Blast from the past: Leaving the "perfect patient" behind

(I have a lot of drafts written, but never posted. I was going through my drafts today, and happened upon this post. Not sure why I didn't post it months ago when I wrote it. Here it is today.)

I don't write much about eating disorders anymore: They're not really a part of my present life.
I recently found a blog written by a therapist who treats eating disorders. She happened to be a pretty important part of my recovery.

Reading her blog took me back, so I decided to share this story:

The first time I ever said "No" to anyone, was about five minutes after a group session. The focus was on me. We were talking about all the things I do to make people like me. I was inpatient, so my list was specific to that setting:

1. Follow all the rules.
2. Smile.
3. Talk to other people about what they are struggling with, and never mentioning my struggles.

She told me to stop it. Stop doing those things.
It made my head hurt.

Stop doing those things? Like... just stop smiling? For how long? Stop following rules? I'm locked up here! If I don't follow rules... won't they kick me out? The staff will hate me if I don't do what they say. The other girls will hate me if I talk about my struggles. People don't want to hear about me... What if I agree with the rules? Do I still have to stop following them? Aren't rules there to protect me? How can I trust ME to know what rules to break? What if I FEEL like smiling? Do I still have to stop? I don't even know when I smile because I feel it... or if I just always smile because I know other people like my smile. I don't like talking about me... I like hearing about others. I WANT to be a good friend to them. Not talking to them about their struggles - that would feel really lonely. And rules. What rules can I break? What if I'm following rules because I don't like the consequences imposed upon me? I don't want to waste the church's money or my time by not taking full advantage of every second of treatment. But, if breaking the rules is her assignment, then I have to break rules to take full advantage of every second of treatment. What does she mean?? What the hell am I supposed to do with all of this conflict in my head?

Group ended before I had a chance to vocalize the spiral of confusion. After group, we ate. There was a rule that we weren't allowed to have our watches on during meals and snacks. (I don't know why, so don't ask. It didn't make sense to me then, and it definitely doesn't make sense to me now that I have this much distance from it all.) I forgot and still had it on. One of the staff put her hand out and told me to give her my watch. I sat there for a moment. My face got flushed. My head was spinning. My heart was racing... and then I realized I didn't HAVE to break the rule OR follow the rule.

This was a rule I didn't understand, and I didn't agree with. (I didn't disagree with it - I just didn't agree.) Also, I didn't think anyone could get hurt by breaking THIS rule. If I had to break a rule, it might as well be a small one. I looked at her and said, "No. I don't think so."

I was sweating. According to my peers, I also made myself very small, but I didn't hand her the watch. There were two people at the table who had also been in the group. They smiled and egged me on. Poor staff didn't know what to do... In a group of perfectionists, I doubt she gets told "No" outright very often. I didn't know what to do next... She didn't know what to do... We both just sat there for a minute. Someone tried to explain to her that I was supposed to break rules. I think I eventually handed the watch to her.

In that moment, there was the tiniest spark of something new. I had choices. The best way to take advantage of treatment wasn't to just follow all the rules - it was to find out what I wanted and what was best for ME. The best way to live life might just be the same.

I stopped trying to be perfect. There was a shift in me. I stopped accepting what I was told and started thinking about it. Weighing things out in my own mind. It was the beginning of a whole new Jen.

Five years later, look what that first little spark started... LOOK who I have become since then.

I don't know why THIS picture. It was just a recent picture of me. And I figured I couldn't end a post with "Look who I have become since then," and then NOT post a picture... anyway. Hi!

Blerg.

On my mind is Christmas, Pants, tragedies in Connecticut, and a few other thoughts that won't leave me alone.

What's the most important thing to write about?
I don't know.
Which is why I haven't written anything yet.

Thanks for coming to my house. I'd love for you to come again.

My parents came to my house for dinner tonight.

I was anxious inviting them over. I was a tiny bit anxious while they were here. The anxiety really hit after they left.

BJ asked why I was so anxious... What was I afraid of?

Good question. I think I'll write about it. (So, here I am. Writing about it.)

They've been to my house several times before. I feel like I should be comfortable having them over... But still, every time I invite someone into my home, my world, my safe space, it's scary. I feel afraid that they won't approve. I feel afraid that I'll like having them here, and they will never come back, and that will hurt. I just feel generally afraid of something that doesn't really make sense. Even to me.

They've told me they love me and they want me to be happy, and still I feel like if they don't approve of me, I'm not allowed to be happy. That's a lot of pressure to put on them. That's a lot of pressure to put on me. OF COURSE I'd be anxious if I believed that. I'd try to be practically perfect. In every way. All the while knowing I'm not. Also knowing that to try to be perfect is crazy and impossible, and yet I can't stop myself from trying.

I'm much better than I once was. Mostly all I have left is a remnant of my old fears and perfectionisms. Having people come to my home though, is like a whole new part of my brain that has to be trained. (I'm like a horse. You can work with a horse forever on one side of his body, and when you move to the other side, it will be like totally starting over.You have to work both sides of his body and his brain.)

I'm babbling a bit. I'm still trying to figure out my own emotions... feeling a bit raw. And happy.
I no longer want their approval (mostly). Mostly, I want them to know how happy and real I am, and I want them to share in that with me. Which they did. They do. That makes me grateful and happy.


To my parents: 
I haven't quite figured out how to say the words in person yet... Forgive me for saying this on a public blog. I'm really grateful you came to my house. It was a fun night. Despite the anxiety, I loved planning for your visit. (I even loved cooking dinner! Weird!) I enjoyed talking about camping, hiking and scouting. I enjoyed the stories about Hawaii and lack of oxygen. I enjoyed having you here, sitting on the porch, watching the horses and goats, and eating BBQ and peanut butter bars. I liked sharing my world with you.

Thank you for coming to my house. I'd love for you to come again.

Explain a little bit about who YOU are

I recently agreed to be a part of a panel on sexual abuse/self harm. They asked for two different "bios".

One that quickly glossed over the abuse and my self-harm/eating disorder history. That was hard to write. Seeing it all together in one story made it more... real... "Wow. All those things really happened to ONE person... and that one person was ME." I cried a lot after writing that.

The other was supposed to be, "something simple that explains a little bit about who YOU are"
I wrote one that read like a resume: I have a Bachelor's degree in Sociology, this is where I work, and where I have worked and volunteered in the past, and listed a few things I love like horses, fishing, and reading.

I felt frustrated.
Frustration #1: It was many years ago that I did speaking for eating disorder awareness... (I even got to be interviewed by 20/20 once.) My "recovery" story was all about college, married, active in church, future children, blah, blah, blah... I don't feel "successful" enough as I try to explain "who I am".

And now, I am remembering what life was actually like when I was a speaker.  I was the kind of recovery speaker that I hate! I stood up there and talked about how happy and successful I was, but my life was hell. That probably explains why I hate recovery speakers... I don't trust them to say how it actually is, because I didn't.

If I had been honest it would have gone something like, "I'm in college, taking 22 credits a semester, because I need to stay busy or I'll go crazy.  I'm also trying to get done as quickly as possible, so then maybe I only have to work one job to support my husband, so I can have kids one day. I haven't even thought about if I WANT kids, but I'm going to have them, so I can prove that I am a good person... I hate sex, but he forces himself on me every single night. It really hurts, and I cry, but he gets it done quickly, so it could be worse... He tells me I'm fat and disgusting on a regular basis, but I still eat my dinner, because I know that if I don't, that will make people really upset with me. I will never go back to the eating disorder, but I really hate my body. Sometimes I get "too busy to eat". He likes me better when I do that: Tells me I look really great, and I feel confused. How do I please him by looking like I have an eating disorder without actually having one? I wish I could just give up, but I won't, because I know God needs me to do something big... And although I think about dying every single day, I'm happy. I must be happy, because I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing...  And well.. If you just go to therapy, and eat your dinner, you too can have this life." 

I'm shaking my head at myself.

There's still a part of me that wants to be able to say I am a picture of perfection: Master's degree, married, ten kids, house, hubs with a good job, active in the church, active volunteer in lots of different organizations, and there's probably more I'd love to add to the list... except that is not the life *I* want. If I were to tell my "recovery story" today, it would be so much MORE powerful, because it's real, and I am living MY life... just the way I want it... and isn't that more like "recovery" than anything I have EVER had?!?!? Yes. Yes it is. I tried to live the "picture of perfection" life, and I was miserable.

Frustration #2: I, Jen, am NOT my degree or my job, or even the places I've volunteered. That's not ME... but I live in a world that values degrees and jobs and achievements... (I live in Utah, so having kids is sometimes seen as an achievement; a sign that you are successful at something. Often, it's the only achievement that matters for a woman, but until you have kids, a successful career is an acceptable substitution.) Other people use their accomplishments to describe who they are. Does that mean I have to do that? If I'm not my degree or my job, then how do I write a bio that explains who I am?

Who am I? What is important to me? What do I want you to know about me?
I'm the oldest of five kids, although none of us are "kids" now. I love being a big sister: spending time with my siblings is some of the best spent time in the whole world. I could spend hours telling stories about them: the things they've accomplished, thought, felt, done and shared with me. They are a big part of who I am.

I love learning. I have a degree in Sociology, but my most valuable education has come from the people I have met and the books I have read. I love a good discussion. It's hard for me to do small talk - I'd rather dive in and talk about YOU. I really enjoy writing and I love reading. I spend a lot of time in the blogging world. And books. If you came to my house, the first thing you'd see in the living room is the bookshelf. It's full, and I have three more boxes of books under my bed. I have been shaped by the books I read. Right now I'd say the book that has made the biggest difference in my life is Tao of Equus, partially because it lead me to so many other amazing books. I also love anything by Miguel Ruiz. It's hard for me to pick just one or two books though, so tomorrow I might tell you something completely different.

I am passionate about GLBT and women's rights. It is also important to me to talk about all kinds of abuse. I believe the only way to change is to educate, so I speak up as much as I can.

I love music. I play the piano and the violin. There is something magical about playing in an orchestra. I love how all of the different parts come together to make music.

I love outdoors, nature and animals, especially horses. I've been all over the mountains on horseback. I think the best feeling in the world is to be in the mountains, on the back of a horse, running as fast as he can run. I also enjoy just sitting in the pasture being near horses. Sometimes I feel like I fit better with horses than with people. I also enjoy hiking and fly-fishing (catch and release only). I recently moved to (little town in the mountains). I have horses in the backyard, a wrap-around porch, I work from home, and I'm five minutes to the river.

That's me. What else do you want to know?

Just the way you are

This is me being lighthearted. Reminding myself of the beautiful world that I live in. The next post (if I actually finish it) is a heavy one for me. But this one... I love sign language. And I love this song. Enjoy!

Abusive Relationships

General Conference is this weekend. It always causes me great stress. In the same way Sundays used to. I'd get anxious beforehand. Church would make me completely crazy. I'd spend half the week recovering, and then start the cycle all over again. Conference is worse in many ways, but better because it is only twice a year.

I have several friends who have been in (or are still in) abusive relationships. They leave. They go back. They get hurt (emotionally more often than physically). They leave. In the books I've read about abusive relationships, it says it takes the average woman seven times before they leave for good. Why is that?

One goes back because her abuser cries and says he can't live without her.
One goes back because her abuser tells her SHE is the problem, and he wants to be happy with her... if SHE just changes, they could be happy together. She believes him.
One goes back because his abuser tells him, she's changed. She deserves another chance. And he needs to see.
I want to watch conference this weekend, because I want to know if leaving was really the right thing to do.

I didn't leave the church because I talked with "anti-mormons". I didn't leave the church because I wanted to sin. I didn't leave the church because I was offended and couldn't let go of my anger. (Well, actually, maybe I did leave because I was offended. The leaders, their teachings, and the things they did and said were harmful and thus offensive to me.) I left the church because the relationship I had with the church was an abusive one.

I believed the church had no problems - it was always ME. The reason I hated church, was because there was something wrong with me. I wasn't righteous enough. I wasn't good enough. I needed to repent. I had the wrong thoughts. I had the wrong feelings. I was bad. They didn't need to change. I did.

In all of my relationships, I falsely believed if I just changed me enough, the relationships would be good and happy. It does NOT work that way. I can only be responsible for my half of the relationship. And just because I am good, kind, loving, serving, righteous, devoted, etc., does NOT mean that the other person will treat me with love, respect, kindness, etc., and it does not mean I will be happy.

I went to bishop after bishop asking them why I wasn't happy. I told them how I didn't like the temple. I told them how much I hated church. I told them I didn't like the way I felt when I read the scriptures. They told me I needed to repent. Over and over and over I looked for something to repent for. I'd confess every thought, every deed, everything, and I still felt horrible. I went to the temple more. Read the scriptures more. Looked for the good. Served others more. Prayed for God to make me different. Make me into someone who doesn't need other people. Make me into someone who can give and give and give and never want anything in return. Make me into someone who never feels angry. Or sad. Or hurt. Make me into someone who loves the church. Change ME!

The most abusive relationship I have ever experienced is the one I had with the church. The hardest relationship to let go of is the one I have with the church. Even though it has now been nearly a year and a half since I last went, and I no longer claim to be a member, I still feel guilt and fear and shame for wanting to get out. I still feel like I have to go back.

With conference coming, that feeling intensifies. I HAVE to listen. Have to do what they say. I can not think for myself. I am no good without them. If I just change ME enough, I'll be happy there...Or maybe, I was wrong about them. Maybe they don't teach things that are harmful. Maybe I am just crazy, and I interpret everything all wrong. They don't mean what they say... And I should know that.

As I write this, I feel fear. What if no one believes me? What if no one understands and tells me (yet again) I am wrong? What if it is ME that is the problem? What if...???

I had one session with a therapist that I call DBT Guy. I shared with him an argument that I had had with Ex#2. I told him all of the things I needed to do different, so we wouldn't argue. He didn't buy it. DBT Guy's response was, "You aren't the problem."

I was confused. Of course I'm the problem. I'm ALWAYS the problem. He pointed out that I was angry, but he said I SHOULD be angry. When someone refuses to take "no" as an answer to a request, and keeps pushing, we are supposed to feel angry.

He said it MANY times in that 50 minutes session.
"YOU are not the problem."

That was almost two years ago. It has taken me a long time to believe that maybe it wasn't MY fault. Maybe I am actually okay just the way I am. Maybe I don't need to change and become perfected by someone else's definition of perfect. Maybe... Just maybe... It is okay to walk away from someone who tells me that I need to change to make them happy. (Or any other reason someone ELSE tells me I need to change.)

In my opinion, a relationship becomes abusive when one person tells someone else they are not good enough. They need to change. And at the same time, won't let that person leave the relationship. (You are not good enough for me, but I won't let you be with anyone else.) That is what it felt like being a member of the church. I wasn't good enough for them, but I didn't have the choice to leave.

Only, I did. I have the choice. I am not ever going to go back to a place or a relationship with anyone or any organization that makes me feel less than.

Indiscriminate Self Sacrifice

This morning on Everyday Joy, they were talking about the movie Avatar. In the chatroom, someone shared that they didn't like the movie. I loved it... It was a big deal for me... I SAW people defend themselves, and I didn't feel like that was bad. I wasn't angry at the people for trying to protect their world.

I shared that in the chatroom... It was such a foreign concept to this person: "Survival instinct will force you to defend yourself."

Nope. Not in my world.

When I was inpatient at CFC, Paul (therapist) liked to give people signs to wear. I willingly wore every sign he gave me, except one. I don't remember exactly what it said, but it had the word "martyr" on it. I refused to wear it. I told him I wasn't a martyr. There were some assignments he gave me that I fought because they weren't what I needed. This was not one of those times. I knew it. I think he knew it, but I flat out refused, so what could he do??

Some might think I didn't want the martyr sign, because being a martyr is bad... That wasn't the case for me. A martyr was the BEST kind of person, but I wasn't one. I was still alive. I had survived, so therefore, I wasn't good enough. (It sounds really crazy to write this now, but I BELIEVED it.)

"Greater love hath no man than to give his life for his friends."
The stories of Joseph, Hyrum, and Christ... If I wanted to be good like them, I couldn't value my own life, so I didn't. (Direct result of not valuing my own life: sitting in an eating disorder treatment center, literally starving to death, and only eating because someone else told me THEY needed me to eat.)

How this played out in my life:
Ex-Husband #1 raped me, and I laid there. I thought his needs were so much more important than my pain, my sadness, my fear. THIS was love for him.
I gave money I didn't have to people who said they needed it.
I worked two jobs, had three callings, went to the temple, listened to friends as they shared their heartaches, reached out to the lonely, and no matter how much I did or gave or tried, it wasn't enough, because I WAS STILL ALIVE.
I stayed with Ex#2, even when he was physically violent. It hurt me, but it was okay, because I LOVED him... and if he needed to kill me, that was what needed to happen. (It never crossed my mind how AWFUL that would have been for him. I was SO confused.)
My cat sat on my lap, flexed her claws in my skin, and I did nothing. It drew blood, I think I felt pain, but I didn't do anything to stop her.
I didn't tell people about the violence in my life, because I didn't want anyone to protect me. I didn't want anyone to get hurt.

I was so ashamed of being alive, I was willing to die slowly by starvation rather than face the guilt and the shame.

Paul eventually changed his terminology. He came up with the phrase "indiscriminate-self-sacrifice". I was willing to sacrifice myself, my wants, my needs, my life for anyone, anything, everything, and everyone.

I'm slowly unlearning all the things I learned. I'm worth protecting. I can feel safe and happy and still be a good person. I don't want to ever harm someone else, AND I will take care of me. I can have needs and wants, and express them, and still be loved. That's what is has always been about, I just wanted to be loved, and I didn't know there was any other way.

F**kin Perfect!

(I purposely didn't use Pink's video. Between the sex and the self-harm, it triggered the hell out of me... Its amazing... I just needed a milder form today.)

The lyrics:
Made a wrong turn, once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that's alright
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss 'No way, it's all good', it didn't slow me down
Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated
Look, I'm still around

Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than f*ckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing
You're f*ckin' perfect to me!

You're so mean, when you talk about yourself, you were wrong
Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead
So complicated, look happy, you'll make it!
Filled with so much hatred...such a tired game
It's enough! I've done all I can think of
Chased down all my demons, I've seen you do the same

Oh, pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than f*ckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing
You're f*ckin' perfect to me

The whole world's scared so I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer
So cool in line, and we try try try, but we try too hard and it's a waste of my time
Done looking for the critics, cause they're everywhere
They dont like my jeans, they don't get my hair
Exchange ourselves, and we do it all the time
Why do we do that? Why do I do that?

Why do I do that..?

Yeah, oh, oh baby, pretty baby..!
Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than f*ckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me
You're perfect, you're perfect!
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing
You're fuckin' perfect to me...

I didn't deserve it

Johnny's been on my mind a lot this past week.
I was eighteen. Just out of eating disorder treatment (the first time), trying to figure out who I was. And hurting, but I didn't understand that back then.

He was the Elder's Quorum President and my home teacher. He was the kind of guy I thought my parents would like me to date. Although I knew I was in no place to get married, I also knew that was the next step. The only way for a girl to progress...

I wasn't really interested in him, but I wanted to progress. He was nice. He brought scriptures over all the time. He was desperately trying to reactivate me. Teaching me lessons. Discussing the gospel. We also went on several dates.

That night, I was wearing a t-shirt and overalls. We were sitting in the car. He reached his arm around my lower back and put his hand under the overalls and touched my stomach. I was gone.

If you've never dissociated, this will sound so strange. I have no memory of what happened next, but still... I have nightmares of what happened. I CAN'T tell you for sure. Which makes me feel crazy. I could talk about it back then.

I told the bishop. I felt horribly guilty for him touching me and for all that happened. He listened enough to tell me that I had done nothing wrong. There was no sin on my part. I remember him also talking about forgiveness and love.

I told my friend Shawn some things. He told me to love him and forgive him. He told me about all of the nice things that Johnny did for their Elder's Quorum.

My roommates were frustrated with me that I wouldn't listen to the home teacher anymore.

My (non-member) friend, Matt, asked where Johnny lived, so he could kill him.

Matt's response scared me, but as I think back on it, it felt REALLY good to have someone validate my hurt and my anger. If the bishop knew enough to know I did nothing wrong, why didn't he suggest I call the police?? Why didn't he suggest counseling? Why didn't he DO anything with Johnny?? He was also Johnny's bishop... Why didn't he at least release him??

I have often talked about Johnny as the catalyst to get me back to church. I directly blamed MYSELF for what happened. If I had been a "good" girl, that never would have happened. I became BEYOND obsessed with being good. Church. Service. Callings. Read the scriptures. Do what everyone told me to do, so I wouldn't deserve to be hurt.

I don't know how to say this strongly enough... I BELIEVED I DESERVED WHAT HE DID, BECAUSE I WASN'T GOING TO CHURCH. I deserved what he did, because I wasn't good. I had an eating disorder. I was bad (although I haven't really come up with WHY I was bad, I just knew I was bad).

That belief has motivated me for a long time.
It motivated me after Larry left too.

Its different now. I don't believe that anymore.
I don't want anyone to believe anything like that.

It doesn't matter who you are, what you've done, what you haven't done, what you think, what you feel, what you want or don't want, you don't deserve to be hurt.
You are beautiful.

Tron and Perfectionism

I don't enjoy movies much, and theaters are particularly difficult. That said, I now live in the middle of nowhere, yet there is a theater. (A nice one!) Stadium seating. Popcorn. And only three of us in the theater. Suddenly movies in the theater are less intimidating. If I freak out, everyone there knows me and knows that I freak out. Which strangely enough makes it so I freak out less...

Tonight, I went to see the movie Tron: Legacy. I figured it would be a little strange, lots of cool lights, and a happy ending. (I only see movies with happy endings. Life has enough crap in it, movies should resolve nicely at the end.) I found myself sobbing at the end... not because it was sad, but because I identified with it.

*Spoiler Alert*
The Grid, the digital world, was supposed to be a perfect world. That was the whole mission. Daddy Flynn created this world. Then he created Clu, and gave him the job of creating the perfect world. This all went wrong. Daddy Flynn got trapped in his digital world. Son Flynn goes in to save him.

They are all about to escape and Clu says, "I did what you asked me to do. I created a perfect world!" Daddy Flynn's reply is what got me.
"Perfection is unknowable and right in front of us. I didn't know when I created you. How could you have known?"

I cried. All my life I have been searching for perfection. Taught that THAT was the goal. One day, if I worked hard enough God would make me perfect. In the next life, everyone would be perfect. I didn't know what that meant, but in my mind, we would all become the drones we pretend to be. We wouldn't have to pretend anymore. But thinking about that caused me dis-ease. What did perfection really mean? Would my friends with black skin suddenly become white? Would they suddenly have smooth hair and a nose that looked more like mine? Or would I suddenly have a nose more like theirs? Would I suddenly enjoy church and living the way I was trying so hard to live? Would gay friends suddenly not be gay anymore? Would there suddenly be no anger and no emotions? Would all of my wants and desires just suddenly go away?

The answer to all of those questions is, "No." We are all already perfect.One of my favorite authors is Miguel Ruiz. He supposed that the biggest lie is the lie of our imperfection. When Eve took a bite of the fruit of the tree of knowledge, the biggest lie took hold of her. The lie that there is good and bad. The lie that we aren't enough just as we are. Some of my biggest questions about the church have come from the story of Adam and Eve. It didn't make sense to me, but the way Miguel Ruiz explained it did make sense.

Because of that lie, we go searching for perfection, but we never find it. In our pursuit, we miss that it is already here. Eating disorders are (partially) about the quest for the perfect body, and the cure for that part of eating disorders is to realize that my body is perfect, because its MY body. Not because it looks a certain way. Not because I can push it to do things. Not because of anything except that its mine. And its perfect. If I need to sleep or eat or sit down, still perfect. If I can't fast, or stop myself from feeling pain, or push it to run a marathon, still perfect. If I sit in a wheelchair, still perfect.

The cure for perfectionism is to see that perfection is right in front of us. We don't have to go looking anywhere, because we've already found it.

"Blast this Christmas music. It's joyful AND triumphant."

Christmas is hard for me. I know its supposed to be a time full of happiness and joy and good things. It just isn't for me. I'm stressed. Anxiety through the roof, and I can't even really tell you what I'm anxious about. This past week I have felt urges that I haven't felt since... well... probably since last Christmas...

I have wanted to just take whatever I had to take to make me go away mentally. Then I can be wherever anyone wants me to be physically, but I don't actually have to be there. (I have prescription anti-anxiety meds. They make me a little TOO out of it. I was told to stop taking them, so I did. But... I have never thrown them away just in case I might "need" them one day. I find comfort in knowing that I have a way out. I'm not going to throw them away, even now, because even though I will never take them, I still feel comforted knowing I could. Or something.)

Anyways, BJ told me to go back and read what I wrote after Thanksgiving. He pointed out that I was stressed and scared then, but it turned out okay. Better than okay. He's smart. It helped some, but this also FEELS different. Today just feels icky. Here is me trying to sort this one out.

Being in my parents' home is still hard. Often, I revert back to some former form of myself. Christmas has so many "traditions" and all traditions feel like to me are old memories of things I don't want to remember. And some good things that I do want to remember... But. Oh. Even the good things bring pain right now. Dann has always worked so hard to make Christmas special and fun and good. Even when we didn't have money, or things were really bad between us, he made Christmas awesome! Remembering all of our Christmases together is sad, because I don't have him in my life like I used to. We're still friends, and... still, its just not the same.

I really struggle to let other people buy things for me. I have often NEEDED Christmas. I refused to buy anything for myself, so things got worn out, and Christmas was about my needs.

I was always told that I shouldn't want anything. And with Christmas, it just gets stronger. I shouldn't want presents, but I shouldn't buy anything for myself, so I really need some things, but I shouldn't, because I can do without, and there are others that don't have anything. I should give my presents to them. But my family likes to give to me, so I have to accept whatever they give graciously, but I don't want it, because I shouldn't want presents. What a horrible cycle I've gotten myself into!!!!!

Add that to, the belief that I can never give enough. No matter how much money I spend, or how much time I put into presents, or how much I think about the perfectly right gift, I will still feel bad for not doing more.

ITS NO WONDER I HATE CHRISTMAS!

This year, I am going to do it differently.

I have done better at taking care of my own needs and wants, so there is nothing I need.
I like presents. I will admit that to others and to myself. I like getting things. I like seeing what others have picked out for me, and I like just opening gifts. Even tearing the paper, I love it.
I like watching others open presents. If its not the perfect gift, oh well. If its a horrible gift, I hope they enjoy exchanging it. And I hope we can laugh about how horrible it was.
I will smile at the memories that were happy. Cry for the changes that are sad. Create new memories.
I will participate in the traditions I want to participate in, and I won't participate in the parts I don't like.
And if at any moment, it all gets too much for me, I have a home to come to. I have a place where I feel safe and comfortable.
If I decide to spend Christmas alone, I'll be in great company.
This year, I'll think I'll just try living.

Just writing all this down, I feel better. Lighter.
Who knows, maybe I'll even like Christmas this year.

On Vulnerability and Shame

Cleanliness is next to craziness

This not sleeping thing is slowly driving me insane. Last night, I came to the office... and went a little OCD. I cleaned a lot. It is almost unrecognizable as the same place I have worked in these last few months. Today, I'm sitting here... And for some reason, the completely clean office is making me crazy. I can't handle it. What the...?

I am so weird.

Most people feel better when things are clean. I feel antsy, nuts, and I am reminded of the days that I would do this to my own room. ALL night, I would clean and clean. I would hang up my clothes on matching hangers, perfectly spaced from each other. Everything would be perfect. Not a speck of dust or anything out of place.

It would make my mom so happy. And then I couldn't touch anything in the room. I would just sit there and look at its perfect cleanness. At the worst times, I wouldn't sleep on the bed for fear of ruining it.

I learned to back off a lot while at CFC the first time... It hasn't been a part of my life for the last twelve years, and today?!? I can't handle that I had to put trash in the trash can. It needs to be taken out... right now! If there is trash, its not perfect, and then... we all might die! (I recognize this is not a rational thought... which is one reason I am writing this - getting it out there, or something - and I am NOT taking the trash out, even though I really, REALLY want to.)

It turns out I am crazier than I ever thought...