Nomination.

Nomination.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 1 Comment

Thank you to Jill (Food, Feelings, and Freedom) for the nomination for the Sunshine Blogger Award! The award works normally works like this: first, I answer 11 of Jill’s questions. Then, I ask my nominees questions of my own. However, since I’m still relatively new to the blogging community, and the person who I would’ve nominated, nominated me instead, I’m going to just encourage anyone who reads this post to answer my questions in the comments section. That way, we can all get to know each other a little better, and spread as much sunshine as possible! And yes, I fully realize how cheesy this sounds.

Question 1: What do you do when you’re having a bad day?

Honestly, I’ve only recently learned how to take care of myself during a bad day. Before, I would always just try to push through it and ignore it. I would not recommend doing that. Now, instead, I like to curl up in my favorite blanket (shoutout to Target for providing ridiculously soft blankets for only $10) and listen to some music or watch Netflix while scrolling through my recovery board on Pinterest. I also try to make plans with friends who I know will support me, because I am very much an extrovert, and feeling isolated only makes me feel worse. Lastly, I remember that just because I’m having a bad day doesn’t give me an excuse not to eat! So I always try to eat something at every meal time, even if it’s just a smoothie.

Question 2: What is one thing you are most proud of?

As ridiculous as this may sound, right now, the thing I’m most proud of is my inner strength. I’ve gotten through a lot of things in life that I never would have thought that I would be able to survive. I’m committed to my recovery from anorexia, I’ve learned how to cope with intense spells of anxiety and panic attacks, and I’ve gotten through nights where I cut myself because everything hurt so much. I finally told my parents about my eating disorder and anxiety diagnosis. I’ve rebounded from loosing my friendship with best friend, and have grown from it. At every point, I didn’t think that I could get through it, and yet I did.

Question 3: Do you have any pets? Want any?

Yes! My parents have a dog named Max, and I am obsessed with him! When I’m at school he comes to stay with me occasionally. And he takes over my entire bed, sheds everywhere, and snores, and I wouldn’t change anything. However, next year, when I’m officially out of my parents’ house, I want to get my own dog- a rescue, of course!

Question 4: What are three values you consider most important?

Honesty, loyalty, and empathy. The importance of these three values have really stood out to me recently, as I’ve discovered what friends I can really count on.

Question 5: What are some of your hobbies?

I love taking dance classes! And writing! Although my passion for writing is something that I’ve more recently discovered.

Question 6: What is one thing you would tell your childhood self?

It’s okay to not be perfect! Perfection is overrated and is not equivalent to your worth as a person.

Question 7: What is your favourite quotation?

Honestly, this so shifts depending on my mood. But recently, these are the quotations which have taken over my recovery Pinterest board:

“If you were able to believe in Santa Claus for like 8 years, you can believe in yourself for like 5 minutes.” -Unknown

“Courage doesn’t mean you don’t get afraid. Courage means you don’t let fear stop you.” -Unkown

“I can do hard things.” – My Nutritionist

Question 8: Where do you see yourself (what do you hope for your future) in 5 years?

Ideally, I’ll be a first grade teacher with my own classroom in a great school system. I’ll have a dog, and live in an apartment with awesome roommates. I would love to be in a committed, loving, and supportive relationship. But most importantly, by that point, I’ll hopefully be very solid in my recovery, and in control of my anxiety.

Question 9: What is your biggest fear?

For the longest time, I would’ve answered this question with “being fat” or “gaining weight.” But now, I realize that these answers were just Ed’s way of masking my actual biggest fear- being unloved.

Question 10: What aspect of your life are you currently working on? (Work? Personal? Health?)

I’m sure y’all already have an idea of my answer to this one! I’m definitely focusing on my health right now- both mental and physical. I’m learning how to deal with my anxiety, and am working on improving my relationship with food. I’m trying to figure out what “normal” feels like, in regard to eating and working out. I’m also working on doing things that make me happy, and saying no to things that don’t.

Question 11: What is a risk you took that paid off?

So this is more of like a series of small risks, but just opening up to my friends about my eating disorder. For the longest time I was terrified of sharing because I didn’t want to feel vulnerable, but everyone I’ve told has been so incredibly loving and supportive. I’ve found that people care about me way more than I thought they did.

So if you’ve made it through all of that- congratulations! Here are my 11 questions for you:

  1. Do you have any tattoos? If so, what is the meaning behind them? If not, what is something that you’d hypothetically want to get tattooed?
  2. Where would you go for your dream vacation?
  3. What is your favorite form of self-care?
  4. What is your favorite quotation?
  5. What is the most adventurous thing you’ve ever done?
  6. What is your greatest accomplishment?
  7. What is your spirit animal?
  8. When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up?
  9. What do you do when you’re stressed?
  10. What is your favorite memory?
  11. If you only had one day left to live, what would you do with that day?

-X

Boxes.

Boxes.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 2 Comments

For a really long time I’ve tried to fit everything into nice, neat little boxes. Everything has been either black or white. Good or bad. But recently I got a stupid long text from my ex-best friend essentially telling me that I sucked as a person, because I was so wrapped up in my own mess of a life that didn’t check in on her on one critical night in hers. My gut reaction was that I was a terrible, awful person who didn’t deserve to exist.

And then I realized that I needed to reevaluate.

Not everything will fit into the perfect little boxes that my anxiety would like it to. Not everything is black and white. There are areas of grey. And different shades of grey within those grey areas. Not everyone is going to be a good person all of the time, but they still are ultimately considered a good person. Even though they sometimes make decisions that hurt people. Being a good person doesn’t automatically equate to perfection.

Just because I wasn’t able to be there for one critical night, doesn’t mean that I am an awful person. While I truly feel so deeply sorry that I made things worse, I had no way of knowing, at the time, that I was making things worse. And, furthermore, this one night does not define me as a person. I’m a good person who isn’t perfect. Who sometimes unintentionally hurts people, and whose decisions sometimes fall into the areas which are shades of grey.

Even though my anxiety wants everything to fit into nice, neat little boxes, I’ve realized that the real world doesn’t actually work like this. Most things actually fall into the middle area- the shades of grey. And I’m working on becoming more comfortable with the idea of this. And hopefully, one day, I won’t feel the need for my boxes at all anymore.

-X

Peace.

Peace.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

For a while there, I didn’t think I would ever find my way back to a state of peace. I really believed that I was just destined to be miserable for the rest of my life. But now I realize that that’s the thing with emotions- they can change so quickly and for no reason at all. One day you can be devastated by something, and the next, be at peace.

Last week I can quite honestly say that I felt like I had no idea how to live without my best friend by my side. Now, it barely bothers me. I feel at peace with myself. I’m calm.

This is not to say that I don’t get anxious or Ed doesn’t ever show up. Even though my meds are working, the anxiety is still there. It just isn’t as loud, and so I have a better chance of talking myself out of it. Ed is still there too. He’s actually been really loud this week. But it’s easier to ignore him now too. And revert to a state of peace.

For a really long time, I didn’t really believe in inner peace. I didn’t think it was valid or attainable. I thought meditation was silly and only for tree-hugging hippies. Talking to yourself like you would a small child seemed ridiculous. Self-care seemed like a giant corporate marketing scheme to get consumers to spend money on things that they normally wouldn’t. Basically, I thought feeling really and truly at peace with yourself was unattainable and overrated.

But ever since I’ve started really focusing on taking care of myself, I’ve noticed a change. And for the first time in a really long time, my resting state is a state of peace. A state of calm. And it’s nice. And not overrated at all.

-X

Control.

Control.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“The only thing you can control is how you react to your emotions.” That’s what my nutritionist told me this morning, and I hadn’t realized how much I needed to hear those words. I have spent so much of my life trying to control things that I have no control over. Looking at you, Ed. I cannot control anything other than myself, and the only thing that I can control in myself is how I react to my emotions. I can’t even control my emotions.

In a way, this is so incredibly freeing. I always have this strong urge to fix everything. Not even just in relation to myself, but also for other people. If my friends are hurting, I feel like I always need to be the one to fix it. This is probably my inner perfectionist making an appearance. But now, I feel like I can finally stop trying to fix everything all of the time. If my best friend decides to ignore me for two weeks without giving me an explanation, it’s not up to me to fix it. Not everything is my problem. The only thing I’m in charge of is how I cope with the feeling of being caught off guard and hurt.

In the past, my first reaction would be to restrict. Now, although that thought does occasionally come up, I’m, for the most part, able to tell Ed where he can stick it. Restricting doesn’t fix anything. In fact, a lot of the time, the lack of adequate nutrition heightens my negative emotions and makes everything exponentially worse.

On the other hand, getting myself out of the apartment, being more open with other friends, and taking dance classes are all things that help. Mind you, they don’t fix the actual situation, but they do allow me to feel more grounded and less overwhelmed by my emotions. Because the only thing that I can control is how I react to my emotions. I cannot control the rest of the world. And right now, this is something that I really need to remember.

-X

Acceptance.

Acceptance.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Over the past three weeks, I’ve been working my hardest to climb out of my rock bottom hole. I’ve been pushing myself to reach out to more friends, to cope in healthy ways (like taking dance classes), and to eat even though I’ve had literally no appetite. But whenever I reach the ledge of possibly being okay, I get knocked down again.

I always get knocked down by the same thing- my relationship with my best friend. Or should I say ex-best friend. I don’t even know anymore. We’re not on solid ground.

Three weeks ago, at the beginning of this whole ordeal, I had convinced myself that I was the problem in our relationship. However, I found out that she was never really mad at me- she was just overwhelmed by her life and needed space. Later, I found out that she also thought of me as an emotional drain, and that is why she specifically needed space from me. But I also realized that I was not the problem here- I hadn’t actually done anything wrong. The only thing I had done was exist.

I tried my absolute hardest to give her what she needed, especially as she kept promising that it was only temporary, but when it got to the point of her pretending that I didn’t exist when we were both in the communal spaces of our shared apartment, for four days straight, I couldn’t let myself hurt any longer. I had to say something.

And so I did. I tried to express to her that I was hurting. That all I wanted was a conversation, so I could explain to her why her ignoring me hurt the way it did. And she refused. She accused me of making her feel guilty for needing space- which was never my intention. She told me she wasn’t going to respond to me again.

And so I let her go.

I’m now doing my best to accept that she wasn’t who I thought she was. At least, not anymore. That all of her promises about unconditional love and loyalty, were empty. I realized that at her core, she’s really a selfish person who doesn’t care who she hurts. I know she’s going through something right now, but so am I. Just because you’re going through a tough time doesn’t give you an excuse to not care when you’ve hurt someone close to you. I know I’ve definitely hurt my fair share of people when I’m in pain, but never, not once, have I ever not cared about the fact that my actions had caused someone else emotional pain.

And accepting that I probably need to let her go is so exceptionally hard. Aside from the fact that at one point I was in love with her, our lives are so intertwined. We live together. Her family was planning on staying at my family’s house for graduation. And it sucks even more that our relationship deteriorated like this right before graduation. And it’s hard not to hold out hope that things will fix themselves. That we’ll end college on a good note.

But at this point, I think I’ve been holding out hope for too long. Something changed. And I need to accept the fact that the girl who was my rock and my safe space for the past two years, is not anymore.

-X

Rise.

Rise.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

In the past, I had been convinced I had hit rock bottom. Wow, was I wrong. Rock bottom doesn’t look like being so consumed by Ed that hospitalization, and in-patient treatment. No, rock bottom looks like the past 48 hours.

Rock bottom looks like loosing your relationship with your best friend. Wanting so desperately to just sit down and have a conversation. Your best friend throwing what can only be described as a revenge dinner. Just to hurt you, or at least that’s how it feels. Screaming until you’re numb. Crying because you can’t feel anything. Crumbling because you’ve never felt so alone. Restricting in an attempt to prove that you don’t need anyone or anything. Cutting in a last ditch effort to make the worst panic attack you’ve ever had stop. Throwing out all, and I do mean all, of your food. Running out of the apartment with no shoes and no direction. Roommates calling the cops because they think you’re a danger to yourself. Your parents showing up at 1am, because your roommates called them too, you making your parents turn around at 3am and leave. Your best friend, who told you that she loved you unconditionally, discovering that she does actually have conditions for loving you, and leaving you to suffer the absolute worst day of your life alone.

But I’m still here, and thanking God that I had a nutritional therapy appointment already scheduled for today.

My nutritionist helped me realize that this wasn’t my fault. Ed was completely in control here. My friends called the cops because they were panicking too. They felt like they didn’t have the tools to cope with the situation.

It wasn’t my fault.

I know that I need to take responsibility for my actions and words, but that doesn’t mean that I have to beat myself up for it. I can use all of this hurt and pain as a stepping stone. But first, I need to take care of myself. I need to get back on track with my meal plan. I need to reach out to my roommates and thank them for caring and apologize for how I treated them for it. I need to stop trying to force a solution with my best friend. I need to remind myself that everything happens for a reason.

The only thing left to do now is rise. The only way to go now is up.

-X

Float.

Float.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

It’s been a while since I’ve posted. My anxiety has become pretty debilitating. Leaving little room for anything other than essentials. School work, sleeping, drinking (water, of course), and unfortunately eating. I feel like all of the rest of my time is taken up by panic attacks. It’s exhausting honestly- panicking all of the time. And it leaves little time for anything else.

I’m alone in the ocean, and I’m too tired to keep swimming.

My last therapy session, I had a conversation with my therapist which really stuck with me and is helping me beat myself up less for what feels like constant panic attacks.

We had talked about needing to slow down my panic, and so my therapist asked me what the warning signs of my panic attacks were, and I didn’t have an answer for her. She then told me that most people knew that they were about to panic when a feeling of anxiety developed. I then realized that this was the problem. I had no idea when I was about to panic because instead of getting an indicative feeling of anxiety right before a panic attack, I am literally anxious all of the time. Therefore, panic attacks feel random and unpredictable to me.

I also realized that I’ve had pretty severe anxiety as long as I can remember. I used to get so anxious about getting on the school bus every morning because it was unpredictable and I had no idea where I would be sitting. But I just thought that everyone got this anxious about getting on the school bus. Or field day. Oh my God, field day. Field day was my least favorite day of the year in elementary school. I wasn’t overly athletic, and I used to lose sleep in the months leading up to the big day. I was so worried about what people would think about me. In my mind, if I wasn’t excelling at something, I was completely failing at it.

The difference is that now, I’m recognizing this constant anxiety is not normal, and my brain is too exhausted to cope by itself anymore. That’s why the eating disorder developed. My usual coping mechanisms weren’t working, and so my brain decided to try something else. In the form of an abusive asshole named Ed. And now that I’m in recovery, and trying my hardest to not use Ed to cope anymore, my exhausted brain has absolutely no coping mechanisms. And so I spend the majority of my day suffering from panic attacks.

I don’t really have the time or energy to do much else. Staying afloat is hard enough.

And so I’m probably pinning an unhealthy amount of hope on my psychiatry appointment next weekend. While I know that getting anti-anxiety medication won’t be a magical solution, I’m hoping that it’ll at least give my brain a fighting chance in this battle which it is currently so terribly loosing.

And so if you’re reading this, and it resonates with you on any sort of level, my advice to you is this: you don’t have to swim, you just have to stay afloat; eventually, there will be a life preserver. (I feel like it’s important to note here that this life preserver doesn’t have to come in the form of medication.)

-X

Ed.

Ed.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Over my spring break, I completely immersed myself in Jenni Schaefer’s books. I read them everywhere. And I mean everywhere. I spent spring break road tripping, and the majority of spring break in coffee shops across the country buried in Jenni’s books. For the first time I felt like I really, truly wasn’t alone. I wasn’t crazy. Jenni’s experience with anorexia so closely mirrored my own. The way her eating disorder made her feel is exactly how I feel.

But the most important thing that I gained from my own personal research project was a name. And that name was Ed. Ed is the voice in my head telling me not to eat, and that I’m not sick. Ed is the one who tells me that if I eat anything I’m going to gain exorbitant amounts of weight. Who has a list of forbidden foods a mile long. A list of unwritten rules surrounding food a mile long. Who tells me that I always have to be the thinnest person in the room. Take up the least amount of space. Who puts more trust in arbitrary numbers than proven science. Who convinces me that everything on my to-do list has to be done before I can even begin to think about food. Who screams when the plan changes. Who is inflexible. Who treats others terribly.

I had thought all of those thoughts were just me. I had thought that it was just my personality. And I hated myself for it. My favorite adjective to describe myself had become “monstrous.” But it’s not me who’s monstrous. It’s Ed. The controlling bastard.

After reading Jenni’s books, I began to separate between myself and Ed. I began to recognize when it was Ed speaking to me. Now that doesn’t mean that I waved a magic wand and was suddenly over my eating disorder. I still listen to Ed probably more than I would like to admit. He’s very convincing. But now, I’m able to call him out with a simple, “what’s up Ed.” Acknowledging that he’s there. That it’s not me who’s speaking. That Ed’s values are not my own.

As Jenni said, acknowledgement is the first step to learning how to disobey him. To escape his controlling crutches. Recognizing that he’s there, and little by little beginning to question him. Eventually fighting him. Disobeying him.

Eventually, I’ll get there.

My nutritionist had recommended Jenni’s books to me ages ago. I put off reading them – I had more important things to do. But now I’m wondering if the reason that I shoved them aside was really because Ed didn’t want to be questioned. He knew that if I read something recommended by my nutritionist, I would begin to question him. He was already beginning to loose ground in the fight over my mind. He was loosing ground with every nutritionist approved meal. He was desperately clinging to my low self esteem with everything he had. He couldn’t let himself loose anymore ground. So he convinced me that reading the books would be a waste of time. Why would I want to learn more about eating disorders when I was living one? How much new information could that book really provide me with?

The answer is a lot, actually.

-X

Calories.

Calories.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

In all honesty, this is probably pretty triggering. Because that’s where I’m at today. So if you live with an eating disorder, please proceed with caution.

Those awful, horrible little numbers on the back of everything. Theoretically telling you how much energy is in food. Or, as Ed, has convinced me- letting you know how fat you’re getting by eating that.

They’ve been the biggest road block on my road to recovery. My brain just cannot seem to let go of the numbers. Ed has convinced me that these numbers are safe, because how could numbers lie?

In order to start actually recovering, I needed to let go of the hold these numbers have over me. To convince myself that numbers actually could lie. So all of the calories have been crossed off of everything in my apartment. I’m not even allowed to look at the groceries until the number is gone.

And let me tell you, letting the numbers go is not easy. Actually, if we’re being completely honest here, it’s hard as hell. Ed has tried his hardest to keep counting, and I’ve been fighting like hell to drown him out. To just put blind faith in my meal plan. And it had been working. For the past few days I had been able to push the thought of calories out of my mind. To just follow my meal plan. Trust that at this point, my nutritionist knows what my body needs more than I do.

But today I had a lovely little conversation with my parents. Where a lot of really uneducated things about eating disorders were said. And all of the comments sucked, but one in particular created enough doubt and uncertainty in my mind to give Ed a strong foothold again. When my dad asked if I had a goal number of calories I was supposed to be eating. And yes, my dad was talking about my meal plan. But the whole point of my meal plan is to make it so that it’s easier for me not to think about calories. Ed began to reminisce over his goal numbers, and how what I was currently eating was probably two or three times what he was comfortable with.

And so Ed crawled back in. Sat on my shoulder. And whispered advice into my ear.

So today I’ve restricted. Ed is trying to convince me that it’s nothing, that before I would’ve just skipped the whole meal instead of leaving some left on my plate. Or using half of the amount of peanut butter that I’m supposed to be. If I was really sick, I wouldn’t be eating at all.

But I’m not so wrapped up in Ed’s clutches yet that I don’t realize that he’s there.

And so I’m fighting. And it sucks.

-X

Lonely.

Lonely.

by themusingsofatwentytwoyearold ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I keep waiting for a text. Every two minutes I’m checking my phone. I’m playing games with myself- if I leave my phone alone for ten minutes, when I get back there will be a text. There never is.

My best friend and I got into a fight last night. I cried until 6am. Skipped my first class. Only went to my second class because I had an exam. Came home and cried some more. I think I’ve really ruined things this time.

The fight started over a change of plans. How stupid is that? She decided she was staying home longer for spring break, and then altered our dinner plans for that night. And instead of reacting to it like a normal person, my brain completely took over. I lost all control of my emotions. Accused her of abandoning me. Said really awful things that I feel really guilty about and don’t ever want to repeat. Had a panic attack for at least three hours straight. Had to stop myself from doing stupid things because I was in pain. Lost the recovery dinner battle. Skipped dinner. Tried to clean everything out of the fridge. Only didn’t throw away the entire fridge because my normally completely self-involved roommate noticed and dragged me away from it- crying.

I think I’ve really ruined things this time.

I hate who my anxiety turns me into. I hate that it makes me a monster.

I hate going to bed angry and feeling like things are broken. It makes me feel like they’ll never be fixed. The panicky, abandoned, unloved feeling never goes away. I cry so hard that I can’t calm down enough to fall asleep. Do you know how awful that is? To be so deeply devastated that you can’t even escape it through sleep? Maybe you do. If you do, I’m so sorry. It’s the worst feeling in the world.

And now I’m sitting here. Waiting for a text that tells me that she still loves me. But I don’t think that I’ll get it this time. Everyone has a breaking point.

-X