Juggling two compulsions. Why do I have to try?

I’m rather pissed off, mostly at myself.

After my session this week, the thought of my responsibility in my own healing must have become rather weighty. I wasn’t immediately aware of it until my behavior changed.

It seems that I must have at least one compulsive behavioral issue or I don’t function.

I was doing really well with the sexual compulsions. I thought. But, when I increased my eating, the urge to masturbate overwhelmed me. If the sexual impulse was gratified, I was able to eat. If I tried to avoid the sexual impulse, then I felt the need to restrict my food again.

This is not ok. I don’t like being some sort of freak who has to have some kind of disorder to live.

Why can’t I have nothing other than bipolar disorder and DID? Is that so much to ask?

Now I feel like a perverted failure again when I give in to one impulse but when I eat, I feel  nauseated and disgusting.

I was sitting at home and the sexual impulse came over me. At the same time I hadn’t had too many calories yet today. When my body and mind began to crawl with that sick desire, I decided to eat a giant Snickers bar. I then promptly recorded my calories and felt like a weak, pathetic loser.

I sat around for a little bit trying to figure out what to do. I decided to try something I’ve never done. I am absolutely terrified of throwing up. Seriously. It’s one thing that can make me cry. Nevertheless, I went into my bathroom and gave it a shot.

There were no tears, but it didn’t work either. I’m not sure what I did wrong but whatever the case, I failed. Again.

I have one last chance today to keep my calories under a different level and while I think of this, my body and my mind want me to indulge in other activities.

This sucks. No doubt about it. I don’t understand why I’m so weak.

I thought to myself yesterday that if my uncle really did do only one thing to me (since I have no proof otherwise, even after all this time in therapy), and that thing was just a kiss on the underwear…well I’m just shit aren’t I? What moron becomes what I’ve become over something as shit as that? It makes me want to punch myself in the face until I’m black and blue.

I’m seriously considering canceling therapy for a while because there’s no reason to go in right now. I have the same memory that I had in the beginning. There are no answers. No new information. I know nothing else. Whatever parts I supposedly have, are keeping quiet, which makes me question if I have DID at all. All evidence points to just one incident happening which just means I’m shit, all by myself.

Quick heads up about an Amazon app for dreams

Today’s free Amazon app is a dream journal.

It’s very basic and people may prefer pen and paper but I figured I’d mention it. If like technology you can use your smartphone to type in the details of your dream, categorize it, write about any symbolic content you saw, how the dream made you feel, what you think it means etc. It will save all of your dreams and you can look them up later. I believe that I also saw an option to email the dream which may come in handy if you want to tell your therapist about it. It supposedly has a “night” dimmer mode so you can write about your dream while it’s still fresh without lighting up the whole room. I haven’t tried that yet.

Just figured I’d throw it out there.

Trying to sit with sadness but it runs away

During my session this week I broached the subject of the anger I felt at my therapist for her speech on nutrition. I told her that I went on an eating bender that lasted days with the full knowledge that I would gain the weight back. I also told her about the brief conversation my husband and I had.

She accepted my anger quite well, telling me that anger is good which made me want to roll my eyes. She said that in cases where a client has an eating disorder, she always gives the “speech” at least once to educate them. I told her that I didn’t need it as I already know how to eat properly, I’m simply not doing it. She agreed. She seemed to pick up on a feeling that maybe I wasn’t in touch with, and that was my personal rights. She said that I have the right not to eat and to do what I want. I hadn’t realized until she said it that it was part of where my anger had come from. She said that nobody can make me do anything and to tell my husband that he’s wasting his breath trying to talk me out of it.

I think that maybe part of me needed to hear that I can’t be forced to do anything. Maybe.

I asked her why, if she thinks that something else is at the core of this, we’re not going over it? Her answer surprised me. She said that we can’t until my eating is back to normal. I was shocked as that seemed rather circular. She explained it. She said that I’m using the eating to distract me from things that I don’t want to think about: my mother, my uncle, the abuse etc. She said that as long as that distraction is there, I will never get at what’s at the core of the problem. That made me sad for some reason. I was sitting there listening to her and this feeling of deep sadness hit me briefly and then went away.

She was actually very empathetic at this point, almost like she realized that she needed to try to see where I’m coming from. She told a story which I actually found helpful in a way because it made her sound less judgmental.

She told me that she has realized over the years that she has a tendency to do OCD things when she’s anxious about something. It’s pure distraction and she’s learned to recognize the behavior. She told me when she realized this. She was anxious about something and at her house there was a whole box full of different size nails that had been there since she moved in. She doesn’t use tools and had never touched them, but some reason she felt the need to organize every single one of them into jars by size. It took her four days to do it but she couldn’t stop. It wasn’t until the last couple of hours of sorting that she thought to herself, “This is insane.” She said that’s when she understood what she was really doing; that she was distracting herself from what was making her anxious. She admitted that even when she realized the truth, she still had to finish it. She couldn’t stop. That was in the past and now she’s more mindful of when she’s trying to distract herself.

She told me that what I’m doing is an addiction and that sometimes people have to hit the bottom before they say, “This is insane.” So, she’s not pressuring me to fix my eating but she warned me that if I want to know the truth about what’s really going on, I’m going to have to make a choice at some point to stop.

That feels like a lot of pressure but I also feel disappointed in myself because I thought that I was making myself open to whatever feelings or memories would come. To be told that I’m not as open as I thought makes me annoyed and irritated with myself.

On the way home after the session, that deep sadness hit me again and this time it stayed for a while. I couldn’t figure out why I was sad because it felt like it was about more than the food thing. My eyes hurt and my breathing was off like I was going to cry. I didn’t but it stayed with me for a long time during the drive home. No matter what music I played, it just sat there. So I decided to sit with it and just feel it. I couldn’t cry but I did feel it and it hurt. It hurt a lot. I just wish I knew where it came from.

The odd thing was that, for the next 24 hours or so after the session, when I tried to eat I felt nauseous but I also felt that sadness hit me. Literally, each time I took a bite of food, my eyes would feel heavy and I would feel like crying. I would swallow and the sadness would go, then I would pick up my fork to take another bite and it repeated. This lasted the whole next day. It was very strange to have sadness come and go with the fork. But I sat with it when it happened.

I think tears are probably a good thing sometimes, but mine refuse to come.

My song of the moment: Florence and the Machine Shake It Out

I wanted to post the video for this song so you can hear it, but it’s more about the lyrics than anything. I’m putting the lyrics here and I think when you read them you’ll see why this song is my head. The video is at the end in case you want to listen to the words.

I’ll write about therapy later.

Regrets collect like old friends
Here to relive your darkest moments
I can see no way, I can see no way
And all of the ghouls come out to play
And every demon wants his pound of flesh
But I like to keep some things to myself
I like to keep my issues drawn
It’s always darkest before the dawn

And I’ve been fool and I’ve been blind
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way
I’m always dragging that horse around
All of his questions, such a mournful sound
Tonight I’m gonna bury that horse in the ground
‘Cause I like to keep my issues drawn
It’s always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out
Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out
Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa

And I am done with my graceless heart
So tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart
‘Cause I like to keep my issues drawn
It’s always darkest before the dawn

Shake it out, shake it out

Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out
Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him out, oh whoa

And it’s hard to dance with the devil on your back
And given half the chance, would I take any of it back
It’s a fine romance but it’s left me so undone
It’s always darkest before the dawn

And I’m damned if I do and I’m damned if I don’t
So here’s to drinks in the dark, at the end of my rope
And I’m ready to suffer and I’m ready to hope
It’s a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat
‘Cause looking for heaven, for the devil in me
Looking for heaven, for the devil in me
But what the hell, I’m gonna let it happen to me, yeah

Shake it out, shake it out
Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out
Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa

Shake it out, shake it out
Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa
Shake it out, shake it out
Shake it out, shake it out, oh whoa
And it’s hard to dance with a devil on your back
So shake him off, oh whoa

Disability,a hack,my mother and getting ready for therapy face-off

The title pretty much says it all.

After my computer sent all kinds of ridiculous emails to people, I did a full scan and there was no virus. Strangely, both of my security programs had been turned off. My husband saw his were too so he fixed his right away. Anyway, it seems that my email was hacked instead. I’ve never had that happen before so I don’t know what to do except change my password which I did and I also sent emails to anyone that I could see had gotten one from me. Some people got emails about improving sex, others about weight. It was irritating and it freaked me out a bit too. It all happened in one batch with different messages going out, and there were no other emails even before I changed my password. Hopefully that’s done.

There was a consequence of course and I was hoping that it wouldn’t happen though. My mother got one of the emails as her address is still in my contacts in case I should ever have to contact the harpy. She of course replied and asked me if I had sent it or was it fake. Now people, you have to understand that the email was something along the lines of: “Hey fatso’s, lose weight with blah, blah, blah” and the addresses it was sent to weren’t just hers but well-known businesses too. It was obvious that I had not sent the email but she just had to write back anyway, asking me a stupid question as an excuse for contact. She threw in, and I could almost hear the bitter sarcasm, that if I hadn’t sent it, she was sorry she contacted me without my permission.

Ha! Sure she was. There was no doubt that the email was fake as I could see the message that particular group received. I was angry to see her message in my inbox and angry that she even tried to get me to talk to her by asking me if I sent it. My response was to delete the email with no reply.

Moving on. I sent in my disability paperwork the other day and now the waiting begins. Waiting to see if I get to keep my benefits. Waiting for someone else to decide how I am. I have no idea how long this takes and I can only hope that they don’t make me see the government appointed psychiatrist during the review, like they did when I first got approved. That was horrible and I was a shivering pile of mental goo after that guy was done with me. But, it’s been three years and this is the process. Waiting…

Lastly, I will be seeing my therapist and this will be the first time we will talk about last week’s session and the fallout and anger from that. It’s not going to be easy to tell her that she botched it but I’m not going to be rude about it either. I’m simply going to say how it made me feel rather than saying “You did such and such”. Hopefully we can work it out.

What she did manage to do was give me food ideas to incorporate into my low calorie diet, so good for her on that one.

My husband is now also in the loop about the eating because I was so pissed off and not like myself that I spewed about my therapist on the phone with him last week, with therefore alerted him to what I’d been doing. Now he’s paying attention and I don’t like it.

One nice thing was that we went to the store together and bought lots of fruits and vegetables and some fish. He knows that mentally and physically I don’t have it in me to cook very often, so, If I was going to try to eat the way my therapist wants me to, the food would need to be cooked already where I could just heat it up. He took care of that for me and he’s awesome for it.

Of course when we were shopping, he saw healthy fruits and vegetables. I was calculating calories in my head and feeling pleased that they wouldn’t be a danger to my 800 regimen. That’s ok. I’ll keep that to myself.

Last night I was going to have a sandwich and I was reading the label. My husband asked me if I was going to eat and I said yes but that I needed to count the calories first. Yes, I know my therapist forbade that but honestly she can go to hell. My husband made a few suggestions on what I could eat and I said that they had too many calories and I told him how much it was. One was like 250 calories for a serving. He said that was really low so there would be no problem with me eating it. I said it was too many at which point he got mad and proceeded to tell me that I needed to stop being crazy. I remained calm and explained to him that this behavior is, according to my therapist, not really about food or weight. I explained that there’s something else that needs to be worked out first and I can’t just turn it off. He told me that was crazy and stupid. He told me I was being stupid. He went to sit down in the living room and I was still holding this jar of peanut butter which I had been considering spreading on one piece of whole wheat bread. From the living room he continued to tell me I was stupid and crazy so I put the jar away and went upstairs feeling my eyes sting like I was going to cry, but I didn’t. I turned my computer on and played around and he came upstairs and explained that he wasn’t trying to give me grief, he’s just worried. I knew this, so there was no argument and we were fine. It just hurt that’s all. It wasn’t something I needed to hear at that moment. But it was ok. Later in the evening I went ahead and had my peanut butter on wheat.

We’ll see how therapy goes.