Monday, January 9, 2012

Purposeful Selfishness

Purposeful selfishness.
When I first heard the words, purposeful selfishness in a sentence my first thought was “selfish? We are taught and told not to be selfish- to do things for others.”  In Christianity, my point of view of selfishness is something the Bible speaks against. However, lately I have realized maybe some of us need to be selfish sometimes. A lot of people, including myself, will stretch themselves so thin. If you are like me you will climb over every obstacle, do things you hate, and sacrifice your happiness and time to make others happy or complacent for that matter.
Right now, I’m in the process of quitting a job. I hate this job. I’m not happy there. I leave and go home crying some days (when you get to that point in a job it is more than likely time to quit!). It has been over a week since I said I quit yet I am still there. The reason I bring this up is I could have been out of there sooner! I could have been out of there last week. However I was thinking of others and not myself. I thought about the bind I could leave them in. Who will they hire? Should I leave after they have trained someone for my spot? This job means nothing to me and I mean nothing to these people except another person to cover a shift. This business will not collapse if I’m not there. They won’t cry. The world will go on, I’m sure. At the moment, I’m also in the process of starting another job and have a ton of other activities going on in my life yet I still play nice and roll over and take the shifts I’m offered knowing quite well I will be completely overwhelmed; And when I get overwhelmed, waking up everyday hurts.
If you are anything like me and struggling with an eating disorder, being overwhelmed often leads to me breaking down and letting my disordered behaviors continue. When I overwhelm myself and it is too hard to get out of bed and everyday seems like a huge feat I cannot take on, ED steps on in and I become more trapped.
Where is this lesson going you ask? Well purposeful selfishness is essentially looking out for yourself. Take time out to do things for yourself. If you are not happy change the situation or get out of the situation if it is making you miserable.
Remember here, I’m not preaching that we step all over people and make others miserable but you need to make sure you are taken care of. Think about this way- you need/want to take care of others but first you need to make sure you are okay before you help others. A drug addict won’t be good at helping another drug addict if they are not in a stable state of mind. On an airplane, when oxygen masks are distrusted an adult has to put on their safety mask before they can help the child. Right? 

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Dear woman living in my house.

"Ask me why she scares me. Do you wanna know why I’m angry? Can’t you tell I’m crying? Mother I don’t feel good. You will always be the bitter, saddest part of me. " Maria Mena (Power Trip Ballad)

Dear woman living in my house,

As much as I have tried to make things work, be a good young lady, get good grades, do well in school, surpass expectations, I have come to the realization it will never be enough and it will never solve any problem that we are facing. I used to hold this idea if I did things differently or performed better my household would function how it should. This however is not the case.

In elementary school I developed the concept if I just behave certain ways I could get by. I could pretend things were okay and get by. That would keep my family intact. That would steady the waves. This concept that I practiced for many years would sometimes lead to turbulence. For example, I did not achieve the grades I was supposed to in middle school thus showing something was wrong. I was not perfect. I wasn’t smart. I had an inability that tutors could not help (at the time). Having you find out of this problem was not okay. You treated me not how a mother should. I sat on the floor, leaning against the couch crying with you sitting with a look on your face that was terrifying. It reminded me of what you see in movies; before a suspect shoots a victim and there is a look in their eyes/face of calmness but you can see the viciousness of what they are thinking. You spoke in that low tone of voice that was shaky. I got a C in math. It must be the end of the world! I thought it was for me. You were ready to hit me. I saw it. I saw it in your eyes and your body language. However this was not the first time, was it? Do you even remember? Do you remember all the times I ran from you? Do you remember me crying? Did you think this was normal? When you dreamt of having a family is this what you had envisioned?

Remember that time I was so proud of the work I had done for class and you came over, looked at my work and mentioned all the things wrong with my paper? Do you remember how you grounded me for being upset? There is another blow to my self-esteem. I thought I did this wonderful job and you come by and destroy that. Remember telling dad that his child is out of control? I could hear everything you said about me. I can always hear you speak about me; will it ever be positive?

You made it seem like you were proud of me when I played piano. However that did not last long. You were proud until I started making mistakes. Your daughter wasn’t the piano prodigy you thought she was. Remember making me stay with piano for a year even thought I hated going? I dreaded going. I was tired of making mistakes, being forced into practicing piano, forced into sitting at a piano bench for hours just to perfect two lines. It was a joy to play at one point of which you ruined.

It amazes me how you can look at yourself in the mirror. Leave your daughter to catch a ride home with strangers because you forgot to tell her you were going to a concert; or the best time of all when a coach/teacher had to take me home due to you “forgetting.” It was terrifying for me to come home to an unlocked house to find you passed out on the couch. I wake you up to bitch about how I called many many times, as did my dad and all I hear is your slurred words. I left and didn’t come home for hours. No one called. No one cared where I was. I sat by the highway crying; I wondered if anyone cared. Two women on a walk stopped and asked if I was okay. My face red, eyes bloodshot from crying, I choked out a “yes I am okay.” Although this was clearly a lie. They continued on their walk. I just wanted help. I feared going home. I feared you. I feared being in your presence. I can’t even tell you how many times I prayed to God that you would go totally out of control and there would be evidence so I could be taken away from you. I can’t even express how terrified I was of you.

So many times I would run to the bathroom in fear of you. I would lock myself in since it was the only safe room. You confronted me so many times in an outrage over little things, especially in high school. If I didn’t fold a towel right I was subject to scorn, a drunken rage. I would be resting in my room after a hard practice and you would barge in screaming at me with that same look in your eyes.

Today, all I have to do is say what is good about my day and you call me selfish. You call me so many names and cuss when there is no such need. You act out wherever we are. I feel like I am walking on eggshells every time you are around me.

You terrified me and in my own home there was no refuge. I went to dad and he was no help. Ignoring the problem because confronting it would create more turbulence and we both could not have it. If you were to ask me if I would be mad at him, I would say no. He works hard and provides for me. Your money goes to your drinking and it angers me dad works so hard for you to spend thousands of dollars on your habit. He has also faced you and your insanity. He has the task of calming you down. I feel bad for him. He deserves much better. When I go out with him, single women start talking with him. Pretty women who I’m sure have better jobs than you and I can see joy in their eyes. He deserves someone like that, not you.

I’m tired of you blaming everything on me. I’m tired of you not stepping up and providing a better life for yourself. For me. For dad. I’m mad at you for not doing anything, not one thing, when a therapist told you I had an eating disorder. She explained how I couldn’t even hold my head up when I came in to talk with her. She told you I was close to having a heart attack. She told you I needed in-patient and you did nothing. You did nothing. What kind of person hears that, and hears how their daughter was in the hospital, is really sick and does nothing about it? How can you look yourself in the mirror? I was sick. Horribly sick and not one person stepped up to help me in my so called family. I could die; I was screaming for help. I paid over a thousand dollars out of my own pocket for out patient help. I was desperate and you didn’t care. You drove me home from that appointment angry. How could I ever come to you? How do you hear this as a mother and not do a single thing to help?

Throughout all these years, for ten years of dealing with an eating disorder, in dealing with drugs, and depression I’m finally realizing I’m going to break away from you. I’m going to take care of myself. You made me hurt for way too long. I feel like I’m finally going to take care of me since no one else will. Someday soon we are going to break apart and to be honest I never want to speak with you again. One day I hope you wake up and realize how horrible you were to me and apologize. Maybe then I will find forgiveness.

Sincerely,

The stranger in the other room.

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Glass Room

Everything is so unfamiliar. She is walking around in this room which she has been in for most of her life yet today every step seems like she is walking on new ground. From one corner of this room to the next, she glances around and it’s as if this is all new. The walls are glass. She places her palm on the wall and suddenly realizes that people are outside. Her heart beats faster and but her mind is still. Blankly she stares. The smiles on their faces are showing emotions unknown to her. As she backs away, there appears a door. She runs to the door as if she knows what is behind it, but knowing in her heart that she needs to find out, she runs; but she can’t open the door. She starts to hear dull laughter from the people outside and starts to cry. How did she end up here? How long has she been here? Why does this room seem comfortable yet confining? She cries and dwells on these questions. Then, someone opens the door. A few people walked in and paced the length of the room. Empty and cold. They try to speak with her but she can’t understand. How long has she been here? There is something unique about their eyes; she wants what they have but can’t voice her need. The people come and go; watch and speak and this girl does nothing but look at them with concern. What are they thinking? Why can’t she understand? What is outside this room?
At once, everyone leaves. She gets up, touches the glass wall, and dreams. Why were the people outside so much different than her? Why are their eyes different? Why do they laugh? What do they say? She braces the fear and opens the door and takes a step outside the room of glass. The air is different. Took a deep breath in and she felt her heart beat. It wasn’t beating so fast but not slow. Steady her heart beats. A person that had tried to talk to her numerous times before came to her side. She trembles and for the first time someone is at her side. It’s scary but comforting at the same time. This person starts to speak but this time she understands a few words.
A group of people run up to her side at this time. She feels weak; trys to speak but can’t. Their voices are downed out by the thoughts in her head. Should she have left her room? Is it better to see things from the outside instead of being in them? When she was in her room all she saw what was present; now that she walked out she can remember moments… she remembers very specific situations she witnessed from inside her room. The glass allows her to see what is happening outside. She cannot stand the noise. The noise starts to replay in her head now. “Focus, focus,” the people say to her. Who are these people? Why am I out here? How can they handle the noise? Her legs shake as she turns around grabbing the frame of the door. If she can just get back to her room, it won’t be so loud.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

RE: Hugs


“I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it so much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, I hold my breath. I turn my face. I want to cry.” –Marya Hornbacher ( Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia)

This entrance is mainly a continuance of a recent blog post called “Hugs.” I stated how a simple hug could possibly help me recover and how it is something I want but am somewhat fearful of at the same time.

Recently I hung out with a friend of mine. I’ve known him for around 7 years and although I don’t see him a lot we can always get together and have fun and it is if we never were apart. This guy knows a lot about me for not seeing me often… we don’t even talk often and somehow he knows things I haven’t even said.

After hanging out together with some friends we off by ourselves and ended up sitting outside on this couch… it was unbelievable. This guy saw right through everything. He sat right close next to me and said everything I fear. I was able to speak about my ed without feeling judged. He didn’t try to change me or yell at me to change my thinking. He listened.

Later he took me back to my car and went for a hug which he knows I dislike and I backed off at first but gave a hug. We started talking about that- hugging. And it was an awkward conversation… I told him how I hate hugging but its something I need more often. He then pulled me toward him and held me tight till I relaxed. I wanted to cry.

This all sounds so lame coming from me. But that had to be one of the best moments ever. He knew I didn’t want it, but I needed it. I thank God for that moment. I hadn’t felt that wonderful in a long time. I felt cared for that night. He cared. He was everything I needed in that moment.

Sounds so dramatic but I’ve just never had that. It was one of the best moments ever.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Thoughts and feeling/ Lies and Truth


(lies)

Thoughts and Feelings:

I can’t do this. Hell, I can’t do anything.

How am I supposed to take care of someone else when I can’t take care of me.

I can’t handle all these classes. Its all so unfamiliar.

I can deal with the ED… I can just manage it until I move out or when I get older and then I will get the help I need.

I shouldn’t have told anyone about this ED. I would’ve been better off.

You won’t amount to anything.

You’re friends think you are too much trouble. They would be better off if you didn’t talk to them.

How will you cope? How will you feel okay?

I need to be alone.

Lifes too much for you. Some people just aren’t cut out for it.

Maybe if they just notice how sick you are you will be able to get help. Maybe they will care.

If I just let ED take over I’ll finally reach my full potential. Maybe then I will discover my love for life.

Its intriguing seeing how far down you can go.

Really? More sugar?

Ed isn’t something you can quit or fail at.

You have to get worse how else will God save you?






(truth)
I can do this. Things I set my mind to can be done.
Taking care of someone else will give you joy! Remember how you love helping others?
Its five classes. You can do it. Remember you made it through your AP GOV class. That was like law school. Remember all the work you did your senior year? AP gov, calc, English… you can do this.
Deal with it now, don’t wait. You can’t afford that.
Its good you told someone. You’ve grown in your relationship with God because of it. Would you rather live in ignorance?
Hey, you are already the child of God.
Your friends would’ve left you a long time ago. They have fun with you. They laugh with you. They are here to stay.
Prayer.
You need people.
Jesus died so you could have life. He thought you could handle it.
They’ve seen you sick.  They wont help. Let go of that. Get better despite them.
Only with God can you reach your full potential. Remember when you are really into your ED how unhappy you are and how much life sucks? Remember how it was hard to get out of bed? That’s not a girl who loves life.
How about you see how far up you can go?
One more m&m is not going to make you gain 5 pounds. Its not the end of the world.
ED can kill you.
Hes already saved me. <3








Wednesday, August 3, 2011

What if I said give up?

What if I were to tell you give up? What if I were to tell someone who has hit bottom give up on you? That is a terrifying thought, right? Who in their right mind would tell a troubled person at their worst moment to give up on themselves?
Now what if I told you, “give up on yourself, therefore all you can do is look toward God.” If you were to give up your desire, your truths, your everything, and gave up to God? How would it change things? Would I feel free? Would I be lost? Would being lost be better than believing in myself?
I realized this past week that I have made God into something small. I believed that He could not heal me of this disorder. I was too sick to save. But I was special, everyone else can be rescued from the point they are at but not me. I was God’s one exception.
But as I hit a low this week, where I felt exhausted and tired of dealing with all the health problems ED brings about I felt a little hopeless. I lay on my floor, cried and told God I can’t keep doing this. I just want to give up on everything. The world is too much. Adulthood is something I never asked for. Making decisions is something I can’t do. Functioning is becoming way too hard. I wanted to give up on life. And as I continued thinking about what giving up meant I realized I could give up on me. I would be okay with giving up on me. But there is no way I could give up on God. He’s too great. He loves me too much. I pondered this thought for a few days. What does it mean to give up on you but not on God? Is that even possible?
I came to the conclusion, however, that it is possible. I could give up everything and just let God control my life and lead me where He needs me to be. I’m giving up trying to be the best. I’m giving up feelings. I’m giving up trying to make all my dreams come true. Why am I doing that? Because obviously feelings/ trying to be perfect/ chasing after the wind is getting me nowhere and causing me lots of harm. Maybe giving up and allowing God to work will be just what I need. He can do what I can’t. I can’t function on my own; I need His help to do so. Its freeing… giving up on me means giving up my disorder and trusting God will change my mindset since that is impossible on my own it seems.
It’s time for God to lead… the God that wants the best for me, something better than I could ever dream of. It’s time for me to be totally submissive to God who is so much bigger than my problems.
Making a step now to pray more and get into the Word more. Lately I’ve been writing down my prayers which I recommend. It helps my mind not wander and helps me not dwell on topics and looking back through written prayers I can see subtle changes in my thinking and see where God has answered prayers.
How great is our God, that even hitting a bottom I’m not alone and can go to someone who genuinely cares. Ptl.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Hugs.

Since I can’t sleep I decided to write down what I’m thinking in hopes that as I lay down my mind will stop repeating scenes.

“I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it so much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, I hold my breath. I turn my face. I want to cry.” –Marya Hornbacher ( Wasted: A Memoir of Anorexia and Bulimia)

I think of this quote quite often.

Sometimes when I am struggling with my ED, all I want is someone to sit down with me… make me just sit still for one moment and say I am here for you and give me a hug. Even thinking about that makes me cry. Sometimes I think that would make all the difference in recovering.

I have had people- acquaintances, who have giving me a quick hug, which always makes me uncomfortable but that isn’t what I want. A hug is supposed to show someone you care. Now that I’m thinking about it there have only been a few times where someone has hugged me and it actually meant something.

Maybe this is why I miss therapy. Maybe this is why I miss A New Beginning. Even though I wasn’t there for too long I felt cared for. For the first time in a long time I felt as if people cared. They didn’t really know me… but as I told my nutritionist I had to stop going there and I was saying goodbye. She got up and gave me a hug. Not that one arm, as you are leaving, type hugs… she held me tight and told me that she and my treatment team cared. I cried.

I cry now. Thinking the only hugs I have received that have done what they should was by therapists (my first therapist hugged me too which is odd now that I think about it. I told her I didn’t like people touching me.)

Maybe it isn’t even the treatment that I wanted or that I miss. Maybe I miss being cared for.

Hug someone. Maybe it’ll be a difference.