Wednesday, April 28, 2010

I Don't Like Hearing. . .

"Hopefully, you are talented, strong and sensitive."
"Hopefully, you were raped by your father."
"Hopefully, you were a victim of trauma."

rape, molestation, trauma, violated, victim, pain, hurt, penetration, sexual healing.

I could go on, but life is mostly just escaping from any of these words in my head.

Thursday, April 22, 2010


Backstory: I've been in therapy on and off for the last 5 years. Generally, I pretend the ED/SI are the only things I have to face. But that's never been true. So this time, I've been pretty honest about CSA. As a result, I kinda have to rethink a lot of the beliefs I hold. Today, my therapist was trying to make the point to me that I have to relax some of my rigid thought patterns until after I process the trauma (I hate that she calls it trauma, but that is another issue altogether).

And then I get confused. My T always talks about this as something I can resolve, process completely and leave behind and then be pretty much recovered. And once I resolve the abuse, everything else will probably fall into place pretty quickly. It just seems weird there will ever be a time where I have "resolved" everything. I guess part of that confusion is the fact that I've never really lived in a place where CSA was not a part of my life. I have no before CSA to compare to the idea of after resolution.

I don't know what I really am looking for in this post. I am sure I am not alone with these feelings, but I don't really understand where this process is leading. And I know, my T pointed out the first time I asked the question, resolution is different for everybody and the path to recovery is different for everybody, but I am not even sure I understand the goal. I feel a little like I am being led blindfolded down some path that for all I know is a circle and I just will eventually end up here again.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010


I know I am doing well, succeeding in many areas. I feel, at the deepest core of my being that I am a complete and miserable failure. I don't know how to reconcile or make sense of that.

Monday, April 12, 2010


Amy mentioned this last time as well. Numbers. Calorie numbers, weight numbers, shape numbers. All things I pay a lot of attention to. She, however, wanted me to spend a little bit more time thinking about this. She is looking for a deep psychological reason or something. Unfortunately, I either don't know what they are or it is just a matter of convenience. I don't know why numbers are so attractive to me or why skinny is so important to me. I really do think it is convenient. I have neurotic energy and traumatic memories and western culture has pushed an ED onto me. . . I don't think the neurological and biological among EDs and most other neurotic/anxiety/depression/agitation based disorders. I do think the borderline and psychotic disorders are related, but distinct from the neurotic disorders. There is an overlap, but it is neither one to one nor onto.

But the whole point was numbers, and I do not have an answer or an understanding of them or their importance. It is normal and convenient and that is all I know about them.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Body Image Blues

I know the title is cliche and cheesy, but titles generally are.

Anyway, I actually found typing to be just as good as writing yesterday and I know that I will not get much time at home tonight, I thought I would write a little now. Partially because I've only eaten 400 cals today and really don't want to eat any more. The greater the variance in my weight over time, the more obsessive about the numbers I become. And my weight shifted six pounds in the last three days. So, obsessive day. I think I am a little bloated as well. Also, I am really hating myself right now.

To be honest, I know the self-loathing and general downness are connected to not eating since 5am. And I am trying to convince myself that I really do need to eat. But I am just so disgusted with my body today eating is not an option at all. SO, SO, SO FAT! So, yes, I feel like crap today. Why? The number was high this morning. Then it will probably be higher tonight if I even think about eating something. I really do need to drink something though. Water has no calories.

I ate a ton yesterday. Although in all honesty, it was probably only 3000 cals and it was not really out of control, but it was, I don't know, like fake. It actually was probably just my body trying to avoid pure starvation by eating anything without tasting it.

I cannot get over this. The facts are so clear. Eating is important. If I don't eat, my body will eventually rebel and then I will end up in this cycle again. It is also important that I understand my weight will likely NEVER be crazy. I am too active. If I don't eat, I get tired and depressed and I lose all of my mental energy. I hate it.

What I don't understand is why I care so much about weight. I know it is superficial and boring and mostly meaningless. I know that the marginal impact of weight on my beauty/sexual desirability is nearly zero. I am generally ugly anyway. And my weight has no impact on my intelligence when I maintain a healthy weight.

Honestly, so sick of caring about it, but I don't know how not to care about it. What else would I do all day? Sit around and obsess about being raped by my father? That is a lousy alternative. Maybe I could use that energy for things I love, I just don't know how.

Monday, April 5, 2010

Safe in my Skin.

So, I'm at school and I do not have my journal, so I was just going to type this out here.

Last week A. asked me my reaction to the idea of being safe in my own skin. And, well, I looked at her like she was bonkers. I have never and have no conception of what it means to feel safe or comfortable in my own skin.

So after that initial response, my response is how could you even expect me to be safe in my own skin. Seriously, as far as I am concerned the danger lies within my skin. It seems a little cliche to me, but sometimes is does seem like some toxic chemical has been implanted in me and it is slowly eating away at me. The danger was me, not him. I know it doesn't make any sense and it is not rational, but I'm trying hard to not reject things that are not rational without thinking about why they are so important to me. I kinda react to any irrationality with "But I am rational, so if something is irrational, I not only don't accept it, but I also argue that I cannot even be affected by it." I don't think that is a reasonable position. Irony? Anyone?

Honestly, however, I would like to be able to feel safe in my own skin. To some extent, I think that my own body is the enemy. A. has referred to it as body-phobia. And that is true for me. I am afraid of my own body. I don't hold him accountable. I hold my body accountable--I can punish it, keep it in check. I would be interested in the history of the mind-body duality and how that relates to the idea that the mind must keep the body in control. Unfortunately, the mind and body are not separated by a impermeable brick wall. I don't really understand the relationship between my mind and my body and I don't think anybody really understands the relationship between the mind and the body. I also don't feel comfortable with the idea of not fully understanding that. Because I know that if I can understand, quantify, model and explain the relationship between my mind and body, I can equally correct and control that relationship.

I read THE BODY REMEMBERS a couple months ago. I did not spend much time with it, but the book tries to explain how physical trauma turns into neurobiological signals in the brain, which impact the mind. The point being that you don't just get over trauma. The only problem I have with that argument is the assumption that there exists a form of trauma outside of social experience. More and more, I am not sure that such an assumption is necessary to support such an argument. Over time, we are learning more about the plasticity of the brain. If the brain is plastic, then it seems that something could become trauma in the context of new information and that trauma can have neurological impacts. Oh, if the world were as simple as an economic model, but I am getting more comfortable with the fact that the world is not that simple.

On a social scale, using models might be very important. To understand the generalities is simple to me, but to do the nitty-gritty of any individual situation is very difficult to me. I suppose this is what the gen-x'ers call real. I don't handle "real" very well. It is much more natural and intuitive to me to avoid the real, things that matter. Staying abstract, separated from the world AND from my body.

This has had tremendous advantages for me. It keeps me distant from my pain, probably keeping me from committing suicide on more than one occasion. It does make me an exceptionally mathematical woman. But in some sense, I imagine this has also meant that I do not experience as much joy and attachment as I could. I haven't decided if the tradeoff is worth it.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Holy Weirdness Batman!

I just admitted to a professor that I hate my parents because they were abusive. I didn't include any detail, but I'm starting to freak out.

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Worth Reading Regularly

This is an amazingly huge struggle for me.
I'm limited
Just look at me - I'm limited
And just look at you
You can do all I couldn't do, Glinda
So now it's up to you
For both of us - now it's up to you...

I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good

It well may be
That we will never meet again
In this lifetime
So let me say before we part
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a skybird
In a distant wood
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you

Because I knew you

I have been changed for good

And just to clear the air
I ask forgiveness
For the things I've done you blame me for

But then, I guess we know
There's blame to share

And none of it seems to matter anymore

Like a comet pulled from orbit
As it passes a sun
Like a stream that meets a boulder
Halfway through the wood

Like a ship blown from its mooring
By a wind off the sea
Like a seed dropped by a bird in the wood

Who can say if I've been
Changed for the better?
I do believe I have been
Changed for the better

And because I knew you...

Because I knew you...

Because I knew you...
I have been changed for good...
I know that I should be concerned about my current behavior. I had cake for breakfast. I promptly purged it. I have intentionally not packed lunch or taken money for lunch because I am convinced that I should never eat again.

And I finally want to break. I want to feel all the overwhelming emotions that I have been running from my entire life. But I don't know how.