I need to collect my strength...

"In Plaster"

I shall never get out of this! There are two of me now:

This absolutely white person and the old yellow one,

And the white person is certainly the superior one.

She doesn't need food, she is one of the real saints.

At the beginning I hated her, she had no personality -

She lay in bed with me like a dead body

And I was scared, because she was shaped just the way I was

Only much whiter and unbreakable and with no complaints.

I couldn't sleep for a week, she was so cold.

I blamed her for everything, but she didn't answer.

I couldn't understand her stupid behavior!

When I hit her she held still, like a true pacifist.

Then I realized what she wanted was for me to love her:

She began to warm up, and I saw her advantages.

Without me, she wouldn't exist, so of course she was grateful.

I gave her a soul, I bloomed out of her as a rose

Blooms out of a vase of not very valuable porcelain,

And it was I who attracted everybody's attention,

Not her whiteness and beauty, as I had at first supposed.

I patronized her a little, and she lapped it up -

You could tell almost at once she had a slave mentality.

I didn't mind her waiting on me, and she adored it.

In the morning she woke me early, reflecting the sun

From her amazingly white torso, and I couldn't help but notice

Her tidiness and her calmness and her patience:

She humored my weakness like the best of nurses,

Holding my bones in place so they would mend properly.

In time our relationship grew more intense.

She stopped fitting me so closely and seemed offish.

I felt her criticizing me in spite of herself,

As if my habits offended her in some way.

She let in the drafts and became more and more absent-minded.

And my skin itched and flaked away in soft pieces

Simply because she looked after me so badly.

Then I saw what the trouble was: she thought she was immortal.

She wanted to leave me, she thought she was superior,

And I'd been keeping her in the dark, and she was resentful-

Wasting her days waiting on a half-corpse!

And secretly she began to hope I'd die.

Then she could cover my mouth and eyes, cover me entirely,

And wear my painted face the way a mummy case

Wears the face of a pharoah, though it's made of mud and water.

I wasn't in any position to get rid of her.

She'd supported me for so long I was quite limp-

I had even forgot how to walk or sit,

So I was careful not to upset her in any way

Or brag ahead of time how I'd avenge myself.

Living with her was like living with my own coffin: 

Yet I still depended on her, though I did it regretfully.

I used to think we might make a go of it together-

After all, it was a kind of marriage, being so close.

Now I see it must be one or the other of us.

She may be a saint, and I may be ugly and hairy,

But she'll soon find out that that doesn't matter a bit.

I'm collecting my strength; one day I shall manage without her, 

And she'll perish with emptiness then and begin to miss me.

-Sylvia Plath

I had my second session with Dietician CA.  I like her a lot.  She's sweet and funny and assured me that she wouldn't push too hard.  She actually described it in an interesting way.  She said that I've basically been living the past 16 years in the ocean with my ED as my only lifesaver and that she would never just yank it off of me.  She said that it is her hope that she can get me to slip it off from time to time, knowing that I will still be hanging onto it for dear life during this time.  She assured me that she understands how hard it is going to be for me and that she doesn't expect perfect, just baby steps.  

The first meeting she didn't give me a meal plan which I was relieved because that freaks me out.  She explained the importance of protein and I'm going to try to eat 40-50 grams of protein each day.  I felt okay with that.  It was really only adding one greek yogurt in the morning and a cup of cottage cheese later at home.  I felt like I could do that pretty easy.  

That was Thursday and my next appointment was today and she put me on a meal plan.  I really really didn't want one.  The food she has on there and the amounts are just a little more than I think I can handle.  So I sat there trying to hold myself together (you can freak out in the car or at home but not here).  Then CA said some things I didn't expect.  She said she wasn't looking for perfection.  That it was okay if after meeting the plan I have a day that I can't.  That she had no expectation that I just change everything.  She told me it was all about me and not anyone else and that I could only do what I felt comfortable to do.  I don't know why this hit me so hard, but it did and I cried for the first time in therapy because my therapist was telling me it was okay to fuck up.  

She asked me what was wrong and of course didn't take my 'it's nothing' response.  I told her I was just a little overwhelmed and she was just so reassuring and focused on all the things I've been doing to get better.  The road to recovery is not a straight path from A to B.   

I just never thought this would be so hard.  I don't even have time to process everything because I'm so busy with work and keeping up appearances socially.   I still can't help but look at the whole thing objectively and realize that I have to pay a woman 80 dollars a week to teach me to eat...  

How did I get here?

I almost gave up on therapy two weeks ago.  I'd just felt like it wasn't going anywhere and mainly because I wasn't ready to really put the effort into it.  I called C (bf) as I pulled out of the parking lot of school and asked her to remind me why I was going.  She asked me a few questions and then basically said that if I didn't feel like it was helping that I shouldn't go anymore.  I guess I really just expected her to rattle off all the reasons anyone in my situation should continue.  Her reasoning was that she felt I had already decided that therapy wouldn't work for me a long time ago and that if this psychologist wasn't a good fit or getting the job done then each session I attended would only validate and strengthen that thinking.  She had a good point.

I'm not sure if she meant to do this or not, she is quite good as reverse psychology, but it put me on the defense.  I really do like my therapist and she's really good.  I don't want another one and I really didn't want to just give up.  She did, however, say I should go to my appointment (even if it was the last) to at least tell her I wasn't going back.

As S (therapist) and I sat down, the first thing out of her mouth was, "So what are we going to do about this eating disorder?  Because I feel like we're just treading water."  And in that moment I decided that I didn't want to give up and that I really want to work on this.  So from there things got a lot more real.  I set up my first appointment with my dietician and S said she really wanted me to go to a support group.

This threw me for a loop.  I was not expecting it and it freaked me out.  Especially when she explained it was an addiction group she wanted me to go to.  I just couldn't imagine me meeting with alcoholics and drug addicts and having a sponsor.  In the end S realized how high my anxiety was and decided to send me to an eating disorder group instead so that I would feel more comfortable.  It did make me feel a bit better but not much.  I left that session feeling numb.

The next day the whole thing was a constant buzz in my head.  My friend J, who was my roommate during my last bad relapse and is also ED, called to check on me because she knows I'm always in a bit of a funk after a session.  I told her about the dietician and the meetings and she immediately said, "I'll go with you.  I'll just work it out so that I can leave early on those Mondays."  I'm so lucky to have such amazing friends because so much of the anxiety I was feeling had to do with walking into the unknown alone.  I also talked to C and updated her.  She was pretty surprised after our last conversation but had encouraging words.  And then I just broke down.

How did I get here?  How did things get so out of control and twisted that I need constant therapy, meds, weekly visits with a dietician along with a meal plan and nutritional education, and 12 step programs, and support groups?  How many years have I lost to this obsession?  I'd give anything to go back and give that little girl something else, anything else, to help deal with the hand that was dealt to her.  Or even back to that day at 16 that I first made myself throw up.  It would be easier, I think, if it was only one I was fighting.  How much life have I missed out on?  How long will it take to get better?

My last session was Thursday with S.  She was very excited that I had indeed made the appointment with my dietician, CA.  She was also glad that I had a plan in place to start attending group sessions with the support of J.  Now that there is support in place for the actual eating issues, she wants to mostly focus on the problem at the core.

There are many reasons why people develop eating disorders.  I'm sure society, genetics, circumstances, and general temperament play a big role.  The biggest factor, however, is the fact that I was never taught or modeled how to feel or express those feelings in a non-self destructive way.

My parents never dealt with their issues.  They just screamed and fought (sometimes physically) and then one of them would leave with nothing ever getting worked out.  My dad doesn't talk about anything emotion related and drinks pretty heavily.  The only emotion he knows how to express is anger and it comes out violently often.  My mother is the only one I've ever seen him put his hand on, though I've heard ex-girlfriends accuse him of it, but he's always been verbally abusive to everyone close to him.  My mother had no tools to deal with her life falling apart so she drank... all the time.  The only time she was sober was while she was at work.  She also stopped taking care of herself and started to consistently put on weight going from a size 2 to a size 14 over a 5 year period.

My childhood was complete chaos, but emotional displays were not tolerated in my family (unless apparently they were my parents').  I don't remember much of my childhood because I've long since blocked it out.  There are just tiny bits and pieces like a number of video clips and photographs.  I don't really know when food became the way I coped.  I guess perfectionism was my gateway drug.  I do remember feeling the need to be perfect.  But perfect was never good enough it seemed.  I had perfect grades and perfect behavior.  I guess the only thing left was a perfect image.  I do remember knowing from a young age that I was ugly (though anyone who knew me then and knows me now would hit me upside the head for that comment).  I was actually a pretty attractive kid and as uncomfortable as it is for me to say it, quite a beautiful woman now.  But I didn't see it then and I still don't see it often now.  So I decided that I couldn't fix the pretty aspect, but I could fix the fact that I was fat.  Granted I have never in my life actually been fat.

Thin was all around me as was the importance of being thin.  My mom pre-divorce was always a stick and I remember her and her friends always talking about weight and comparing who was thinner.  My dad has always judged females first and foremost on how thin they are.  Famous quote, "There's nothing wrong with a little anorexia."  Yes there is.  At any rate it isn't very surprising that thinness and weight control became my focus starting at around age 8 or 9.

So now I have to learn how to deal with stuff.  It sounds so ridiculous.  S asked me what I could do to deal with feelings instead of restricting or purging and I couldn't come up with anything.  I've never done anything else.  And so the long journey begins.  I guess it's good that I felt the need to start this blogg because I'm pretty sure writing is one of the ways that is suppose to help me work through things.  We'll see.

I have an appointment with Dr. M (psychiatrist) on Tuesday.  I hope she won't give me any crap for the fact that I've lost 4 more pounds since my last visit.  I had been trying to lose more weight, but had been stable at 107 for a while.  Since that visit two weeks ago with S I haven't purged once and I think that's why I dropped the weight.  It really did just happen this week without me trying.  I hope she can just be happy that I'm at least getting that behavior under control and have faith that the dietician will work her miracle.

Well, it's a new week.  Let's see how it goes.