Facing the Day

February 6, 2013

Another sleepless night for me.  I am weary today, but I am afraid to take a nap in case I don’t sleep tonight.  I haven’t followed my schedule today, or for that matter, in several days, as I lay in bed for a long time willing myself to get out of bed.  Getting up each morning is still so hard.  I don’t hate the day the minute I wake up anymore, but I just don’t seem to want to get going.  I guess I am still hiding out from the world.

I have made some good strides forward.  Dr. F is amazed at the big leap I have taken.  But I fear that this supposed progress is only temporary.  I hope I am not falling back.  I couldn’t take that.  Being on my own is difficult, as I no longer have an enforced set of activities I am required to complete.  I am my own boss.  This is a role I am not comfortable taking.  More truthfully, this is a role I have not a clue how to adopt and take on for myself.  How can I not know how to manage me?  How is it that I have never learned this basic survival technique?  It is unfathomable how I could have gotten so far into my life without grasping this simple premise.  And yet here I am.  Blindly making a muck out of experience after experience.  Terrified to step out on my own.

How do other people manage themselves?  Why is it that I have never thought about this crucial piece of reality until now?  What a simple concept, and yet it is one I don’t understand.  I have been ill so much in my life.  Hospitalization after hospitalization, to the point of sometimes becoming institutionalized due to the length of my stays.  I think of all the help I have received and the care that has been given me.  I have required this attention because of my illnesses, but at what cost?  Is it any wonder that I have difficulties standing on my own two feet?  Couple that with the fact that my family sees me as being fragile and unable to cope.  They have tried to protect me from what?  Myself?  The world that surrounds me?  Whatever the answer I am left lost and alone.  Feeling unprepared and unable to face each day as it greets me.

OK.  My heart is pounding, my chest feels constricted, and I have a nauseous feeling in my gut.  These physical signs are telling me that I am panic spiralling.  Never a good thing.  I must do some breathing exercises and focus on the moment of now.

I look at my luscious plants.  They are so beautiful and green.  Such a variety of different shades of colour.  It’s quite remarkable and spectacular at the same time.  Like me, they love the sun!  Basking in it each day brings me warmth and satisfaction.  A comfortable feeling of contentment creeps in as I feel the subtle warmth of the rays on my arms and hands.  This morning it was cloudy.  A greyness permeated the sky that suggested snow was on the way.  But now it is delightfully sunny with a slight haze in the sky.  It is like the clouds from this morning haven’t completely burned off.  I look up into the depths above me and marvel at its perfection.  With all of its different moods, the sky remains constant.  Something I can count on seeing each day and night.  If only I could learn to count on myself, then I, too, would be able to take care of me and face each day with dignity.

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May 27, 2017

I like most mornings, now.  I arise very early and then relax into my day by luxuriating in the downy folds of my cotton bedding while repeating my positive mantras at a lazy pace.  I am then able to eat breakfast, and although I cannot say I enjoy it particularly, I like the idea that I am feeding my brain and my body for whatever comes my way.

There are still days when I struggle to get out of bed, dreading what awaits me.  During those times, I strive to think of what I have to be grateful for, and I do my daily affirmations with a blind fervour, trying to occupy my mind with positivity, as opposed to focusing on what is negative.  This can be a challenging activity because for so many years my brain has been bent in the direction of negativity that I naturally navigate towards it.  But the more work I do establishing new positive neurological connections within myself, the better able I am to reach and remain on the bright side of that spectrum.

Now the grand question is whether I have learned how to take care of myself.  Anorexia has shattered what little self-esteem I possessed before its onset, so many decades ago.  It has not been built up significantly to date, despite my concerted efforts in this area.  And I remain rail thin, which would indicate that my ability to care for my basic need of sustenance is one that is sketchy at best.  But I AM functioning in the real world.  I have maintained a career for several years, and although I would like to have a partner, I live somewhat successfully on my own with my dear doggy and kitty.

True happiness still eludes me, as countless years of self hate have taken their toll, and the ability to be kind to myself is grossly impeded by my inner critic.  But I have learned to accept most days as they come, and to do my best to focus on the moments that occur, in real time, regardless of whether they are moments to remember, or ones to forget.  I hold onto the belief that with continued hard work on myself as a person, I WILL find total peace, and even true happiness.  In the meantime, I welcome contentment as my companion as I face the days that come before me.

Fearing Happiness?

January 31, 2013

My sun is back!  It’s pouring in on me through the kitchen window and it is indeed glorious!  The warmth of it kisses my outsides and melts into my skin, warming me from within.  How lucky I am to have a great, big window that faces south.

I look at today’s date and I marvel at my personal progress.  Just one month ago I prayed for a good year, asking that this previous year, being the worst one in my life, never be repeated.  Here I am, thirty days later, making cookies for C and D’s Ukrainian dance recital and then off to tutor HH.  A little over a month ago…say 6 – 7 weeks…I couldn’t get out of bed.  Wow.  My landscape has changed greatly over a short period of time.  I wish I could celebrate this achievement, but I am too afraid to.  Whenever I recognize a positive aspect of my life, something negative occurs that slaps me down, right back into the pit of my despair.  It happens without fail.  In actuality, I fear any good that may come my way.  I can’t bear to be beaten back down into the swirling depths of my despondency.  It is safer not to acknowledge any possible moments of happiness.

Last night, sleep evaded me completely.  I lay in the darkness with my eyes endlessly open.  I did not experience tiredness, despite the fact that for me, the day had been a busy one.  My mind would not quit producing thoughts, and those thoughts were accompanied by feelings that ran the gamut on the emotional scale.  I felt like my body was going to burst with the contained energy I held inside myself, but I never made a move to get up and expel some of it.  It was most curious to be so full of vigour, and yet so devoid of movement.  It was as if my physical being was completely separated from my mental and emotional state.  The more active my brain became, the more sedentary my body remained.  I felt like my body was shackled to the bed, while my brain was encouraged to run amuck within my imagination.  Finally, at about 5:30 AM, my body was released from its prison and I got up to greet the day.

What will this day bring?  Do I dare to allow the happiness in by accepting the fact that I am moving forward from a past full of dread and sorrow?  Or do I cower away from this truth?  Protecting myself from the impending doom I am convinced will occur once I allow myself to bask in my own happiness?  The latter is a scary thought.  But one whose reality has been proved to me on countless occasions in my past.

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April 30, 2017

Fear is a powerful entity.  It can sneakily and gradually seep into my being as I become afraid of an action or thing that previously had no effect on me.  Or, it can bombard me full on with a terror so palpable I could eat it like I do a sandwich.  Either way, Its insidious grasp closes about me, squeezing the air out of my lungs, and causing my heart to pump at an alarming rate.  The racing thump thud of my heartbeat causes the blood in my veins to throb with intensity.  A prickly feeling at the back of my neck signals the hair on my body to stand on end.  Goosebumps develop across my arms and a freezing chill accompanies them.  Instantly following the cold rush, my body is flushed with a searing heat and beads of sweat gather at my temples and across my forehead.  Fight or flight? Fight or flight?

Fear is as strong as the power I award it.  In the past, I always gave into it, and it fed off me like a parasite sucking the marrow out of my bones.  Now I am better able to combat the force when it attacks by breathing deeply, knowing that this sensation will pass if I allow it to.  However, the phobias I have developed about all insects, and sharks have yet to be dealt with!

Although the fear of experiencing happiness has lessened dramatically, I still sadly cultivate the belief that if I let myself get too happy, or if too many wonderful events occur for me in a short period of time, I will be punished for it.  It is like the feeling of a hangover that I can’t shake off.  Since my earliest memories, my life has been fraught with difficulties of which many I have been unable to manage.  Unhealthy Fear came along and set up camp inside my psyche, thriving there for several decades.  To this day, it still takes up residence, but the space it inhabits has been greatly reduced.

Living WITH fear is one thing.  Living IN fear is another.  As mentioned above, unhealthy fear still inhabits a part of my brain.  But I no longer allow it to rule my existence, dictating the way in which I live my life.

The Hungry Mind

February 25, 2013

I am very hungry.  There.  I said it.  I listened to my body and acknowledged the sensations that I am experiencing.  Hunger.  How I vehemently dislike that feeling, and that word.  It has been a long time since I had the rumbling, hollow emptiness that signals the need to eat.  Or more correctly, the desire to eat.  When I habitually starve myself, or rather restrict my eating significantly, which is my modus operandi, the sensation of hunger dissipates until it disappears completely.  For a time, there is a numb feeling that permeates the stomach cavity, but eventually that goes away as well, and there is no longer any evidence of feeling that is associated with hunger at all.  It is quite delightful really.  Once my brain has been trained to ignore the sensation of hunger, I no longer require set times to eat.  Nor do I fixate and salivate over special foods that at one time tickled my taste buds and satisfied my ‘need’ to eat them once they were devoured.  There is simply a nothingness that my subconscious accepts as my regular state.  When I do eat, I only allow myself certain ‘set’ foods that I have allocated as safe to consume.  My diet is made up of the same few food items eaten regularly, day after day.  That way I know exactly what I am putting into my body, and then my weight doesn’t change.  But ever since the end of the Program, I have been eating more…and more often.  When I start eating more, I start wanting more food to eat, and then I begin to get hungry, and consequently I eat more.  It’s a vicious cycle.  So what do I do now?  Give in and eat, or abstain and suffer the pangs of hunger?  Why am I even having this thought?  The obvious answer for me is to refrain from eating until the absence of the sensation of hunger returns.  The Program is tricking me into believing that I deserve to eat whatever I want to eat, whereas I know I can only eat what I have deemed alright to eat.

Really wanting to lay down right now, but it is only 5:07 PM.  I still haven’t cleaned the main floor, or taken down the Christmas Tree.  That is pathetic.  An entire month has passed since Christmas, and my Christmas tree and decorations are still up.  There is so much to do, and all I want to do is to go to bed.  I don’t think that is a very good sign.

I have (in a few hours), survived my first entire weekend since the end of the Program on Tuesday.  A couple more days and I will have a whole week of successful living under my belt.  I think I have made it thus far thanks to my regimented schedule, my big, blue binder full of strategies for when I begin to struggle, and for the opportunities I have had to go for coffee…by MYSELF…Hah!…and for lunch.  I am trying to pack in activities to fill up my day with.  The busier I can be the less time I have to ruminate on my failures, and the lack of prospects I have for my immediate future.  Hmmm.  Perhaps that’s what it’s all about.  It’s not about the Hokey Pokey after all!  Hah!  Fill up my day and the meaning will come later.  I’m looking for the meaning and not doing anything.  Sitting in the doldrums and being as active as a sloth may not be the best use of my time when looking for purpose in my life.  Maybe it is time to try a new tactic.  Fill the day up and let the meaning come afterwards.  OK.  I’m challenging myself to do this very thing.  And ‘filling the day up’ can mean with cleaning chores part of the time, too.  I HAVE to get my place presentable again.  It has been over a year since I did anything with it.  I don’t even remember the original colour of the hardwood, as it has been a grey, gritty mess peppered with mammoth dust bunnies for so long.  How shameful is that?  To punish the Hungry Self by living in filth and denying it the comfort and cleanliness of a well cared for home?  No.  I learned in the Program that I am worthy of a clean and respectable place to live.  Now I just have to get off my butt and actually do some cleaning to bring about a new reality.  And I WILL do it…if only the couch wouldn’t continue to call to me to cuddle up and slumber peacefully on it.

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March 26, 2017

That was a mish-mashed piece of journal writing if ever there was one!  I can sense a growing panic about the mounting hunger that penetrated my body at the time.  With that hunger and subsequent eating would come the inevitable weight gain of which I dreaded…and still do.  So much of what I described about the controlled way in which I ate back then, is still present today.  I indulge in the same practices regarding how and what I eat.  The non-existent ‘feeling’ that accompanies the absence of eating is still my constant companion.  An old friend that keeps me from enjoying the social aspect of eating.  An old friend that keeps me from enjoying ANY aspect of eating,  But that is the price I pay to continue being small.  A lifelong goal that still doesn’t make any sense to me.  Why small?  Why not big?  What do I gain by remaining petite?  I don’t know the answer to that, but I do know that the secret to getting and staying thin is not so much in what and how much you eat, or how much you exercise, but in how you think, or actually do NOT think about food.  Once my brain is trained not to register hunger, I refrain from thinking about food and I cease to be hungry.  I continue to live in this way, and I guess it is fine, because I rarely think about food anymore.  In fact, I have dismissed it and consider it to be a nonentity in my life.  But for a thing of no importance, it is interesting to me how much time and energy I spend obsessing about the topic, as has been evidenced in both of these journal entries.

Being active is an excellent thing.  Having activities to do is an enjoyable way to pass the time.  I don’t think, however, that filling my day in such a way is how I will find meaning in it.  That comes from appreciating the moments in my life.  Both the wonderful ones that I will treasure, and the difficult ones that afford me the lessons I am required to learn.  These snippets of time provide what I need to possess a peace of mind, and a love of self.  I see this collection of poignant bits as a lifelong process.  I cannot say that I have achieved either a calm and mindful state, or self-love at this time.  But I do my best to be aware of the many meaningful moments in my life that shape who I am today.