My head is crazy, and so am I

I saw G this week. I realized I didn’t really miss her or R that very much during the past month. It wasn’t until I had her in front of me that I actually missed her, and missed our therapy sessions. I freaked out a bit when I realized that; however, I know it’s not really pseudo-adult-me who’s thinking that but the abandoned little girl in me that remains attached to her therapists.

It’s ok to not miss them, I keep telling myself. It means progress. And progress means no depression. And when I remember what my depressions are like…I forget wanting to self-sabotage. I don’t wish that pain upon anyone.

She told me I looked great, and that she was proud of me. Part of me is glad I’m ok, but another part of me is just worried when the next episode will be. I know the odds are against me. “There is a 50% recurrence rate after the first episode, a 70% recurrence rate after the second episode, and a 90% recurrence after the third episode.” That’s what my pocket psychiatry book says. I skip a breath whenever I read that sentence. But, whatever, I’ll enjoy what I have now and not worry about that, because then I wouldn’t do anything ever.

My borderline traits made a reappearance the other day after I felt terribly abandoned and lonely. I emailed G so I wouldn’t do something impulsive or stupid. She was worried and told me she didn’t want me to take steps back progress-wise, and that she felt really happy after seeing that I was in a good place during our appointment. I assured her having her support meant everything to me and not to worry, because it was just one bad day. And I pulled through. I remember my old posts from when I first began the blog and can’t help but think: “Holy crap, who would’ve thought that borderline girl who would cry and cut after a canceled appointment would get this far????!!!”

Yep. It’s possible guys. If I can do it, you can too.

Food-wise: meh. It’s always ‘meh’. My behaviors and thoughts go up and down with the tides. I’m eating lately. Too much for my own comfort, but not healthy at all, though. The past month was a good refresher for me because being alone actually helps me respond to my hunger cues more appropriately. Also, if I want to skip meals and simply “don’t feel like fucking eating” (as happens a lot with me), then I can just feel free to do what I please. I guess it has to do with my feeling comfortable to eat when I want or what I want without someone judging or asking (my parents). I only purged once while away, yet I purged the same day I got home after feeling too full for my comfort. I restrict here and there, skip a breakfast or dinner every other day or whatever.

The day I emailed G I pretty much lost it after my dad saw me eating McDonald’s and triggered me to hell and back. He had just gotten home and saw mom and I in the kitchen eating. As per usual, his entire focus went instantly toward our (gross-ass) junk food. He wanted a bite. He commented on what he wanted to cook that night, and joked that we wouldn’t be having dinner because we were getting full off junk food. He kept going on and on about food. And then he said it: “Holy crap Dana, you’re going to gain 20 pounds eating that!”

Holy. Fucking. Shit. Needless to say I was devastated and my head started overflowing with thoughts of SEE, YOU’RE JUST AS FAT AS HE IS! YOU’RE A DISGUSTING PIECE OF SHIT! STOP EATING OR YOU’LL GET FATTER THAN YOU ALREADY ARE, YOU FUCKING COW! HAHAHA YOU’RE A JOKE! 

And so, of course, being back home has caused my food issues to come back to the surface. But I’m managing for now.

Still feel fat. I think I’ll always feel fat to some extent. I’ve come to embrace what I can change and what I simply can’t.

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