This post will likely be TRIGGERING and ALARMING to certain individuals so please bear this in mind before reading the following entry.
I just did it again--purged a not inordinate amount of food (perhaps, a meal's worth of pasta and veggies). This is the second time today I have done this. The first time it a burrito, queso, and chips, that I had "enjoyed" socially with friends. How I came to even eat anything beyond my apple and oatmeal that day was a bit of "all or nothing" thinking. A girl across from me implored me to partake of the chips and queso, and so at her behest, I did, with the first bite, saying to myself, "oh, fuck it, I'll just purge it." I then ordered the burrito, and the rest is history. But this is midway through the day, and doesn't begin to cover what has transpired in my strange and addled brain. It actually began this morning, around 8:30.
It is hard to describe a delusion, but waking and feeling so taken with ones hips that morning, that one must gawk over them, and feel totally worthless because they are inadequate--that is what is like, and that is what I felt initially. I felt very distracted by my body, and the meaning it held for quite some time, but then I convinced myself to move out of my bed and pay some bills, do some yoga, meditate, and then, well, I had the recurrent thought I had the night before: to end my life by taking a large dose of antipsychotics (which, arguably is quite difficult to accomplish, but I'd nonetheless). In response to this thought, I opted to cut, and then get on with my day. The thought of suicide never me, however. Throughout the day, wherever I went, I thought: I could jump from here, or I hang from here. It was unnerving, a bit. I would be lying if I said I haven't had suicidal thoughts recently--I have. Fortunately, I see my therapist tomorrow. This brings me to an interesting juncture for discussion, that as a psychology major I find absolutely fascinating: diagnosis.
So, I have assessed my current state of affairs, and I will concede, I have multiple issues. On one hand, I do fall under an Axis I diagnosis for Bipolar II with an Eating Disorder-NOS. However, under Axis-II, I fall under, quite possibly Borderline Personality Disorder. It makes perfect sense: the self-injury, the histrionic behavior, the fear of attachment (yet simultaneous desire for it), obsession with relationships, feelings of abandonment. This is ME over the past g-d knows how many years. Perhaps, though, this encompasses most people with eating disorders. One thing I don't quite understand is how "abuse" would fit into the diagnosis of borderline. Actually, I know, and I will not disclose it here beyond saying it was verbal, violent, and familial (potentially). But in spite of all this theorizing, I'm not closer to an answer, and I doubt I ever will be.
Here is how I feel right now, which, I know (cognitively) I shouldn't feel, at all: I wish I were dead so I didn't have to deal with these problems anymore. I feel like I cannot fight much longer. I feel as though I'm trapped by black and white thinking. I feel that the effort it would take to get "well" is beyond me. I am frightened by what lay ahead, after college, and I cling to a career I know I will hate (early childhood education), when I'd rather get an MFA. I hate my body so much, and I hate how I treat it. I wonder how my life would be if I didn't have these problems. Would I be more accomplished at art? Would I have more things written or read? Would I have more money? Would I have a successful relationship? I feel worthless, incapable of love, getting close to someone else, appreciating another person's praise, and just being calm around other people. I'm a social "fuck up," without hope or a future. Again. I know a lot of this to be "untrue" but I am saying it nonetheless. All I want to do tonight is drink, cut, and sleep. Which is what I will probably do.
-Mt
I just did it again--purged a not inordinate amount of food (perhaps, a meal's worth of pasta and veggies). This is the second time today I have done this. The first time it a burrito, queso, and chips, that I had "enjoyed" socially with friends. How I came to even eat anything beyond my apple and oatmeal that day was a bit of "all or nothing" thinking. A girl across from me implored me to partake of the chips and queso, and so at her behest, I did, with the first bite, saying to myself, "oh, fuck it, I'll just purge it." I then ordered the burrito, and the rest is history. But this is midway through the day, and doesn't begin to cover what has transpired in my strange and addled brain. It actually began this morning, around 8:30.
It is hard to describe a delusion, but waking and feeling so taken with ones hips that morning, that one must gawk over them, and feel totally worthless because they are inadequate--that is what is like, and that is what I felt initially. I felt very distracted by my body, and the meaning it held for quite some time, but then I convinced myself to move out of my bed and pay some bills, do some yoga, meditate, and then, well, I had the recurrent thought I had the night before: to end my life by taking a large dose of antipsychotics (which, arguably is quite difficult to accomplish, but I'd nonetheless). In response to this thought, I opted to cut, and then get on with my day. The thought of suicide never me, however. Throughout the day, wherever I went, I thought: I could jump from here, or I hang from here. It was unnerving, a bit. I would be lying if I said I haven't had suicidal thoughts recently--I have. Fortunately, I see my therapist tomorrow. This brings me to an interesting juncture for discussion, that as a psychology major I find absolutely fascinating: diagnosis.
So, I have assessed my current state of affairs, and I will concede, I have multiple issues. On one hand, I do fall under an Axis I diagnosis for Bipolar II with an Eating Disorder-NOS. However, under Axis-II, I fall under, quite possibly Borderline Personality Disorder. It makes perfect sense: the self-injury, the histrionic behavior, the fear of attachment (yet simultaneous desire for it), obsession with relationships, feelings of abandonment. This is ME over the past g-d knows how many years. Perhaps, though, this encompasses most people with eating disorders. One thing I don't quite understand is how "abuse" would fit into the diagnosis of borderline. Actually, I know, and I will not disclose it here beyond saying it was verbal, violent, and familial (potentially). But in spite of all this theorizing, I'm not closer to an answer, and I doubt I ever will be.
Here is how I feel right now, which, I know (cognitively) I shouldn't feel, at all: I wish I were dead so I didn't have to deal with these problems anymore. I feel like I cannot fight much longer. I feel as though I'm trapped by black and white thinking. I feel that the effort it would take to get "well" is beyond me. I am frightened by what lay ahead, after college, and I cling to a career I know I will hate (early childhood education), when I'd rather get an MFA. I hate my body so much, and I hate how I treat it. I wonder how my life would be if I didn't have these problems. Would I be more accomplished at art? Would I have more things written or read? Would I have more money? Would I have a successful relationship? I feel worthless, incapable of love, getting close to someone else, appreciating another person's praise, and just being calm around other people. I'm a social "fuck up," without hope or a future. Again. I know a lot of this to be "untrue" but I am saying it nonetheless. All I want to do tonight is drink, cut, and sleep. Which is what I will probably do.
-Mt