight might get dicey, but the time leading up to then? Totally under control. 

Ahem. 

So then I made the mistake of going to the cafeteria. I am not working in my usual building today, so I have not been in this cafeteria before. And I have long had a love for cafeterias. I used to live in a state where we had public cafeterias where you could go to eat (early versions of an Old Country Buffet, kind of), and eating there was a treat. So I went to the cafeteria to buy something small...and ended up buying an entire meal. And dessert. 

Dammit. 

And the familiar feeling is back. You already screwed up. You are a pig...no wonder you are so fat. You might as well just eat whatever you want tonight. What else did you expect from yourself?

I hear you, ED. I hear you. 

This is not what recovery looks like...

I was changing my clothes the other day and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and well, ugh. I know what the number on the scale says, and I know I am not supposed to be so concerned about what the number on the scale says, and when my body is covered with clothes, I can almost believe for very brief moments of time on occasion that being fat is not the end of the world, but then I do something like see myself unclothed in the mirror and realized that is not actually true (at least for me, at this moment). And wouldn't you know it? ED is right there at my side in those moments, ready to stick his claws into me and exploit that moment and turn it into...whatever he feels like this week.

So this week, ED agrees with me. I am fat. And that is the most important feature about me right now. ED doesn't care if I am working hard or being a good friend or enjoying the nice weather or getting plenty of sleep at night. ED cares about the following:

• what I weigh.
• what I look like.
• what I eat.
• what I don't eat.

ED doesn't want me to do things that are going to make me feel better about myself. ED wants me to stay stuck, sitting on my couch, with him over in the corner, surrounded by the stuff that I can't be bothered to clean up, putting work that has to get done off to the very last minute. And he has the power this week! I have a project to do. It has to be done this afternoon. I have just barely started it. My home is a mess. I have been "going to vacuum" for about two weeks now. I have not vacuumed. I am trying as hard as I can to trigger myself back into restricting, which means spending a lot of time on pro-ana sites (which I had promised myself I would not do anymore) so I can read all about how people are eating nothing and try to emulate them (day three and counting! and a water weight loss of over 5 pounds!)! I am weighing myself, even though I know the scale is triggering. I am tracking every bit of food that goes into my body, and any time I have to give someone an accounting of what I am eating, I am padding the numbers to make it look like I am not restricting.

I think my ultimate plan in all this is that ED will "help" me lose weight (let me check back in with you next week when he has me eating my face off), and I will use therapy and meds to figure out the why behind my eating, and then everything will be wrapped up in a neat little package all at the same time, and I will find myself both (a) skinny(er) and (b) mentally and emotionally healthy! And I will continue maintenance meds and maintenance therapy, and ED will get up on his black horse and ride off into the sunset because I won't need him anymore.

I am aware that this is probably not how things will turn out. But for today, I need to believe it anyway.