Compartmentalize
Feel your feelings
Distract, no distract
Cope, just cope
Be present listen to your tattered breath, feel the cool air, the rising in your chest
Maybe it's The XX
You're dramatic
No genuine
Racing thoughts tug at my eyes
Tears
No not now
You don't have time
Who's kidding you don't have the capacity
Weak
Strong hatred directed diagonally
Is this love or survival
How could you be so twisted
Is it me or is it you
How could you
I am strong, you are weak
But I'm at my breaking point
The cracks show
I'm not ok, it wasn't ok
Compartmentalize...
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
Friday, January 16, 2015
Welp It's Happening.
I have my first therapy appointment scheduled for this Sunday right before the Seahawks game. Hopefully I'm not a mess as we are having like 15 people over in our one-bedroom apartment.
I have missed therapy so much. Having the space to talk and have someone listen. Priceless. (or well in my case a $20 copay each time)
But as I filled out all the questionnaires about the nature of my disorder I started to get uncomfortable. I right now am regretting not forcing myself to the gym and feel that I am getting fatter by the second.
Trusty ED always there to distract me from my feewings. (Yes I typed it that way on purpose).
Sarcasm is another coping skill I practice.
I wish you guys could hear me say this in my head--it's much funnier in my head.
Question 1: how often what is the nature and duration of your restriction?
Question 2: how often what is the nature and duration of your binges?
Question 3: how often what is the nature and duration of your purges?
Well piece of paper, I'm so glad you asked...fucking shit I hate having to put out something that's so private and shameful on paper. Trying to find the words or even summarize what I go through daily is just ... fucking annoying. No. It makes me feel stupid. I can't put it into words. I cannot summarize the pain, the struggle, the agitation whatever I even fucking go through daily in a two inch by two inch box.
And yes I know this is only to get an idea of what I do but having to face what exactly it is I'm doing is hard. And yes I'm really pretty open but damn I hate filling these out and exposing who I am and what I do so clinically. It is hard enough to relive the traumas of my past once but to have to go through this again and possibly again and again to someone new until I find the right one is just exhausting.
I hate seeing what I do in black and white. I hate facing it. It's so much better but it's not at its best and I hate it. I don't want to have to admit my faults, my struggles. I don't want to have to really think about how much of a hold on me it still has. I don't want to be analyzed. I want to be listened to and understood and helped.
I didn't know how emotional this form would make me or the idea of going back to 'treatment' would be. I actually have to work. I actually will have to delve deep and pull it out or rip it out and it will hurt.
I already feel like retreating and going to work out. That'll solve it. If I can just eat perfectly. If I can just get the perfect body. If I can just be perfect at work, with my boyfriend, never be mean, never upset the balance then I don't need this.
...and alas I have tried that and I know it doesn't work. And I am where I am today because for so long I tried to make it 'perfect'.
So ya I'm looking forward to the session and I'm also petrified. ED is getting louder by the second in revolt over being prodded. Ugh.
Why can't they just create a pill to cure me?
I have missed therapy so much. Having the space to talk and have someone listen. Priceless. (or well in my case a $20 copay each time)
But as I filled out all the questionnaires about the nature of my disorder I started to get uncomfortable. I right now am regretting not forcing myself to the gym and feel that I am getting fatter by the second.
Trusty ED always there to distract me from my feewings. (Yes I typed it that way on purpose).
Sarcasm is another coping skill I practice.
I wish you guys could hear me say this in my head--it's much funnier in my head.
Question 1: how often what is the nature and duration of your restriction?
Question 2: how often what is the nature and duration of your binges?
Question 3: how often what is the nature and duration of your purges?
Well piece of paper, I'm so glad you asked...fucking shit I hate having to put out something that's so private and shameful on paper. Trying to find the words or even summarize what I go through daily is just ... fucking annoying. No. It makes me feel stupid. I can't put it into words. I cannot summarize the pain, the struggle, the agitation whatever I even fucking go through daily in a two inch by two inch box.
And yes I know this is only to get an idea of what I do but having to face what exactly it is I'm doing is hard. And yes I'm really pretty open but damn I hate filling these out and exposing who I am and what I do so clinically. It is hard enough to relive the traumas of my past once but to have to go through this again and possibly again and again to someone new until I find the right one is just exhausting.
I hate seeing what I do in black and white. I hate facing it. It's so much better but it's not at its best and I hate it. I don't want to have to admit my faults, my struggles. I don't want to have to really think about how much of a hold on me it still has. I don't want to be analyzed. I want to be listened to and understood and helped.
I didn't know how emotional this form would make me or the idea of going back to 'treatment' would be. I actually have to work. I actually will have to delve deep and pull it out or rip it out and it will hurt.
I already feel like retreating and going to work out. That'll solve it. If I can just eat perfectly. If I can just get the perfect body. If I can just be perfect at work, with my boyfriend, never be mean, never upset the balance then I don't need this.
...and alas I have tried that and I know it doesn't work. And I am where I am today because for so long I tried to make it 'perfect'.
So ya I'm looking forward to the session and I'm also petrified. ED is getting louder by the second in revolt over being prodded. Ugh.
Why can't they just create a pill to cure me?
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
I Am Homesick
As soon as I type those words my throat tightens, my nose stings and my eyes water.
I'm finally letting it out after pushing it down all day.
I woke up at 5 AM having dreams of the city in my mind. It was so real I thought I was in my old apartment. And when I realized I wasn't I woke up with fear. I closed my eyes again picturing 1st coming from Pioneer Square heading to Pike Place. I see the wet street, the buildings built with brick that I adore, I know where the streets turn into hills, I know how to best get to the water, I know that I do not know what adventure I'd find at Pike Place. I feel joy in my heart. I feel excited. I feel at home.
I then take myself to my old neighborhood. Passing those familiar strangers. The gays, the drag queens, the crazies and my friends. I smell the coffee shop next to the record store. I see Trendy Wendys and her glittering bras. I smell Dicks. The streets are buzzing and everyone has to be somewhere, do something, be someone and yet I feel comfortable with them.
I go next to my bed. I see the wide window that on looks a gorgeous tree filled with blooms. I feel my legs stretch out under the covers of my bed and my canopy whimsically, playfully hanging over me--my princess dreams come true 20 years later. My cat is at the window and the rain falls lightly.
The alarm goes off--not a real one but one just as violent and unwelcome as mine in the morning--I realize I am not home. That home will never be home again. I cannot go back there and live and have and do what I did before I left. And my God I miss it.
I have hesitated to write so openly for fear of hurting others feelings or because you will think I am not trying, that I am selfish, that I am ungrateful but what about what I feel? Not all days are as bad as this but there was a hole in my heart today, there was an emptiness that couldn't be filled.
I think of my home now, there are no busy streets. There are no familiar strangers. There are no drag queens. It is cold. It is bare. It is isolating.
I thought this move through. I weighed the pros and cons but I could not know what this move would do, or evoke or fucking be like until I did it.
I have not known loneliness like this. I have a wonderful, supportive, weirdly wonderful group of friends that feel so far away. I see their lives go on without me and yes it is 'just a bus ride away' but it feels like a universe away. I feel like I will be forgotten, I feel like my life is going away, diminsihing slowly with each passing day and I have nothing to replace it with.
And yes it is my job to build a new one here but it is hard. And I've done hard things in my life and I am not one to back down but I need an outlet.
I feel so much more alone because well physically I am. I do not have girls nights here. I do not have random coffee dates. I do not have familiar strangers. I don't know the grocery stores or how my gym is set up and I can't really tell you where I live. It is unfamiliar and it is uncomfortable.
I realized when asked "how are you?" that I jump at the opportunity to unleash all that I feel I must keep in / have to keep in as there is no one here to talk to. I see myself talking to friends back home holding back the pain I have some days and following it up with "but I'll be ok." "it just takes time." Completely under minding my feelings that are fucking valid. But I am too scared to just unleash and complain and cry and say it sucks and I don't want it to be this sucky anymore. I am afraid it will push those who are so far way from me further.
And this isnt' to say that it's all bad here because I've met some really great people that seem to like me too. I have a wonderful boyfriend and we're navigating how to live together. And I have a sick ass job.
See? I feel as though it's not ok to unleash and say what I feel for fear of being pushed away even by you 'anonymous' readers.
I guess what I'm getting at is that well yes I'm homesick. I miss my friends. I miss my city. But I'm also getting at the fact that it's fucked that in our world / in my world I don't feel like I can be this open and honest about anything for fear of being judged by others or by myself. Oh and that moving is hard. It's fucking hard and props to all of you who have done it. It's a goal of mine to continue to journal / blog so you'll see more of this and these and things. If you all have shit going on write me or journal. Just get a pen and paper and try it.
I'm finally letting it out after pushing it down all day.
I woke up at 5 AM having dreams of the city in my mind. It was so real I thought I was in my old apartment. And when I realized I wasn't I woke up with fear. I closed my eyes again picturing 1st coming from Pioneer Square heading to Pike Place. I see the wet street, the buildings built with brick that I adore, I know where the streets turn into hills, I know how to best get to the water, I know that I do not know what adventure I'd find at Pike Place. I feel joy in my heart. I feel excited. I feel at home.
I then take myself to my old neighborhood. Passing those familiar strangers. The gays, the drag queens, the crazies and my friends. I smell the coffee shop next to the record store. I see Trendy Wendys and her glittering bras. I smell Dicks. The streets are buzzing and everyone has to be somewhere, do something, be someone and yet I feel comfortable with them.
I go next to my bed. I see the wide window that on looks a gorgeous tree filled with blooms. I feel my legs stretch out under the covers of my bed and my canopy whimsically, playfully hanging over me--my princess dreams come true 20 years later. My cat is at the window and the rain falls lightly.
The alarm goes off--not a real one but one just as violent and unwelcome as mine in the morning--I realize I am not home. That home will never be home again. I cannot go back there and live and have and do what I did before I left. And my God I miss it.
I have hesitated to write so openly for fear of hurting others feelings or because you will think I am not trying, that I am selfish, that I am ungrateful but what about what I feel? Not all days are as bad as this but there was a hole in my heart today, there was an emptiness that couldn't be filled.
I think of my home now, there are no busy streets. There are no familiar strangers. There are no drag queens. It is cold. It is bare. It is isolating.
I thought this move through. I weighed the pros and cons but I could not know what this move would do, or evoke or fucking be like until I did it.
I have not known loneliness like this. I have a wonderful, supportive, weirdly wonderful group of friends that feel so far away. I see their lives go on without me and yes it is 'just a bus ride away' but it feels like a universe away. I feel like I will be forgotten, I feel like my life is going away, diminsihing slowly with each passing day and I have nothing to replace it with.
And yes it is my job to build a new one here but it is hard. And I've done hard things in my life and I am not one to back down but I need an outlet.
I feel so much more alone because well physically I am. I do not have girls nights here. I do not have random coffee dates. I do not have familiar strangers. I don't know the grocery stores or how my gym is set up and I can't really tell you where I live. It is unfamiliar and it is uncomfortable.
I realized when asked "how are you?" that I jump at the opportunity to unleash all that I feel I must keep in / have to keep in as there is no one here to talk to. I see myself talking to friends back home holding back the pain I have some days and following it up with "but I'll be ok." "it just takes time." Completely under minding my feelings that are fucking valid. But I am too scared to just unleash and complain and cry and say it sucks and I don't want it to be this sucky anymore. I am afraid it will push those who are so far way from me further.
And this isnt' to say that it's all bad here because I've met some really great people that seem to like me too. I have a wonderful boyfriend and we're navigating how to live together. And I have a sick ass job.
See? I feel as though it's not ok to unleash and say what I feel for fear of being pushed away even by you 'anonymous' readers.
I guess what I'm getting at is that well yes I'm homesick. I miss my friends. I miss my city. But I'm also getting at the fact that it's fucked that in our world / in my world I don't feel like I can be this open and honest about anything for fear of being judged by others or by myself. Oh and that moving is hard. It's fucking hard and props to all of you who have done it. It's a goal of mine to continue to journal / blog so you'll see more of this and these and things. If you all have shit going on write me or journal. Just get a pen and paper and try it.
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