I wrote this blog post in my head at the gym today, whenever I start writing in my head it makes me happy. It means I'm inspired and feelings some feels. Writing to me isn't a choice, it's involuntary. I haven't felt, or been inspired to write in a very long time. Thank you in advance for reading.
This post comes starts with a tantrum about my body image via my Instagram story spat out by my three favorite authors: eating disorder, shame and sadness.
This morning I woke up puffy, swollen like usual. Seems to be one of the many fun responses my body has to me turning 30 (whether I've been drinking the night before or not (last night not)). As I walked around the house I was painfully aware of a little extra something above my waistline, my armpits seemed puffy and my legs flabby. Now you can't fake this, this isn't a scale or a number, it's how I feel. I try to push it aside as I go about my day attempting to get my life together (and today went better than most) but I am constantly being nagged by these "fat feelings."
As the day progresses with bigger stresses and more emotions my eating disorder jumps to the rescue. Distracting me with thoughts: despising every blonde, tan, 21 year old girl spending her parents' money on 23rd. Getting me to pine over photos of my old figure I had taken for granted, the figure I had before I was fired, picked up a drinking problem, and a whole other batch of destructive behaviors. It helped me push away friends compliments with "the truth" of what I look like, shaming myself before they can (like they ever would).
My wise mind fought to combat my eating disorder but it was no match. Feeble attempts at "you're doing the best you can." "Every healthy choice gets you closer to your goal." "Being mean to yourself doesn't make you any skinnier." Angry as ever I go into the locker room at my gym, I stare at myself in the mirror. I see my fat face, my flabby arms, my thick thighs and I want to scratch and tear at myself until there's nothing left or cry. Both is accurate. I tell myself I am disgusting. I go through my routine avoiding everyone's eyes non-verbally telling them I know what I look like, how far I've let myself go, how ashamed I am. I compare myself to every fit girl in there, ignoring of course the other girls that are also out of shape.
I hate these girls and yet I so badly want to be them. I workout with such anger and energy subconsciously attempting to lose all the weight and gain all the tone in this hour and a half. As I start to lose my intensity my wise mind comes back, those thoughts I said before surface. I see that my eating disorder is back not just because I feel out of shape (and honestly guys I'm not fat, I know that but I'm in the worst shape of my life), it's back because it's trying to distract me from something, help me cope with something.
Early today I wrote down all my bills and debt and lack of income. I have not faced what I've done to my finances over the past year until today and fuck is it bad. As I cooled down I realized that that's what it's trying to help me deal with (classic): the feeling of being out of control.
I have been pretty quiet about what my life has been like since being let go twice in a year and my depression the worst it's ever been and it's not helping. The moment I reached out yesterday and said yo I'm kind of scared and need help you guys sent me texts and messages of encouragement, understanding and love. Until I get on my feet again I'm going to be more vocal about my drinking, my eating disorder, my debt but also my successes and hope. Because as I was so brutally reminded of today: positive reinforcement changes behavior for the better, criticism stabilizes negative behavior and blocks change.
Thursday, August 16, 2018
Thursday, May 24, 2018
Looking Up
The other day I wrote in tears, demoralized and in the worst depression I've been in (which is saying something because I didn't think it could get any worse) since losing my job in November. I think the other day I got it all out of me. Now that's not to say I'm fixed, because this mental health issue is a slippery slope and I could be back there tomorrow if I delve into my ineffective behaviors (booze, food and dudes). I usually end up doing this when I am feeling happy and like I'm on my feet again, it's like oh okay I got this, I can have a drink, I can stay out until 5 am, oh a piece (or entire) of pizza is "safe". But I've been through this cycle enough over the past 6 months to finally be aware and determined enough to not go back into it.
Since my last post where I purged all day, hid from the world and drank by myself I have done little things to "not make it worse." I hold so much shame that I'm in such a dark, broke, unhealthy, lonely place in my life that I freeze. You'd think I'd want to make it better, it'd motivate me to get out of it, but if any of you know anything about depression, you know it's not like that. I literally have a fear of going outside, maybe because I have to face the world. Seemingly it's easier to stay in my room and hide until I can get better, be good enough to go out there again.
I was able to challenge that thought after the really bad day. When I purge or drink I can finally feel again, and I hadn't noticed this until recently that my depression is in a way of protecting me from feeling all of the overwhelming feels that I'm petrified of. So the other day, while really hard on my body, was the only way I knew how to cope and start feeling again. If that makes sense. THIS is why it's so important for me to get back into the DBT program I was in and seeing my therapist. However OHP is a real bitch and I'm in middle of appealing their denial for treatment.
WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT IS THAT? It takes me so much effort to reach out and be like yo I can't handle my life on my own right now and I'm drowning, can you help? And I'm told I'm not messed up enough to get help.
Oh man my mind is all over. So basically I purged literally and figuratively all of the sadness and shame out the other day and woke up being like damn, I don't want to live like this anymore. So I started Whole30 (which has helped way more than I thought it would), began exercising again, and most importantly stopped hiding from the world. I'm fighting those thoughts that I'm not good enough to be in it, or be seen by people, or my friends, or future employers because I'm not yet fixed.
That thought of course goes back to childhood and society (always right?) of having to have this perfect, pretty, buttoned up life to be acceptable. Well kids I'm most certainly none of those things and the only way I'm going to get closer to happiness and stability is not by hiding, punishing myself for not being who I think I should be, feeling I need to be at a certain happiness for people to accept me, is by doing the exact opposite of what I want to do and start living again with my out of shape, sad as fuck, demoralized, imperfect, hard to handle sometimes self.
That is the longest most confusing sentence I've ever written and I'm just going to leave it.
Thanks for reading and writing me. It means more than you know.
Since my last post where I purged all day, hid from the world and drank by myself I have done little things to "not make it worse." I hold so much shame that I'm in such a dark, broke, unhealthy, lonely place in my life that I freeze. You'd think I'd want to make it better, it'd motivate me to get out of it, but if any of you know anything about depression, you know it's not like that. I literally have a fear of going outside, maybe because I have to face the world. Seemingly it's easier to stay in my room and hide until I can get better, be good enough to go out there again.
I was able to challenge that thought after the really bad day. When I purge or drink I can finally feel again, and I hadn't noticed this until recently that my depression is in a way of protecting me from feeling all of the overwhelming feels that I'm petrified of. So the other day, while really hard on my body, was the only way I knew how to cope and start feeling again. If that makes sense. THIS is why it's so important for me to get back into the DBT program I was in and seeing my therapist. However OHP is a real bitch and I'm in middle of appealing their denial for treatment.
WHAT KIND OF BULLSHIT IS THAT? It takes me so much effort to reach out and be like yo I can't handle my life on my own right now and I'm drowning, can you help? And I'm told I'm not messed up enough to get help.
Oh man my mind is all over. So basically I purged literally and figuratively all of the sadness and shame out the other day and woke up being like damn, I don't want to live like this anymore. So I started Whole30 (which has helped way more than I thought it would), began exercising again, and most importantly stopped hiding from the world. I'm fighting those thoughts that I'm not good enough to be in it, or be seen by people, or my friends, or future employers because I'm not yet fixed.
That thought of course goes back to childhood and society (always right?) of having to have this perfect, pretty, buttoned up life to be acceptable. Well kids I'm most certainly none of those things and the only way I'm going to get closer to happiness and stability is not by hiding, punishing myself for not being who I think I should be, feeling I need to be at a certain happiness for people to accept me, is by doing the exact opposite of what I want to do and start living again with my out of shape, sad as fuck, demoralized, imperfect, hard to handle sometimes self.
That is the longest most confusing sentence I've ever written and I'm just going to leave it.
Thanks for reading and writing me. It means more than you know.
Tuesday, May 22, 2018
I Didn't Know I Was Lost
I feel like I start most of my posts like this, "I've been having a hard time."
I always delete it. I can't again confess to family and friends that I'm still not fixed. That I'm still struggling. By now I should have figured it out right? But when I look back on my life this past year, or fuck since I got here, it's been nothing but abusive relationships, paralyzing depression, all consuming anxiety and fucked up situations. From a boyfriend that was verbally abusive to a job that fired me because of my depression and "friends" who just think I'm some slut in the club---no wonder I've had a hard fucking time.
I know who I am, but she's lost. I miss her so much. I miss the girl that wanted to wake up in the morning, that had a reason to live (not suicidal, just really fucking down), that felt loved, that felt she mattered to someone, that she had a purpose here on this earth. I miss feeling stressed because my life is full, because I've got too much to do versus nothing.
I am at the point now where I don't leave my room for days, ashamed of what I've become. Ashamed I am this way. I see your lives on social media (which I know is slightly fucked but sometimes it takes all of me to brush my teeth and leave my bed fore 4 PM).
When I was let go of what I thought was my dream job I also lost my structure, my therapist, my DBT classes and a lot of my friends. I feel so disconnected from life, from the person I used to be. The girl at the time I thought was so gone, so depressed, so alone, so fat, so stupid ... and now I pine to be her again.
I have lost my confidence, my fitness, my money and I don't know what to do. An outside perspective could say, apply for jobs, ask for help, just call me, but when you're in this like I am, those things are fucking paralyzing.
Last night I watched Avicii's Wake Me Up. I already knew that while I first judged that song (country with EDM come on .... right?) that his lyrics spoke to something I could only feel but never express. It reminds me of when I first realized there was a better life, versus what my eating disorder could give me.
I comb through news reports of his suicide and I can't breathe. I don't know what he went through exactly but there's a connection there. A common pain that can't be shared, rather beared, together. He gave me life, but he took his, this is why I'm gettiI Ding his symbol tattooed on my wrist. To remind me of when I first felt alive, how hard that can be to find, and all of the lives you can influence while doing what makes you you.
I always delete it. I can't again confess to family and friends that I'm still not fixed. That I'm still struggling. By now I should have figured it out right? But when I look back on my life this past year, or fuck since I got here, it's been nothing but abusive relationships, paralyzing depression, all consuming anxiety and fucked up situations. From a boyfriend that was verbally abusive to a job that fired me because of my depression and "friends" who just think I'm some slut in the club---no wonder I've had a hard fucking time.
I know who I am, but she's lost. I miss her so much. I miss the girl that wanted to wake up in the morning, that had a reason to live (not suicidal, just really fucking down), that felt loved, that felt she mattered to someone, that she had a purpose here on this earth. I miss feeling stressed because my life is full, because I've got too much to do versus nothing.
I am at the point now where I don't leave my room for days, ashamed of what I've become. Ashamed I am this way. I see your lives on social media (which I know is slightly fucked but sometimes it takes all of me to brush my teeth and leave my bed fore 4 PM).
When I was let go of what I thought was my dream job I also lost my structure, my therapist, my DBT classes and a lot of my friends. I feel so disconnected from life, from the person I used to be. The girl at the time I thought was so gone, so depressed, so alone, so fat, so stupid ... and now I pine to be her again.
I have lost my confidence, my fitness, my money and I don't know what to do. An outside perspective could say, apply for jobs, ask for help, just call me, but when you're in this like I am, those things are fucking paralyzing.
Last night I watched Avicii's Wake Me Up. I already knew that while I first judged that song (country with EDM come on .... right?) that his lyrics spoke to something I could only feel but never express. It reminds me of when I first realized there was a better life, versus what my eating disorder could give me.
I comb through news reports of his suicide and I can't breathe. I don't know what he went through exactly but there's a connection there. A common pain that can't be shared, rather beared, together. He gave me life, but he took his, this is why I'm gettiI Ding his symbol tattooed on my wrist. To remind me of when I first felt alive, how hard that can be to find, and all of the lives you can influence while doing what makes you you.
Thursday, November 23, 2017
Today, I'm Not Thankful
Today I'm not thankful, I'm proud. Go with me on this:
I left the warmth of my brother's house with well wishes and invites to future game nights, leftovers in hand the cold and dark of the night foreign compared to previous my environment of games, laughter, and inside jokes. I didn't make it to my car without being consumed by an all too familiar feeling and I began to cry.
As the loneliness set in and the tears started I angerly asked myself: Why? You just had the best Thanksgiving you can remember having (not an exaggeration) and you're crying?But as I put my things away and started my car I realized that it makes sense. As soon as I was physically alone, I felt alone. To some a break from the social engagements would be welcomed, but for someone like myself who suffers from attachment trauma, it is almost unbearable.
This is because all I want is to be loved and to belong--no--to FEEL loved and like I belong. The moment I step away from the reassurance that that's a fact, it slips away from me like the light when I shut the door to my brother's house. The restless yet confined energy starts, I know it well, it's my impulsivity. It's uncomfortable and I can't usually put a finger on what it is at first but I usually don't like it and want it gone.
So I drink. Or I eat. Or I call a boy. Or I do all three in whatever order. I choose what I know how to do to get it to "stop," or what I now know is actually just putting it at bay. My quick fix, my instant relief that leaves lingering affects that sometimes require days of recovery and damage control. But for once I don't WANT to drink, eat or call a guy. However, that leaves me with this uncomfortable, flighty feeling, that steadily grows within me.
My drive home is a steady transition from loneliness to feeling silly to validating my emotions to happiness and back again. I have been in DBT and therapy long enough to know whatever I'm feeling isn't wrong, to not push it away, judge it, try to change it-simply notice. So I do, I get curious. As the city comes into view I am hit with a wave of realization: this is what recovery feels like.
I tell myself, you should write. Or no, it's more like an urge, but one that's uncomfortable since it's not A, B, or C from above. I used to write in here daily, sometimes twice a day. I'd write in meetings when triggered at work, or on the backs of menus in restaurants. I used to have so much in me that it wasn't a choice, I HAD to.
But that was before I started becoming depressed at my last job (which I have since left as it "just wasn't working out") about a year and a half in (just "celebrated" my three years). I didn't know it as it was happening, as often depression does, while it was. I didn't know that I was slowly becoming someone that didn't care, that was bitter, uninspired, lazy, barely got by. Now that I'm free and slowly, ungracefully tangling myself from the routine, thoughts, habits I'd created over the last year and a half, I see me again.
Today I got to see what me, not bingeing, not purging, not drinking (excessively), not craving attention from men, is like. I think that scares me, I think it excites me, I think it inspires me. It feels as though I have a glass ball in my hand and all I want to do is throw it. It doesn't make sense, to self-sabotage, but it's what I have come to know to do.
The idea of being successful, of being happy, of having to hold the responsibility of my life is almost too much for me. The idea of actually being the girl my friends and family and coworkers and even acquaintances tell me they see scares the fuck out of me. My potential, my talents, my charm, hell my looks if I REALLY had all these things that I'm told others see in me: I don't fucking know. I shut down when I think about those things being true.
And yet I am seeing how it is more painful-torture almost-to believe the opposite. I get this crazy idea sometimes, and more lately with this huge fucking (you know I'm getting into it when the only word I can think of is fucking) transition of my life at almost 30, that it could be true. I CAN have the apartment I want, the car I want, the salary I want, the job I want, the friends I want, the guy I want, the lifestyle I want, the spirituality I want, the body I want, the time for traveling I want...the other cat I need :)
I haven't had hope in a while nor the time, space, energy and support to do it in but I do now. And today is just a small yet really fucking big peek into that life and I am so damn proud my work and determination has gotten me here.
Saturday, August 19, 2017
I Ran Today
My tears mix with my sweat, the saltiness stings my eyes. I'm on my floor one hand over my heart and one rested on my belly, my therapist calls this healing hands. It sounds cheesy and I hate the name but this position actually does bring me comfort. I close my eyes and get the idea to self-regulate.
I close my eyes, put my hands under my back on my kidneys and imagine I'm in my therapists office. She usually is the one with her hand on my kidney but I'm reminded that she told me I can do the work she does with me at home.
My body is still buzzing from my run. Ya I said run. I ran (on purpose mind you) for 20 whole minutes today. This was the first time in over a year when I broke my foot end of June last year that I've dared to even try it.
A minute into my walk around my neighborhood on 21st I'm about to miss the light, so I run across the street and I don't stop. I tell myself okay go for this song and at the end see how it feels just make it through this song. After going through my workout playlist I'm just about ready to give up but push myself to get to my apartment. I'm fucking elated.
Back to my apartment with me on my floor and my cat's little paws putting all their weight on my boobs and stomach (little shit) as she walks on me. I get my hands on my kidneys and I go through the motions. I hear my therapist say "What's coming up for you?"
I hate that question. That means I have to actually feel. I have to actually stop for a second and feel, instead of running around avoiding, numbing, and distracting from all the things going on in my head. But I fucking do it because, and I keep forgetting this, progress doesn't happen without trying or change.
So I feel. And that flash of anger I felt being asked that question by my imaginary therapist turns into tears. At first I don't know why I'm crying but I go with it, this is a part of what we call my "cycle". (I get mad, I get sad, I calm down and am regulated AKA at peace). I continuously remind myself to breathe and go in and out of crying and laughing because it seems so fucking silly. Watching my body's natural reaction to tears, is to stop myself.
I say "I feel proud." And another thought comes up, "I wish I could take those words back."
"Why is that you think?" Imaginary therapist asks.
"I don't fucking know," I snap back. Any question that makes me look further into my feelings makes me uncomfortable so I get mad. But I actually fucking do, so I say, "Because it's scary to be proud. I didn't do enough. I'm not enough. It feels better to be negative than positive about myself."
"What do you feel in your body?"
"Shame."
Shame has ruled my life since I can remember. The heavy feeling of failure and inadequacy is something I carry almost as a comfort. Lately the universe has presented me with the following ideas:
I'm scared to be happy and have confidence
I'd rather believe I can't because the belief that I can is too much to comprehend
I actually need to change my habits and beliefs if I want change
I might not be that shit of a person
I haven't written in a long time and it feels so good to feel so overwhelmed with the need to write. I start behavior therapy classes this week, which is basically going to teach me better coping skills than the ones I've held onto for years (men, food, booze). I don't want to do it, but I need to.
This small act of running was more than a workout to me, it was me pushing myself a little harder to go a little further to get a little better.
I close my eyes, put my hands under my back on my kidneys and imagine I'm in my therapists office. She usually is the one with her hand on my kidney but I'm reminded that she told me I can do the work she does with me at home.
My body is still buzzing from my run. Ya I said run. I ran (on purpose mind you) for 20 whole minutes today. This was the first time in over a year when I broke my foot end of June last year that I've dared to even try it.
A minute into my walk around my neighborhood on 21st I'm about to miss the light, so I run across the street and I don't stop. I tell myself okay go for this song and at the end see how it feels just make it through this song. After going through my workout playlist I'm just about ready to give up but push myself to get to my apartment. I'm fucking elated.
Back to my apartment with me on my floor and my cat's little paws putting all their weight on my boobs and stomach (little shit) as she walks on me. I get my hands on my kidneys and I go through the motions. I hear my therapist say "What's coming up for you?"
I hate that question. That means I have to actually feel. I have to actually stop for a second and feel, instead of running around avoiding, numbing, and distracting from all the things going on in my head. But I fucking do it because, and I keep forgetting this, progress doesn't happen without trying or change.
So I feel. And that flash of anger I felt being asked that question by my imaginary therapist turns into tears. At first I don't know why I'm crying but I go with it, this is a part of what we call my "cycle". (I get mad, I get sad, I calm down and am regulated AKA at peace). I continuously remind myself to breathe and go in and out of crying and laughing because it seems so fucking silly. Watching my body's natural reaction to tears, is to stop myself.
I say "I feel proud." And another thought comes up, "I wish I could take those words back."
"Why is that you think?" Imaginary therapist asks.
"I don't fucking know," I snap back. Any question that makes me look further into my feelings makes me uncomfortable so I get mad. But I actually fucking do, so I say, "Because it's scary to be proud. I didn't do enough. I'm not enough. It feels better to be negative than positive about myself."
"What do you feel in your body?"
"Shame."
Shame has ruled my life since I can remember. The heavy feeling of failure and inadequacy is something I carry almost as a comfort. Lately the universe has presented me with the following ideas:
I'm scared to be happy and have confidence
I'd rather believe I can't because the belief that I can is too much to comprehend
I actually need to change my habits and beliefs if I want change
I might not be that shit of a person
I haven't written in a long time and it feels so good to feel so overwhelmed with the need to write. I start behavior therapy classes this week, which is basically going to teach me better coping skills than the ones I've held onto for years (men, food, booze). I don't want to do it, but I need to.
This small act of running was more than a workout to me, it was me pushing myself a little harder to go a little further to get a little better.
Wednesday, June 7, 2017
Dating Myself
I feel so full I want to purge.
The uncomfortability within my body seems like it's too much and I know a quick fix.
But I also know that that quick fix in the long term fucks me over.
Purging or binging and purging will result in my hunger cues being off, me being more hungry later, me having to eat more than I think is "safe" therefore throwing up again. I'll probably end up drinking to escape the shame that comes with caving again. Stay out and up too late making tomorrow harder on me. Shame, depression will sink in in the morning and take over my day making each assignment, interaction, and to-do that much harder.
And the cycle could repeat itself.
So I'm writing instead. I'm reminding myself that this feeling will pass. That this is how I learn to handle my emotions differently. The high-waist shorts really don't help.
I'm not actually full of any kind of food (there's no way that hummus / cucumber snack did this to me). What I am full of is--you guessed it--emotion.
There's good with the bad, actually mostly good but for some reason I feel like crying. Like my emotions don't know where to go so I by default cry. Probably will do that after I write.
I actually feel a great sense of pride for myself today. Da fuck.
Ever since I started writing again things have slowly been changing largely thanks to you all reaching back out to me as a support, which rocks. But also me making little decisions that turn into big differences.
I made the hard choice to end my relationship yesterday. After my therapist and my body (anxiety) I realized that I barely have the energy to properly handle my own shit so how can I give myself to someone else? I mean they say that all the time, you have to love yourself before ... you know. But well when you're in it it's harder to see.
I have an excitement to be alone for once. Thinking of all the time I will now have to dedicate to me gives me hope. I always do this though. Where I finally become single again and am like okay no dudes and then out of nowhere they come. I've got to be stronger this time around, but it may not be as hard as it has in the past.
Last night I did self-care after therapy and talking things through with my now ex (oh that's weird). I painted my nails, showered (even shaved my legs-GASP), watched my favorite show and hung out with my cat. There was once upon a time when I couldn't handle alone time but seeing it's benefits to my mood today has me craving it.
Another thing that's new is that I've started reconnecting with old friends and making a bigger effort to make new ones. At first I thought they didn't want anything to do with me but it turns out that that was my insecurities. It's new being able to turn / having to turn to a friend rather than a significant other when something cool / new / exciting / funny happens but I like it.
Also working out is getting easier now. With Paradiso quickly approaching and a trip to LA I know I won't really see any change in my body from my efforts but it's a start. Encouragement through Facebook, snapchat, and texts has helped immensely. At the end of each workout I am reminded it's not about what I look like but how I feel.
I've also started to clumsily craft a morning routine. So far it looks like:
Each choice can either help or hurt your progress.
The uncomfortability within my body seems like it's too much and I know a quick fix.
But I also know that that quick fix in the long term fucks me over.
Purging or binging and purging will result in my hunger cues being off, me being more hungry later, me having to eat more than I think is "safe" therefore throwing up again. I'll probably end up drinking to escape the shame that comes with caving again. Stay out and up too late making tomorrow harder on me. Shame, depression will sink in in the morning and take over my day making each assignment, interaction, and to-do that much harder.
And the cycle could repeat itself.
So I'm writing instead. I'm reminding myself that this feeling will pass. That this is how I learn to handle my emotions differently. The high-waist shorts really don't help.
I'm not actually full of any kind of food (there's no way that hummus / cucumber snack did this to me). What I am full of is--you guessed it--emotion.
There's good with the bad, actually mostly good but for some reason I feel like crying. Like my emotions don't know where to go so I by default cry. Probably will do that after I write.
I actually feel a great sense of pride for myself today. Da fuck.
Ever since I started writing again things have slowly been changing largely thanks to you all reaching back out to me as a support, which rocks. But also me making little decisions that turn into big differences.
I made the hard choice to end my relationship yesterday. After my therapist and my body (anxiety) I realized that I barely have the energy to properly handle my own shit so how can I give myself to someone else? I mean they say that all the time, you have to love yourself before ... you know. But well when you're in it it's harder to see.
I have an excitement to be alone for once. Thinking of all the time I will now have to dedicate to me gives me hope. I always do this though. Where I finally become single again and am like okay no dudes and then out of nowhere they come. I've got to be stronger this time around, but it may not be as hard as it has in the past.
Last night I did self-care after therapy and talking things through with my now ex (oh that's weird). I painted my nails, showered (even shaved my legs-GASP), watched my favorite show and hung out with my cat. There was once upon a time when I couldn't handle alone time but seeing it's benefits to my mood today has me craving it.
Another thing that's new is that I've started reconnecting with old friends and making a bigger effort to make new ones. At first I thought they didn't want anything to do with me but it turns out that that was my insecurities. It's new being able to turn / having to turn to a friend rather than a significant other when something cool / new / exciting / funny happens but I like it.
Also working out is getting easier now. With Paradiso quickly approaching and a trip to LA I know I won't really see any change in my body from my efforts but it's a start. Encouragement through Facebook, snapchat, and texts has helped immensely. At the end of each workout I am reminded it's not about what I look like but how I feel.
I've also started to clumsily craft a morning routine. So far it looks like:
- Only hitting snooze once
- Opening my blinds immediately
- Making my bed
- Playing with my cat
- Positive affirmations
- Makeup getting ready etc
- NOT being extremely late to work
Trying to work a yoga session or quick walk in there but my snooze habits fuck that up.
Basically what I'm getting at is my two mottos below have really started to pay off:
Don't make it worse.
Each choice can either help or hurt your progress.
I'm just happy to post something not so sad for once.
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
When Your Ex Starts Dating Someone Else
Today I found out that my ex, the one that you really never get over kind of ex, is dating someone new. I know these things happen, are supposed to, and that we broke up (again and again) for a reason but that punch in the gut, shaking with anxiety, weak, sad feeling still hit me. And it stayed with me for hours.
I began to get frustrated with myself, wanting to get this intense, incredibly unpleasant feeling away from me, but nothing I tried seem to work for very long. Remembering why we broke up, the hard times, distracting, trying to convince myself I'd be like totally cool if I saw them together and we should all be buddies, contemplating who she is and trying figure that out but no, no no no I will not be that ex: none of this really helped.
Despite the shaking and weak feeling I still went to the gym - in a very poor mood mind you. I was having one of those days where the little things that go wrong become one big thing (like forgetting my wallet in my car at FedEx and then racing out to get it only to get caught on the door handle and jerked back hitting myself and spilling everything out of my purse) and I went to the gym angry.
I got up on that damn StairMaster and did 12 minutes (that's a record mind you) and then 30 minutes of cardio before a quick stretch and then blow dried the sweat out of my hair before therapy. I sweat out most of my poor choices from the weekend I think. It was really attractive. Anyway...
Therapy.
It did it's job per usual. And basically after me blabbing on about whatever, my therapist pulling me back out of my head and asking me to "describe what's coming up"then me getting ridiculously mad and defensive (felt like a typical I'm a kid that's fucked up and a stereotypical therapy case and she can see right through me and my bullshit) and then crying with that bear I always talk about - I had clarity.
When I held Teddy (my big giant therapy teddy bear-he wears a silk green bow) I tried to do that feeling crap. I ended up picturing myself talking to my ex and saying something along the lines of:
"If you move on from me that's just another person that's left me. You've found someone better, and therefore I am less than. I am never good enough, and I will never be good enough. At one point you helped me believe differently. It is the best feeling in the world to be someone's someone. To have them love you unconditionally. To know you matter as much to them as they do you. But if I really actually amounted to anything, was really as pretty, smart, funny, talented as you say there's no way you'd be into someone else. You'd chose someone else over me. (and yes I know this is silly as it's very unfair to want someone who isn't right for you to only love you and no one else) But clearly I'm nothing.
I cannot matter unless you tell me I matter, make me feel like I matter. I cannot do this for myself and I need someone, I need you, to do that for me."
And that's when it hit me.
I know this is one of my biggest issues. Not mattering. Lack of confidence. Always believing I am not good enough and not cool enough and not attractive enough. The fear of being alone is so strong. But it was just nice to figure out why I had that fight or flight response (it was flight), because this is just digging up old shit from my past. It's just the biggest trigger I can have and it's happening with someone I still love.
But my therapist also pointed out that there are probably a lot of people that do help me feel like I matter, it's just that I'm chasing / hanging out with the wrong people who don't make me feel that way. I push away the ones that do because it's uncomfortable to feel that love, hear those compliments but then again it's what I fucking crave.
AND I KNOW. I'm supposed to love myself and all that shit and be able to give the feeling I got from him to myself but ya know what that's really fucking hard and if I could do it that easily I would and I wouldn't be writing about this.
It's 23? I believe days until Paradiso and after having a breakdown a day about my body image and how much I hate the way I look I'm really going to be on my shit about the gym, my food, the booze and such things.
I know that most of my issues aren't because of what I look like but working out, eating better, drinking less will most certainly help ease the pain that my issues cause.
So ya that's it.
I began to get frustrated with myself, wanting to get this intense, incredibly unpleasant feeling away from me, but nothing I tried seem to work for very long. Remembering why we broke up, the hard times, distracting, trying to convince myself I'd be like totally cool if I saw them together and we should all be buddies, contemplating who she is and trying figure that out but no, no no no I will not be that ex: none of this really helped.
Despite the shaking and weak feeling I still went to the gym - in a very poor mood mind you. I was having one of those days where the little things that go wrong become one big thing (like forgetting my wallet in my car at FedEx and then racing out to get it only to get caught on the door handle and jerked back hitting myself and spilling everything out of my purse) and I went to the gym angry.
I got up on that damn StairMaster and did 12 minutes (that's a record mind you) and then 30 minutes of cardio before a quick stretch and then blow dried the sweat out of my hair before therapy. I sweat out most of my poor choices from the weekend I think. It was really attractive. Anyway...
Therapy.
It did it's job per usual. And basically after me blabbing on about whatever, my therapist pulling me back out of my head and asking me to "describe what's coming up"then me getting ridiculously mad and defensive (felt like a typical I'm a kid that's fucked up and a stereotypical therapy case and she can see right through me and my bullshit) and then crying with that bear I always talk about - I had clarity.
When I held Teddy (my big giant therapy teddy bear-he wears a silk green bow) I tried to do that feeling crap. I ended up picturing myself talking to my ex and saying something along the lines of:
"If you move on from me that's just another person that's left me. You've found someone better, and therefore I am less than. I am never good enough, and I will never be good enough. At one point you helped me believe differently. It is the best feeling in the world to be someone's someone. To have them love you unconditionally. To know you matter as much to them as they do you. But if I really actually amounted to anything, was really as pretty, smart, funny, talented as you say there's no way you'd be into someone else. You'd chose someone else over me. (and yes I know this is silly as it's very unfair to want someone who isn't right for you to only love you and no one else) But clearly I'm nothing.
I cannot matter unless you tell me I matter, make me feel like I matter. I cannot do this for myself and I need someone, I need you, to do that for me."
And that's when it hit me.
I know this is one of my biggest issues. Not mattering. Lack of confidence. Always believing I am not good enough and not cool enough and not attractive enough. The fear of being alone is so strong. But it was just nice to figure out why I had that fight or flight response (it was flight), because this is just digging up old shit from my past. It's just the biggest trigger I can have and it's happening with someone I still love.
So that sucks.
AND I KNOW. I'm supposed to love myself and all that shit and be able to give the feeling I got from him to myself but ya know what that's really fucking hard and if I could do it that easily I would and I wouldn't be writing about this.
It's 23? I believe days until Paradiso and after having a breakdown a day about my body image and how much I hate the way I look I'm really going to be on my shit about the gym, my food, the booze and such things.
- I've made a calendar where I can track my accomplishments
- Set reminders in my calendar of my goals and why I have them
- I am determined to write in here every day
- Already from my posts I've received support to continue with my goals / and help with personal things (so thank you)
- I am making a "So You Think You Don't Want To Workout" List where I have to look at, read, listen to each thing on the list before I can decide happy hour is a better idea
- I'm trying to stop snacking while cooking
- I am going to a support group for codependency
- I am saying fuck it and spending money on a gym membership that's close to home (the one my work pays for is 30 minutes from my apartment and not ideal on weekends)
- Doing yoga again every morning
I know that most of my issues aren't because of what I look like but working out, eating better, drinking less will most certainly help ease the pain that my issues cause.
So ya that's it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)