I'm Not A Victim to Anxiety

I don't remember the last time I blogged…it's been awhile. Honestly, I haven't felt like I needed it, or my YouTube channel. However, I need it now so here I am.

I've been close to tears all week, waves of emotions crashing and breaking against the calm facade I've tried to maintain. It's only a matter of time before everyone knows I am barely handling school after just nearly four weeks of fall quarter.

I don't have faith in myself to do my classes well. I'm overwhelmed by what's being asked of me, things I have done in years, like writing a paper. Can I keep going? Am I going to fail?

Feeling like this is probably my fault, considering I haven't really been taking my depression meds the last couple of weeks. Ryan doesn't understand why I don't take my meds sometimes. I don't even know why, to be honest. Sometimes it's because I resent them, not wanting to rely on medication to make me feel okay. Other times, it's because I simply forget to take them. I put it off, saying I'll take all my meds with the next meal but never actually do it.

In my counseling theories class, we are studying the existential theory. This theory says we are not victims of our situation. We choose who we want to be and how we react to life events. Despite who we have been, we are always recreating ourselves and can choose a different path than the one we've been trekking. As much as I like the idea of this kind of freedom, it's sometimes easier to believe I am a victim and I cannot help my situation. It's much more difficult to choose freedom and accept the responsibility that comes with it. It's so easy to let anxiety take control and allow it to drown me.

No matter how many excuses I make, I can't ignore my reality. I keep telling myself to "buck up" and just "do." I guess this little blog is just me venting. I'll keep trying, I'll stop self-sabotaging myself…I just need to complain for a second. I need to know it's okay to feel like this. It's temporary. It will change.

I have to believe in myself. I can do it. I can keep walking forward.

Turning Things Around

I keep saying I'm going to blog, and never do. I hope you will allow me to write my thoughts freely and as they come to me. It's what I need right now.

The days are passing, and my thoughts have turned dark. I've let the darkness thicken and grow inside of me until it's permeating from my being. It doesn't help I was unable, due to insurance mix ups, to take my medications. 

I'll be honest, I'm extremely unhappy with my body. I'm at the highest weight I've ever been and it's terrifying. My thoughts are always consumed with how to eat less and move more. Not an hour goes by without berating myself for this disgusting body I've allowed to flourish.

However, the problem with all these plans is the execution. Say I go to work and someone brought cookies, or doughnuts, or bought everyone lunch...I can't allow myself to keep food I didn't plan. I end up purging a few times every week. My body isn't handling it well. I often wonder how in the world my body ever handled such abuse. My heart is acting up with terrible PVCs and they're becoming increasingly difficult to manage. When I'm feeling weak and am having symptoms, I begin to contemplate my mortality. What am I doing to myself??

I can't get help for the purging either. Technically, I suppose I can reach out for support. However, I am at such a high weight for my body, I feel ashamed just thinking about it. I don't deserve help. Maybe if things get bad enough, I can reach out, but at this weight there's no way I'm attending group therapy or going to the outpatient ED clinic where my team now works. 

I can't restrict. I can't go on living in this body. I can't keep purging. What do I do? 

While laying down after dinner because of stupid PVCs racking my body, I came to a conclusion. I need to quit trying to lose weight through restriction. It inevitably leads to purging and then PVCs, and most likely other problems I don't want to deal with again. My goal is this: Aim for 1600 calories of healthy, well-rounded meals during the week. On the weekends, allow myself a couple of "cheat" meals. Another sizable goal is to exercise, or at least purposefully MOVE 20 minutes every day. 

My hope is that this will make me feel better about my body, balance my eating habits, and hopefully I will get back on track in my recovery.

For those of you I've asked to specifically read this blog, will you support me and keep me accountable? Text or call me every now and then to see how I'm doing??  

Looking Back and Going Forward

I've been reflective lately, more so than usual. I've been thinking of different times in my life and their corresponding "flavors." I don't know how else to describe it...there's certain feelings, smells, songs, thoughts, and events that are ingredients creating this "flavor" of a time long past. My adult life is made up of three or four "flavors" I'd like to contemplate.

The first flavor was the year following high school graduation. I got my first job at Starbucks and struggled learning that work life didn't come naturally to me like the education world once did. In fact, I really sucked at learning to work. My mind had to be present and focused. I learned how to be practical, professional, and deal with catty coworkers who I could never seem to please. Even though learning to work was difficult for me, there were many happy memories in this time period. Austyn moved in with my family. We became incredibly close, shared a bedroom even though I had my own, and became sisters. This time period is characterized by how happy, carefree, and delighted with life we were...and maybe a bit ignorant of the troubled times that were to come.

Songs: Black Cat by Mayday Parade

            Savior by Lights

Misc: Ben and Jerry's Half Baked Ice Cream, hikes in summer, late night talks with Austyn until we fell asleep

The second flavor was the year I spent going to school in England. It was magical living in a castle amidst the green rolling hills of the english countryside. I was still carefree and young, doing ridiculous things with my friends like running around the castle dressed as ninjas, or sneaking out after lock up to build a bonfire by the pond and read poetry with some guys friends in our own Dead Poet's Society. I learned, the hard way of course, that I would lead guys on only to ignore them once I had they're attention. I partly did this to boost my practically non-existent self-esteem, but also because I hated men for what they symbolized to me- sex-crazed, abusive, shallow creatures. I harbored this hatred towards men for years but didn't realize how cruel I was being to them until I was confronted by several guy friends in England. However, most my time in England was light hearted. I always look back with fondness at the simplicity of my life then, maybe with a bit of regret too.

Songs: The Sharpest Lives by My Chemical Romance

            Poker Face by Lady Gaga

            Le Disko by Shiny Toy Guns

Misc: Curry noodles at midnight, nutella, ginger cookies around a bonfire, potatoes- lots of potatoes. Watching Alias with my girls. Long walks by moonlight with Daniel, clubbing in Barcelona, rain.

The third flavor is quite a dark time in my life, possibly the darkest. Memories of watching my then 17 year old brother die and the deep depression that followed, are almost too painful for me to remember. I used to love to read fantasy and science fiction books until this time period. I could no longer believe in these pretend worlds. Reality clung to me too tightly and there was no escaping it's touch. To this day, I cannot eat a black bean veggie burger without re-living those empty days spend lying in bed with the weight of the world crushing me into the sheets. I would have flashbacks of Tyler gasping for air that wasn't there after we took him off of life support. It would come at the most inconvenient times and leave me shattered, at work or church or wherever it hit me. I finally snapped out of my zombie-like existence and took some classes at the community college. I got into goju ryu karate and japanese, and excelled at it.

Songs: Utopia by Within Temptation

            Satellite Heart by Anya Marina

            Rosie Thomas

Misc: Anime, candles, darkness, summer nights on the porch swing.

The fourth flavor follows closely behind the third. It was a year after Tyler died. I became increasingly obsessed with calories and exercise. I began running miles on end, though I had never been much of a runner. I began throwing up my food again, anything deemed unworthy of being digested which ended up being most everything. I sunk deeper and deeper into my eating disorder. I tried to stop throwing up and tried to stop the weight loss, but I was stuck. My hair fell out, I passed out, threw up blood, and overall felt like crap 110% of the time. I tried to recover, but it seemed hopeless. I'd wake up in the morning, thinking about all the obligations I had to get through before I could go to sleep again. My body finally couldn't take it anymore. It was either the hospital or inpatient treatment in Arizona, so I chose the latter. I spent May through August in treatment, gaining weight back through tube feedings and ensure plus (gross). I started to feel again and at first, it was too overwhelming. I couldn't use my eating disorder to numb myself in treatment though, so I was forced to face things I had locked away. However, treatment felt safe. I was able to rest and breathe. To this day, sometimes I am nostalgic and wish I could go back there, just for awhile, so I can breathe. 

Artists: Anya Marina, Sara Jaffe, Sia, Adele, The Civil Wars, Mumford and Sons

Misc: Treadmills, toilets, 00 size jeans, coldness, Arizona sunsets, Ambien hallucinations, the feeling of a tube down my throat, not getting to flush my own toilet or even pee alone. 

The fifth, and final flavor was the time period after treatment. I came home and soon relapsed. Six months after coming home I was nearly in the same horrible place I had been in previous to treatment. Strangely enough though, it was good for me. I chose recovery all on my own, without feeling pressured to recover because family were paying ridiculous amounts of money for me to be in treatment. I began using those skills I had learned in Arizona and CHOOSING recovery. I became vegan, which somehow really helped me be okay with food. I healed on so many levels. I met Ryan. I began to LIVE life, not merely exist in it. I struggled, I loved, I lost, I cried, I laughed- I became who I am today, perfectly imperfect. 

Looking back, I'm proud of where I am today. Now, I'm looking towards the future. I know I'll have hard times again, but I'll also laugh and love. My story isn't finished yet, and neither is yours. 

Let's appreciate the past, live fully in the moment, and look forward to the future. Every day could be our last. I will no longer take it for granted.

Insecurities, Be Gone

It's the weekend. I can almost hear the collective sigh of half the city who work a nine to five job. I'm lucky- I have a part time job, Monday through Thursday. This means I have three day weekends, every weekend. I have friends and family that love me, and a husband and puppy who adore me. I have "the good life," right?

However, I can barely get through those four consecutive work days without a tears-and-snot fest. I find it difficult to NOT feel as though I am a bottom-feeder, outsider, the scum of the earth, and not worth the respect of my co-workers. It's not really anyone's fault, but simply my own insecurities.

I find myself revisiting the question that's relentlessly haunted me all of my life: What's wrong with me? 

I'm aware I'm unconventional in my thinking. Whenever I voice the thoughts in my head, I'm given an incredulous look by some and told I'm weird. It only feeds into feelings of being misunderstood, defective, and alienated. In reality, most people I come into contact with are kind. However, those few people are enough to dredge up insecurities I thought I'd overcome, or at least buried in the past with that little girl I hate.

A couple years ago in therapy, I was asked to talk to me as a little girl. I couldn't even do it. In tears, I told my therapist I hate her and I don't have any kind words for her. In retrospect, this was a turning point for me. Little Danilee embodied everything I hated about myself. She was different. She didn't fit in. Something was WRONG with her. She was slow to understand social cues. I could go on.

Little Danilee internalized that rejection and later manifested itself in anorexia, bulimia, self harm, and depression. My mantra was that I was scum, worthless, and don't deserve to live. 

Because I'm physically recovered from my eating disorder, I thought those insecurities were behind me and I was at peace with little Danilee. I was wrong. I hate myself more than ever and don't know how to stop these feelings from invading my being. I try reminding myself of how many people love me and find me worth something. Ryan daily affirms me,"You're beautiful. You're loved. You don't need to lose weight. Nothing is wrong with you. You are WORTH something." It helps, but doesn't rid me of this deep-rooted self hatred.

I just don't want to feel this way anymore.

Depression and Marriage

I'm newly married to a truly GOOD man. I never imagined I would actually be one of the masses who fell in love and matrimony. My dream was to work with women and children caught up in sex-trafficking in Asia. As a teenager, I figured I'd adopt eight asian kids and my best guy friend would be their father figure. 

Ryan changed everything. I'm grateful for that.

The first year of marriage is notoriously difficult. You're both learning how to live with each other's little quirks, how to communicate affectively, and what real love is all about. It's not always exciting or fun, but I wouldn't trade it for anything. 

On one lazy Sunday afternoon, Ryan and I talked about what we individually found difficult in marriage. I wasn't surprised when he said my depression was challenging for him. I can't help but feeling guilty about it. I wish I could hide it from him, but I've never been good at masking feelings. I feel as though my demons are his, now we are metaphorically "one." I know it's a two way road, but my demons are...overbearingly in your face. It's a burden I don't want to share, but know it's impossible to spare him without simultaneously hurting him as well. 

Explaining depression and it's companion, self hatred, is challenging. Sometimes it hits me for no reason, while other times, a situation or thought triggers it's appearance. I feel as though I'm at the bottom of the ocean. The pressure is so overwhelmingly intense to the point I wish I'd just end it all. Last week while feeling miserable at work, I found myself picturing how I'd end it. Not until later that evening did I even realize there's something morbidly wrong I was actually contemplating how I would end my life. 

I feel guilty for struggling with depression and self hatred. I don't want to bring anyone else down with me. I feel I deserve it, but not the ones who love me. 

However, Ryan is one of the few people who can bring me out of it's darkness. I love him for it. He looks me in the eyes and tells me I am loved. I am beautiful. I am not fat. I am WORTH something. That last one is always the kicker. I can't help but cry when he says it because it's something I so desperately want to believe. 

As I am struggling with depression today, contemplating on a body I hate and a job I find painfully boring, I try to remember the clouds will part and I will feel happiness again. I fight it for what I have to live for- a husband, family, friends, my dog, and a future with those very people surrounding me with their love, even when I have nothing to give at the moment. 

That Always Awkward First Post

There's been times the past few weeks where I ponder on various subjects and wish I kept a diary or something to write them down. I suppose I do have a diary collecting dust somewhere, but I dislike my handwriting and become overly perfectionistic to the point it becomes more dissatisfying than satisfying. 

I also have a blog and even a youtube channel with over 3,000 followers (it still blows my mind that so many people find what I have to say interesting enough to watch me ramble for ten minutes at a time). However, it's under a fake name and centers around my personal struggle with Anorexia. I want...I NEED to move away from the eating disorder world. I fear it's only holding me back from a full recovery, if that even exists. So although my posts may be eating disorder related, I don't want it to be expected or focused on...

Who knows how often I'll write my innermost thoughts on here, or if anyone ever reads them. At least I will know this place exists.