I wonder....

A post by Mile 191 got me to thinking. She mentions flirting with a male teacher at a young age and it triggered me remembering a story I wrote in 6th grade. I was....what...11 years old? Actually, I think I was 10 because it was the beginning of the school year. It was a writing assignment to describe something that happened over the summer. I wrote a very sexually charged story about something seriously inappropriate that happened with a 30 year old man, including drinking wine and other unsavory details. It never occurred to me at the time that it was wrong or disconcerting.....it was my reality. Manipulation and sex had been part of my life for many years at that point and I didn't give it a second thought.

~

It occurs to me, though.....Why didn't my teacher give it a second thought? If you were a 6th grade teacher and a student submitted such a story about drinking, sexual activity and older men....wouldn't you do or say SOMETHING?? This was almost 30 years ago....not like today when teachers have to be so ultra-careful of broaching any personal topics with their students. Even if she'd turned it over to the principal, nurse, guidance counselor or someone...anyone...to ask me if I was okay. In the back of mind, I wonder if maybe my parents were called about it and it was dismissed as a young girl with an overactive imagination. But I'll never know.

~

A few years later, my sophomore year in HS, I was a big time cutter. I used to lift Exacto blades from the graphics lab and slice up my wrists over and over and over. I often wore wrist bands (hey, it was the 80's) to cover the marks. But I also used to draw pictures of razor blades on my desk in every classroom I sat in with a caption "Choose Death" (Again...this was the 80's...remember the Wham! slogan of Choose Life). One teacher did approach me in a caring manner and asked me if I'd written that on the desk. Even though it was also written all over my notebooks, I said no, of course, and he let it go. None of my other teachers ever mentioned it.

~

I just wonder how loudly a child has to be screaming for help in order for an adult to hear it and react.

Tuesday Whinings

I left work early yesterday to meet the cable company at my house. My modem died over the weekend and they were supposed to come replace it last night. When they didn't show, I called them to hear they have me scheduled for Sunday 11/30 at 10am to fix my TV service. Um, ok. None too happy...but whatever. Managed to reschedule for tomorrow. Certainly can't go a long weekend with no internet.

~

I called my Mom at one point last night because I wanted her baking input. She's an amazing baker. Turns out she was baking also. Apple pie. For my brother's birthday. My brother, my abuser. I'd all but put it out of my mind that today is his birthday. Why did she have to remind me? And remind me that she will never accept what he did to me so she still bakes pies for him.....

~

**Possible SI Trigger Warning**

I'm really, really tired today. Like can't keep my eyes open tired. Was up late decorating cupcakes for Bianca's Thanksgiving party and then just couldn't fall asleep til late. I woke with one of my weird migraines where pain is a secondary factor; I was having severe nausea every time I moved and seeing shooting lights and auras when I opened my eyes. Took me a long time to pull myself together. I had a rough drive in. My commute is about an hour and I often fall asleep while I'm driving. There are a few things I do, most of them are unhealthy tactics, that keep me awake. This morning I opted for stabbing my arm with my T pin. I have to confess, I was out for blood this morning and it felt so good to feel that sharp point poke through my skin. There is a level that produces a pinpoint drop of blood and then there is a another level that makes it really start to bleed. I had a sense of urgency to create pain and see alot of blood today. I describe this in detail for the purpose of saying I haven't felt that way in quite some time. Usually the point of the SI in the car is more for staying awake than anything. This morning, not so. Staying awake was a good side effect but I was really desiring and needing to SI.

~

I joined a Yahoo Group for food addicts yesterday. I'm hoping it will serve as at least some sort of support for me. It's OA (Overeaters Anonymous) based and therefore focuses on the 12 step program. I have no concept of a Higher Power. I'm not ready to address my God-issues yet. And I don't know how to figure out what my HP is. Frankly, all I think of when I look at "HP" is Hewlett Packard, LOL!!! Seriously, though, it seems an integral part of the program and I feel like I need to identify what a HP will be for me before I can give it an honest try. Any suggestions on how I figure it out?

~

Got a call from the woman at Renfrew to say that she's talked my case over with her "team" and they are trying to determine the best course for me. She's placed a call to Susan, my T, and is waiting to hear back from her. I am confident that Susan will come in strong on my side of needing a group environment and be able to give some clarity to the emotional weight of my addiction. I may not hear any more til after the holiday, though. So...I wait.

Hello, Open Wound? Meet.......

Salt.

~

I made my last post on Friday evening after my workday was over and before I went to pick up Bianca. After the evaluation appointment, I'd had to shut down the emotions so I could function to drive, pick up Bianca and have my Mom over for dinner. Friday, I held it in all day, finally posting about it and then again, immediately shutting down so I could go about my night. Before I left work, I IMed my friend Jermaine. I told him I wasn't ready to talk details but I needed to just connect. This is part of my effort to do less isolating. Sure, he said, he would be home that evening. I told him I'd call him after Bianca went to bed. Which I did. He was in the midst of putting out an unexpected work fire. His company does international work so he's frequently working odd hours in order to interact with employees in other countries during their workday. He said he'd call me back when he had things under control. He text messaged me about an hour later and said he was still trying to finish up. I told him we'd just talk the following day....I was going to bed.

~

During the hour I was waiting, I went to use my computer. Figured I'd check back on my blog or maybe do some writing. And....my modem was dead. I called the cable company and they could only offer someone to come out this week and replace it. So...no internet connection to my cyber-support friends.

~
Saturday I had counseling in the morning. I told Susan (my T) that I wished I could just take all the info in my brain and upload it to hers because I SO didn't feel like talking about it all. We talked about the Renfrew experience and she was as unhappy as I was. She did say they are not the only option in the area if they can't work something suitable out for me. I just don't feel up to doing this again right now. Anyway, she said I had every right to feel disappointed or angry. But also to realize that the intensity this is hitting me with is my "old" stuff. It's old feelings of not being able to get help, of looking for assistance and not finding it. She asked me how old I felt. Interesting question. I was not able to answer. She said it's a valuable question to ask sometimes and can help with distinguishing if you're feeling "old" feelings. I felt entirely blank as I pondered that thought. I think my ages are all messed up. I think I have inner child issues surfacing but, when I was a child, I had such grown up problems and responsibilities. I don't know how old I feel at all. I talked to Susan about a dream I'd had the night before that followed no pattern at all to me. She said it was just a myriad of negative feelings and emotions....anger, rage, abandonment, fear, helplessness, etc. All the things I'd been supressing for the past 2 days.

~

The rest of Saturday was filled with errands and stuff. While out, I bought Bianca the movie Wall-E. Super cute, we watched it twice when we got home.

~

Sunday, I had to sing at church in the morning. Usually Jennie and I go out for breakfast after church. Last week she emailed me that she made plans with her niece so she wouldn't be able to do breakfast. Reaching out in hopes of being able to have a connection, I asked her if she could at least do coffee after church and she said sure. So we went to Starbucks and I told her I'd had a really rough week. I told her I was glad we were able to go out because I was trying hard not to isolate. Bianca was being a typical 4 year old. She wanted my attention, she was playing with a stuffed animal she brought with her. I was frustrated at one point because she was testing my patience with a particular potty issue that may be the death of me. And all of a sudden, Jennie goes off telling me that she thinks I spend too much time alone with Bianca and it's not healthy for me or for her. Telling me I need to have more adult time and should dump Bianca at my mother's house every other weekend so I can do things for me. Tells me that Bianca is too clingy because she won't leave me alone when I'm on the phone and giving me advice on what to do about that.

~

Jennie is my oldest and dearest friend. I value her input. But this was such extraordinarily bad timing, I was knocked flat on my back. I felt like everything I'd just said went right over her head about having had a bad week and needing to connect with my friends. I could tell it's something she's had on her mind for a while because the delivery was HARSH and abrupt. I started to cry and then she tried to soften it up a little saying "I don't know what I'm talking about, I'm not a parent", etc. But it was too late at that point. Bianca came over looking for my attention and I felt like Jennie was just waiting to see how I would handle it after she'd just given me her opinion on not catering to my daughter so much. I said I couldn't sit there and listen to any more of this and feeling like my parenting is being judged. And I told her I had to go.

~

I went into the weekend feeling low and wanting to reach out. Attempt #1 Jermaine, didn't work out. Attempt #2 Internet, no access. Attempt #3 Jennie, got verbally beat up. Just left feeling like reaching out for support is not so worthwhile for me.

Morbid

Morbid

Etymology: Latin morbidus diseased

1 a: of, relating to, or characteristic of disease

2: abnormally susceptible to or characterized by gloomy or unwholesome feelings

3: grisly, gruesome

Grisly

1 : inspiring horror or intense fear

2 : inspiring disgust or distaste

~

Whoever decided that the term "Morbid Obesity" was a good idea has alot to learn about sensitivity. Because, really, it's not enough that I struggle with this day in and day out? My self-esteem and body image are not in the toilet enough? So someone has to make sure that I'm equated with a word meaning diseased, unwholesome, grisly, gruesome and make certain I'm aware that I inspire horror, fear, disgust and distaste?

~

I had my intake assessment at The Renfrew Center (eating disorder clinic) yesterday. I was flipping out beforehand (see 2 posts down). I was chewing down my Rescue Remedy pastilles like m&ms. Renfrew in CT is located in a beautiful old home that's been redone to accomodate their function. Well, the home is currently under renovation so they had to temporarily relocate. If I'd not been to the other location in the past, I think I may have left once I got to this office. First off, it's in an office building and all the way in the back corner down a very narrow hallway that is like a maze. Suffocating and scary, particularly when I was already in panic mode. I get to the door and walk in. The entrance is cramped and tiny; it's stark. Decorated in an outdated contemporary style of silver and black with harsh light fixtures that cast pointed shadows on the wall, looking like devil horns atop each light. There is a girl sitting in one of the 2 waiting chairs that are smashed together in a corner. I'm not particularly feeling like being that close to another person at the moment so I stand at the counter. The shiny, cold, silver & black counter. One of the counselors comes out and calls the girl back. I'm standing there alone. No receptionist at the desk. I'm getting antsy.

~

A few minutes pass and my anxiety is climbing. I have a scheduled appointment. Why is there no one here? Why didn't the counselor say anything like "Someone will be right with you"? I'm invisible. I'm worthless. I'm not even good enough to acknowledge. I cough and clear my throat a bit, trying to make a little noise and hopefully alert someone that I'm there. My mind is racing. I have another Rescue Remedy as I fight the internal battle between reality and story telling. I walk to the hallway where the counselor came from and look, listen. "Hello?", I call out. Nothing. I pace, pulse escalating. I've had migraine symptoms for an hour now. Not so much the pain but visual auras, shooting lights and vertigo. I look at the emergency exit and think about making a run for it. No, no, I tell myself....I'm here to make a change in my life. Don't run away. I walk back over to the hallway that leads down to the offices and call out louder "Helllllooooo??" A moment later, a woman comes out and asks if she can help me. I tell her I've been standing there for 15 minutes. "You must be Kim" she says. Okaaay...so she's expecting me and still wasn't checking to see if I've arrived? Nice. Women come to this place to deal with a shameful disorder/addiction and you're going to leave them standing alone in a horrible little waiting room? No bell on the desk or anything? No sign?? The woman apologizes for my wait and then says "You should have come around the corner to find me." WTH?? I respond to her "Really? How would I have known to do that? There is no sign or anything to let me know that I shouldn't expect a person to be at the front desk." She gives me another apology and sets me up with paperwork to complete. On the first page of paperwork...."Emergency Contact" section which I leave blank. Because I have no one to contact.

~

LaurieAnn, the woman doing my evaluation, shows up a few minutes later. Her "usual" office isn't open so we're going to have our appointment in this corner office where I'm filling out paperwork. This horrible, dirty office that is irregularly triangular in shape, has one full wall of windows to the parking lot outside, has a glass door from which you can see the waiting area and 3 straightback uncomfortable chairs. I don't know about everyone else....but for me, I need a certain kind of warmth to my setting when I'm going to let down my guard and talk about my deepest, darkest fears, pain and secrets.

~

LaurieAnn tells me to get comfortable and I tell her that it's really not possible. There are too many unnerving things in my surroundings. I'm very much on edge. I'm not comfortable. I start to cry. I pull a second chair in front of me as a barrier because I feel so totally exposed and vulnerable. To her credit, LaurieAnn rearranges the room a bit to make it better for me. Not good, but better. We start with a couple easy questions. The interview questions are actually arranged quite well. Easy stuff, slip in a tough one, ease back up, more toughies. It went nicely back and forth so that it didn't remain intense for long periods of time. Not surprisingly (for me, anyway) was the ease in which I can discuss my "trauma history" as they call it. I can detach from that so easily to share the facts. The food issues were MUCH harder to talk about.

~

Last time I did this evaluation, the counselor first recommended that I attend the partial residential program which is daily, M-F, 9am-2pm. I told her there was no way I could do that because I'd miss work. So instead she said I could do the evening program, 3 nights a week from 6-8. In theory that sounds alright except, logistically, it just doesn't work. I'm willing to leave work early 3 days a week but I have no one to watch Bianca consistently. I don't have a support network. I don't have a sitter. Because of my past, I cannot leave her with someone I don't know and trust. My mother works evenings. We live an hour from her daycare and 90% of the teachers don't have cars so they are out of the question for babysitting. By the way, the 10% who DO have cars are Moms themselves which is why they are not able to babysit. I have one neighbor who I would trust but she has 2 kids with a 3rd on the way and her kids bedtime is well before I would be home to pick up Bianca. My friend Jennie would be good except, again, distance...she lives 45 minutes away....but also her work schedule. She's not done at work til 7-8 at night. I could drop her off at Jennie's parents house because they are like grandparents to her. But that would mean leave work to get Bianca, drive 30 minutes to drop her off there, drive an hour southwest to Renfrew, then an hour back northeast to get Bianca and then 45 minutes back west again to home. Which would mean not getting home til 10:00 three nights a week and that is too much for her. Also, I'd have to quit choir during this time since one of the night meetings is on a Tuesday and, finally, there would be 3 nights a week I would have virtually no time with my daughter. Nothing more than the car ride.

~

In any case, LaurieAnn says at the end of our meeting that she's going to recommend the evening program for me. I tell her I can't do that due to childcare issues and I really need the day program. Well, she tells me....the day program is now only for anorexics and bulimics. I feel like the room is closing in around me and my knees get weak. All I can think is "Oh my God, even in a supposed safe place where they help women with eating disorders, I'm still the freak." I don't belong. Because I'm the fat one. The Morbid one.....stay away from her. She's not welcome....she's gruesome. I am not entitled to the same healing that they are. I am relegated to the cast off night group. The group I can't attend, anyway, because my life is a fucking shambles with no one in my support system. And now I see why....because this is what happens when I reach out for help. I'm slapped away and put back in my place to deal with it on my own. I begin to cry and shake. LaurieAnn grabs a chair for me (we'd moved into a different room at this point) so I don't pass out or something. She asks me what I'm thinking and I just blurt "I can't have gone through all this again for nothing. I can't do the night group and I just went through all of that again.....for nothing....AGAIN!"

~
She tells me that she will talk to the other counselor and see what they can come up with; that maybe it's as "simple" as me just seeing a nutritionist. FFS, woman....I don't need someone to tell me what to eat. I already know that. I don't want a one on one. I need the support of a group because isolation is such a HUGE factor in my addiction. I need to learn how to change my emotional relationship with food. If you think giving me a copy of the food pyramid and weekly weigh-in's is the answer to all of this, then you don't deserve to be working at an eating disorder clinic.

~

I had to run out of there because I was late to pick up Bianca. At the beginning of the interview with her, she asked me a list of questions about my moods and feelings. She asked me if I felt hopeless and I said no, that if I felt like there was no hope then I would not be there trying to make a change for the better. Well, after the way our meeting ended, I told her that I changed my mind because now I *DO* feel hopeless. I feel like I spilled all my heart and guts to this perfect stranger and then she went "Psyche! We can't really help you! But thanks for all the juicy details of your lowest moments in life!" I feel like there will never be an answer for this. I feel alone and isolated, ashamed, humiliated. Alone. And if I didn't already say it....I feel alone. The worst part of that is that I don't want to be alone but it's the only thing that feels safe right now. My safe little prison of solitude.

no words

I fear if I say a word right now, the tears will begin and they will not stop until I fall apart completely. So I hold them inside, as tightly as I can until........??

I'm freakin' out a bit.....

I'm going to be leaving soon for my evaluation at the Renfrew Center (Eating Disorder Clinic) and I'm having a minor panic situation.

~

Trying hard just to breathe and stay calm.

~

I don't recall being so nervous the first time I did this. Maybe because I didn't know what to expect. Maybe because I was up in the air about treatment. Whatever the reason....send some calming vibes my way. I need them.

~

I will post about my appointment later or tomorrow. Right now, I can hardly breathe.

Being Human

How I detest being human. Can you imagine a more ridiculous thing for me to waste my energy on? Trying to figure out how not to be confined to human limitations? It occurs to me as I get off on a tangent of lamenting these limitations that there is absolutely no way in hell that I will ever love, value, respect and accept myself in this life until I can QUIT trying to find a way around being what I am really fortunate enough to be. A human being.

Yet I despise.......

I despise.....

Emotions

Hurts, emotional or physical

Requiring nourishment

Desires

Needing human contact

Physical limitations

Needing sleep

Bodily functions of any kind

Not knowing the answer to any and every question

Being subject to criticism

Making mistakes

Having to deal with any sort of ambiguity

Not being 100% on top of every single thing in life, at home, at work

Feeling like a failure at anything

Questioning my value as a person, a friend, a parent

Judging and feeling judged

Getting sick

Hearing my voice

Disappointing anyone at anytime

Not being able to do everything for everyone at a moment's notice

It must be perfect. Every single thing I do.

Every single.....

Word from my mouth

Action I take

Parenting choice

Meal I cook

Project I undertake

Advice I give

Sentence I type

Photo I snap

Choice I make

Mile I drive

Song I sing

Story I write

Game I play

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.

I know I cannot be. I know I am not. Yet I'm still driven by this desire to somehow find the key that unlocks the ability to achieve the impossible. How do I let go of this? How do I find self-acceptance? How do I come to believe that it's okay to be just what I am? It's not like I'm fooling anyone. I'm fairly sure there is no one on this planet who looks at me and thinks I am soo put together and fabulous that I must not even be human!!?!?! So what drives me to keep feeling this way?

Oh my god....it's the inability to be. To just be. When I stop hating myself for being something that I know I will never be then I will have to live with myself as I am and accept that. And it's the feeling that I need to be tormented by something, that I don't deserve peace. That is why I can't let it go. It's not that I can't accept my lack of perfection. It's that I spend my energy fretting over a desire wholly futile to keep my brain from resting and getting to know myself as I actually AM. And to say it's okay. Despite the messages that were programmed into my psyche so early in life, I don't have to be any more than I am. Go figure.