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.
Showing posts with label hoarding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label hoarding. Show all posts
Monday, November 16, 2015
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
When ED comes to play...and the shame-ies and blame-ies come with him.
This morning, I answered the call of the online shopping site and the coupon code. I found on a favorite clothing website a coupon code for a BUY ONE, GET ONE 75% OFF. How was I to resist that? What followed was a series of four purchases (But with my debit card! I didn't use a credit card!), as I wanted to take full advantage of the savings and match up like-priced items so that the 75% item was enjoyed to the best of its potential. I first visited the site because they sent me a "We miss you!" email with a coupon code because OF COURSE THEY DID. They exploited my weakness. I forgot to unsubscribe from this particular site's emails. What I have not mentioned yet is that my budget this pay is so tight that I had to purposely put off a payment already scheduled to come out of my account the day it was due to a day after it is due (which will incur a late payment penalty) in order to "free up" the money to buy these items. And nowhere in my plan is the possibility of canceling these orders or returning the items. In my mind, I already own them and love them.
For some people, ED disguises himself by putting on a friendly, benevolent face and pretending to be a friend. However, my version of ED does NOT do that. My ED looks like this:
He is not my friend, and he does not pretend to be. He is dark. I can't see his face. And I am terrified of him because I know he is trying to kill me. He exploits every weakness he can find in me. And right now, he is filling me with shame and blame, and he is LOUD, and he won't SHUT UP. My brain is telling me that I should eat something healthy for breakfast that is good fuel for my body. But ED? Right now, ED is telling me that I don't deserve to eat anything good for me. In fact, he says I don't deserve to eat anything at all.
I don't know that I am strong enough to resist him today. It's hard not to listen to someone who holds so much power over you.
For some people, ED disguises himself by putting on a friendly, benevolent face and pretending to be a friend. However, my version of ED does NOT do that. My ED looks like this:
He is not my friend, and he does not pretend to be. He is dark. I can't see his face. And I am terrified of him because I know he is trying to kill me. He exploits every weakness he can find in me. And right now, he is filling me with shame and blame, and he is LOUD, and he won't SHUT UP. My brain is telling me that I should eat something healthy for breakfast that is good fuel for my body. But ED? Right now, ED is telling me that I don't deserve to eat anything good for me. In fact, he says I don't deserve to eat anything at all.
I don't know that I am strong enough to resist him today. It's hard not to listen to someone who holds so much power over you.
Friday, October 2, 2015
That little voice that encourages you to put yourself first...
This has been a rough couple of weeks. I have been forced to confront some things that I was more comfortable just allowing to float under the surface...but I found that allowing them to float under the surface meant that they were constantly trying to rear their heads. It became exhausting and later impossible to keep them hidden and quiet.
A large chunk of my history is missing from this blog, and I once thought it was going to be a narrative that started with when I first heard the words "eating disorder" applied to my own condition, continued through what I have done and learned so far, and then provided a way to track what I am up to now in regards to recovery and treatment and realizing that it just might be possible for someone (even me!) to be "enough." However, I see now that what I really need is a place to put my thoughts as I have them, a safe place (at least for now, as I don't think anyone is reading a random blog written under a pseudonym whose author has made no effort to publicize her writings) where I can let the words flow and not worry about someone I know reading them and later bringing them up in casual conversation.
Anyway, I am a shopping and spending addict. I also have an eating disorder, and these two things are related (as is often the case with eating disorders...co-occurring disorders and addictions run rampant in our community - I also am seeing a psychiatrist for treatment for depression - major, clinical, sometimes-I-can't-get-out-of-bed depression - and anxiety, the kind that is always there, a hum in the background as I go about my days). I first became aware maybe six months ago that I was seeing in myself some of the same signs I saw on TV or read about in books about hoarding and hoarders. My home is a cluttered mess. Cleaning is not my strong point. I have dust bunnies in the corners, items piled on my coffee table and dining table, dishes in my sink, outdated food in my refrigerator, shoes piled by the front door, and only one spot on the couch where there is room for me to sit...the rest of the couch is piled with my "stuff." I brought this information to my therapist, thinking I was sharing something new, and her response was kind of like ::blink, blink, silence, head-tilt, start-to-say-something, stop, blink:: and then, "Is this the first time you are realizing this?" And it was the first time that I was equating my behavior with those people on TV whose homes were in danger of being condemned. I knew I was what I referred to as a compulsive shopper. But, much like I had about my beliefs about my weight and food issues, I had always thought I just needed to find the "right" budget to follow, and I could fix things right up.
Recently, with some encouragement on the part of my therapist, I decided to add up all the money I owed to my credit card companies. And the number was shocking. I knew that I had been spending a lot, using money I did not have, but I did not realizing that my credit card debt was coming dangerously close to the $50K mark. I felt instant and all-encompassing shame. My therapist suggested I look into a debt management plan, and I balked. I am not the kind of person who cannot handle her debt. I don't DO consumer credit counseling programs. Those are for people who make stupid decisions. I could do this on my own! I could pay this off! I just had to stop spending! I was going to give it a good go! And then I found an online calculator that showed me that, if I took the route I was planning to take, it would take over 40 years for me to be debt free, and I would spend over $100K on interest payments. My interest rates were as high as 30%. I had paid for the actual amount of money I spent many times over. I was not going to be able to do this on my own. With a heavy feeling in my chest and more than one bad thought about myself, I emailed my therapist to let her know my decision (Her response: "I am so proud of you!" My thought: "What is there to be proud of?") and made a call. And enrolled in a debt management plan. After being told it looked like my two choices were that or bankruptcy because the math didn't add up with any other option.
So. No more credit cards. And no cushion because I have already had to empty my emergency fund to pay my rent a couple of months ago when even my cash spending got out of control. Nothing to fall back on. And I do have enough pride not to let myself get into a situation where I can't pay my bills. So I am on lockdown. I am tracking every dollar out and every dollar in. Once I am a few months into the plan, I should be able to create a little bit of an emergency fund, but for now, every dollar has to be considered and accounted for. I can't just go to Target and wander the aisles and look for that instant gratifier that might feel good for a moment but will hit me right where it hurts later on. My last mail-ordered item that I ordered before the credit cards went away arrived last week. I have nothing else lurking out there, waiting for the mail carrier or the UPS driver to bring it to my door. Every day this week, I have found myself approaching my front door and having to catch myself as I start to wonder what might be waiting for me that day. And every day, I have found myself feeling a deep sense of loss, as I remembered that would not be happening anymore.
However, I have to admit that not every feeling surrounding this process has been bad. I have reached out to some people I trust and shared with them my story, and I have been met with nothing but support (I have made a major effort not to share with people who I don't expect to be supportive, which is new and different for me because I have a history of indiscriminate oversharing). I have stopped ignoring what was a very big problem and taken steps to deal with it. And I find myself thinking, just every once in a while, that maybe I am good enough for this kind of self-care. Maybe I don't deserve only bad things because of the horrible things I have done or the awful person I am or the darkness that lurks inside of me or the real me that I am hiding from everyone who thinks she knows me. I am finding that there is a little, tiny, almost inaudible voice inside of me that would like me to put myself first and is encouraging me to do so. For today, I am going to try to listen to her.
A large chunk of my history is missing from this blog, and I once thought it was going to be a narrative that started with when I first heard the words "eating disorder" applied to my own condition, continued through what I have done and learned so far, and then provided a way to track what I am up to now in regards to recovery and treatment and realizing that it just might be possible for someone (even me!) to be "enough." However, I see now that what I really need is a place to put my thoughts as I have them, a safe place (at least for now, as I don't think anyone is reading a random blog written under a pseudonym whose author has made no effort to publicize her writings) where I can let the words flow and not worry about someone I know reading them and later bringing them up in casual conversation.
Anyway, I am a shopping and spending addict. I also have an eating disorder, and these two things are related (as is often the case with eating disorders...co-occurring disorders and addictions run rampant in our community - I also am seeing a psychiatrist for treatment for depression - major, clinical, sometimes-I-can't-get-out-of-bed depression - and anxiety, the kind that is always there, a hum in the background as I go about my days). I first became aware maybe six months ago that I was seeing in myself some of the same signs I saw on TV or read about in books about hoarding and hoarders. My home is a cluttered mess. Cleaning is not my strong point. I have dust bunnies in the corners, items piled on my coffee table and dining table, dishes in my sink, outdated food in my refrigerator, shoes piled by the front door, and only one spot on the couch where there is room for me to sit...the rest of the couch is piled with my "stuff." I brought this information to my therapist, thinking I was sharing something new, and her response was kind of like ::blink, blink, silence, head-tilt, start-to-say-something, stop, blink:: and then, "Is this the first time you are realizing this?" And it was the first time that I was equating my behavior with those people on TV whose homes were in danger of being condemned. I knew I was what I referred to as a compulsive shopper. But, much like I had about my beliefs about my weight and food issues, I had always thought I just needed to find the "right" budget to follow, and I could fix things right up.
Recently, with some encouragement on the part of my therapist, I decided to add up all the money I owed to my credit card companies. And the number was shocking. I knew that I had been spending a lot, using money I did not have, but I did not realizing that my credit card debt was coming dangerously close to the $50K mark. I felt instant and all-encompassing shame. My therapist suggested I look into a debt management plan, and I balked. I am not the kind of person who cannot handle her debt. I don't DO consumer credit counseling programs. Those are for people who make stupid decisions. I could do this on my own! I could pay this off! I just had to stop spending! I was going to give it a good go! And then I found an online calculator that showed me that, if I took the route I was planning to take, it would take over 40 years for me to be debt free, and I would spend over $100K on interest payments. My interest rates were as high as 30%. I had paid for the actual amount of money I spent many times over. I was not going to be able to do this on my own. With a heavy feeling in my chest and more than one bad thought about myself, I emailed my therapist to let her know my decision (Her response: "I am so proud of you!" My thought: "What is there to be proud of?") and made a call. And enrolled in a debt management plan. After being told it looked like my two choices were that or bankruptcy because the math didn't add up with any other option.
So. No more credit cards. And no cushion because I have already had to empty my emergency fund to pay my rent a couple of months ago when even my cash spending got out of control. Nothing to fall back on. And I do have enough pride not to let myself get into a situation where I can't pay my bills. So I am on lockdown. I am tracking every dollar out and every dollar in. Once I am a few months into the plan, I should be able to create a little bit of an emergency fund, but for now, every dollar has to be considered and accounted for. I can't just go to Target and wander the aisles and look for that instant gratifier that might feel good for a moment but will hit me right where it hurts later on. My last mail-ordered item that I ordered before the credit cards went away arrived last week. I have nothing else lurking out there, waiting for the mail carrier or the UPS driver to bring it to my door. Every day this week, I have found myself approaching my front door and having to catch myself as I start to wonder what might be waiting for me that day. And every day, I have found myself feeling a deep sense of loss, as I remembered that would not be happening anymore.
However, I have to admit that not every feeling surrounding this process has been bad. I have reached out to some people I trust and shared with them my story, and I have been met with nothing but support (I have made a major effort not to share with people who I don't expect to be supportive, which is new and different for me because I have a history of indiscriminate oversharing). I have stopped ignoring what was a very big problem and taken steps to deal with it. And I find myself thinking, just every once in a while, that maybe I am good enough for this kind of self-care. Maybe I don't deserve only bad things because of the horrible things I have done or the awful person I am or the darkness that lurks inside of me or the real me that I am hiding from everyone who thinks she knows me. I am finding that there is a little, tiny, almost inaudible voice inside of me that would like me to put myself first and is encouraging me to do so. For today, I am going to try to listen to her.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)