Life Is Just Another 4-Letter Word

Sometimes I wonder if I will ever enjoy life.

It seems as if my life is nothing but impossible task after task, never getting time to stop and smell the flowers. Or even be happy.

I had a panic attack in session with V today. Freaking fantastic.

I know finding her was God's will. She is an amazing person. I have felt so supported and respected in the last week (today being exactly 1 week since my first session with her) than I can ever remember feeling with anyone. I truly believe her when she says she cares about me and helping me get better.

I feel safe when I'm with her, even if it is resulting in panic attacks.

Only problem is I am only seeing her 2 hours a week. 2 hours out of 168. The other 166 hours of the week, I'm praying for time to pass. Praying that it gets here fast so I can feel safe.

I am seriously considering taking time off of work and entering IOP.

I cut last night and for the first time, it didn't make me feel better. And for an instant I wondered just how much I was going to have to "up my game" to keep getting the results I wanted.

Life isn't supposed to be like this.

In Limbo

Loved the game as a kid.

Hate it (metaphorically) in my life right now.

I feel so out of control, trying to adjust to so many changes in an area of my life where I want the most control I can have. I'm fine when I'm in V's office, talking with her is easy and she has some amazing insights that have helped me validate my own feelings more so than I ever had before. But when I leave, I feel disconnected. Like I have no home, no safe place, and it is causing me to be triggered at the drop of a hat it seems. I had two panic attacks Wednesday night (after coming home from an intense session with V) then had to ward one off Thursday night. Last night I went out with a friend from church and found out that she and the other girls I hang out with had all been invited to go out of town together next weekend to our college homecoming, but not me. I came home and had all sorts of things racing in my head. It shouldn't have even mattered, I already have tickets and plans to go with other friends, but it's the principle of the situation. They didn't even ask. I kept telling myself, maybe they didn't ask because I had already said I was going, but I can't remember if I did or not. I kept trying to tell myself I can't control what others do or think about me, that I am who I am and I shouldn't have to do anything special to be included. But it doesn't work. The same thing happened about a month ago (which was what triggered my relapse in cutting and the ultimate demise of treatment with A). They all went to the state fair one Saturday, posting on Facebook about the same time about how excited they were to go, and I was at home. No one even asked if I wanted to go, too.

It's stupid. I feel like I'm 12 years old. No one is inviting me to play. Poor me. But I'm finding that I have some serious abandonment issues and as much as I like keeping people at an arms length, I need to know I'm wanted.

And I'm just not getting that.

Too Good To Be True?

I have felt so abandoned over the past 10 days. As soon as I left A's office, knowing it'd be the last time I'd see her for a while I felt panicked. I had already talked to another counselor in my area about transferring, and we had scheduled an initial appointment for that Thursday. I signed a waiver so that she and A could talk. Everything appeared to be in working order. She could treat me 2x a week, was close and was actually going to charge me less than A. Then all of a sudden she calls me and says she won't be able to fit me into her schedule after all. Cue panic.

Over the next 9 days, I researched almost 120 counselors in the area, and narrowed my search down to about 20. I either contacted them on the phone or through e-mail and they all were either not accepting new patients, could only see me once a week, or wanted to charge me $130/hr. I met with two counselors, one that was a former co-worker with A (and a nice 45 minute drive away) and another who worked out of her home (that was weird for me, and had I known this I wouldn't have scheduled the appointment!). A's friend was even more opposed to cutting than A. I really liked her style and personality but I'm not about to put myself in a similar situation where I'm forced into quitting, then thrown out by myself to figure out what to do next if I slip up.

I was starting to panic even more because I was running out of options. I swear I could have shut down the Google servers with all my searches, but in my searching I stumbled across a name that hadn't shown up in my previous searches. I looked over her trainings, and approaches and decided to e-mail her. She got back to me right away, saying she'd call me the next day during my break. She talked with me on the phone for about 20 minutes, telling me about herself and her approach to therapy. I really felt comfortable talking with her and her approach really seems like something I will benefit from. I told her a little bit about why I was looking for a new counselor and the debate/disagreements we had with the cutting. She was really supportive and understanding. She said she would never recommend that anyone intentionally hurts themselves, but when it is established at such a young age (I've been doing some form of SI since I was about 10) it's not something that you can just quit doing because someone wants you to. That right there put me at such ease. With someone fighting against me with it, it almost makes me want to do it more. She stays home with her kids during the day, then works in the late afternoon/evenings. She can see me as many as three times a week and on weekends. She said she likes checking in with her clients throughout the week via e-mail or phone to see how things are going. To her, her job is not just caring about someone for an hour, but helping them to put into practice what is talked about in that hour and following up on it. Wow. Seriously? Was I hearing this correctly?

So I'm thinking, surely there's a catch. She has to cost like $150/hr, right? But no, I lucked out again. She works on a sliding scale and is only going to cost me $15/hr more than working with A, still well under most fees for counseling. And the cherry on top? Her office is less than 2 miles from my house.

I am meeting her tomorrow for an intake session. I pray that she is as amazing in person that she is on paper (and on the phone).

Changes

Today = FAIL.

I sat in A's office and heard exactly what I expected to hear. I am being transferred to someone else for more intensive counseling until I can get the SI dealt with. I knew it was coming, so it softened the blow a little bit, but when I was sitting across from A, like I've done hundreds of times before all I could do was cry. Thinking about all she has done to help me when I couldn't help myself, teach me how to grow during those good times and to keep from falling as hard during the bad. Thinking about how walking out of her office meant I wouldn't be seeing her next week, or any other week in the near future. Thinking that I've lost the one person who really and truly cared about my safety and well-being, even if it meant making me angry. The one person that I knew I could tell anything to and not be judged.

And now I'm alone. Stuck in the position of trying to put a positive spin on a situation that has so many negatives pulling me in different directions. I want to view this as something good, something that has the potential to help me grow in an area that I have not allowed much if any change in, but all I can do is think of everything I'm losing by not being able to be treated by A anymore. Right now the bad feelings are far outweighing the good.

And to prove to myself that I didn't sacrifice everything I had for one night of cutting with my dull little cuticle scissors, I went out and bought some new razors and really made sure I did this right. Go hard or go home right?

God, I hate myself.

200th Post

A few months ago when I was throwing around ideas of what my 200th post would be about, I would have told you it was going to focus on my 2 year anniversary with A (coming up in just about 2 weeks), the growth that I've made, how happy and hopeful I was, etc. I wanted to focus on the positives.

But the sequence of events that has been the last 6 weeks of my life has left me barely hanging on, dodging the potholes of depression, dealing with the death of my grandmother, the consequences of my actions at work, the upcoming anniversary of the last time my life felt like this and my birthday (which on any normal day is a huge trigger for me). I've been fighting social anxiety tooth and nail, having to force myself to go places and be around people. I have been having small panic attacks come out of nowhere and wrestle me to the ground for a few minutes, then leave me broken for the rest of the day. I have had a horrible time sleeping, and the times I do get to sleep I have been woken up by nightmares and panic attacks that make it hard to go back to sleep. The last week has been the worst. Ever since I called my pdoc and asked her to transfer care back to my gendoc. What a jinx that was. A and I have been discussing my absolute aversion to my birthday and how anxious it makes me to even think about. I left her office Tuesday feeling extremely agitated physically... very on edge. I had finally worked my way back to feeling a bit better, then Saturday happened. This stupid "seriously-how-much-of-a-dramatic-child-can-you-be" trigger sent me into an emotional tailspin and I resulted to purposely inflicting pain upon myself. No blades or razors, but I have a feeling telling A on Tuesday is going to result in me having to find a new plan for treatment. I figured this would happen sooner or later since I was "forced" to push it to the side and it never got dealt with. And now it's showing it's ugly head again and I don't even care. I WANT to do it. I want to have that power again.

At a time when I have had such little control and power over so many aspects of my life at one time, I can control this. And the pull for me to go buy some new razors (since I threw mine away in May to get rid of temptation) is intoxicating. *sigh* Happy 200th post, what great growth I have made...

Moving Forward

Man I slept horribly last night. Finally fell asleep at 3, then I was wide awake at 6:30. Decided that I should actually be productive today, so I headed to the gym. It's now about 10:15 and I have worked out, showered, scheduled a hair appointment, cleaned the apartment, started laundry, flipped my mattress, changed the sheets, cleaned out the litter box and took out the trash! Yay for getting stuff done! Of course now I'm exhausted and want nothing more than to go take a nap, but I know if I do I'm just going to continue messing with my internal clock. I head back to work in less than a month now and weaning myself off staying up til 3AM has to start somewhere!

My session last night with A went really well. My homework was to make a list of two things: what my life with cutting involves and what my life without cutting involves. I sat down and really put a lot of thought into this assignment, because I think it is really important for me to understand just what I'm getting out of it as opposed to what I can gain on the other side of the "line". It is now apparent to me just how many negative things I am adding to my burden for the benefit of one thing that makes me feel better fast. It was shocking to me to see my list and realize that. The second list was much shorter as I have had little experience in my "post-cutting" life to really fully understand what all is being affected. There are many more positive things on this side, but they can only be accomplished with very hard (emotional) work.

We talked a little bit about this and then discussed the situation. While I am not cutting now because of the boundary that is currently in place, that doesn't mean that I have made the decision to quit. I have that option. I can keep cutting, but at a high cost that I am not willing to pay. That being said, I still haven't fully embraced that I am going to stop. At first I didn't even take it into consideration because my instant plan was to try and change A's mind and get her to back off. Now that I realize that isn't going to happen, I'm left with two choices. Continue or quit.

But it's not so black and white. Everything I have done successfully in my life that has been hard (losing weight, choosing to start counseling, etc) was a result of MY desire and choice to change, influenced by no one else. This is much different. Even though I know I have a choice, I feel I don't. I feel like I won't be successful because my heart is just not in it. I haven't made the choice yet.

That being said, I'm getting much closer to being ready. I realized this weekend that all I'm doing with this is taking time away from myself. I can fix this and move onto actually processing through things emotionally and on a deeper level because I won't have cutting as a replacement. The sooner I make the choice to tackle this, the sooner I can grow in other areas of my life. The closer I will be to my goal of being able to be in a relationship without being in constant fear. The goal to be married and have kids. Cutting is just holding me back from what I want.

And I'm almost ready to leave it behind.

Epic Fail

Ugh.

I am not used to not getting my way. I'm used to arguing my point and "winning". Seldom do I feel motivated enough to argue about something if I don't feel that I am right. So I'm not used to losing because I am level headed enough to know when to put up a fight and when to let it go and concede the point.

It really wasn't my intention to approach this topic again with A tonight, but it came up in a question I posed in a journal writing and we ventured down this road.

What if I can't be perfect? (in reference to the cutting)

I never got a solid answer from her. She doesn't view the situation as "you have to be perfect or else", she views it as "you have a choice to do whatever you want to do."

Which as it did before, pissed me off. Of course I have a choice, I always have a choice. But in this instance, the decisions are not being decided by my desires to change, but rather perpetrated by her actions/rules/boundaries. I can comply because I don't want the consequence, but still not benefit from the goal. That has been my argument from day one. And I do believe that, but I think I believe it so much because I convinced myself that it was a good enough argument to convince A to back down from this boundary. To give me permission to go back to cutting myself. I won't lie and say that my hope was that I could be smart enough to convince her to back down one day. To challenge the situation with this argument and win.

I saw my opportunity tonight and I lost. And she called me on it.

I felt like a child again. Arguing my point with a brick wall. Hoping that if I keep pushing, it'll fall.

Apparently A is made of freaking Acme bricks.

And as much as I hate to say it, she's right for sticking to her guns.

Guns that beat my ego to death tonight, but probably exactly what I needed.

No One Else Knows

Funny how a song you listen to all the time suddenly becomes something much more. Like the lyrics were written just for you. On my way to my 2nd session today, I hooked up my iPhone and chose the shuffle feature. Out of almost 800 songs, this is the one that was first.

Building 429 - No One Else Knows

My world is closing in
On the inside
But I’m not showing it
When all I am is crying out
I hold it in and fake a smile
Still I’m broken
I’m broken
Only one can understand
And only one can hold the hand
Of the broken
Of the broken

When no one else knows how I feel
Your love for me is proven real
When no one else cares where I’ve been
You run to me with outstretched hands
And You hold me in your arms
Again

I need no explanation of why me
I just need confirmation
Only You could understand the
emptiness inside my head
I am falling
I am falling
I’m falling down upon my knees
To find the one who gives me peace
I am flying
Lord I am flying

When no one else knows how I feel
Your love for me is proven real
When no one else cares where I’ve been
You run to me with outstretched hands
And You hold me in Your arms
Again

I have come to you in search of faith
Cause I can’t see beyond this place
Oh You are God and I am man
So I’ll leave it in Your hands

When no one else knows how I feel
Your love for me is proven real
When no one else cares where I've been
You run to me with outstretched hands

When no one else knows how I feel
Your love for me is proven real
When no one else cares where I've been
You run to me with outstretched hands
And You hold me in Your arms,
Ohh You hold me in Your arms,
I know that You'll hold me in Your arms
Again

My heart longs for what it will probably never have. Cutting has filled that void for me.

But as A reminded me today, that's where God can step in. I just have to make the choice to let Him in.

Self-Harm

******TRIGGER WARNING******

Why is it that at the age of 7 years old I turned to harming myself as an outlet for whatever I was feeling at the time? I had suffered nothing traumatic (yet). I lived in a wonderful neighborhood, was very involved in sports/activities, had lots of friends, a great family, did great in school, etc. Everything you expect to be able to give your children, I had. And yet, something inside of me at this age had me turn my feelings into physical punishment.

After my parents divorced and I was abused, I had more feelings than I knew what to do with. Unfortunately, my parents didn't know what to do with them either, so I ended up doing what I learned to do at a young age. I took it out on my body. I would go to my room at night and lie in bed for hours pulling out my own hair. Every night. I have vague memories of beating myself with my fists while sitting on the bathroom floor. The only time I ever felt "safe" with my own feelings was when I was locked in the bathroom with the shower on.

It was really hard to hide the aesthetic aspects of the hair pulling, so my mom attempted to "fix" the situation by making me take medication. I can't really say that it helped all that much. The only thing I learned was how to hide it better.

I was lucky (is that the right word?) to be so far in denial during college that I had a reprieve from any desire to self-harm. I still would pull out my hair, but it was more an obsessive action (evening out eyebrows/eyelashes every night) rather than a soothing mechanism. If I'd get really stressed, then I'd revert back to my nightly sessions, but they'd only last for 5 minutes or so. Much improved.

So to be honest, I was kind of surprised when that desire came back about 15 months ago. I had just started working with A, but was getting a loose grip on my anxiety and panic attacks. I was dancing around verbalizing my abuse for the first time ever. I remember sitting on the floor in my bathroom (a habit that I cannot seem to break), listening to the shower and crying. I was so overwhelmed with my life that I just couldn't internalize any more emotions. I started pounding on myself with my fists. The pain was too widespread, just like the emotional pain I was used to feeling.

I started thinking. What else can I do to get my mind off of that? I need a pain that is more precise. More concentrated. I had heard of cutting before. Mainly on TV and through comments/conversations others had, most of the time making fun of it as an "emo" activity. I didn't care. Whatever worked at that point. I started off using my cuticle scissors just to scratch myself. I had to get an idea as to the pain I would inflict, the proof of the actions and just how far I had to go to get relief. I don't remember when I switched to razor blades, but it wasn't long after. I didn't even know I had them till the scissors no longer did the trick. Something in my brain honed in on the toolbox I keep in the closet and the fact that part of the kit I got had an exacto-knife like contraption. There had to be razors in there too, right?! Jackpot.

The boldness of my own step really helped in keeping the frequency down. I'd venture to say that I cut only once a month, maybe more if there was something extremely triggering for me at the time. There was a time last year where I went almost 4 months without cutting. Things were going well with A and I was on anti-anxiety meds.

Then I opened my big fat mouth. I remember accidentally saying something towards the end of last summer. Part of me was worried. I didn't want anyone to know because I knew they wouldn't understand. Especially A. Her job is to make sure I am using healthy ways to grow. I knew cutting was wrong and detrimental to my healing, but I just didn't care.

The subject would come up from time to time, sometimes initiated by me because I felt I could trust A, sometimes by her to try and get more information. But I was so closed off to an in-depth conversation about it that I always squashed any attempt to delve further into it. I just wasn't ready yet.

So sufficed to say that I was horrified/enraged/crushed when I had a setback in May with my PTSD and I cut myself after signing a contract A presented in an emergency session saying that I wouldn't. In all honesty, I didn't take it seriously. I signed it because my alternative was to go to the hospital... but I didn't feel that I was bound to abide by it. Big mistake on my part.

My world has been hanging on by a thread since then, with the reality that A has presented me. Cutting again will say to her that her ability to treat me is not enough to meet my needs and that I need more intensive therapy. Something that she unfortunately cannot provide me. Which means that I will have to find someone else who can. In essence, start over. The mere thought of that invokes such anxiety and fear that the feeling alone has kept me from cutting since then.

But the desire is still there. I am constantly having to remind myself that if I slip, there is a consequence. And at this point, it's not a consequence that is worth the few minutes of control and power I will feel. But it is getting harder. Over the past couple of weeks I have had a harder time dealing with that compulsion. It is on my mind much more than it has been. And that scares me. I don't know how long I can keep abstaining before it just becomes too much.

So I told A today. I told her how much I'm still struggling with it. That just because I haven't cut because of her "ultimatum" doesn't mean that I don't want to, or won't in the future. I've got to figure out how to fix the compulsion. So for the next 7 weeks I will be seeing her 2x/week to start fighting this demon. This demon that has been a part of my life for close to 20 years.

Uphill battle, anyone?

Body Margin

So the current message series at my church is about margin. Basically being able to create balance in your life so that you aren't filling up and overflowing with things that can be toned down, balanced and kept away from the edge.

This week was about body margin and how to treat your body with kindness. It doesn't belong to you, it belongs to God.

Oddly enough, right before I went to church last night I had a small breakdown and put-down festival with myself over my body. I stood in front of the mirror and just tore myself apart. I made myself feel guilty for not going out and running like I "should" have, but instead choosing to veg in front of the TV.

Then I show up and have God speak to me through our senior pastor. I couldn't help but chuckle and think "Nice one, God. I hear ya."

So creating body margin is based on the idea of managing your physical energy. This can happen when exertion is followed by rest. But being able to find the balance of this is a challenge for most people. Too much exertion/not enough rest results in being over-stretched. Too much rest/not enough exertion can result in atrophy of the mind, depression.

For my life is spent with sorrow and my years with sighing; my strength has failed because of my iniquity, and my body has wasted away. (Psalm 31:10)

This made me think quite a bit about God's expectation of our bodies. He doesn't expect perfection (or at least, the man-made ideal of perfection) because to him, we are already perfect. God doesn't care that I have 30 lbs to lose, or that I would look hideous in a bikini. God sees who I am without actually seeing the physical me. I need to start thinking about that when I feel the need to demean myself because of my looks. God wants me to take care of me, because it is what he would do. God wants me to be healthy. God doesn't want me to hold myself to the standards of others, to hate the body that he gave me and to punish it in the ways that I do.

God gave me this message as I am coming up on some very stressful and hard times these next two weeks. I have to hope now that God is going to give me the strength to be able to listen to and follow it.

Today Was Awful

Got my sign-up time mixed up and showed up 45 minutes late to my interview.

Consultation with the surgeon. Will have to have surgery to remove my gallbladder.

Tried to hide the scars during the exam, but she saw them. Then proceeded to ask about the PTSD.

I completely shut down. I don't know how I kept from crying. I asked (begged?) her not to make me tell her why. I felt the panic wash over me and take me some place else.

I left feeling this big.

I hate being so powered by this shame.

Session tonight should be a train wreck. Perfect way to end this perfect *#&(*!@ day.

The Flood Gates

I feel as though I've opened the flood gates. There's no stopping it now. You can't push it all back in.

Crap.

Last night my session with A focused strictly on my SI behaviors. Although it was easier to discuss today, I was still shaking the whole time. I read her what I wrote about my cutting and was really worried about what she was going to say because I know how she feels about it. She doesn't approve. Nor do I expect her to on a professional level. But just thinking about her disapproval makes it all the more hard to talk about. It's part of the reason why I've never allowed deep discussion about it.

I have always had SI behaviors as part of my coping mechanisms, even before my parents divorce and the abuse. Around the age of 6, I started showing signs of trichotillamania and by age 7 I was completely devoid of all eyelashes and eyebrows. Couldn't tell you why I did it. I just remember thinking "Hmmm, I think I'll rip out all my hair tonight!" That became my way to cope with stress. It got really bad during my pre-teen/teenage years and was basically the only way I dealt with anything. That pain/sensation was my release. I still do it now, at times unconsciously. Sitting watching TV or on the phone. I don't even realize it. It's more of a bad habit now than a coping mechanism.

I mentioned this to A, one because I wasn't sure that I ever had, and two because I thought it pertained to me trying to explain to her my experience with SI. It's not a bad thing to me. It's something to help me feel better.

"I never had people telling me as a kid, "You better stop pulling out your hair. It is an unhealthy coping mechanism!" I don't know why this is any different. It's not jeopardizing my well-being."

At some point I got really frustrated and upset with the course of our conversations that I stopped talking. A looked at me and asked:

"What are you afraid of?" (as fear is what stops me from talking)

I had to stop and think... I wasn't really sure. It took me a while to figure out exactly what it was.

"I'm afraid of being pressured into giving this up when I'm not ready. I'm afraid that you are disappointed in me."

I don't think she was expecting that. The look on her face changed. Her response is not what I was expecting either.

"I am NOT disappointed in you. I don't think I could ever be disappointed in you. We are having this discussion because I'm concerned for you. That is what you deserve. That is something you didn't ever get, even when you broadcast your SI as a small child. I am doing this out of love and concern, not anger and disappointment."

And I believe her. I just would have never thought that was why she would not let the topic go.

We are both at somewhat of an impasse in getting past this. I am not ready to change this aspect of my life. She is not ever going to approve and say it is OK for me to continue cutting when she can offer so many other options that do not have the risk (however extreme and improbable) of accidental death. I have a lot of respect for her in standing her ground even though it is not what I want to hear. It presents an interesting dynamic in our relationship as I have never blatantly disregarded what she has said and offered to me for healing. Again, I feel as if I am letting her down. It's my fault I haven't learned enough from her to be able to get past this. It's my fault that I won't let this go. I'm an awful person for not doing what she says I should do, etc, etc.

I wish I could go back in time and not allow discussion of this topic. I wish I could close those flood gates.

Please Stop

Last night we broached a topic that A knows about, but something I have yet to allow discussion on. I'm not really sure how it suddenly became the only thing we were talking about, but it was. I had to ask her to stop. I had to beg her. "PLEASE STOP." It makes me feel crazy. Not mentally, but physiologically. Immediate panic attacks. She didn't let me avoid it this time. She pushed me. I got angry; passive-aggressive, curt. But I didn't completely shut her down. I did the best I could to talk through the fear. It did not go well, but it was more than what I've done in the past.

I left with this prompt for next week: "Is cutting my way of meeting my needs rather than depending on God, others or healthy coping skills?"

I don't know why the topic of my cutting is so scary for me to talk about, but it is. I sat down when I got home and processed through what A said during the session. I read and re-read her question to me. It didn't take me long to pour it all out.

Cutting is my way to feel in control. When things get too overwhelming and painful, I can take hold of a razor blade and feel at peace for a short while. All of a sudden I'm the one making the decisions. How deep? Where? How much? How long? In that moment my needs can only be met by cutting. It is the only thing I want. It is the only thing I can rely on. It is always there when I need it. It doesn't need a reason. I will bleed whether or not my driving force was due to pain or anxiety or hatred. My body is always reliable. The buzz of fear, like stealing. That feeling you are doing something you shouldn't. The pain itself. It suddenly has a real existence. I can see the feeling. The adrenaline that suddenly makes way for the calm after the storm. It never disappoints. My body never lets me down. Everyone else does. Maybe for a short while they are exactly what I need them to be; a friend, someone I can trust. But people are not perfect. I don't expect them to be. God, however is. Or at least, that's what people say. I see His perfection in the lives of others and I see it at times in my own life. But it is rarely there for me when I need it the most. When I am in the pain that has me crying out to Him to heal; praying and begging for Him to take notice and all I feel is alone? That only amplifies the pain. This pain has no name, no location and no appearance until I take control. Then I'm heard. My body hears my cries. Then I'm healed. My body heals my scars. My body never lets me down.

Up and Down

Wow, this week has been certifiably insane. Seriously.

I finally am sitting down now to do some reflection on the challenges that I have faced over the past 7 days and I a tad overwhelmed just thinking about it all. Tuesday night was the absolute worst, throwing me for a huge loop that I wouldn't have even dreamed about. I initially was very upset. I called out to God...

"Why is this happening?! Of all things? Of all people? What is the purpose of this? What am I supposed to learn here because it just seems unfair!"

I sat with my frustration and anger and realized that God was keeping me safe. I could adapt.

I chose to do my homework Wednesday, and although it was easy enough to punch out, the subject material is what scares me. I'm going to have to talk about it; work through it. It's something I have been avoiding for quite some time. Until I work through my fears with A, I won't be able to be in a relationship. My fears are holding me back. I just have never admitted this fear to anyone before.

Thursday was C.R. and this week's focus was on a testimony rather than a lesson. Our min.istry leader was going to be sharing her story again. When I walked into my first C.R. meeting at my current church, her testimony was the focus for that night as well. It was the reason I felt strong enough to stay. Listening to it again, I was surprised at how I reacted to it. The main thing that I focused on and connected to the first time was the fact that she was sexually abused too. It made me feel validated even though our stories are so different. Thursday night was harder. I have been struggling big time with minimizing my abuse, so when I sat there listening to the repeated horrors of her life, there was this little voice in the back of my head telling me I shouldn't be so upset about mine, or that mine didn't count. Sharp contrast from 7 months ago. I talked a little bit about that during our small group time, as well as my relapse with cutting. Every week I am with these amazing women that are going through such life-altering journies and I can see their pain. Right now I don't feel the same pain that I used to, and it's causing me to convince (brainwash?) myself that I made it up. It's frustrating.

I spent most of Sunday in a bubble of anxiety because I had my annual appointment with my OBGYN today. Last year was a catastrophe. I disclosed to her my abuse, depression, suicidal thoughts, etc. and proceeded to have multiple panic attacks during my exam. I was so afraid that was going to happen again. Logic wasn't really working for me.

When I decided to cut last weekend, it was for a couple of reasons. One because I was so out of control emotionally and just WANTED to, and two because I knew this appointment was coming up. I was having such a hard time even convincing myself that my abuse really affects me, let alone other people. I wanted proof. Proof that it is still affecting me. Proof that someone else could see. The cutting proves that. So Sunday night I took a peek at my cuts and decided they weren't BOLD enough. I fixed that.

*sigh*

What am I going to tell A? I promised her I wouldn't. I did it for a stupidly crazy reason that I am ashamed to write about, let alone disclose to her.

And I still feel the same way I did before. I'm sure she saw them, but what did she think?? Crazy dog attack or purposeful self harm? Recognition of a hard journey or the thought that maybe it wasn't that bad after all? I have a feeling if I can't get myself out of this unhealthy mindset I am in, I'll be trying to figure it out again when I have to go back next month.

Busy Bee

Wow. I can't believe it has been almost 2 weeks since I last posted. Thanks for those who were checking up on me :)

Work is always super busy in the fall, with many after hours requirements. I worked two 14-hour days last week, and had to miss church on Thursday to help out my best friend who needed childcare because of her own hectic schedule. In addition to that, I had a big day on Wednesday. I got bra.ces!! Most of my friends were suprised that I was doing this as I have very nice teeth, but my fear of surgery lead me to leave my wisdom teeth in too long, which crowded my bottom 4 and top 2 teeth. So my dad is getting me a better smile for Christmas :) He was so sweet and sent me a little note saying he thought my smile was beautiful already. So I had that done Wednesday afternoon, and have been remarkably pain free, until today... but Tyle.nol is helping. I can't really eat, as my top two teeth are hitting my bottom brac.kets which is keeping my molars from touching in the back, thus not being able to chew anything. It has been interesting, but I am having fun eating ice cream! :) (photo removed 10/13)

I have had a rough couple of weeks emotionally. The first ann.ivers.ary of my grandpa's death was hard for me. I remember picking up my grandma a different hospital, and driving her to see my grandpa thinking we still had a few days to say goodbye, but when we got there the doctors told us he wasn't going to make it and we needed to go see him immediately. I remember standing there watching her say goodbye to him. I stood there and watched him die.

My grandpa was one of the only men in my life that I truly trusted. He was such a good grandpa. He gave the best hugs. Even when he was so sick, he still crushed me with his big bear hugs. He was always so positive... even when he was exhausted from che.mo, he wouldn't let it get him down. I miss his presence in my life.

I ended up choosing cutting as an outlet for my grief, bargaining with myself Tuesday night that I would only cut twice and go to bed. I did that, but then Wednesday I felt so much emotional pressure I thought I was going to explode. I ended up cutting almost 20 times that night. I felt so ashamed the next day that I had let myself get so out of control... so ashamed I couldn't even bring it up in session on Tuesday. I went in thinking I was going to tell her, but I did not want anyone else to know how weak I was. My homework had been to identify things that had happened or things I had done that is a testament to my strength, as I have been feeling very weak lately. We went through that list and then I just started crying.

I knew it was going to happen. That emotional pressure was only temporarily released with the cutting, but it had built back up. I am tired. I am so tired of having to work so hard at every little thing in my life. Having to care about everything. I can't ever just go blindly into a situation, because I am terrified of the outcomes. I told her I'm tired of living this life. I'm mad that this is the life I have to live, when others seem to have it so much easier. Do they have to analyze every situation for danger? Do they have to hope that every man is not abusive? Do they have to push back awful memories when they see a face that looks remotely familiar? Does everyone have to work so hard emotionally that they are raw all the time? My tears turned into anger, with no one to blame.

We got on the topic of God, seeing as I told her I don't feel I have anyone here to blame and she asked me how God fit into that category, specifically if I was mad at Him. I told her yes, but I would never admit it to anyone, or even say the words to myself. I feel like such an awful person even thinking it, let alone admitting it. I think I said that it was my parents who taught me that it was never OK to be mad at God, but later I realized that they taught me it was never OK to be mad at anyone, and I was the one who made that leap to never be mad at God. It's part of the reason why I am afraid to go to church. Everyone pretends they live this perfect life and are never mad at God, and I just feel like I don't belong... because I am mad.

I've been reading Psa.lms this week, mainly the verses where Da.vid voices his frustrations and angers with God. A man after His own heart, was mad at God. I've got to learn that it's OK that I am mad, too. Easier said than done.

What A Week

These last 7 days have been about as up and down as they can go. Birth and joy, then terror and panic, guilt, anxiety, and worry.

Tuck.er is doing remarkably well. His surgery had to be postponed because of concern about complications since his liver is not fully recovered yet, so they are looking to Monday to be his first surgery. He had his first bottle today :) He's such an angel. I can't wait to go back to the hospital and see him.

When all of this blew up Thursday, I was left with a profound feeling of guilt of how I had been viewing my personal situation. I felt horrible for cutting, and feeling so down about things that now did not seem like such a big deal when this little baby's life hung in the balance. It helped me keep my promise that I would not cut that week.

I am having trouble maintaining a balance of things. I am pushing myself further and further into denial and pulling other things in front to try and block entry to my feelings. I am in workaholic mode, doing way more than necessary and not delegating the responsibilities to my counterparts. If I keep on this pace I am going to burn out quickly. I am struggling with my weight. I have my eating under good control and am doing a good job of exercising at an appropriate rate, but due to medication I am not losing weight. In fact I have gained over 15 lbs since I started and cannot seem to drop an ounce no matter what I do. So I've made the decision to start tapering off my medication. The main reason is for the weight... I am falling back on unhealthy habits to try and induce we.ight lo.ss so I can get back to my "normal weight". Another reason is that I think it will help me get more in touch with my emotions. Unfortunately I am taking the risk of my anxiety returning and being a hinderance on my recovery, but that is a chance I am willing to take right now. My panic attacks have been under control, only having two in the last 3 months, and those were induced by very intense sessions. On an unconscious level, I think I already made this decision because I had forgotten (really and truly) to take my meds for about 5 days and was having some massive withdrawals. I couldn't figure out what the deal was, then it hit me. I called my doctor today and asked for a schedule to follow so I could taper off.

This week I have got to work on being more balanced. Normally on Wednesday's I work late, then go workout, come home and have time to eat, shower and go to bed. But because my schedule this week is a little more hectic than normal, I gave myself permission to just go home and veg today. It was nice. I'm about to go journal a little bit and dig into some things that we discussed at my last session. Why do I think it's wrong for me to feel the way I feel? Why do I minimize how I feel? That's my focus for this week... being OK with my feelings.

Finding The Reason

Ugh.

I had a panic attack in session today in the midst of discussing my need to cut lately. I can't pinpoint anything specific that caused me to cut Friday night, but I went looking through drawers and boxes because my cuticle scissors weren't going to be good enough. I found some straight raz.ors in my toolbox I didn't even know I had and cut more in one night than I ever have.

I knew by revealing this that I was setting myself up for being asked to commit to no cutting this week, but she also threw in asking me to throw away my raz.ors. Immediate panic set in. I can't do that yet. Knowing they are there serves as a comfort even if I don't use them. I just don't think I WANT to do that yet. For whatever reason I have convinced myself that this is what I have to do in order to feel better and I just don't have the desire to change it, even though I know I should.

Ugh.

Punishment vs. Relief

After Saturday, you could say I was in a somewhat dark place. Tuesday I had a session, and we talked about how bad Saturday was and the things that led up to me getting there. I decided to reveal that I had cut and pounded myself until I bruised in order to punish my body. That was the sole purpose of doing those things: to inflict pain on myself as a punishment. I had never told her that I had done these things before, because honestly I didn't do them very often (maybe every 3 or 4 months) and it was never used as a form of punishment, but as a way to feel physically what I couldn't emotionally. I guess you could say that Saturday scared me enough to say something, even though I knew revealing it would cause me some pain as well.

We talked about all of that, and she discussed how she felt that cutting was not only unsafe physically, but detrimental to my healing. The way it was worded caused me take on a tremendous amount of guilt, and I felt awful for saying something. I ended up going home Tuesday night and cutting again, but not as a punishment... just as a way to physically feel my emotional pain. So I knew when I went in today, I had to say something to her about walking away feeling guilty because of something that was said. We talked about that and she reiterated that she was not blaming me in any way, she just wanted to let me know that in her opinion, my decision to cut was only going to hurt me, not help me. I told her I cut again, and we compared Saturday to Tuesday and the emotions that were going on inside me at those exact moments. It led up to me needing to make a decision on whether or not I wanted to try out healthier ways of dealing with those emotions, even though they may not be a quick fix, or continuing to use the quick fix even though it might cause future emotional pain. She asked me if I could make a committment to myself not to cut until I see her again on Tuesday. I said yes, but I hate telling myself "No! You can't do that!" in times of need. It just makes me want it more. We talked a little bit more on the subject and she asked me again if I thought I could make that committment to myself and I started crying. Giving up my back-up plan is extremely vulnerable and I just don't think I'm ready to do that yet.

Part of what started this whole tailspin of stuff was me sitting down to journal Saturday night because I was feeling anxious. The evenings are a very vulnerable time for me anyway, so taking on such heavy things at night is sometimes detrimental to myself. So on Tuesday I was asked to stop journaling and processing difficult things at night, which is why I haven't checked blogs or updated yet... because I'm always on at night! Hopefully these next few days will give me the proof that I can find other ways to cope, and that saying I'm not going to cut doesn't make me feel cornered and out of options. I hope Tuesday gets here quickly.

Can you feel that?

Last night was not good. I was feeling anxious (which generally means another underlying emotion) so I sat down to start writing. Bad idea. I had this overwhelming feeling of hatred and disgust of myself. I just could not get past it...

So I punished my body for the way my mind and heart felt. It felt like the only way to make that pain go away. I'd much rather feel physical pain then what I feel inside... if only it was that easy. Seeing the bruises and cuts makes me feel better. Proof that I am as damaged on the outside as I feel on the inside.