Today was a day off for me. These are always the hardest. At least when I am working I am forced outside of myself and other things press Ana’s volume back. But on days like today I am just haunted by demons I cannot seem to find release from.
Today is also Saturday, a day I thought I wouldn’t have to worry about fighting to get calories in because my therapist is off. Yet at 10:37 am my phone rings all 0s which is her. She got weekend duty and so she was calling to see how I was doing and if I was going to try for some nutrition. I did manage a whole boost today but the numbers have haunted me all day so I have spent the majority of the day working them off or being afraid I was going to gain. Friday I had drank two of them because I felt like passing out several times and had a long day of work. It just gave me diarrhea. My body has simply forgotten how to process food, even in liquid form. And the guilt. I am terrified of gaining weight. Putting calories into my body right now feels like drinking bleach. And yet I still lost weight today. In a normal life you would be proud but in my world it is never enough and it is one more part of me that has been lost to this monster.
I am just hopeful that since tomorrow is Sunday and she has Monday off I won’t have to try to meet any requirements. I am running low on them anyway and don’t have money for more. I don’t get paid until Friday.
It has been an empty day filled with regrets of life. It is hard when most of my day simply is filled with wishes I ceased to exist. I cannot find my way out of the maze I am lost in and darkness is settling in. As I shiver I curl up into a ball in fear hoping and praying to make it till light.
The distortions this disease plays with your mind is unreal at times. I am not anorexic. Not in my head and not in the mirror. However my therapist does not agree. Most people would look at me and never know I have an eating disorder. To me I am not thin enough which even by the national standards I am at the top of my “healthy” weight range. So to me it isn’t true. No not yet. I must lose another 1/3 of my body weight to be anywhere sick enough to be what an anorexic is. To be a person consumed by fear of food and calories. To be controlled by a number on a scale. To be in the reality of being eaten alive.
But neither my doctor, my therapist, nor my primary physician agree. They know I could get that bad. Anorexia almost claimed my life once before.
They recognize what the world is very very slowly starting to realize…. You can be anorexic and not be underweight. You can die from anorexia and it’s effects long before you have no period or are rail thin.
But my brain doesn’t believe this. Though I can acknowledge there is a problem I don’t think I am that sick yet. My head is so twisted.
When I spent that month in hospital I almost died twice. At one point I fainted and started mini seizing. My blood sugar was 46.
The second time was when I almost fainted less then 5 days later. This time I recognized the darkness before it took me and I quickly turned around and put my back to the wall and slid down to the floor. I did not completely black out, so in my mind I was ok. My nurse immediately flew around the desk and listened to my heart. I said I was fine and just needed to lie down. I was able to shakily get up and walk the 15 feet to my bed. Within 5 minutes my nurse and another tech were in doing an EEG on me. As soon as the results printed my nurse grabbed them and disappeared. When she came back she had a plate if food and a boost and said eat or it’s the ER. She said something about my heart but all I could feel was the panic and feeling like I couldn’t breathe as I looked at that plate. A tech sat with me to make sure I ate. I scrapped off the tuna from half the sandwich and ate three small potatoes the size of olives and drank the boost. I cried the entire time.
The next morning the Dr came in and sat next to me in the bed and said I have to send you to the ER your heart is starting to fail. My QT waves were irregular. I tried to argue but she said she had no choice I could die the next time I stood up. And so off I went.
You see I am not your typical anorexic in many ways and I think this is why I can justify that everyone is wrong. Besides not meeting typical DSM IV categories I do not have a slow heart rate. I have the opposite problem. Simply walking 20 steps will put my heart rate at almost 130. The sicker I get the worse it gets. It is not unusual to be in the high 160s. I have even been at 189 when I was having potassium issues. At 200 your heart basically explodes.
Because of my potassium issues even when my potassium is at a normal level and I am at least hydrated my heart rate still remains high. It is permanently damaged and I can never get that back. But I am not sick.
Because the monster I see in the mirror is distorted and grotesque to me.
This is what I see
And my broken mind is so trying to erase that person.
But the truth is this is what everyone else sees
And I get a glimpse every once in a while and the ghost in the picture is someone I don’t recognize. That girl who is dying cannot be me.
I just spent the last two hours writing a letter to the prosecutor that will be shared with the judge as he prepares to sentence a mother who tried to take the life of her daughter and herself.
I have just cried. Even though it has been a year now since this terrible tragedy happened I cannot help but feel guilt ridden. I feel guilty because I didn’t question the mother when she texted me to ask for a two hour delay in services. I felt like if I had maybe we wouldn’t be here. Maybe this family would still be whole and three children and a husband wouldn’t be trying to understand in the midst of such darkness how to survive and heal.
It’s been a year now but tonight the anguish feels like I just got the call that my special needs angel was in a coma hooked up to life support.
And I feel guilty because this has affected me so much when I am just an aide.
I don’t envy the judge who has to decide the sentencing. I wouldn’t want that in a million years.
But tonight after writing my letter I feel like I have been such a huge failure at protecting someone who couldn’t protect themselves and I feel like I deserve a punishment too.
I should have done more. It shouldn’t be this messy and this ugly and this painful. This war zone of injured souls is a heavy burden to carry.
I am glad I am not at home tonight because I would punish myself immensely. It simply feels like what I deserve for failing.
The guilt haunts me tonight and steals my sleep. I want to do anything to shut it out.
Had to go back to my therapist today to sign my plan of care. Originally we would have done this our first meeting but she has “been so worried about me I don’t want to waste our time on that when you are in serious crisis”
I have had a problem with one of the meds they added because it numbed me out so much I didn’t think about consequences and started cutting again. Something I was proud I hadn’t done in over 3 months. So my therapist talked to my psychiatrist who I see next week and they both agree when they treated me 15-16 years ago the harder they pushed the harder I shut them out and the harder I fought. So they both want me to know they are not going to push until it gets to the point they have no other option. Which to many sounds like I am already past that point but I think they are right. They want me to know they are both here to help however they can and help me fight this. They know I have done it before and can do it again.
I cried. I said if you leave this to me I will die for sure. You keep asking me what I need and where we go from here and I don’t know. I waited too long and I am lost in this battle and I don’t have control over this monster anymore. I don’t know what I need I don’t know what I need to do next. All I want is to just make it all stop no matter how that happens. I said I honestly believe I will need inpatient treatment at a facility that specializes in eating disorders to get any chance of beating this. Which is rather funny because she put that I needed to be placed inpatient at an ED facility in my treatment plan but wrote I am unwilling to make that choice and have no insurance to cover it. She called it before I even said it out loud.
I just sat and cried and said what is the point of me coming then to see you or my psychiatrist because if you leave this to me I will die. And I believe that. I believe if everyone sits around an just thinks if I make better “choices” I will get well….. I will die. I am gripped in the bowels of this disease and it’s not just a choice I make everyday. Anyone who would think this is a choice is obviously lost. No one would willingly choose this life of hell everyday. For proana people they are clearly confused and by the time they realized what they have done they will regret every moment of every day of this nightmare. They will have day after day after day of saying “I would take it all back if I could. I desperately would” there is no choice in this alone. It’s not like waking up and picking out if you want a blue shirt or a red one. Once the monster has gained enough control you are compelled to do these rituals that are marching you straight towards your death. The panic and fear within you if you go outside the lines are the same as having a gun placed on your forehead. It’s twisted because in the end if you refuse and the trigger is pulled you die and yet if you continue you die as well. This is where the hopelessness sets in. This is why suicide becomes so prevalent. You just want peace. You just want an end and you can’t figure any other way out.
That is where I sit. Some tiny grain of sand hopes there is healing and that I can beat this again or I wouldn’t be going to therapy or seeing my doctor or psychiatrist. But most of me believes I have past that point of hope a long time ago. Living in this hell a second time is so much worse. As I watch it overtake my life and I lose everyday to it…. As I live to make that number continue to drop so does any hope for me. Because I cannot separate the monster of abuse from who I am I believe each part of me that dies to ANA is a part of that monster that dies too. It’s not understandable to so many. And frustrating that I just don’t get it and because others have loved me so much and helped me so much and yet I continue to die they often think they were not enough, or they get angry thinking I used them. It was never EVER like that. I have never felt good enough for that love and so because this thinking has not changed my demons continue to steal my life from me breath by breath. And I see it every day in the mirror. I watch the agony and horror. I hate what I see an yet feel unable to stop it.
So I don’t know if therapy and my psychiatrist can help me undo this. Or perhaps I will be yet another statistic. I survive my days second by second. And most of them I wish never existed.
I just know today we set a small calorie goal for today and I accomplished it. I am beyond panicked about it and ANA is screaming in my head. But for the moment this the plan. I call each day and tell her how I met that goal and hopefully it will help with the need to increase my nutrition in order to survive. My psychiatrist right now finds it hard to know which direction to go due to my malnutrition. But it is all I can do right now.
I can’t get this song out of my head. It’s the truth it seems like it starts out a game to just lose a little weight and then before you know it you are trapped.
Obsessed and the only hope you can see in the darkness is death because living every second of every day worried about how many calories you ate or how fast the scale number is not dropping is exhausting.
And the hate sewn in to your soul for the fat monster you see in the mirror is so loud you scream and scream to try to drown out the sound but you can’t. Because somehow ANA is always louder telling you what a “failure” you are and what a “fat pig” you are and how you have “ruined everything” that was good in your life and how it would just be a “better place” without you. And after 9 months of this I am losing all my strength and any hope to beat this.
And I know I should listen to my therapist and go inpatient because I can’t control this and because it has already created a heart arrhythmia and serious potassium issues it’s just a matter of time. But death just sounds so peaceful. And I have to lose more weight because they will make me fat. She asked me today if I wanted control taken away from me. And I told her I am not skinny enough. But deep down I know it is the only way to get control back is to let someone else take it.
I hate ANA
I hate all that I have lost
I hate having to fight this again
I hate having to fight because sometimes I am just so very tired.
And now that I have started cutting again after over three months of not cutting it’s like this obsession I have to write the hatred I have for my soul on my body. The problem for me is I am a black and white thinker. I never do anything little. Now my cuts all require stitches so I sadly try to patch my skin together to leave the least amount of gap. And I know what comes next if I don’t stop. I blood let before and adding this to my heart issues will seal the deal if I cross the line I am standing on. I just can’t seem to find one tiny fucking reason to turn and go the other way. I can’t find my enough. All I see is red filling a coffin I helped dig. Tonight I am quite pathetic.