Pessimism Creates a Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

I did well until I was alone with no accountability or schedule.

I slept for 36 hours and didn’t get out of bed for almost 48. Unsurprisingly, my weight is no longer stable. However, I’m not as happy as I usually am about weight loss.

I’m not talking to friends. I worry my quietness indicates I don’t care, I’m too busy, or I’m not thinking about them now that I am far away, none of which are true. Unless, you count literally staring at the wall as too busy.

I’m lying to family about functioning and daydreaming about locked psych wards.

Passive suicidal thoughts are back.

This can’t be over before it even began. I don’t start the internship until next week.

I identified a few contributing factors. I missed meds accidentally for 2 days (now 3 as a result of sleeping). I’m afraid. While I’m sleeping a lot, I’m not sure if it is restful sleep because I’m tossing and turning all night and having unpleasant dreams.

For example, I was talking to student, who shares my past, about getting kicked out of school. I’m trying to explain that being placed in a more restrictive environment than a normal school does not reflect on your ability to succeed in a typical environment and it doesn’t make you bad. Suddenly Ginny’s daughter appears, we make eye contact, and I know she overheard. I immediately feel ashamed and wish she hadn’t heard. Then some random person enters and says, “I heard you guys are weird and into crazy stuff.”

Another dream: I’m at prom with a friend who left high school to go to residential treatment and then went to a new school. We get kicked out because former students aren’t allowed to attend prom. Then transporting, in time and place, I’m at a middle school dance for the school that kicked me out and I’m “asked” to leave the dance for the same reason my friend was asked to leave prom.

It doesn’t take a psychoanalyst to determine my dreams’ meanings. I’m scared I won’t fit in and I can’t handle this. I’m ashamed of numerous facets of myself like getting expelled from middle school and my perceived culpability in abuse. I worry I don’t deserve this internship and they’ll soon figure that out and ask me to leave.

Using behaviors ensures that outcome. Of course I won’t fit in if I’m constantly subtly self-injuring or I never talk to anyone because I’m too busy planning binges. I won’t be “smart enough” if I’m restricting and can’t think.

Part of the problem with posting all this positive stuff is I feel like I can’t post when I am struggling. On the other hand, that feeling forces me to TRY to be a little positive. I spent over an hour looking for inspirational sayings that tie into this situation. Many rang hollow because of my mood, but this one still resonated with me. 

I know I can still turn this around. What can I do to be successful?

So far, I’ve got:

1. Stick to a sleep/wake schedule (proving very, very difficult!)

2. Plan activities that get me out of the apartment and seeing other people

3. Create and use a daily schedule for studying, ADLs, and talking to loved ones.

4. Tracking positive, recovery oriented actions, instead of only focusing on “failures” Ex. Today I got out of bed at 8 am, took my medication first thing, and ate breakfast.

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Relapse

I’m posting this poignant slam poem here because I’m trying to avoid posting this on my FB wall to express this to everyone in my life who knows about ED, but thinks it is all over…again.

Alexithymia (except guilt)

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My grandma is on oxygen now. She made my grandpa stay in the room last night b/c she thought she was going to die and didn’t call us! My parents seem to think she’ll pull through, but it seems this is how the elderly die. One seemingly minor thing goes wrong and then the rest of the body follows. Maybe they’re lying to me because they don’t trust my ability to cope.

My first emotional reaction was: I want to cut. I have to keep reminding myself that “want to cut” is not an emotion. As I’ve mentioned, I struggle to identify my emotions. That doesn’t apply to guilt. I can always name that one. So, I thought about it and I feel scared, sad, and (of course) guilty. I feel guilty because before my paternal grandma died she was in the ICU for months. One day she was alert, after having not been alert for at least a week. My dad had to catch a flight out of the country and I left with him, even though an uncle offered to drive me home so I could stay. It was the last time she was fully alert and the ones who stayed played cards and held full, coherent conversations, but I left early because I thought it was a sign she was getting better.

I also feel guilty because my mom gave me to same “I can’t deal with you right now. My mom is in the hospital and that is where you’re headed. You look gaunt again. I can’t deal with you in the hospital too. I have enough to worry about.”