Women, Food and God

About 6 weeks ago V and I had a discussion about therapy and how I thought it was going. I absolutely love V and really feel as though she was the answer to my prayers, even though it took me a long time to find her! In session she really challenges me to get out of my comfort zone, but is also really good about picking up on when it is becoming too much for me. There have been times where I have ignored my own signals and pushed myself too far, just to suffer the consequences later when I leave the safety of V's office. We discussed all these things, but the main thing we focused on is what I'm doing outside of sessions. I always felt I needed to push myself so hard and fast because I only had an hour a week with her. That hour goes by quickly and I hated feeling so unproductive outside of sessions (even though she argued that most of the work I have been doing has been outside of her office, not actually in it!). I asked if there was a way she could provide me with things to do in between sessions, mainly articles or books to read, but also things like journal topics or homework. That way I felt like I had a hand in my own therapy while I was outside her office and didn't feel like I was just sitting around waiting for the next hour.

It has proven to be a really good thing for me. It has given me a path and purpose every week rather than just counting down the days, hours and minutes until my next session. Most of my work so far has been in the writing form, which is something I have really come to enjoy over the past few years. I find it such an easy way for me to get out what is inside.

Two weeks ago V recommended the first book as something she thought would be helpful for me. It's called Women, Food and God by Geneen Roth. She was in the process of reading it and said that there were so many times she would read a passage and think to herself "This would be great for Lily to hear" or "This reminds me of Lily". I was a little hesitant when I heard the title because I have had such a huge wall up with my spirituality lately. I'm not sure what it is, but I know I don't want to talk about it. She still encouraged me to read it because there were many things in there that she thought would be helpful.

As I ventured out to return a book at the library I already had (The Red Pyramid, recommended by my kids and definitely not a therapy book! Haha!), I ventured in the non-fiction section to see if they had it. Sure enough, it was on the shelf staring right back at me. I grabbed it and went to the readers section to read a little bit of it to see what I thought. Before I knew it, I had read almost 75 pages and found myself chuckling and nodding at the things that she was writing about.

I don't have an ED, but I do have my struggles with food. After I was abused I used food to self-soothe. I went from 140 lbs my freshman year to 26o lbs when I graduated high school. Food was my escape. Fat was my safety. In November 2004, when I was a junior in college, something in me switched. I literally woke up on the day of November 29th and decided I was done being fat. By the time I graduated in May 2006 I had lost almost 100 lbs. I gained back what we teachers refer to as "The first year 15" but have comfortably stayed in the 173-185 range for 5+ years. That seems to be my body's comfort zone. I know if I worked out and didn't eat as much processed food I could get down to maybe 155, but right now I'm happy staying within this range.

That being said, you don't have to have an ED to connect to this book. You have to have had a bad day and gone to the pantry instead of feeling the stress or the pain. You have to have had times where you are bored and choose to eat because it's easy. I don't know of a single person who would not be able to connect to this book. It talks a little about trauma and how food is used as a means to avoid feelings, but it also talks about how you can learn to not let food control you which is something I struggle with. When I'm on the higher end of my aforementioned range, I restrict like crazy. No, you can't eat this. You are going to gain one more pound and be too fat. When I'm on the lower end, I overeat. You've got some wiggle room, go and eat that hamburger you want! Order that pizza! Don't workout!

She uses a type of no nonsense humor and her own struggles with weight as fuel for her thoughts in this book. I'm really enjoying it. I have my journal with me as I'm reading and am often stopping to write down tidbits that I find very profound or helpful. I've gone back to re-read the first few chapters again (it doesn't flow really well in my opinion, so it's harder for me to read and therefore commit to memory) but have already filled up a couple of pages just in those chapters alone.

I wanted to share this book with you all because I really do feel like it has a message that everyone can connect to. It's not preachy and really is more of a spiritual book rather than a "God" book. I'm looking forward to getting further into it and learning more about myself through what I eat!

What's The Worst That Could Happen?

I'm not sure if it is a personality trait of mine or whether it is a result of my trauma at an early age, but I tend to have an overactive, extremely imaginative "catastrophe brain". I always expect these horrible, extremely detrimental outcomes to things that almost never come to fruition. I know a lot of it has to do with my obsessive need for control and desire for preparedness, but I'm starting to wonder what purpose it is really serving me.

I had a very intense session with V on Thursday, which left me literally hurt. I could barely walk up the stairs to my apartment and every turn in bed racked my body. My normal outlet for my panic and anxiety have always been panic attacks. I can feel them building up inside me and when they erupt, it is not pretty. But lately my body has been venturing away from the "oh-my-gosh-I'm-going-to-die" panic attacks and routing that energy into my body. I have had horrible stomach pains the last few weeks during sessions, and Thursday that got completely bypassed and sent straight to my muscles. It felt like I had the flu x1000. I have never felt that much pain in my body before. I remember lying in bed thinking, "I wonder if this is what it feels like to have cancer." Even being still hurt. My whole body ached.

Thankfully I woke up Friday morning back to my pain-free self, but was left with the burden of trying to sort through all that was discussed with V. Part of it is still in the denial side of my brain. I talked about things that I have NEVER talked about with anyone. I can't believe I did it. So much so that my brain just isn't ready to call that reality yet. A few other things we discussed I don't think I can even write about here. Embarrassing... for me at least.

But one thing that we did discuss was how my overactive and imaginative brain is keeping me from having the things I want. It keeps me "in my head" too much. And when I'm in my head, I convince myself that everything is scary. That everything is going to hurt me. That I can only be safe if I'm alone. It keeps me stuck in my fear.

V said something to me during this conversation that provided me with an "a-ha moment"; something pretty rare with me.

She told me that the idea of something, whether it's an experience (having sex, being in a relationship) or a feeling (pain, fear) is almost always worse than the actual thing.

And especially with me and this dear sweet imaginative brain of mine, it's probably blown so out of proportion that it's not any wonder why I'm so afraid. I've had almost 15 years of convincing myself that these things are so huge and insurmountable that the idea itself has become it's own Mt. Everest.

So she asked me: "What's the worst that could happen?" and I laughed because I have all these horrible, improbable possibilities mapped out (and have had them for quite some time, I might add) for each of the things that have kept me frozen in fear for so long. I think she knew that I already had a response to her question, but we both knew it wasn't the answer she was looking for.

I was a little embarrassed to admit that I never really thought LOGICALLY about this. My mind has been stuck on irrational overdrive for so long (even though I am by nature, a very rational and logical person) that I never have really sat down to think about how reality is going to be completely different than what is in my mind. Can all these horrible things that I've conjured up in my mind still happen? Sure. But will they? Probably not.

I'm not a kid anymore. I know how to protect myself. I know how to listen to my instincts and trust their guidance. They've never really been wrong before (at least when it's counted). I have so much more power as an adult than I did when I was abused. I'm not going to ever be in that same situation again.

The fact that I can take all of that in and not fight against it tooth and nail is amazing to me. Not long ago I would have argued that because there was even a chance that something bad could happen meant that everything else didn't matter. But I'm taking it in. I'm pushing myself to be logical and really open my mind to the fact that even though I may still feel the things I did when I was a kid, that I'm not actually one anymore.

Can You See My Secret?

I had an interesting experience this weekend.

I am required to get a certain number of training hours outside of school each year to maintain my certificate. Most of them I get during the summer, but I normally don't knock them all out in the summer and have to take a Saturday to finish them all up. There wasn't a whole lot offered that really pertained to me, but I did see one that caught my eye titled "Addiction/Abuse". Of course it was to be centered on how to help students who are suffering or come from families who deal with that, but I thought it might be helpful.

Knowing that V has done trainings for my school district before, I figured she was leading this one too since it is right up her alley. I talked to her about it and sure enough, she was going to be the presenter for it. I asked her what she thought about me attending, and she said it would be totally fine. I did a little thinking about it before I signed up, but decided that since nothing else that was offered was really on target with what I needed professionally, that I could go see her presentation and learn things both professionally and personally.

We talked a little bit in my session Thursday about what to expect as far as how she would interact with me (basically she'd pretend she didn't know me, keep the eye contact at a minimum, etc) and an idea of what she'd be talking about to help prepare me for anything triggering. I left feeling a little nervous after hearing some of the things she was going to talk about, but knew it was because I heard it with my "therapy brain" and it would not be the same when I was hearing it with my "professional brain".

So Saturday I walked into the training and signed in, picked a spot to sit and immediately got so self conscious. I felt like I was hiding this huge secret and shouldn't be there. We went around and introduced ourselves and when she got to me, it was so strange knowing that we were both pretending not to know each other on purpose. She started her presentation and I was shocked to find that I was almost immediately withdrawing without even having anything triggering me. I struggled to focus on what she was talking about. I struggled even with looking up at the screen because it was too close to where she was standing.

I spent a lot of the presentation staring at the handouts, the ground, my table, my nails... anything to avoid making eye contact. I felt like I did for so long after I was abused. I couldn't look people in the eye for the longest time. It was like that simple act meant that everyone could see what had happened to me and what I thought. I haven't felt like that in a long time. Like I was hiding some secret that everyone could see on my face. And I was hiding a secret...

Not only that, but I felt like I was a fly on the wall watching V discuss all these things, many of which pertained to me and my life, with all these strangers. It felt like I was watching all these people learn about my deepest and darkest secrets thinking it was about random people, but I really knew it was about me. And hearing V speaking the words made it stir inside of me differently.

I never realized how much her voice is connected with feeling things for me. Any time I approach things that require me to feel anything, she's there supporting me, pushing me and talking to me. Her voice has become one of those things you don't even realize is so embedded in your brain. It's like how a smell triggers a certain memory, I found that her voice triggers certain feelings. It was all very overwhelming. I didn't really take much from the presentation because I had all of this swirling through my head.

V sent me an email today asking how I was after the presentation. She picked up on the fact that I was having a hard time and wanted to know if she could do anything to help. I basically told her what I wrote about here. I'll be interested to see what she says in response.

Weird weekend.

Blessings

This might be the most amazing song I've ever heard. I hope it speaks to you the way it does to me.

8 Feet and 2 Tails of Joy

So as most of you know, I lost my sweet 20 year old cat this summer and it hit me hard. I never knew just how much I loved her until she was gone.

The silence was horrible. I hated walking into my empty house. I would lie in bed as long as I could because getting up would remind me that she wasn't going to be sitting by her food bowl waiting for breakfast. My heart ached for her companionship.

I gave myself a couple of weeks to mourn her and make sure that I wasn't rushing into the decision of adopting just because I wanted it to be like it was before, but rather for the right reasons.

I adopted two beautiful babies at the end of June and they have been a source of such joy in my life! They make me laugh on a daily basis and have nestled themselves permanently into my heart, all the while helping to heal the rawness of the hole left.

Mind Shift

Sorry for the absence! School is back in full swing and I have been very busy getting ready for it all!

My mind took a shift from "all about me" to "all about work" a couple of weeks ago and it has been hard for me to tap into my reflective side.

I'm still seeing V once a week, but right now school is the only thing on my mind. Once things settle in a little bit more, the "all about me" side will start to open itself back up.

I did have some rather disturbing dreams last night, though. Hoping those don't continue if I keep neglecting this other side of me.

What Went Right?

Part of my requirements every year as a teacher are to update my state required trainings, such as sexual harassment, CPR/first aid and reporting child abuse.

As I was completing these online, I started thinking about the video that was part of the child abuse training and my own experience.

My abuse took place over the summer between my 8th and 9th grade year, so any immediate changes in my behavior would have only been noticed by my parents and/or family. Since I started the school year with new teachers, they had no idea if my behavior was any different than my norm. I have distinct memories of struggling in school during my 9th grade year. I remember sleeping in class, not feeling motivated, even spending a lot of time in the nurse's office. Definitely not how I would normally act. But no one could know that. I remember writing about what happened that summer in English class, I think more about having to go the police station and court rather than specifics of the abuse, hoping that at least she would notice how much pain I was in... but nothing ever happened. She never said anything to me, the counselor never called me in. It was like disclosing and not being heard. It made me feel even worse than I already did. And I never forgot that.

But as I was watching this video, I was shocked by some of the statistics. Only one in ten children who are abused ever disclose to anyone. One in ten. Part of me understands why this number is so low because a lot of children are abused by their parents and they have that internal struggle of hating the abuse and wishing it would stop and loving their parents. To think of myself as that one person in a group of ten abused children who told someone is kind of crazy. Why was I able to tell when so many others can't? What in me is different?

I struggle with focusing on the things that went wrong and the things I can't/couldn't control in regards to my abuse. It causes me so much anxiety and hurt. In all honesty, I don't think I've ever taken a step back and thought to myself "What went right?" until I sat down an watched this video. Even though I experienced this trauma, there were things that kept it from being even more horrendous than it was. I've never given that any acknowledgement or weight in my mind... until today.

• I was educated by my parents to know that what happened to me wasn't normal/OK.
• I knew I needed to tell an adult, regardless of what I was told by him.
• I had a mother I trusted enough to tell what he did to me (not all of it, but enough to make it stop).
• My dad kicked him out of the house and made our home safe again.
• I had parents who never doubted what I said or made me think I was wrong for disclosing.
• I had parents who knew I needed more help than what they knew how to give me, so they put me in counseling. Unfortunately I couldn't talk about it and they thought this cleared them of any support required at home, so I never benefitted from it, but they tried.
• The justice system worked and punished him for his actions.
• My parents never treated me any different after they found out what happened. I was still who I was before.
• It never happened again.

To think that had I not said anything, I could have lived the rest of my life under the same roof as him, shuddering every time the door opened or every time the shower turned on, it's hard to swallow. I have never given myself any recognition or support for doing the thing that so many kids don't ever do...

I TOLD.

Crying

cry·ing/ˈkrī-iNG/

1.

to utter inarticulate sounds, especially of lamentation, grief, or suffering, usually with tears.

2.

to weep; shed tears, with or without sound.

This might as well be a 4-letter word in my world. I hate it. It's messy, it's noisy, it makes me feel so out of control. Thinking about how I look when crying makes me cringe.

I am much more partial to the way I think I look when I'm not crying. I'm put together. I'm in control. I'm not leaking from multiple orifices. To me, that emits an aura of strength.

Apparently I'm stuck in some sort of egocentric developmental stage because if you see it, it must be true right? Right.

I wish it were that simple. I have honed my craft of looking one way on the outside and feeling the complete opposite on the inside. I bet if you asked any one of my co-workers, family members (not immediate, like my mom), or even some friends they would describe me as someone who is confident, strong, and happy. Why wouldn't they think that? It's exactly what I put out there for people to see.

But even faking it all day doesn't change how I feel on the inside. Hurt. Angry. Resentful. Confused. Lonely. All the things that I hide within myself, that fuel my depression and anxiety, they are going to stay there regardless of what I make myself look like on the outside. So on the rare occasion that I allow myself to approach one of these topics in therapy, it's akin to walking up to a kennel full of Jack Russell terriers that have been locked up all day and trying to just let one out. I mean, one is all you can handle without losing control right? OK, maybe two, but you don't want all of them at once. So you walk up to the cage and they all start jumping all over each other, barging for the open space to get out. FREEDOM! I MUST ESCAPE! But all of a sudden you're now having to keep the door closed, you can't let them all escape at once, but you've got to wrangle the one or two you let out, keep them in check too.

This is how crying is for me. It's always a struggle. How much can you let out so that you're still in control, yet you're easing the load for what's left in? How can I maintain this incessant need to appear in control and strong, yet let my guard down enough to feel what I'm trying to let out? Or better yet, how can I get to a point where I don't care about what I look like when I'm crying and just let my body do what it needs to do to get the relief it so desperately wants?

Every single time I allow myself to cry that is not because of a death (my sweet kitty, my cousin, my grandparents, etc) it's always controlled. I'm always standing by the door, poised to slam it shut should anything appear to be approaching the "messy" stage. But all the while I'm (cleanly) crying and processing the reason for my tears, I always get this image in my head of what I really wish I could do. Scream, pound my fists, grasp my knees and rock back and forth, shake, curl up into a ball, cry so hard I'm gasping for air. The scenario varies but is always there.

I wish so bad that I could allow myself to feel what's inside of me, but something always holds me back. I don't want anyone to ever see me in that state. So broken and hurt. Because if I don't show it, it's not really there right? Right.

What Language Does Your Abuse Speak?

My session with V today has left me with a lot to ponder. I'm already an analytical person, but I've got so much going on in my head right now that I've written, erased and re-started this entry about 10 times already because I can't seem to organize my thoughts.

I am one really $*%)! complicated person. I mean I know no one is simple, but I swear with every passing day I find out things about myself that are contradictory or frustrating. Only I can manage to piss myself off without even trying.

Fear is keeping me from progressing in therapy right now. I'm so afraid that any topic I approach or old wound I open up is going to result in the same reactions I had the last time I tried. Crippling panic attacks, constant fear, cutting, no hope. I allowed myself to think about and confront things I had never even come close before, and I just about ended up in the hospital. It took me almost 3 months off of work to recover. But when I think back to those first three months with V, I feel like I accomplished something. Even though those months sucked and I would never want to feel like that again, I feel like it wasn't a waste of time or effort.

These last 4 months have felt so unproductive. I haven't pushed myself to really talk about or feel anything difficult, because this fear in the back of my mind is slamming that door closed every time I approach it. The logical side of me is screaming "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING? DO YOU WANT TO FEEL THAT WAY AGAIN?!?!", yet I'm also battling with the undeniable fact that the only way I am going to be able to heal from and let go of these hurts I've been carrying around for so long is to talk about, process through and feel them.

I want to feel like I'm not wasting my time (and V's). I don't right now. I hate it.

I'm so frustrated with myself. I feel like I've lost faith in my entire existence. Like everything I do is futile. No matter how hard I work or how much I want something, I'm doomed. The world is going to spite me and give me the exact opposite.

I feel defeated.

And yet, to be even more contradictory, another part of me feels as though if I can eventually get to a place where I can let these walls down, that I will recover. It seems possible in every aspect of my life... except one.

Even though I sought out and have been going to therapy with the goal of recovering from my abuse, a big part of me doesn't believe it is possible. That no matter how hard I work or what I do, this will always be what defines me. I will never escape it. I will always be afraid. I will always be that 13 year old.

I mean, look at all I've been through over the past 9 months. I got to a point that I wanted to kill myself. I mean actually wanted to end my life. I had NO HOPE. And even going through all of that, I still feel like nothing has changed. I'm still just as afraid as I was then. Just as defined by my abuse as I was then. Why should I think it'll ever get better? I almost killed myself trying to make it better.

Then V said something to me that seemed so painfully simple and obvious, yet brought me almost immediate hope.

"Your abuse speaks a different language."

Don't worry, I'm going to clarify (as you are probably thinking the same thing I was: uhhh, what does that mean?). The little things I've been able to improve upon with V, like learning how to be in the moment, my relationship with my mom, coping with stressors in life without cutting, etc speak one language. Certain methods and approaches work very well in confronting those things, all the while challenging me, pushing me and allowing me to see success.

The "language" V used for those things was obviously not the right "language" for my abuse.

I left tonight feeling more hopeful than I have in a very long time. Maybe, just maybe, we can figure out what the right language is for my abuse. And maybe, just maybe, I can heal.

Who Are You On Vacation?

I've been reading a lot of posts lately about vacation and how people are finding an inner peace that seems almost impossible when at home, immersed in daily life and adult responsibilities.

V and I actually had this discussion a few weeks ago when I got back from DC. I don't remember how we got on the topic, but I mentioned that traveling brings out a side of me that isn't seen a lot at home. I feel in my element, confident and worthy. I speak up about things that normally would warrant a non-response or some sort of internal dialogue and shame. I walk in the front of the line, instead of always wanting to be at the back. I am spontaneous. I sleep soundly. I laugh. I play. I feel whole.

For whatever time frame that I am on vacation, I find that I immediately pick up these characteristics and feel so at peace within my own mind and body... something that feels at times impossible in my normal day to day surroundings.

What is it about traveling/vacation that flips that switch so easily for me?

It literally is an almost instant transformation. Sometimes it happens as soon as I arrive at the airport, other times it's as I step off the plane. I know that amazing experiences are ahead of me. I've planned for them. I've paid for them. It's like I get to have control over my life in a way that is not possible at home. I get to pick and choose what I want to do that I know will bring me joy, do it on my own time frame, with the people I want and it all falls into place (assuming I've planned ahead properly!). Vacation is like a glimpse of what life would be like if you could control everything. Maybe that's why we all like vacation so much! What's not to like about that?!

By the end of a good vacation, I'm ready to be home if for nothing more than to sleep in my own bed, but part of me wonders now if my eagerness to be back home is to try and put into practice these traits and characteristics that I possess on vacation. To try and blend this seemingly completely separate me into my "real" life.

Are you different on vacation?