Wednesday, October 19, 2016
And one last thing...
I used to be a musician and singer... A song writer... A student... A runner... A poet... An artist... A good friend, a loving daughter... A helpful and caring person who was really healthy and consciencouse, and I would like to get back to that... Or move forward with that...
This blog is...
I think the third one I've made? The other two were mainly focused on poetry and short stories I'd write, but I'm I haven't been so creative these days... These days where my state of being lost and confused screams too loud to hear the verses that once poured out of me.
I used to live in a land of art. And it was quite fun. Quite instantly gratifying. But it was a way to run, I believe. Because while my work was beautiful, it was often vague, a dance around what was really going on, something I could never understand....
And now, for better, or for worse, I have fallen to the brink of my own emptiness and disconnect... Realizing that no matter how deep my inner thoughts are, they will have no sustainence or continuity in absence of a stable foundation... That is, my life...
Something I desperately need to build.
But oh my, to construct something, like an actual life, is quite difficult, when I really haven't been alive for the last six years...
No, I have been behind psychiatric bars...
I remember one day, when I was in the psych hospital (stay number 6 out of the 6 times this last year)... I sat at the metal fence which surrounded the premise of our outdoor smoking area.... The woodlands beyond the bars seemed so distant, even though I could touch the grass which held all of the scenery, just by reaching through the to the otherside.... That otherside seemed impossible to ever be mine...
But I would like to make it so.
Thus, this blog is going to focus on my re-integration into society.
Since I was 18, I have done nothing to move forward in life. Any steps in a positive direction were quickly taken back through nervous breakdowns, depressive episodes, self-harm, chaotic relationships, and suicide attempts. I am making an honest effort to eliminate these factors, but as I slowly cross the limiting behaviors off of my list, I become alarmed with the fact that I have nothing outside of these death sentences which have come to compose my being. So, I must create a life to replace the old ways I can't live with anymore....
The outside world terrifies me, because I have never been a part of it as an adult. I was homeschooled in highschool, due to having severe anorexia... I had to drop out of college to be hospitalized on several accounts... I withdrew from having friends and social activities after a very sour relationship that lead to an abortion... And that left me with a broken heart, which is slowly becoming whole again.
I feel awkward everywhere I go. The grocery stores. The gym. The mall. Other people's houses. I feel like I don't deserve to be standing in public. But I am so lonely, living in this bubble of fear... So I am pushing myself to explore the very world I am afraid of... Because how else will I ever become a part of it?
At 24, I am learning how to cook for the first time... Buy groceries... Make a schedule. Not be a bitch to my family, taking out my feelings of inadequacy upon them... Trying to build a sense of confidence.... Practicality... A way of living that doesn't involve destruction and actually promotes, well, life....
I looked back to where I was before I started cereal dating and doing drugs, and I always loved learning. I loved being active.... I danced for 12 years and ran Cross Country and Track. So I've replaced the dance with yoga and got back to running.... Signed up for some classes... Even a race... Because I figure the best place to start in "getting out there" is investing in my interests....
So, I kind of have a schedule that isn't centered around an IOP or PHP program for the first time in years.... On Monday, I go to the gym to run and do a solo yoga session with myself... Which is the same thing on Tuesdays.... On Wednesday, I go to the gym and then yoga class... Same for Thursdays... Fridays are another solo yoga session, followed by the gym... And then Saturday is my painting class and a running at the gym day, while Sunday, the day of rest, is just a solo Yoga session. This schedule still isn't solidified, because I would ideally like to be doing solo yoga 3 times a week, along with 3 classes a week... Which I had in place... But now, with this painting class coming up, I am unable to attend my Saturday Yoga class... But I feel this painting class is important for me to take, so hopefully can figure something out...
There is a class that I could take on Mondays from 7-8 pm.... My Wednesday class is from 7-8 pm, as well... Which is nice, because the studio that I go to is on the way to my boyfriend's house, who lives across the state line (which is only 35 minutes away), where I stay half the nights of the week.
I am trying to figure out how to best incorporate these classes with my trips to his house, in order to not waste gas and money.... There are so many little mundane and tedious factors which go into this planning, that it overwhelms me. But I can't run away from them, because then I'll be left with my old life of having nothings productive or constructive to do, nowhere to be... Just laying in my room, binge eating...
Gosh, I want to be healthy again. I want to feel human again....
Yet, I feel so stupid not being able to figure these silly little things out. Some days, it is even overwhelming just picking out clothes to wear and pack to go to my boyfriends...
In the hospital, it was so easy... You dont have to go anywhere, but you have groups designated to occur at certain times. Your meals are cooked for you and served in a cafeteria... No dishes... And you wear a hospital gown all day... No clothes to pick out... Even your pills are served to you by a nurse... It is easy, but somewhat degrading...
And while this planning shit is really hard for me right now, it is rewarding when I can actually follow through. I feel good being able to help out around my house with cleaning. I am happy when I cook a nice meal, which I gathered the supplies for. I feel pretty when I pick out an outfit, and very free when I have everything I need, ready to go in a backup, allowing me to adventure anywhere...
So, I gotta keep facing these scary little things. And stop shaming myself for how it makes me feel. Because in reality, as much as I'd like to deny who I really am and where I'm really at, I am a recovering addict, someone with severe depression and anxiety... along with binge eating disorder... Who really doesn't want to have these things owning them anymore....
Which leads me to kind of wanting to talk about my binge eating... BEcause it is quite strange... Most people don't believe me when I tell them I binge eat, because I appear to be thin. But I wear my eight fairly well, even though it can fluctuate up to 30 lbs. I go up to a size 9 in jeans when I am binging and hoover around 150-160 lbs... And have ruined my savings account with the money I'd spend on food. A typical binge used to be a couple of quesidillas from taco bell... some french fries and a milshake from McDonalds... A package of oreos, a cheesecake, and a pie from walmart... And then nutella and cereal after all of that had been eaten... That probably is not even the worst, but it is kind of hard to talk about still...
I stepped on the scale at the doctors office a couple weeks ago and saw I was back up to 150 lbs... This lead to a really bad depression, where I didn't get out of bed or barely eat for a week... Once I did get up, I saw I had lost 8 lbs... And the reason I did get up was because I wanted to try taking these yoga classes and get back to the gym...
My weight got back down to 138, which I am a size 3-5 at and look damn good with, as well... But as of this morning, after 2 binges this past week, I am back up to 140lbs... I don't want to have this shit rule me any more man....
Ugh, one fucking moment at a time....
But I got to get off of here for now... I have to do dishes at hit the gym... Come home and shower... Pack, head to yoga, and then my boyfriends, where I hope to write about things I did within the last week that I found to work... Things worth noting and continuing....
I have to keep track of what works so I can make this work... So I can find my place, beyond bars....
I used to live in a land of art. And it was quite fun. Quite instantly gratifying. But it was a way to run, I believe. Because while my work was beautiful, it was often vague, a dance around what was really going on, something I could never understand....
And now, for better, or for worse, I have fallen to the brink of my own emptiness and disconnect... Realizing that no matter how deep my inner thoughts are, they will have no sustainence or continuity in absence of a stable foundation... That is, my life...
Something I desperately need to build.
But oh my, to construct something, like an actual life, is quite difficult, when I really haven't been alive for the last six years...
No, I have been behind psychiatric bars...
I remember one day, when I was in the psych hospital (stay number 6 out of the 6 times this last year)... I sat at the metal fence which surrounded the premise of our outdoor smoking area.... The woodlands beyond the bars seemed so distant, even though I could touch the grass which held all of the scenery, just by reaching through the to the otherside.... That otherside seemed impossible to ever be mine...
But I would like to make it so.
Thus, this blog is going to focus on my re-integration into society.
Since I was 18, I have done nothing to move forward in life. Any steps in a positive direction were quickly taken back through nervous breakdowns, depressive episodes, self-harm, chaotic relationships, and suicide attempts. I am making an honest effort to eliminate these factors, but as I slowly cross the limiting behaviors off of my list, I become alarmed with the fact that I have nothing outside of these death sentences which have come to compose my being. So, I must create a life to replace the old ways I can't live with anymore....
The outside world terrifies me, because I have never been a part of it as an adult. I was homeschooled in highschool, due to having severe anorexia... I had to drop out of college to be hospitalized on several accounts... I withdrew from having friends and social activities after a very sour relationship that lead to an abortion... And that left me with a broken heart, which is slowly becoming whole again.
I feel awkward everywhere I go. The grocery stores. The gym. The mall. Other people's houses. I feel like I don't deserve to be standing in public. But I am so lonely, living in this bubble of fear... So I am pushing myself to explore the very world I am afraid of... Because how else will I ever become a part of it?
At 24, I am learning how to cook for the first time... Buy groceries... Make a schedule. Not be a bitch to my family, taking out my feelings of inadequacy upon them... Trying to build a sense of confidence.... Practicality... A way of living that doesn't involve destruction and actually promotes, well, life....
I looked back to where I was before I started cereal dating and doing drugs, and I always loved learning. I loved being active.... I danced for 12 years and ran Cross Country and Track. So I've replaced the dance with yoga and got back to running.... Signed up for some classes... Even a race... Because I figure the best place to start in "getting out there" is investing in my interests....
So, I kind of have a schedule that isn't centered around an IOP or PHP program for the first time in years.... On Monday, I go to the gym to run and do a solo yoga session with myself... Which is the same thing on Tuesdays.... On Wednesday, I go to the gym and then yoga class... Same for Thursdays... Fridays are another solo yoga session, followed by the gym... And then Saturday is my painting class and a running at the gym day, while Sunday, the day of rest, is just a solo Yoga session. This schedule still isn't solidified, because I would ideally like to be doing solo yoga 3 times a week, along with 3 classes a week... Which I had in place... But now, with this painting class coming up, I am unable to attend my Saturday Yoga class... But I feel this painting class is important for me to take, so hopefully can figure something out...
There is a class that I could take on Mondays from 7-8 pm.... My Wednesday class is from 7-8 pm, as well... Which is nice, because the studio that I go to is on the way to my boyfriend's house, who lives across the state line (which is only 35 minutes away), where I stay half the nights of the week.
I am trying to figure out how to best incorporate these classes with my trips to his house, in order to not waste gas and money.... There are so many little mundane and tedious factors which go into this planning, that it overwhelms me. But I can't run away from them, because then I'll be left with my old life of having nothings productive or constructive to do, nowhere to be... Just laying in my room, binge eating...
Gosh, I want to be healthy again. I want to feel human again....
Yet, I feel so stupid not being able to figure these silly little things out. Some days, it is even overwhelming just picking out clothes to wear and pack to go to my boyfriends...
In the hospital, it was so easy... You dont have to go anywhere, but you have groups designated to occur at certain times. Your meals are cooked for you and served in a cafeteria... No dishes... And you wear a hospital gown all day... No clothes to pick out... Even your pills are served to you by a nurse... It is easy, but somewhat degrading...
And while this planning shit is really hard for me right now, it is rewarding when I can actually follow through. I feel good being able to help out around my house with cleaning. I am happy when I cook a nice meal, which I gathered the supplies for. I feel pretty when I pick out an outfit, and very free when I have everything I need, ready to go in a backup, allowing me to adventure anywhere...
So, I gotta keep facing these scary little things. And stop shaming myself for how it makes me feel. Because in reality, as much as I'd like to deny who I really am and where I'm really at, I am a recovering addict, someone with severe depression and anxiety... along with binge eating disorder... Who really doesn't want to have these things owning them anymore....
Which leads me to kind of wanting to talk about my binge eating... BEcause it is quite strange... Most people don't believe me when I tell them I binge eat, because I appear to be thin. But I wear my eight fairly well, even though it can fluctuate up to 30 lbs. I go up to a size 9 in jeans when I am binging and hoover around 150-160 lbs... And have ruined my savings account with the money I'd spend on food. A typical binge used to be a couple of quesidillas from taco bell... some french fries and a milshake from McDonalds... A package of oreos, a cheesecake, and a pie from walmart... And then nutella and cereal after all of that had been eaten... That probably is not even the worst, but it is kind of hard to talk about still...
I stepped on the scale at the doctors office a couple weeks ago and saw I was back up to 150 lbs... This lead to a really bad depression, where I didn't get out of bed or barely eat for a week... Once I did get up, I saw I had lost 8 lbs... And the reason I did get up was because I wanted to try taking these yoga classes and get back to the gym...
My weight got back down to 138, which I am a size 3-5 at and look damn good with, as well... But as of this morning, after 2 binges this past week, I am back up to 140lbs... I don't want to have this shit rule me any more man....
Ugh, one fucking moment at a time....
But I got to get off of here for now... I have to do dishes at hit the gym... Come home and shower... Pack, head to yoga, and then my boyfriends, where I hope to write about things I did within the last week that I found to work... Things worth noting and continuing....
I have to keep track of what works so I can make this work... So I can find my place, beyond bars....
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